Summary: It’s been six years since you’ve been home. Six years since you’ve been in this city. Six years since you stood in this house. Six years since you saw all these people. Six years since you’ve seen Jimin. But you’re back now, your father’s funeral the reason for your return, but this time you don’t plan on leaving and this time you’re going to take what you want no matter what.
Warnings: Angsty feelings, unrequited feelings, Jimin uses the nickname Princess, swearing, mentions of death, blood, there’s a physical fight, I guess just lots of things you’d imagine from a gang/mafia fic but overall it’s also not that dark.
Authors note: Here it is!! As I’m sure you’ve seen this is part two to Growing Pains, you may be able to read this as a stand alone but there are a lot of references to part one so it might make more sense to read that first. I feel like this has a really different vibe to part one so I hope you still enjoy!!
He’d heard you’re back. Whispers going around the house about your return. Six years you’ve been gone, far longer than your university course and rumours have been muttered the whole time. But now they’ve reached a crescendo.
The words have always been pure speculation, no one actually knowing what you’re doing, but he can hear the curiosity in everyone’s tone now you’re back. How have you changed? What will you be like? How long will you stay? Words of who you are and what you’ve become reaching Jimin’s ears no matter how quietly people say them and no matter how much he tries to avoid them.
They say you’re darker now. They say you’ve grown into a woman, the little girl long gone. They say you’ve not come back alone. They talk about what you did while you were away, that the family blood in your body must have amounted to something because studying wasn’t the only thing you’ve done, the other things a lot darker. And though not all the stories sound true, Jimin still dreads that some are. He at least knows one thing to be true, he’s not expecting the little girl he still pictures in his mind.
Your departure was far from smooth. As much as he wants to remember that happy smiling girl, whenever he pictures you all he can see are the tears streaming down your face. He can still feel you in his arms when you saw AJ dead on the floor, can still hear the words you admitted to him and then the way your face changed when he broke you.
I love this!! from the tension between oc and jimin to your actual writing that is always incredible! can’t wait to see where you bring this story, I know there’s another part planned but I could totally read this as series because it’s that good!
Wahhh!! Mimi, I’m so happy you enjoyed this second instalment. I too am living for the tension and I kind of want to drag it out as long as possible … I’m currently loving writing this and have *ideas* so who knows how far it’ll go, but however far it goes it means the world to know you’re enjoying. As always I hope you’re doing well
Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.
Your eyes dart to Jimin who’s lay over the sofa, face flat and disinterested, eyes on the TV. He doesn’t see the glare, but he can hear it in your tone and still he doesn’t react.
“You were supposed to give a supportive response.”
“I agreed with you,” he continues flatly.
“How is that supportive?” You whine.
“I –”
“Don’t respond to that, it was rhetorical. I already know the shit that’s going to spew out of your mouth.”
You watch Jimin’s eyes dart to you, the only part of his body to move before they go back to the TV.
I’m dragging it out … but hopefully it all pays off in the end. I’ll be interested to know what everyone thinks in later parts. Anyway, thanks for reading and letting me know you enjoyed!!
Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.
Your eyes dart to Jimin who’s lay over the sofa, face flat and disinterested, eyes on the TV. He doesn’t see the glare, but he can hear it in your tone and still he doesn’t react.
“You were supposed to give a supportive response.”
“I agreed with you,” he continues flatly.
“How is that supportive?” You whine.
“I –”
“Don’t respond to that, it was rhetorical. I already know the shit that’s going to spew out of your mouth.”
You watch Jimin’s eyes dart to you, the only part of his body to move before they go back to the TV.
I’m with reader, dating apps suck, but I’m also with Jimin, ask Yoongi outtttt.
Honestly, I could see Jimin randomly finding Yoongi’s pub, paying no attention to him until somebody calls Yoongi’s name. It would be interesting to see reader asking Yoongi out or even him asking her out acting all chill as if he doesn’t find her super endearing. We’ll see, I’m so excited for this
Ahah the dilemma, to want to date but to not want to go on dating apps. I agree, these two idiots need to pluck up their ideas and stop being so oblivious. But where would the fun in that be for us? Also, that sounds so fun! I’d love to see jimin hear Yoongis name being shouted out and slowly turn to look at him like whaaat!?
Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.
Your eyes dart to Jimin who’s lay over the sofa, face flat and disinterested, eyes on the TV. He doesn’t see the glare, but he can hear it in your tone and still he doesn’t react.
“You were supposed to give a supportive response.”
“I agreed with you,” he continues flatly.
“How is that supportive?” You whine.
“I –”
“Don’t respond to that, it was rhetorical. I already know the shit that’s going to spew out of your mouth.”
You watch Jimin’s eyes dart to you, the only part of his body to move before they go back to the TV.
“The main reason you’ve put off dating for so long. It’s not just the potential rejection, but everything along the way to even get to that point. You have to pour so much of yourself in and you’re scared that it could all be for nothing, that down the line they’ll just realise that you’re not what they want. You’re not exciting, not special, you have nothing that stands out as something someone would want. You’re awkward and anxious and if you’re honest a bit of a mess.”
Omg. You put the fear & dilemma into words.
OC is me.
Hun, I’m with you. OC is all of us. I’m my own worst enemy for hyping other people up to do something I myself wouldn’t do, but honestly there’s someone out there for all of us and maybe we have to have some rotten and awkward situations to find it but in the end we’ll survive it and look back and laugh. (Or at least I hope so)
Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.
Pairing: Yoongi x reader
Genre: fluff; angst; smut
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: Drinking, low self esteem, eventual smut, I think that’s all for this chapter.
Authors Note:I hope you’re enjoying so far, here’s another part!
Jimin’s going to be fuming. He might possibly kill you. But he’s not going to find out, so it’s going to be fine, you reason as you push the pub door open. He knows of this place only because you mentioned it once, but he doesn’t know Priya or Yoongi, they hardly know you and certainly don’t know Jimin, so it’ll be fine, he’ll never know you came here straight after your first date and spoke to these near strangers rather than to him. Plus, you were walking this way home, saw the lights on and thought it would be rude not to come in. It’s nothing to do with Jimin and it’s not like you won’t call him. As soon as you get home you’ll be on the phone to him. He’ll hear all the details and he doesn’t need to know he’s not the first to hear them. He –
“Thatcher’s?”
Your eyes dart to the level voice, dark steady eyes gaze back. Your lips curl before you let out a small ‘yep’. You’ve always wanted to be a regular somewhere, always imagined it would be a coffee shop rather than somewhere serving alcohol, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve ticked something off an imaginary list of life goals by Yoongi knowing your order without you having to tell him.
You watch as he picks up a pint glass, can’t help but watch his arms as he pulls the tap. It’s a sight you’ll never tire of.
“You know, I realised, I don’t actually know your name.”
Ooooh I really like this super cute both of them. Their conversations are the best.
Sometimes when I’m writing dialogue I find myself sitting staring at my screen for five minutes thinking ‘how would anyone even reply to that?’ I’m always happy to hear when people think the conversations are good and not awkward (unless done intentionally)! So, thanks for letting me know and for reading!!
Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.
Pairing: Yoongi x reader
Genre: fluff; angst; smut
Word count: 2.4k
Warnings:Drinking, low self esteem, eventual smut, I think that’s all for this chapter.
Authors Note: Here’s part one! I hope you enjoy :)
“What do men look for in women?” You say the words as if he hasn’t spoken, eyes firmly on him as if his face may also hold answers you don’t want to miss.
He looks a little taken aback by the question but recovers quickly. You’re not really surprised, you have only just entered this place, don’t even know this man’s name let alone him. It’s not a question you’d normally ask a stranger, in fact, it’s not a question you’d ask anyone but it’s been playing on your mind so much recently that you can’t help but ask.
The cold glass of cider the man poured you a few moments ago is between your fingers. You fiddle with the beads of water perpetrating on the glass waiting for an answer.
“I don’t think there’s just one thing.”
You sigh, deflate in disappointment, eyes falling away from the man as if he’s a lost cause, as if he was really going to give you the answer to a near impossible question. What had you really expected? The answer to life itself? Some simple answer that would solve all your troubles? No, you knew the answer, and yet hearing it said so plainly doesn’t help.
Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.
Pairing: Yoongi x reader
Genre: fluff; angst; smut
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: Drinking, low self esteem, eventual smut, I think that’s all for this chapter.
Authors Note:I hope you’re enjoying so far, here’s another part!
Jimin’s going to be fuming. He might possibly kill you. But he’s not going to find out, so it’s going to be fine, you reason as you push the pub door open. He knows of this place only because you mentioned it once, but he doesn’t know Priya or Yoongi, they hardly know you and certainly don’t know Jimin, so it’ll be fine, he’ll never know you came here straight after your first date and spoke to these near strangers rather than to him. Plus, you were walking this way home, saw the lights on and thought it would be rude not to come in. It’s nothing to do with Jimin and it’s not like you won’t call him. As soon as you get home you’ll be on the phone to him. He’ll hear all the details and he doesn’t need to know he’s not the first to hear them. He –
“Thatcher’s?”
Your eyes dart to the level voice, dark steady eyes gaze back. Your lips curl before you let out a small ‘yep’. You’ve always wanted to be a regular somewhere, always imagined it would be a coffee shop rather than somewhere serving alcohol, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve ticked something off an imaginary list of life goals by Yoongi knowing your order without you having to tell him.
You watch as he picks up a pint glass, can’t help but watch his arms as he pulls the tap. It’s a sight you’ll never tire of.
“You know, I realised, I don’t actually know your name.”
Aaaaahhhh this slow burnnn.. i love that detail of being a regular at a place as a life goal! It made me miss the coffee shop where the barista would start making my usual as soon as I fell in line.. looking forward to seeing more of their budding friendship (for now)! Also I kept looking for visuals of Yoongi pulling from a tap but I think it was Joon & Tae who did that in the Kloud commercial, so this gif would have to do
Hun, buckle in because the slow burn is going to keep on going. I’m very jealous you were a coffee shop regular, actual goals - and way healthier than being a regular in a pub. This Yoongi! Yes! 100%. I also imagine visuals of In The Soop Yoongi just casually walking around in a white tee picking up groceries. And when they met Megan in New York and he was in a white tee just casually picking up her dog. You know…
Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.
Pairing: Yoongi x reader
Genre: fluff; angst; smut
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: Drinking, low self esteem, eventual smut, I think that’s all for this chapter.
Authors Note:I hope you’re enjoying so far, here’s another part!
Jimin’s going to be fuming. He might possibly kill you. But he’s not going to find out, so it’s going to be fine, you reason as you push the pub door open. He knows of this place only because you mentioned it once, but he doesn’t know Priya or Yoongi, they hardly know you and certainly don’t know Jimin, so it’ll be fine, he’ll never know you came here straight after your first date and spoke to these near strangers rather than to him. Plus, you were walking this way home, saw the lights on and thought it would be rude not to come in. It’s nothing to do with Jimin and it’s not like you won’t call him. As soon as you get home you’ll be on the phone to him. He’ll hear all the details and he doesn’t need to know he’s not the first to hear them. He –
“Thatcher’s?”
Your eyes dart to the level voice, dark steady eyes gaze back. Your lips curl before you let out a small ‘yep’. You’ve always wanted to be a regular somewhere, always imagined it would be a coffee shop rather than somewhere serving alcohol, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve ticked something off an imaginary list of life goals by Yoongi knowing your order without you having to tell him.
You watch as he picks up a pint glass, can’t help but watch his arms as he pulls the tap. It’s a sight you’ll never tire of.
“You know, I realised, I don’t actually know your name.”
✫synopsis:you just want to know how to get to the psych building and he wants to get to know you more.
“excuse me, do you know where the psych building is?”
you were supposed to meet a friend there 15 minutes ago to work on an assignment, but the bus was delayed due to the blizzard. so now, here you are, trekking across the snow-covered campus to get there.
hoping he heard your question, you look up at the stranger you asked, noticing his piercing green eyes. they widen slightly, and he takes a second to take off his headphones.
“sorry, what’s up?”
“no worries, i was just wondering if you knew where the psych building is?” truthfully, it was awkward to have to repeat yourself, but before you could feel an ounce of embarrassment, suna nods, pocketing his headphones in his winter coat.
“yeah, so you’re gonna head straight to the main quad, and then you’ll see a big white building. go past that and you’ll be at the psych building.”
his words went in one ear and out the other. his voice was surprisingly deep and smooth, and you couldn’t help but focus on the way he leaned down to talk to you. he used his hands to talk, which were adorned with silver rings and a simple bracelet.
“did you get that?” he asks, looking at you with a little smile. “or…”he trails off a little, as if he’s thinking about something, “i can walk you there. i’m heading to the main quad, so i’ll show you where to go from there.”
you simply nod, and he hopes you can’t see the slight blush on his cheeks (which is from the cold, of course).
you’re cute, he thinks. like a lost puppy.
“i’m guessing you aren’t a psych major,” he says, breaking the silence as you two walk on the pathway dusted in snow.
“no, no. i’m a chemistry major,”
“gotcha. i’m a philosophy major. i’m suna, by the way.”
and as you tell him your name, his eyes linger on your face. small puffs of air leave your mouth with each breath.
the rest of the walk is quiet until you reach the big white building he was talking about.
“see that gate on the side of the building? go through there and the psych building is on your right,” suna says, looking down at you to make sure you know what he’s pointing at.
“thank you so much, suna! it was nice meeting you.” and with that, you start to separate ways. but suna turns around and calls your name.
“uh, i’m gonna be here for the rest of the day, so if you want, wanna head to the dining hall after you’re done?” he asks almost shyly. he’s twisting his rings around his finger, and then quickly shoving his hands in his pockets.
and after you nod with that pretty smile on your face, he turns around and makes his way to a random building. he doesn’t know what hit him when he decided to tell you that he was also going that way, but now he has some time to kill before he gets to have dinner with you.
and little did he know that a year later, he’d be kissing you in the snow, holding you close as he walks you to your next class.
the first thing you notice about him are his eyes.
vibrant lilac hues that thrum with amusement and mischief, as they focus on you, while you stand and stare, frozen in place.
the second thing you notice about him is his face. it looks something akin to a supernatural’s ― beautiful in a way that can never be human.
a lazy smirk rests on his lips, as he continues to watch you, perched in the summoning circle you made.
the third and final things you notice about him are the horns, the wings and the tail, which sways about just as lazily, until it reaches out and curls tightly around your leg, but you can’t find it in yourself to brush it off.
he looks nothing like the lower demon you were supposed to summon for the new assignment.
you’re not allowed to rest in your thoughts and the incoming mental breakdown any longer, as his tail yanks you forward, and with a surprised yelp, you fall right into his lap, where he holds you prisoner, languidly wrapping his arms around your waist.
your senses come back to you, and you try and get away from him, but his strong grip locks you in place, and he leans in close.
he brushes his head against your neck, seemingly taking in your scent, before he returns and locks his eyes with yours again. he smirks once again ― and somehow manages to look even more attractive than he already did.
“judging from your eyes, i suppose i’m not the demon you intended to summon, did you, darling?”
he doesn’t give you allow you any time to answer, and as his gaze sweeps around your home, he notices the different bags of ingredients that lay strewn across the floor.
“ah, darling, were you trying to summon an imp? you were supposed to use the roots from valerian, not the flowers.”
“thank you for the correction,” you say sarcastically, annoyed at the fact that he’s not letting you talk at all.
“but could you perhaps let me know if you’re planning on letting me go?”
he tilts his head at you, and smiles innocently, before speaking something in demon-tongue.
the translation flows right into your mind, like it was a built in demon-to-human translator.
“i’m sorry, i don’t speak human-tongue, darling.”
“you know i can understand what you’re saying since i summoned you, right?”
he looks surprised for a moment, then looks away and grumbles something under his breath, before he gives you a smug grin once again.
“well then, the answer to your question, darling, is no.”
“no what?”
“no?”
“yes, but what are you telling me no to?”
“oh.”
“i need to know since my mobility is at stake here, uh.. what’s your name again?”
“first of all, my name is marius. marius von hagen, heir to austin von hagen, demon king of the second realm,” he glows with delight at your surprise with the mention of the words ‘demon king’. “second of all, you never asked my name to add the ’again’, darling.”
“….”
you ignore your astonishment and his snark comment in favour of looking at him with raised eyebrows, silently asking him once again, if he was planning on letting you go.
“no. i’m not planning on letting you go at all. you’re stuck with me until you make a contract with me~”
“and why should i?”
“because i can’t go back without you making a contract with me?” he gives you a look that says 'isn’t it obvious? duh, dumb human.’
you feel your eyebrow twitch in annoyance.
“but that isn’t my problem, marius von hagen. it’s yours.” you emphasize on the yours, and he winces in mock hurt.
“ouch, full name already? i didn’t even do anything, human.”
“yes, you have. you’ve done a lot in these past seven minutes.”
he leans in closer, almost expectant of something, of an answer he’s probably received a lot of times before.
“oh, and what have i done exactly?”
“you’ve annoyed me more in that time than my least favourite teachers have by giving me weekend homework during all the years i’ve studied.”
he sits seemingly stunned at your answer, before pouting at you, and begins to whine like the brattiest kid you’ve ever seen.
“oh come on! don’t you find me the least bit attractive? even a little? not even this much?”
he places his pointer and thumb fingers together towards the end of his question, leaving only a tiny space in between them, as he looks like he’s almost ready to cry if you say no one more time.
you shake your head at all his questions, being more and more amused at the way he seemed to deflate with each passing second, his pout growing larger.
it’s not like you’d let anyone, especially a higher demon like he is, know that you find people like his type really, really, really attractive.
but damn, you’d really be lying if you said that you didn’t want to tug on that choker and those necklaces, just to watch his reactions-
a low whine, one that sounds like your friend’s cat when he’s denied treats, brings you out of your thoughts.
marius, it appears, is currently having a mental breakdown over your nonchalant (not really) denial of his attractiveness.
you’re just about to reach your breaking point, ready to burst into roaring laughter, when he snaps his head up and stares at you huffing, as determination for an unknown reason twinkles in his pretty purple eyes.
it appears that there’s a lot of staring going on today, a corner of your mind helpfully supplies, and you snort at it.
it only appears to fuel his decision, the glimmer of his amaranthine eyes growing brighter and bolder.
“well, darling, count yourself lucky! it’s not quite often that someone like me gets summoned so easily and there’s not a lot of humans who pique my interest the way you do.
that’s why i’ll make a special contract just with you ― there’s only one condition: if you still think the same about me after a month, i’ll make any six of your wishes come true, no matter how ridiculous they might be.”
your intuition tells you he wouldn’t leave you alone until you make a contract with him, and so, you decide to spare yourself the trouble and accept his offer.
“how do we make this contract, then?”
he smiles in cat-like satisfaction at your response, and you feel his tail brush against your shoulders, his grip seemingly becoming tighter.
“leave that to me, darling,” he purrs, as he takes one of your hands in his, and places feather light kisses along your fingertips, ones that send shivers down your spine.
he slowly makes his way up, reveling in the way your eyes follow all his movements, and finally, places one last kiss that seems to linger on the inside of your wrist.
the mark of a snake as the symbol of infinity appears on your forearm, and it glows just as perse as his gaze does. it rests on your skin, and tingles as a reminder of the pact that you made with the navy haired devil.
all of a sudden, your mind seems to want to tease him, and so tease him you do.
“alright, as it’s all said and done, could you perhaps let me go now?”
he only nips at your hand in response.
true to his word, marius does his best to make you change your mind (not that it needs to be changed).
however, his enthusiasm and eagerness make two things very, very hard for you. one, for you keep up the act around him (not that he knows, not that you’d ever let him know).
two, for you to not stare every time he habitually tugs on one of his necklaces with his teeth (something deep down tells you that he does it on purpose to mess with you sometimes, and you’re pretty sure that it’s true because he smirks devilishly right after).
he accompanied you to your classes one day (he whined so much and threatened to hug you until you agreed to his demands) ― and while you did summon the lower demon you were required to summon for your assignment, and got perfect grades for it (because marius kept reminding you that you’re supposed to root, not the flowers, but eventually decided to seize the opportunity and guided you through the process himself).
your teacher seemed to be very pleased and impressed with your summoning of marius, taking you as an example of advanced summoning for the rest of your class, as you watched on while trying not to burn yourself alive from embarrassment (marius seemed quite delighted to see you so embarrassed).
he immediately became one of your teacher’s favourites, as soon as they learnt that he was a high ranking demon, the son of a demon king at that, and was soon granted permission to accompany you to all your classes in exchange for answering your teacher’s inquisitive questions about the demon race (a little bit of tricking did come into play, although he’d never tell you that).
he’s come along every day since ― he has a special seat right next to you in every single class, and his tail comfortably wraps around your wrist, right where his pact mark is, when you’re moving between classes (though he’s started to do it in class too, because how else would he show all the other demons and mortals around the both of you that you are hishuman?).
it’s been half a month ― and marius has fully made himself a part of your routine (and a part of you wants it to stay that way, for him to continue being a part of your life).
the mornings are especially warm ― you wake up in his arms, as he sleepily gazes at you, and wishes you a good morning.
he sits on the counter as he watches you brush your teeth, and passes you everything from your skincare routine using his vast knowledge of enchantments, and it’s now become a weekly occurrence for the two of you to do it together as everything floats around in the air (marius knows he doesn’t need it at all, but the thought of spending time with you makes him so happy, he’d agree with anything you wanted to do).
your wardrobe is completely different from before thanks to the demon, who turned out to be super rich, and decided he wanted to give it a makeover (you’re pretty sure he’s also used a charm or two on the clothes ― because you’ve never felt this confident in every single piece of clothing you own before).
he joins you as you make breakfast for the both of you, and sets the table while using his magic to season the food when you’re occupied with something else (it’s comfortably silent when the meal is going on, but his happy expressions eating make it worth secretly practicing different recipes).
the rest of the day is spent the same way ― going to classes as his tail is wrapped around your wrist, him playfully bickering with you, and you replying with a witty comment that makes him grin wide, and retort with one of his own, then coming back home, playing around and finishing your work, ending with slowly falling asleep together as you talk about the most random of things.
you’re starting to think you’d give anything and everything to let it be the same way, and for some reason, the thought doesn’t scare you at all.
it’s finally the end of the month ― and also the end of the contract you made with marius.
he’s somber throughout the day, and when you try to cheer him up by making a sarcastic remark, all he does is smile at you sadly (and the lack of a tail wrapping around your wrist, feels cold).
the rest of your classmates are confused over his behavior ― he’s always been so loud and exuberant that the change in demeanor worried them all. it does take a lot of reassurance from him to leave both of you alone, but they eventually disperse, throwing words of comfort over their shoulders for him.
the day seems to pass by painfully slow ― and all it does is make you more and more antsy, anxiety steadily clawing its way through your mind, slowly taking over your being.
the way back is so silent, silent enough that maybe, you’re not the only one who can hear your heart beating out of your chest every time his fingers brush against yours, or when he subconsciously moves closer to you for warmth as a cold breeze blows by.
home doesn’t feel like home, and all you want is for him to tell you that he’s playing a prank on you like he usually does, or to come up to you and tease you about being clingy, but it never happens.
the mark on your wrist seems to fade, and it scares you enough to address the elephant in the room, as you notice him sitting by the window, staring at the pouring sky.
“marius?” you call out.
his pointed ears perk up at the sound of your voice, and as he turns around, you notice his lilac eyes are tinged red, like he was crying.
you open your mouth to say something, but are interrupted as he tackles you down, and holds onto you tight, tail once again wrapping around your wrist, sobbing quietly.
all you do is hold him in your arms as he cries, running your fingers through his hair, and when he finally raises his head, you wipe his tears for him, and he leans into your touch, finding comfort in the warmth of your hands.
“why are you crying, marius?” you whisper, for you fear that you would start crying too if you spoke a tad louder.
“i don’t want to go. i don’t want what we have right now to end, i don’t want to be away from you ― i-i think i’ve fallen for you, and i don’t think i’ll ever love anyone else the same way i love you.”
you try to say something but he hugs you tighter, sharp nails digging into your shoulders, and it hurts ― but it’s the last thing you can care about, not when someone like him is around.
“please don’t say anything,” he croaks out, breathing uneven from tears. “please let me stay, stay with you, i’d do anything for you. anything, darling, anything you want.”
“marius,” you begin.
he continues rambling, and doesn’t listen.
“marius,” you say again. he whimpers quietly this time.
“marius, you silly devil, will you listen to me now?”
he pauses for a heartbeat, but soon enough, nods against your shoulder, soft hair brushing against your cheek.
“i love you too.”
“what?”
“i said, i love you too.”
this time, he sits up straight and gently cradles your face in his hands, as he looks at you hopefully.
“do you really mean that?” he asks, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, and you smile at him.
“yes, i do. i don’t want what we have to end either ― you’ve made yourself a part of my life, and i don’t want it to go back to the way it was before. you’ve given me warmth, i don’t want the cold from earlier anymore, marius.”
he breaks out into a large grin, and traps you in his arms for a strong embrace, one that leaves you smacking him so you can actually breathe and not die confessing your love to him.
“can i kiss you?” he asks, eager and happy.
“you can,” and it’s all he needs to tug you in by your collar for a kiss, and you swear you can feel all his emotions through it ― maybe it’s a demon thing, but hey, you’re not complaining.
you tug at his choker and he jerks forward, nearly slipping. he sighs, and melts in your arms as his eyes narrow down like a cat’s, to look at you, and only you.
he reluctantly pulls away, but that trademark teasing smirk of his returns to life as he knocks his forehead with yours and places a kiss on your nose.
“guess i really changed your mind, huh?”
“shush, shut up and kiss me again, you demon.”
“as you wish, darling.”
sure, he’s an annoying idiot who annoyed you to the ends of the earth, but he’s your annoying idiot now, he’s your dear devil.
✦notes; here it is! the amount of times i nearly changed the draft because ideas kept flooding in- anyway enjoy and lmk what you think, as for me, i think i’ll go to sleep since it’s 12:30 (am) now! ily all <3
Premise: Growing up in a glitzy world means you learn the dark sides. So it’s difficult to let go of the genuine bright spots when you find them.
Note:There are numbers before each new section. Those are their respective ages so that the timeline is easier to track.
The first time he met her was when he was thirteen.
Vilhelm was already used to pretending to be the prefect child, standing still and silent to exalt his father in the eyes of attendees at every party, dinner, and casual event he was forcibly dragged to. He didn’t have a choice in the matter, and he only made the mistake of voicing his displeasure once. The sting still lingered across his knuckles, serving now as a constant reminder of what would happen if he stepped out of line again.
Rosa was the daughter of some prestigious scientists from a different country. Even as a child, Vilhelm could still tell that she was different from him. She didn’t seem to fear her parents, instead having no shame in discretely pulling her mother’s dress or stepping up to her father to hold his hand or ask a question. If he would do that, he’d get swatted for sure, but her parents seemed to have no qualms with her behavior.
Thanks to everyone who sent in recommendations! This is a crowdsourced reclist of episode-specific first-time wincest fics that were not written for the FTWF. Enjoy!
The second hunt, after, is when things start to feel real again.
First job was the shapeshifter and even after just a few weeks of post-almost-apocalypse vacation they were rusty, as much as they ever got rusty. Sam broke his damn finger, which Dean made fun of him for, and Dean limped around on a half-busted shin that Sam can just stop smirking about, any time now, but they felt—like what? Hard to pin down. Like they were stepping out into a strange world. Like they’d fire a gun and didn’t know if it’d recoil the same way it always would, because the world was different. New. At least, Dean kept feeling that way, and he thinks he’s known Sam long enough to guess Sam was feeling about the same. Every part of that job was—feeling for a step down in the dark, and then being surprised when it was there. Sam flicking through the local paper checking obits, cautious when he pointed out a possible connection, like he hadn’t done the same thing a hundred, thousand, times before. Dean going through the trunk and pulling out their supplies and holding a fistful of silver bullets in his hand and thinking—is this it? Sam, getting the motel room after, when they’d been to the Urgent Care to check out Dean’s stupid shin that it turns out, okay, wasn’t broken after all, and the woman at the counter asking what kind of room, and Sam hesitating, and glancing back at where Dean was propped up in the office doorway.
But it was right, in the end. They did right. They saved most of a day and killed the bad thing and it turned out that after everything they were still the same guys they always were. After the world ended it was supposed to be maybe something else, but, shit, the world didn’t quite end after all, and it turned out… Sam gave his stupid shin a few more days to rest up and kept his finger splinted and then after a week there was Sam, laptop open on the table when Dean came in for breakfast, and he said, “Hey, you want to work?” with every expectation that Dean would, and that—that was new, kind of, in the way that Sam wasn’t trying to distract himself or Dean, and it wasn’t to patch up some broken thing that couldn’t be fixed, and it wasn’t because they owed anything to anyone. It was because it turned out that after all this was who they were, and Dean looked at Sam over the island while he whipped up some eggs semi-capably (although he never used enough salt) and Sam glanced over his shoulder when the toaster popped and saw Dean looking, and raised his eyebrows like—what?—like this wasn’t just the best hope of Dean’s life being realized, finally, right here in a hole in the ground at eight in the morning, on the wrong side of forty. “What’s the job?” was all Dean said, then, and then—that was it. That was that.
When Sam was fifteen he went on this whole kick of weird trivia. More obscure than the stuff that’d be inside the lid of a Snapple bottle. Did you know ducks have corkscrew penises? was one that had nearly made Dean drive off the road, just from the surprise of how Sam just busted out with it at mile-marker 200, apropos of absolutely nothing. Once when Dean had had a date bail on him and he was stuck at the house they were squatting in, he got a whole five minute speech about the age of the universe, complete with an explanation about how the doppler effect had somehow proven the big bang and the knowledge that, really, all of them were made of exploded stars. Makes you sound like a hippie chick on acid, Sammy, Dean had said at the time, and Sam rolled his eyes at him and turned back to his astronomy book, ignoring how Dean was kind of—entertained, by the idea. His dumb body, full of stars. Huh.
The one Dean remembers very clearly, in every particular—day and time and place and even the scent of the muddy ground—was when they’d woken up alone in a motel Dad was supposed to be in, and they’d gone out to have breakfast at the diner across the street, and there was Dad after all: passed out, drunk, slumped across the back seat of the Impala without even salt scattered over the asphalt to keep him safe. It had rained, last night. Hence the mud. Dean had had his hands folded over his head, trying to decide—leave him and risk—? or wake him and risk—when Sam had sighed, and said, in this weird voice that sounded totally blank of emotion at all, like he was reading it off a cue card: abstemiously is one of the few words in English with all of the vowels in the correct order. Dean had said, what?, but of course it was a Sam-fact. Then he’d said, still staring at Dad’s slack face, what does that mean? Abstemious. Sam didn’t actually know. Dean looked it up, later.
Dean pushes Sam into the bathroom, after what feels like a day of questioning and caution and Dean being withholding—he’s so bad at it, Sam doesn’t know why he even tries—and Bobby avoiding Sam’s eyes—and Sam’ll figure that out, eventually—but it’s really only four in the afternoon, and he’s got food in his belly for the first time in what feels like a week but he’s assured is a year, and he’s had a beer and a cup of coffee and Dean’s squeezed his arm, on his bicep just above the bend of his elbow, and looked into his eyes for a full heart-rich moment when Bobby was on the phone in the kitchen and couldn’t see—and they didn’t do anything, of course they didn’t, not in Bobby’s house, but Sam closed the door behind himself with that look thick in his head, the knowing that Dean was safe and okay and that Lucifer didn’t hurt him—that everyone was okay, that what he’d done by jumping into the cage had worked when he hadn’t been sure, not at all, that it would—and he still doesn’t really know how he got out but he’ll get that out of Dean eventually—and he turns on the shower and smiles at the rickety jump of the hot water because, holy shit, he’s alive to suffer Bobby’s godawful shower—and he pulls the shirt off over his head, and unbuttons his jeans, and fishes in his pocket for his phone and his wallet like he always does—and finds a new phone that he doesn’t recognize, which makes him frown, a wallet that he does, and—the amulet.
The air goes out of him. The shower’s guttering down, getting warm at last. He hears Dean’s voice through the door, saying something to Bobby although Sam doesn’t know what. Sam twines the leather cord around his fingers and crushes the little metal head in his palm, standing there in his socks and boxers. He didn’t lose it. Somehow he—hadn’t thought about it, until now, but now that he has he just—assumed it’d be gone. He’s not in the same clothes he was wearing before he fell, so—did Dean—? He doesn’t know and in this second doesn’t care. He brings his closed fist up to his mouth, the cord thin and worn against his lips. He breathes in, slow.
summary : after hayleys death, hotchner need a full time helper for jack. that’s when he hired you, not realizing that he needed you just as much as jack.
word count: 9k | warnings: smut, alcohol mention, lots of mentions of death, serial killers, other bau stuff
song inspo: domestic bliss by glass animals
It had now been two weeks since you lost your job, and every day you felt more and more hopeless that you’d never find work again. You called every family you could get ahold of, but everyone already had a nanny. You kept checking in with your contacts to see if any Diplomats and their families were moving here to DC, but there was nothing. The need for a nanny; or specifically, your kind of nanny that works with government families, was all dried up. You were hopeless, broke, and could only sleep on your sisters couch for so long.
Your days were usually filled with you wandering random streets, hoping to bump into a friend who could help you out of your slump. You thought about the kids who you nannied for, last. Twin girls, six years old. They were perfect, and you missed them dearly. But their father was a Diplomat, and was swept away to South Africa. You scrolled through pictures of them on your phone, walking up the street to a nearby coffee shop. You smiled at videos of them, losing yourself in your phone, before bumping into a building and almost breaking your kneecap.
You groaned in pain as you sat down on a close bench, hugging your leg. You took a deep breath, on the verge of tears as you thought, “Could life get worse than this?” Everything around you was crumbling, and it was only a matter of time before you suffocate under all the debris. You felt your phone vibrating in your hand, rolling your eyes, not ready to deal with whoever needed you at this moment.
You didn’t recognize the number, but recognized the DC area code. You were worried it might be a hospital or something, your anxiety giving you a weird instinct that you needed to answer the phone. You accepted the call and brought the phone to your ear, grinding your teeth as you awaited your fate of the mysterious call.
“Hi, I’m looking for (Y/N).” A man’s voice requested, his tone filled with authority, a mild twinge of desperation laying underneath.
“Uh, yes, this is her.”
“My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner. I got your contact information from Ambassador Gardner. I hope it’s okay to call you on this phone.”
“Oh, of course,” you perked up, the thought of the Ambassador and his family filling you with happiness.
“Well, as it turns out, I am desperately looking for a live-in nanny. He told me you were fantastic and he was heartbroken that he had to leave you.”
“I wish I could’ve gone with him, and the girls. I would’ve, in a heartbeat, but I have some… things that have kept me here.”
“I am meeting with a few other applicants, but Ned’s recommendation was so high, I really wanted to meet you. If you have time, of course. I’m sure you are highly sought after.” You could hear a twinge of nervousness in his voice, as if he was worried he wouldn’t be good enough. You were very highly qualified and highly praised in your field, but the market was dry, right now. And no one was begging for your services. But, it wouldn’t hurt if he didn’t know that, right?
Pursuing my new goal as an irresponsible sophomore meant both cutting hours babysitting and lengthening the amount of time I spent barhopping and nursing hangovers.
If Aaron noticed that I was avoiding him, he didn’t let on. I went from watching Jack at least four days a week to one. When we were forced to interact, it was kept cold and impersonal on my end. I would give him the rundown and leave. All my jokes stopped, too. The last five texts I sent him were just some variation of “Okay.” Over and over again.
So, my days started quickly blurring together. I drank, I jumped up and down in crowded frat houses to music that shook the floor, I perfected my hangover cure, and I did not think about Aaron Hotchner. My shirts got tighter and my shorts got shorter. Sometimes I went home with boys, sometimes not. Finally learned how to shotgun a beer.
I kind of assumed he wanted to let it go just as much as I did. He never brought it up directly, barely even talked to me, but sometimes I saw him looking at me. The same way he did when I was on my knees, in David’s house. It was too easy to imagine him grabbing me, pushing me against the wall, making me scream his name when he looked at me like that. I tried not to look too closely at him.
Summary:Reader is the new press liaison to the elite Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. A stray comment from her leads to a lot of questions from her teammates, especially her unit chief, Aaron Hotchner. When they’re thrown together on a case that hits close to home for Reader, will that comment tear them apart? Or will it bring them closer together?
Pairing:Aaron Hotchner / (Female) Reader
Rating:Mature
Category:Angst then smut, with plenty of fluff sprinkled throughout.
Word Count: 8.4k
Content Warning: This gets pretty angst heavy in places. The team is chasing an Unsub that’s a serial r*pist/mu*derer. Mentions of an attempted a*sault to someone Reader cares about. Providing comfort to victims of the unsub. It’s dark in places, but if you can stick with me, I promise I will mend the angst and take you to the land of smut and fluff. Because there is plenty of smut.
A/n: Have you ever had a story that just grabbed hold of you and refused to let go? This story was supposed to be half this length and pure fluff. Reader and Hotch dug their claws into me and made me tell their own story. I’m not mad at it, and if you give it a chance, I hope you love it as much as I do. masterlist
y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized text = reader’s thoughts
“You’re not my type”
The clock was moving so slowly, I couldn’t help but think it was moving backwards.
Come on, hurry up. I wanna go home.
I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that it was going to be 4:30 pm for the rest of my life. I still had some files to hand out to the team; I usually do that part of my very glamorous job in the mornings, but since I had nothing but time now, I thought why not.
I had been a “sort of” member of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit for 5 months. Jennifer- wait, JJ, had the job as media liaison before me; she was the last person to officially hold the position. When she left the unit chef of the BAU, Aaron Hotchner, and the technical analyst, Penolope Garcia, had split the roll. That is until Chief Strauss had decided that she wanted the BAU to run more efficiently. Meaning that Hotch got less paperwork, Garcia got a break from talking about mutilated bodies, and I got shuffled around from the public relations office.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed working with the team, I really did; but I couldn’t help but feel excluded sometimes. They’re all practically a family. I didn’t really have any sort of family anymore, just a best friend that has always felt more like a sister.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I made my way towards the bullpen, shoving the doors open to see the team sitting on various desks talking to each other. Loudly.
“Shut UP, man!” Derek Morgan’s voice was loud, but amusement was clear on his face. Actually, everyone seemed sort of amused. Rossi and Hotch were leaning on the railing near their respective offices, watching the events unfold with smiles on their faces.
Im mad about no Crosshair this week. I’m also semi-sick. So y'all get a short little sick fic drabble (unbeta’d so typos lol) featuring sick Shadow and Crosshair!
I also feel bad (not really) about Ch 38 of OTRATTW so… Its a fluffy fic with their lovely banter! Enjoy!
Rating: Teen Warnings: Mild suggestive content, non-sexual partial-nudity. Words: 686
Oh my God Shadow your Crosshair x Shadow fluff waters my crops, clears my skin, and gives me life. I love this so so much. I adore Crosshair here. Always love these quiet, tender moments with him.
Your banter is my absolute favorite; no one can do it quite like you. It’s bloody brilliant and has me howling every single time lol. You come up with the best comebacks and teases, hands down.
I love this so much. It’s so calming and comforting, which is exactly what you were going for so that delivered in every aspect of the word. I think this is the perfect antidote for us Crosshair folks right now. You have done a great service.
I love how he went into the water. It’s so profound. He doesn’t like the water. But he pushes through, for Shadow. And he does so gracefully. I’ve said time over again that Crosshair is a giving soul. He will give and contribute without thought. When he’s surrounded by people where devotion is mutual and he can fully apply himself, Crosshair can be the most selfless, reliable, loving person. I love how that is a recurring theme.
I love how reassuring he is too, so adamant, it’s almost like he’s telling us,you know? That everything’s okay, because that’s not him, andno matter what happens, whatever transpires, nothing can ever stave off the Crosshair we’ve forged and loved in our hearts all this time. That Crosshair will always have a special place; the dream, the vision, it belongs to us, and no one can ever take it away. This fic helped me realize that.
After a year of trying to get pregnant with no luck, the day before christmas on his husbands birthday, Harry gives louis the best gift ever, a positive pregnancy test.
Inspired by the prompt: Handing their S/O a positive pregnancy test with a sprig of holly and a note reading ‘Merry Christmas’.
Summary: It’s the same dream over and over again. Then suddenly, something changes.
Pairing:Dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader
Word count:8.8k
Warnings: Non-con fingering, kidnapping, mind control, blood, injury, mental health issues, possessive behavior
Note: this is my first entry for me and @bamposworld’s pride month collab! this is actually the first f/f i’ve written for this blog,and i plan on writing many more!
how I'mma sleep tonight hoping mommy wanda comes to play with my tits (w/ the entire ‘I’ll have none of that’ dialogue, the illusion drop, and the inhuman shrieking/witch sounds included), terrorize, and snatch my ass up like this :
summary:khairyn sar is an important holiday within nabirian religion – it celebrates love and fertility. obi-wan gets a gift for you from the lower-level markets, aided by a helpful women who urges him to buy a certain plant… pairing:obi-wan x handmaiden!reader, established in this fic&this fic as well. word count: 8k warnings:this is porn with a dash of sex pollen trope / nsfw, 18+ a/n:i am literally not even sorry. here’s a late valentine’s day piece for you all, my lovely lil valentines. pls don’t repost!
It’s a holiday.
Maybe not on Coruscant, but to the Naboo senators and delegates on Coruscant, it is.
Padmé’s usual senatorial garb is exchanged for one of deep reds and a grandiose headpiece that mirrors the visage of Khairtai, the goddess of Fertility and Love. Beside her, Dormé, Sabé, Ellé and yourself bear a smudging of crimson down the center of your foreheads. It’s from the crushed millaflower – ground into a fine, deep red powder and blessed by the resident royal Pontifex.
Your outfits mirror Padmé’s, hair pinned back tightly into a tight, neat braids with a golden pin halo-ing your heads. It’s of religious significance; each comb bearing two bounding ash-rabbits. Symbols of fertility.
The Royal house of Naboo, namely the Amidala’s, are one of many devout to the Brotherhood of Cognizance – a polytheistic, monastic, allegorical based religion. Padmé herself was a larger worshipper of Shiraya, the goddess of the moon; Obi-Wan, on more than one account, found himself rather enraptured with the large statue on the outside patio of her Senatorial apartment upon visits with his friend.
In the evening sunset, the goddess’ moon shaped harp frames the horizon quite perfectly. Obi-Wan always wondered if it was some sort of metaphor – perhaps that Padmé was right where she needed to be, away from the throne and serving her people worlds away.
She’d moved to Coruscant following the ending of her second term of Queen, promptly slipping into her elected position as Senatorial representative. With her, she’d brought Dormé, Ellé, Sabé, and you– along with a small squad of royal guards. Though, Obi-Wan believed she hardly needed them. Padmé’s handmaidens were more than capable.
Book: The Royal Heir Book 1 (with several divergences)
Pairing: None. Mostly a mother-son series between Eleanor and young Liam. Features some characters from the Eleanor-Constantine generation of Cordonian nobility.
Synopsis: Ever since she became Queen, Eleanor has found herself missing the comfort and excitement of her own cooking. She may love the fare that the very talented palace chefs regularly conjure, but nothing beats the joy of kneading with her own hands, or watching the simplest ingredients transform into the most decadent delights known to humankind.
Her younger son, Prince Liam, joins in these culinary adventures and learns something new about his mother each time.
Join Liam as he watches his mother, and her friends, experience the foods that remind them the most of their homes, and enjoys the delights of good food and great friendships.
Book: The Royal Heir Book 1/The Royal Romance series
Rating: G
Pairing: None. Queen Eleanor & Signore Francesco friendship. Mention of Joëlle Theron & Queen Eleanor’s friendship.
Summary: After a visit from one of his mother’s old college friends, little Liam realizes he doesn’t actually know as much about her as he thinks. (Eleanor’s Kitchen)
There are many moments when Liam thinks he’s seen his mother at her happiest.
When she sees him and Drake, weaving their way through the still-in-construction garden, their shins darkened by mud. When Leo briefly drops his disinterested-teenager demeanor, and actually looks happy to be at home. The now-rare days when she and Father go a full day without disagreeing on something (alright…maybe not that. You can still see her eyes nervously darting, like she’s aware that the day isn’t over and there’s still time for things to go wrong). When her projects seem to take off. When people appreciate her new garden. When she goes to the public library. The rare times she gets to cook.
None of that compares, Liam realizes now, to the shine in her eyes at the sight of a carton of ripe, red, oval-shaped tomatoes in the palace.
It all began two months ago, on a diplomatic trip they took to an island in Venice. Mum was visiting a monastery there, hoping to “introduce initiatives that will benefit several Armenian communities, both in Cordonia and around the world”. Liam didn’t understand all of that, but what he did understand was that the monks at San Lazarro degli Armeni loved their roses.
