#also. fina's hand :)))))))))

[clairedsfield]

sdl ep. 272

[waverlyyhaught]

Favorite Marta and Fina Moments - Part 83 Sueños de Libertad, Ep. 160

[casimania]

In the Dragon Age!AU Inquisitor!Casimiro doesn’t take his role too seriously at first, as in the saving the world part. He’s trying to save his own life, divert some Inquisition forces to aid Finas in his research and bully some people. Like yeah he’s closing Rifts left and right but it hadn’t really dawned on him that he’s standing between the world and total annihilation. Like surely some douche who wants to play hero will pop up. And Finas is like, it’s you Cas, you’re the douche who has to play hero.

It doesn’t have to be anyone good or heroic or special, Finas himself just wanted to cheat death to get revenge and ended up becoming the Hero of Ferelden and stopping the Blight, and he was some guy from bumfuck nowhere, Ferelden who just lost everything, was dying and was so very angry.

Casimiro still shrugs him off, it takes being catapulted into the future for it to dawn on him. He sees what everyone has become, what the world has become and finds Finas stuck in a cell succumbing to the Calling and finally realises it’s up to him. There’s responsibilities and consequences and he’s not just pushing some fools around for fun and trying to save his arm.

[empress-ghoul]

Rising Waters, part three

141 x witch!reader | old gods of appalachia au cw: supernatural elements, kidnapping, threats of violence, suicidal ideation, bodily fluids

You did not trust these men and you certainly didn’t want to help them. They had chased you through the woods - through a storm - chained you to a bed, and now acted as though they were entitled to your help for the sole reason their boss sent them to die. 

You wanted to tell them to go fuck themselves but you also wanted to live. And where would you go now? Your home was gone and there was a company of very dangerous men who apparently wanted you dead. A little protection might not be a bad thing. 

And it wasn’t exactly a choice to be made.

Your wounds, the cuts on your legs and feet, had been tended to in a way that was not kind. It was cold and efficient. Something, that thing in your chest and head, told you that whoever wrapped them learned how to do so in the military. 

These were not good men, and they seemed ready to prove that to you. 

“How exactly do you think I can help?” 

You needed to gauge just how much they had been stalking you and just how perceptive they were.

One of them, Gaz, left and returned with one of your witch bottles. The flood must have uprooted where you had buried them and Price recognized its significance. Clever dog

Gaz set the jar on the nightstand, the nails clinking softly inside. 

“Okay,” you agreed. If they wanted your help, then you were getting your protection. “You’re gonna have to get me jars and nails then. And unchain me. Can’t exactly use my hands when they’re chained to the bed.”

When you were unchained, there was no more concern from any of them about if you might run. Your discomfort was obvious and anxiousness even more obvious. It didn’t help that you were eyed like a white-tailed doe that was being watched with the eyes of four apex predators. 

Besides, you were struggling to walk on your wounded legs and trying to run would be more humiliating than anything.

You did not like the fact that in the time between being taken and waking up, you had been washed. Even if it was just the mud and earth rinsed off, you knew they–or at least one of them–had seen you naked. This was because you realized, as you fell into a chair at the kitchen table, you were put in nightdress. 

It was odd, you thought as you gazed around the house. This was not the typical, cookie cutter company house, and it certainly did not belong to the men. It was a true home, one that was not all dissimilar to your former one.

You watched them move around. Based on the dishes in the sink and laundry strewn about, they had been here for some time, but it was still foreign land to them. Just as these mountains were. The more threatening glances thrown your way, still warning you not to move, the less you wanted to know about what happened to the former inhabitants of the cabin.

Supplies were finally produced and unceremoniously dropped on the table, along with some bread and dried meat. You ate first, much to the disdain of the four men staring at you.

Not much good is done on an empty stomach is something your mama would’ve said. Though you doubted any of them would care if you mentioned that little proverb.

You finally wiped your hands on the nightgown, one that you came to notice probably belonged to a woman old enough to be your granny, and you started working.

Four mason jars with three irons nails in each, the lids wrapped in twine and sealed with black wax. 

“I need to bury ‘em,” you said finally.

You were given a spade and a bodyguard in the shape of a wolfish Scotsman, then shoved outside. The way he watched you navigate the plot of land the cabin was on was why he seemed so dog-like. His blue eyes burned into the back of your skull as you found the first corner and began digging. 

He was silent, once again reminding you of a hollow man. You knew he wasn’t, but golly could he pass as one. 

The shaking in your hands finally eased away when you finished burying the second jar. You were sweating from the humidity the storm left behind and your hands were covered in dirt and mud that had embedded itself beneath your nails. 

The soft, damp earth made for easier work, but you were still winded by the time you finished the third jar. When you finally got to starting on digging a hole for the fourth one, Soap broke the hour-long stretch of silence. 

“Gonna take a piss,” he stated, then walked into the woods. 

AKA do not fucking go anywhere. You watched him go behind a tree before continuing to dig. 

You set the jar of nails in the hole you dug, using your hands to pull the dirt back over to cover it. Then you stared at the hemlock plant that sat just behind the property line. 

Soap was walking back over to you. The hemlock was practically screaming at you. 

Take me. Use me. Crush me up and put me in their food. They’ll never know—

You grabbed a fistful of the flower and stuffed it into your pocket. 

Grind me up. Put me in their food—

They’ll never know. Those words rang in your head as you grabbed four more stems and shoved them in alongside the rest. Disposing of the bodies might be a pain, but you’d have a place to call home again.

They’ll never—

A hand grabbed the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin as Soap yanked you back and dug into your pocket with his free hand. His eyes, angry and wild, were fixed on the side of your face where your cheeks were burning. From shame or fear, you weren’t entirely certain. Probably both. 

But the feeling of his eyes, his hate-filled, animal eyes, made you wish you could just sink into the earth if it meant you’d never be looked upon by him again. 

He emptied the hemlock from your pocket and yanked you back further so your head was practically against his shoulder. The flower was almost glowing in the sunlight as he held it out for you both to see. You were staring at the scar on his temple that looked like mangled roots. 

“What is it?” he demanded. 

Poison. “Edible flowers.” Half-truth. “I couldn’t figure out if y’all were gonna feed me.”

Believe me, you thought. Please, please, please, believe me. 

“Eat one then,” Soap replied. You wanted to be sick. “You must be pretty hungry if you want to eat fuckin’ flowers. Eat one.”

His voice was so mocking and cruel, and you couldn’t tell if he’d force you to eat one if you didn’t comply. 

You thought about eating it. It wouldn’t be the most pleasant death but at least you could go down spiteful, refusing to help these dogs and letting them fend for themselves on angry land. Though, It might be slightly more merciful with him around. 

Staring at the flower clutched in this creature’s hand, you truly thought about it. Nothing would hurt you anymore. But what would they do to your body if you were gone? You had a sneaking suspicion that it would be just a matter of time before they did what all men did. The thought of your dead body being desecrated began putting out the thought of a peaceful death. 

Then you thought about the wards. 

“I’m not hungry right now.” You had to force yourself to speak, your words nearly strangling you. “Maybe later.”

It was obvious Soap wanted to continue his interrogation but he instead opted to drag you inside by the scruff. That was fine. You could still feel the tremors running through his body, even if he was trying to force them down. He was good at hiding pain. 

Price took one look at the flower in Soap’s hand and knew immediately. He grabbed you by the throat at the exact moment black bile began spewing from Soap’s mouth. 

Ghost was suddenly at his side, despite having been across the room mere moments ago. 

“Easy, J— Soap,” he corrected, patting the man on the back. 

As if that would help. 

Price looked at you with shadows over his eyes. “What did you do?"

Maybe you would shrug and pretend like you had no idea. Maybe smile and curse his bloodline. Or maybe pull a page out of your mama’s book and turn heel and run. 

Maybe if you were brave, you’d do any of those things. But you were not brave, so you just kept looking between him and Soap. 

He was on his knees now. Ghost was right next to him and Gaz had appeared with a glass of water. 

It turned to chaos when Price prepared to slap an answer out of you and the world exploded in his ears. You could see the blood trickling out of them as Ghost left Soap to prevent Price from falling over. 

Standing in the center was you. Soap had finally stopped spitting up what now looked like pure rot, while Price slowly recovered. But you remained, calm, rooted in place as you watched. It wasn’t like you there was much you could do. 

All four men stared at you as you awkwardly sat on the couch, your spine ramrod straight. Price towered over you. His hands twitched but, to his credit, he held back. 

It was odd. He was odd. You liked to pride yourself on being able to look at a person and know their motives and feelings, but with him…everything was so clouded. Murky. It was the river that carried you right to him— dirty and uncaring. 

You still saw it, though. Finally, you saw what you had been…looking for? Maybe expecting? In any case, you saw it not just Price, but in all of them. A slick coldness that crawled down your spine and that something that flickered just behind their eyes. Not quite human, but not quite animal.

“First you plot to poison us,” he began. “Then you do whatever the fuck that was. You got no idea how bad I want to put a bullet in that pretty face.”

Shame, selfishness, ugliness burned deep inside your chest. You didn’t like hurting people (and you weren’t certain you could consider them people) but it didn’t stop that nastiness from building up. Besides, they kidnapped you first. They were the ones who came to kill you. 

You kept telling yourself that but it didn’t remove the taste of self-hatred in the back of your throat. It did, however, build up the terror you’d felt since Soap had dragged you inside. 

“The wards,” you said. “If you want ‘em to work, I have to be alive. Unharmed.”

The words left your lips and you immediately noted how easily those terms could be stretched. 

You suddenly realized that you might have made a mistake by helping them—that you should have said no and taken your chances with whatever fate they dealt you—but you were desperate to survive, and those odds increased exponentially with compliance. 

Besides, what if they let you live but kicked you out? Where would you go then? Back to a ruined home? Make a barefoot trek to the main road and hope someone other than a worker from Shepherd & Graves found you? No, survival, in any form, was guaranteed this way. 

A smile pulled at Price’s mouth. More of a smirk really, but you were desperate for kindness. 

“Clever girl,” he replied. He leaned down, his hands on his knees to put himself at eye level. “You know how to stay alive. Like a fucking parasite.”

Oh. Really?

Anger, like hot oil splattering out of the skillet, was just beneath your soft skin surface. These men come to land that is not theirs and have the gall to call you a parasite. In another life you would have started shrieking and ripping his unkept beard out. Not this one, though. 

“You know what it takes to survive, dontcha?” you asked, your hand clutching the skirt of the nightgown in a tight fist. Would he notice the shaking in your voice? Would he care? “Dog eat dog world out there.”

Price nodded slowly, his dead eyes locked on you as his jaw twitched. “I do,” he confirmed. “And it is.”

“You wanted my help,” you reminded them. “But I can dig up the wards if that’s what you’d prefer and I’ll be on my way.”

There was a resounding “no” from all four men. 

“No,” Price repeated. 

He worked his jaw for a moment before smiling and making a sound that might have been a laugh. The others were not as amused, and you did not feel at ease with the rumbling sound Price made.

It wasn’t exactly a choice to be made on whether you could stay or not, because no matter how much any of them hated it, they needed you.

[lycanlure]

JUST Ours

AESPA x M! Reader

Sub Reader, Dom Aespa, GB, Str*p-on, 5way

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"N-Noona... P-Please! S-Stop!" I pleaded, crying.

"Oh Y/N you feel so good..." Karina spoke.

"Y/N... You taste so good..." Winter whispered.

"Spread your legs a little, I'm not done yet..." Ning bit the back of my neck playfully.

"P-Please N-Noona it hurts..."

"Shut up! Your legs can hold it, ok?! Be a good slut and take Noona's pussy good, hehe" Giselle continued to straddle on my cock with her unrelenting stamina.

5 hours later

"N-Noona... Ngghh, I-I cant f-feel my legs..."

"Shhh... Just keep up ok? We're not done, yet."

5 Hours Earlier

Y/N POV

"N-Noona! H-Hey! Stop it!" I pushed Karina a little bit as she was getting a bit too close to me. "C'mon Y/N just this once we'll be gentle I promise..." Karina pleaded as her hand was gripping my arm harder and harder. " Yeah we promise, we'll be gentle" Giselle said with false innocence and hunger. "I-I can't! I have some stuff to do, didn't you tell me last week it would be the last?" I said trying to find a way to get out of this situation... As I tried to move past the two, Winter pushed me on the locker. "Dont even think of running away from us" Winter looked at you so disgustingly as her hands were pinning you on the locker.

"Oohh, are we gonna peg him?" Ning blurted out. "H-Hell n-" I was cut off as Giselles hands were on my mouth covering it. "Stop screaming, you're so annoying" Winter chuckled as she gave me a wet kiss on the cheek, "Maybe I should peg him, how does that sound?" Ning out of nowhere blurted out. "Stop with the pegging, please..." I hastily replied with a soft voice. "C'mon just this once, Y/N, I need it" Ning begged, as she was kneeling on the tile floors. "I'm not doing that and that's fina-"

Those were the last comprehensible sentences you said after they dragged you to a nearby bathroom, "Fuck... You feel so good" Ning playfully fingering your ass. "F-fuck au- gcck!"my voice was muffled, as her fingers played with my ass she was hitting a spot that usually sends you to a vulnerable state. The rest on the other hand gathered the items they needed to use on you, well more like experiment on. Karina bought vibrators, 10 specifically. Ning asked Giselle to get her 9 inch strap-on, of course Giselle bought a high concentrated aphrodisiac, 'This will come in handy soon enough' Giselle told herself, smirking as she arrived at the bathroom. Winter on the other hand bought enough baby oil so that each of them can use the Strap-on Ning owns. As they started to get you all riled up, Giselle forced you to drink the aphrodisiac. You tried to push it away, but none prevailed. You drank the aphrodisiac, influenced by it. You got weakened as the effects came so strong, your face turned red and your cock throbbing. Your juices oozed out as Karina and Giselle licked you off, savoring your essence. "Nnghh, s-sto... Auugghh" You moaned in ecstasy, Ning slowly penetrated you as Winter was making you eat her glistening pussy. All of them used you like a toy that somehow was too cheap to be played safely, Karina fucked you like whore. As her hips drive your cock roughly, she was oozing with her juices across your stomach dripping down to your back, still she continued. As you were about to cum, Karina noticed. As she fastened her movements, she also was near. "Cum for me, Y/N. Knock me up!" Karina ordered you and finally it arrived. "NGGHH?! GGUK!!" You came inside her, your tip was still sensitive. She continued to ride you slowly, agonizingly slow and precise. Your sensitivity leads you to roll your eyes back and arch you back, as this feeling was too much for you. You started drooling out of this too much pleasure, at the same time Ning was constantly hitting your prostate. Sending you jolts across your spine, "Love that bitch?" Ning spoke with a breathy tone... "N-nggghhh shto-" You tried fighting back but your mouth was occupied by Winter grinding herself, cumming multiple times already. She was technically drowning you with her cum, as both Ning and Winter use you like a cheap toy meant to be played roughly, Giselle pushed Karina off your cock. "H-Hey I-I wasn't d-done!" Karina shouted as her legs were already trembling. "Oh yeah? It's my turn, you've been using him for 2 hours straight with no break. Now? I'm gonna fuck him 3 hours straight!" Giselle laughed as she quickly slammed herself on me. "AUUGGHH!! G-Go- p-please... N-Noona??!!" I groaned as my legs were at their limit as her hands were pushing them to spread even more, as my legs in her entrance were tight and slobbering. A hand grabbed my hair even tighter, Winter was being aggressive as her 10th orgasm was coming. Her breath shaking, as her hands and legs tremble. While Ning was holding my waist, her hard and slow thrust came in faster, rougher... It felt so hard to breathe in, as Winter, Ning, Giselle was on me using me like a toy. Karina is knocked as she slept the tile floors soundly...

End of This lil smut😆

[joaosnovia]

jealous kenan about his teammates finding you attractive and his rival team so he’s not playing good until the last bit and when reader comes down to the pitch she just gives her a hungry kiss to show everybody she’s takin

❦ - the love of italia.

summary:: kenan finding out that almost the whole of italy put him off his game by a lot, eventually motivating him to do better.

warnings:: none

writers note:: thing is, i wrote this as soon as i got the req (ages ago) before ramadan thinking that i’d be able to post it before then but life had other plans so khalas, the haram police can’t catch me because i wrote this BEFORE ramadan.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

kenan yildiz was not having a good game.

it wasn’t because he was out of form, or tired, or struggling tactically. no, kenan was playing like shit because his mind was elsewhere. specifically, on you.

it had started before kickoff. you’d come to support him, looking effortlessly good in one of his old juventus hoodies, the sleeves hanging past your fingers, your hair falling just right. that alone would’ve been enough to distract him, but what really set him off was the way his teammates, and worse, the opposing team, had noticed.

‘so that’s your girl, huh?’ one of his teammates had asked in the locker room, nodding toward where you were chatting with some staff near the stands. ‘damn. didn’t know you were pulling like that.’

kenan had just given him a look.

then, during warmups, he caught some of the other team’s players also looking. one even had the audacity to say something to him as they passed.

‘number 10’s playing for more than just three points today, huh?’

kenan clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might crack.

from that moment on, he was done for.

it was obvious from the first whistle, kenan was off.

his passes were sloppy. his first touch was heavier than usual. he missed chances he’d normally bury without thinking. and every time someone from the rival team got near him, talking just enough shit for the ref not to hear, his blood boiled a little more.

‘what’s up with yildiz today?’ the commentators were already talking about it.

his coach was yelling from the sidelines. his teammates were trying to snap him out of it. but nothing worked. because every time he looked up, there you were, beautiful, perfect, and completely oblivious to the chaos happening in his head.

it wasn’t until the last few minutes of the game that something finally clicked.

it was still 0-0. they had one last attack. the ball came to kenan’s feet, and for the first time all game, his frustration sharpened into something useful.

he drove forward, weaving past defenders like they weren’t even there. everything else faded. the noise, the tension, the trash talk, it didn’t matter. all that mattered was getting this goal.

and he did.

a clean strike. bottom corner. unstoppable.

the stadium erupted. his teammates surrounded him, yelling, pulling him into hugs. but kenan barely reacted. his celebration was already planned.

his eyes went straight to you.

the second the final whistle blew, you made your way down to the pitch. you weren’t even thinking, you just knew you had to get to him.

by the time you reached the field, kenan was already waiting. his jersey was damp with sweat, his breathing still heavy, but his eyes were locked onto you like you were the only person in the world.

‘kenan, that goal—’

you didn’t get to finish. because the moment you were close enough, he grabbed you. one hand firm on your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck. and then he kissed you.

not just any kiss, a statement.

it was possessive, like he wanted to make sure every single person watching, his teammates, his rivals, the entire damn stadium, knew exactly who you belonged to.

you barely registered the cheers (and teasing whistles) from his teammates. all you could focus on was kenan, his body pressed against yours, the way his fingers dug into your waist.

when he finally pulled back, his expression unreadable.

‘you’re mine,’ he muttered, voice low enough for only you to hear.

your breath caught. but before you could even think of a response, he smirked, like he already knew the answer. like he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

and honestly? he was right.

[cookielixie]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 || 𝐥.𝐟. 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

A group of meddling friends, a sprig of mistletoe, and a month full of holiday mischief—what could go wrong? For Y/n and Felix, their obliviousness to their own feelings is only rivaled by their friends’ determination to push them together. As December unfolds, so do a series of awkward, sweet, and unexpected moments that might just make this Christmas unforgettable. 

pairing: lee felix x reader

wordcount: 8k

genre/warnings: college!au, best friends to lovers, friends meddling, mistletoe mishaps, awkward encounters, two very oblivious idiots, suggestive content (like a tiny bit), tooth rotting fluff, mentions of alcohol and partying and a smidge of angst. I guess minsung if u squint

A/N: This has been a wip for like... three years now lmao. i really hope you guys like it, feedback and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated <3 also english is not my first language... so yeah sorry if there are any mistakes

It all started with something simple—shared morning lattes and soft exchanges of “good morning” during your early lectures. Those small, fleeting moments quietly grew into endless hours spent together, until you and Felix became nearly inseparable. The group noticed quickly. The way your laughter came easier when he was around, the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought no one was looking—it was hard to miss. And though you both insisted it was just friendship, the boys could see the truth: you were smitten, both of you, even if you were too stubborn or oblivious to admit it.  

As the year went on, the group quietly rooted for something more to happen. There was an undeniable chemistry between you, a natural ease that left everyone wondering when—not if—you’d finally realize your feelings for each other. But no matter how much teasing or hinting was thrown your way, you both deflected it with flustered laughs and hasty denials. Every attempt to nudge you closer ended the same, with perfect excuses and an almost comical level of obliviousness.  

Eventually, the boys eased off, figuring you’d figure it out on your own. But when December rolled around, your dynamic began to shift. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit, or maybe it was just the closeness that winter seemed to bring, but the two of you became even more inseparable—more clingy, more obviously something.  

It was late November when the group gathered at Chan’s place, watching the two of you from afar and exchanging knowing looks. They’d waited long enough. If gentle teasing and subtle hints weren’t going to work, maybe it was time to take matters into their own hands. Armed with a sprig of mistletoe, a little holiday mischief, and a determination to finally get you two to confess, they began crafting their foolproof plan. This Christmas, one way or another, you and Felix would stop denying what everyone else already knew.  

December 1st:

To kick off the Christmas season, everyone had gathered at Changbin’s for the monthly movie night. Everyone except you and Felix, of course, who were running late after your evening lecture together. The rest of the group had already settled in: Jisung and Minho were cracking open beers and chatting by the couch, Chan and Seungmin were busy piling blankets and pillows onto every available surface, while Hyunjin and Jeongin hovered over the snacks, stealing bites when they thought no one was looking.  

Changbin, meanwhile, was in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with a frantic expression and sweat beading on his forehead. His white t-shirt clung to him, dark spots blooming around the neckline. He’d spent the last hour scrambling to prepare what could only be described as a chaotic masterpiece.  

He held the item up in his hands, tilting it left and right under the kitchen light to inspect its durability. It was a long, slender branch, stripped of its excess twigs and carefully wrapped in duct tape. At the tip dangled a sprig of mistletoe, the final touch to what he jokingly called his “cupid’s staff.” After months of teasing, jokes, and failed schemes to push you and Felix closer, drastic measures were now on the table.  

“Hey, you almost done in here?” Chan’s head popped around the doorframe, startling Changbin. “They’re on their way.”  

Changbin glanced at his creation one last time before sighing. “I have no idea if this’ll work,” he muttered, holding it like a fragile relic.  

Chan smirked, his eyes turning into crescents. “It’s worth a shot. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.” He gave Changbin an encouraging pat on the shoulder before disappearing back into the living room. Changbin rolled his eyes but couldn’t help grinning as he cleaned up the remnants of his “art project.”  

When you and Felix finally arrived, your shared giggles preceded you, drawing attention as you stepped through the door. The others didn’t waste a second guiding you both to the loveseat—a small, almost comically cramped piece of furniture. You were forced to sit shoulder-to-shoulder, your legs draped casually across Felix’s lap. The closeness didn’t seem to bother either of you, and soon a comfortable silence fell over the room as the opening credits of the movie began to roll.  

Changbin bided his time, waiting until everyone was engrossed in the movie before slipping away to retrieve his cupid’s branch. “Bathroom break,” he muttered, his heart pounding as he snuck the mistletoe stick out of its hiding spot.  

Returning to the room, he carefully hid the branch behind his back as he took his seat. Minho noticed immediately, raising a brow and stifling a laugh, which, of course, drew your attention.  

“What’s so funny, Min?” you asked, glancing over.  

Changbin shot Minho a deadly glare, silently mouthing, Don’t you dare. Minho, however, didn’t even glance back at him. Instead, he deadpanned, “Changbin’s face. It’s just… always funny.”  

The group erupted into laughter, with Seungmin letting out a snort loud enough to shake the pillows. “Minho, I swear, one of these days, I’m going to drop a dumbbell on you at the gym,” Changbin snapped, though the threat lacked any real malice.  

Minho gasped dramatically, turning away with an exaggerated pout. “Whatever, I’m cuddling Jisung now. At least he appreciates me.”  

Jisung, already sitting beside him, slung an arm over Minho’s shoulders. “I got you, Min,” he said with mock sincerity.  

The laughter settled, and everyone turned back to the screen. Everyone except Changbin, who gripped his mistletoe stick like it was Excalibur, waiting for the perfect moment. He threw a quick glance in your direction and couldn’t help but smirk. Your head was now leaning against Felix’s shoulder, your face nestled into the crook of his neck, while his hand rested lightly on your thigh. Felix’s ears were burning red, a clear giveaway of how flustered he was despite his calm expression. You’re making this way too easy for me, Changbin thought, adjusting his grip on the branch.  

Unbeknownst to Changbin, your thoughts were far away from the movie. When did he become so beautiful? you wondered for the hundredth time since you’d met Felix. Tonight, though, the thought felt heavier as you stared at the way the TV’s soft light highlighted his freckles, making his eyes shine like little suns. You’d accepted your feelings for him a long time ago, even if you were convinced they weren’t mutual. You’d come to terms with it—being his friend was enough, wasn’t it? But moments like this, so close to him, made it harder to ignore the small ache in your chest.  

Meanwhile, Felix was doing everything in his power not to look down at you. His heart raced every time your breath fanned against his neck, and the weight of your legs draped over his lap was making it impossible to think straight. He clenched his jaw, his thoughts a chaotic mess. Stop being ridiculous. She doesn’t like you like that. But even as he told himself that, a part of him wished—hoped—that maybe he was wrong.  

That’s when Changbin made his move. Slowly, he leaned forward, positioning the mistletoe just above you and Felix. At first, Felix didn’t notice—his focus was entirely on not pulling you closer. But when a faint movement caught the corner of his eye, his head shot up. His eyes landed on the mistletoe, and his entire body stiffened.  

“What the hell, Changbin?” Felix’s voice came out sharper than intended, snapping everyone’s attention to him. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darted from the mistletoe to Changbin’s sheepish grin.  

“It’s just a bit of fun,” Changbin replied, trying to keep it light. “Tradition, you know?”  

“Yeah, hilarious,” Felix said coldly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He avoided looking at you entirely, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.  

Your stomach sank at his reaction. Does the thought of kissing me disgust him that much? you wondered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Clearing your throat, you shifted slightly away from him, your heart sinking as your insecurities bubbled to the surface.  

Sensing the tension, Minho quickly stepped in. “Alright, alright, let’s get back to the movie, yeah? Changbin, retire your cupid stick.”  

The awkwardness lingered for the rest of the night, though no one dared to mention the mistletoe again. By the time the movie ended, you and Felix left without so much as a word to each other, the comfortable closeness from earlier now replaced with a noticeable distance.  

As you walked home in opposite directions, the silence between you hung heavy in the air, leaving you both with thoughts you couldn’t bring yourselves to say aloud.  

December 6th:

Minho’s invitation to dinner—just you, Felix, and Jisung—felt like the perfect excuse to shake off the awkwardness lingering from the group’s last gathering. Felix had eagerly agreed, and you didn’t hesitate either. Spending time with him in a smaller, more relaxed setting was always easy. Plus, Minho’s cooking was a draw on its own.  

As you stepped into Minho’s apartment, the warmth and delicious aroma of home-cooked food enveloped you immediately. “Welcome to Minho’s Michelin-star kitchen,” he announced proudly, ushering you inside.  

Jisung, sprawled lazily on the couch, smirked. “Minho’s been on a mission to impress all day. He even cleaned the stove. You better be prepared to cry tears of joy.”  

“Please,” Minho shot back. “You’ll be too busy shoving food into your mouth to cry.”  

Laughing, you made your way to the small dining table set beautifully for four. You slid into your seat beside Felix while Minho and Jisung sat across from you. The atmosphere was cozy, made warmer by the soft yellow light spilling from the lamp above the table.  

The conversation flowed easily as you started eating, a mix of light teasing and genuine updates. Minho, always perceptive, grinned as he turned his attention to you. “So, Y/n, heard you totally destroyed that exam you were stressing over? What’s your secret? Is it some kind of illegal genius potion? Do I need to call someone?”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “No genius potion, just sheer panic, too much coffee, and maybe a sprinkle of luck.” You reached for the salt shaker, but your movement froze as your gaze drifted upward. Dangling from the lamp above the table, hanging innocently over you and Felix, was a sprig of mistletoe.  

Your cheeks instantly heated. Minho and Jisung exchanged amused glances, poorly concealing their smirks as they watched you both. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Felix’s grip tighten slightly on his fork, his gaze firmly planted on his plate. He must have noticed it earlier, but he hadn’t said a word. Of course he hadn’t.  

You cleared your throat, breaking the moment, and continued your original task of grabbing the salt, doing your best to ignore the festive little sprig taunting you from above. Felix didn’t look up once, seemingly invested in rearranging the food on his plate.  

For the rest of the meal, your interactions with Felix felt careful and muted, though you couldn’t help sneaking a few glances his way. Whenever Minho wasn’t looking, you narrowed your eyes at him, your silent death glare saying all the things you couldn’t say out loud. But if he noticed your glare—and he absolutely did—he didn’t seem fazed, calmly serving himself another helping of food and chatting with Jisung about the latest drama in their group of friends.  

By the time dinner ended, the mistletoe still hung over you like an unanswered question, but neither of you dared to acknowledge it. You and Felix thanked Minho for the food and began your walk home in the crisp December night air.  

The silence at first was comfortable, your shoes crunching softly against the pavement. It didn’t take long before Felix cracked a joke about Jisung’s overly dramatic reaction to Minho’s slightly burnt bread rolls, and soon your laughter echoed easily down the quiet street.  

Amidst your conversation, Felix slipped his hand into yours. It wasn’t unusual for you two to hold hands—it was something you’d done before—but tonight it felt different. Maybe it was the warmth of the moment, or maybe it was the quiet intimacy of walking side by side under the twinkling streetlights. Whatever it was, you couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt, as though his hand belonged there.  

Felix glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his soft smile catching the faint glow of the streetlights. “You know,” he began, his voice casual but slightly hesitant, “this kind of feels like… a nice tradition.”  

You tilted your head, squeezing his hand lightly. “What does?”  

“This,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to your joined hands before he quickly added with a nervous laugh, “You know… just as friends. It’s nice, right? No weird mistletoe stuff this time.”  

Your laugh was light, but something tightened in your chest at his words. “Yeah,” you said softly, glancing ahead. “No surprises hanging over our heads.”  

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. Felix’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if he was afraid you’d pull away, but you didn’t. You kept walking side by side, your steps naturally syncing with each other like they always did.  

His words lingered in your mind, though, the way he so quickly clarified the moment as just friendly. Did he think you might have assumed something else? Had you been assuming something else? The thought stirred uneasily in your chest, but you shook it off, blaming it on the holiday awkwardness that had been following you both since the start of December.  

Beside you, Felix wasn’t any calmer. His heart raced, and he berated himself silently. ‘Why did I say that? Now it’s weird. What if she thinks I’m overthinking? What if she wasn’t thinking about it, but now she is?’ His thoughts swirled in an endless loop of self-doubt, but even amidst the chaos in his mind, he felt the warmth of your hand in his and refused to let go.  

The walk continued, the quiet punctuated by shared smiles and lighthearted comments, both of you silently agreeing not to think too much about the moment. For now, it was enough.  

Unbeknownst to you, Minho and Jisung stood by their apartment window, watching as your figures grew smaller in the distance. “They’re hopeless,” Jisung said with a laugh, shaking his head.  

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, smiling fondly. “But this time, I think they’re starting to get it.”  

December 12th:

Visits to the dance studio where Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix practiced had become a regular part of your routine. You enjoyed seeing the trio perfect their routines and loved bringing them food and drinks as a small gesture of support. Tonight, you decided to surprise them, knowing how late their rehearsals often ran. The thumping bass and sharp rhythm of the music greeted you as you entered the studio, the trio moving in perfect sync with the beat. The energy in the room was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but admire the sheer dedication in each step. For a moment, you stood in the doorway, watching them in awe, before they noticed you.  

Minho spotted you first, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Perfect timing, Y/n! We’re starving,” he announced, cutting the music off as the others collapsed onto the floor in mock exhaustion. Hyunjin dramatically wiped his brow, flopping onto his back. “You’re basically a lifesaver at this point,” he joked, while Felix walked over to you with a shy smile, murmuring a soft “Thanks for coming.”  

You sat down with them on the studio floor, unpacking the food and drinks. The conversation flowed easily, filled with playful teasing and updates about your days. Felix, ever the enthusiastic eater, dove into his food with gusto, but it didn’t take long for disaster to strike. “You’ve got sauce on your face, Felix,” you said, stifling a laugh as you reached for a napkin. Without hesitation, you leaned in to wipe it off.  

But just as your hand neared his face, Hyunjin leaned over you with an outstretched arm, dangling a sprig of mistletoe above your head. “Oops, look at that,” he said with a mischievous grin. Your hand froze midair, your eyes locking on the mistletoe first, then darting to Felix. His eyes were wide, his cheeks already dusted with pink. The moment stretched out awkwardly, your hand only inches from his face, until the reality of the situation hit you like a jolt. You recoiled sharply, your heart racing. “I—I should go,” you stammered, grabbing your bag and standing up so quickly it almost knocked over a drink. “Lots to do tonight, sorry!” Before anyone could say a word, you rushed out of the studio, the door swinging shut behind you.  

The silence left behind was deafening. Felix sat frozen, his hand hovering where yours had been moments before, staring at the door you’d disappeared through. His brow furrowed as a mix of frustration and regret crossed his face. “Hyunjin,” he said slowly, his tone sharp, “what the hell was that? The mistletoe again?”  

Hyunjin blinked, startled by Felix’s tone. “I just thought it’d be funny,” he said defensively, holding the mistletoe up like a white flag. But when Felix’s glare didn’t falter, Hyunjin sighed and dropped the sprig onto the floor. “Look, if you hadn’t reacted so… harshly the first time, maybe Y/n wouldn’t be so jumpy now. I mean, do you even know how much she likes you?”  

Felix’s jaw tightened. “What?” he asked, his voice lower now, but Hyunjin just shook his head, standing up to grab a drink. “Figure it out, man. We’re just trying to help, but it’s like you’re both running away every time something happens.”  

Felix didn’t respond. He stared at the mistletoe on the floor, Hyunjin’s words echoing in his head. If you hadn’t reacted so harshly the first time… maybe Y/n wouldn’t be so jumpy now. Was that true? Had he set this whole thing in motion? He thought back to the first mistletoe incident at Changbin’s—a moment he’d shut down immediately because the idea of forcing you into something like that felt wrong. He didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or pressured, not when he thought you might find it absolutely weird and deem him a creep or something. But now… was it his reaction that had made things worse? Was he the one creating this distance?  

His chest tightened. He’d thought he was protecting you—protecting your friendship—but maybe he’d only made things more awkward. And now you were running out of rooms because of him. The studio fell quiet again, save for the faint sound of Minho munching on chips. After a long silence, Minho glanced up, leaning forward slightly. “Felix, don’t overthink it,” he said gently, his voice less teasing than usual. “You two always bounce back. Just… maybe next time, don’t run away from the moment, yeah?”  

Felix nodded slowly, Minho’s words sinking in, but he still couldn’t shake the weight in his chest. As rehearsal resumed, he danced on autopilot, his movements mechanical as his mind replayed the night’s events. By the time the music stopped again, one thought was firmly planted in his mind: I can’t let this keep happening. I’ve got to figure out how to make things right with her.  

December 16th:

It had been a few days since the series of awkward holiday encounters—movie night, the dinner at Minho’s, and the fiasco at the dance studio. You and Felix had fallen back into your usual rhythm, or at least, you were trying to. The moments of closeness still felt natural, but there was a tension beneath the surface, a hesitance that hadn’t been there before. You chalked it up to everything that had happened, telling yourself that things would smooth out eventually. 

The two of you were standing by your locker that morning, talking like usual, and for once, it felt normal again. Felix leaned casually against the locker next to yours, his freckled cheeks still slightly pink from the cold outside. 

“I’m calling it now—Chan’s going to make us rewrite our part of the group project by the end of the week,” Felix said with a smirk. “He’s going to find some tiny typo and have an existential crisis about it.” 

You laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed a book from your locker. “He’s probably already composing the email. I give him until tomorrow before we get hit with, ‘Just a few more adjustments.’” 

Felix laughed along with you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Moments like this were your favorite—easy, light, like nothing had changed. The awkwardness from the last few days felt far away, almost forgotten. Almost. 

But then Jisung appeared. 

“Wow, if it isn’t my favorite dynamic duo!” he called out, his voice loud enough to draw a few glances from passing students. You turned your head just as he stopped in front of you, his usual mischievous grin plastered across his face. 

“Jisung…” you began cautiously, narrowing your eyes at him. “What are you doing?” 

Instead of answering, he gave you and Felix a mockingly sweet look, then reached up and held something over your heads. Your stomach sank the moment you realized what he was doing. 

Felix noticed immediately too. His laughter faded, and for a split second, he looked up before his eyes flicked to you. But instead of pulling away or frowning like he had the first time, he hesitated, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something. His posture softened, his hand twitching at his side as though he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should. “Y/n, it’s not a big deal,” he said, his voice quiet and careful. 

But you didn’t hear the gentleness in his words. The memory of his sharp reaction the first time flashed in your mind like a warning sign. You panicked, your body stiffening as a heat rose to your face. “Jisung!” you exclaimed, your voice harsher than you intended as you reached out to push him aside. 

He stumbled back with a yelp, clutching his chest dramatically. “Whoa, okay! No need to shove!” he said, though his tone was still playful. 

“I’m not doing this right now,” you muttered, hastily grabbing your bag. Your eyes didn’t meet Felix’s, even as you felt his gaze lingering on you. “I’ve got to get to class.” 

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Felix and Jisung standing there in the middle of the hallway. 

The silence between them was heavy for a moment, until Jisung let out a low whistle. “Well, that didn’t go as planned,” he muttered, looking at Felix. 

Felix was still staring down the hall, his expression hard to read. His arms hung at his sides, his shoulders tense. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but laced with frustration. “Why do you keep doing that, Jisung?” 

Jisung blinked. “Doing what?” 

Felix turned to him, his jaw tight. “This. Pushing her like that. It’s not helping.” 

Jisung tilted his head, holding his hands up defensively. “Whoa, relax, man. I thought you two were back to normal. You were laughing and talking like nothing was wrong—I figured maybe this time, it wouldn’t be a big deal.” 

Felix ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “Well, it is a big deal. She’s already uncomfortable with everything that’s happened, and now she’s just…” He trailed off, his voice growing softer. “She probably thinks I don’t want this. That I don’t want her.” 

Jisung frowned, his usual playful expression replaced by something more serious. “You don’t think she knows how you feel?” 

Felix let out a short, humorless laugh. “How could she? The first time this happened, I acted like the whole idea was some big joke. She probably thinks the idea of… of anything between us is disgusting to me.” He leaned back against the lockers, his gaze falling to the floor. “But it’s not. It’s the opposite. I just didn’t want her to feel pressured into anything. I thought I was doing the right thing.” 

Jisung studied him for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Look, man, maybe it’s time to stop trying to protect her from something she doesn’t need protecting from. I mean, she’s clearly as caught up in her head as you are. Maybe instead of freaking out, you could, I don’t know, actually say something next time?” 

Felix looked up at him, frowning. “Say what?” 

Jisung smirked faintly, patting Felix on the shoulder. “Figure it out. Just… do something before she sprints away again. You’re both miserable, and it’s kind of painful to watch.” 

And with that, Jisung walked off, leaving Felix standing alone in the hallway. Felix let out another sigh, leaning his head back against the lockers. 

Maybe Jisung’s right, he thought, the idea twisting in his chest. She probably thinks I don’t want her. But what if she… what if she doesn’t want me either? 

The thought made his stomach churn, but as he stood there, staring down the hallway where you’d disappeared, he resolved to himself that next time—if there was a next time—he wouldn’t let things end like this. 

December 20th:

The soft hum of Christmas music filled the cozy café where you worked, the glow of fairy lights strung along the walls casting a warm, festive ambiance. The evening shift had been slow, with only the occasional customer trickling in, leaving you and Jeongin plenty of time to chat and clean. When the bells above the door jingled, you glanced up, immediately spotting Felix stepping in from the cold. A puff of white breath escaped his lips as he unwrapped the scarf from his neck, his cheeks and nose flushed pink from the chilly December air. He looked tired but happy, and his face lit up when he saw you behind the counter. 

“Felix!” you called out, leaning slightly over the counter to greet him. “Done with your last exam?” 

He grinned as he approached, his hair falling into his eyes. “Finally. I think my brain is fried, but at least I’m free now.” He leaned an elbow on the counter, his usual casual charm impossible to miss. “I needed a victory coffee, and I figured my favorite barista would hook me up.” 

You snorted, grabbing a cup and heading toward the espresso machine. “Victory coffee, huh? Is that what we’re calling it? Be honest—did you crush it or barely survive?” 

“Crushed it,” he replied quickly, then laughed. “Okay, fine. Maybe there was a little panic halfway through the essay. But come on, you try remembering six economic theories when you’re running on two hours of sleep.” 

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you started making his coffee. “Sounds like someone should’ve had one more latte before heading in. Caffeine solves everything, you know.” 

“Ah, yes, the secret to success: caffeine addiction,” he teased, resting both elbows on the counter now as he watched you work. Jeongin, wiping down tables nearby, snorted loud enough to make Felix glance his way. 

“She doesn’t give just anyone free coffee, you know,” Jeongin quipped. “You must be special.” 

Felix smirked, his gaze flickering to yours. “Guess I’m her favorite.” 

You felt your cheeks flush but kept your focus on the coffee machine, pretending his words hadn’t made your heart skip. “Careful, sunshine boy, or I’ll start charging you double.” 

Jeongin grinned knowingly but didn’t push it, disappearing into the back as you handed Felix his coffee. He took a sip, sighing dramatically as though it were the best thing he’d ever tasted. “Perfect, as always.” 

You leaned forward on the counter, resting your chin in your hand as you laughed. “I’ll take that as a five-star Yelp review.” 

“You’d get six stars if you threw in a cookie,” he joked, and just like that, the conversation flowed effortlessly. It didn’t matter how awkward things had been between you recently—when it was just the two of you, everything else seemed to melt away. Felix’s freckled cheeks were still pink from the cold, and the warmth in his eyes as he smiled at you made your stomach flip, though you tried to ignore it. 

The café was quiet, the snow falling softly outside making the whole world feel muffled and still. Felix leaned closer over the counter, his chin propped on his hand now, mirroring your posture as you teased him about his exam. He was laughing again, the sound low and sweet, and you were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice how close you’d both leaned toward each other. The space between you was practically nonexistent, and your heart was thudding in your chest, though you weren’t sure why. 

But Felix did notice. Just as his gaze flickered to your lips, a movement caught the corner of his eye. He stilled, his laughter fading as his focus shifted. There, by the pastry case, was Jeongin. He was leaning casually against the counter, a smug grin plastered across his face as he held something above your heads. 

Felix’s stomach twisted when he realized what it was: a sprig of mistletoe, dangling lazily from Jeongin’s hand. His initial instinct was to groan or roll his eyes, to glare at Jeongin for meddling again. But then his gaze returned to you. You were still smiling, your eyes shining as you waited for him to say something, completely unaware of Jeongin’s antics. 

Felix hesitated. He knew how you felt about the mistletoe by now—how every prank this month had left you retreating, flustered and unsure. But something about the way you were looking at him right now, so close and unguarded, made him want to push past the awkwardness and take the chance. Maybe this was his moment to show you how he really felt. 

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. “Can I tell you something?” 

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued, though you tried to keep your tone light. “You’re not about to say something cheesy, are you?” 

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine, and his gaze softened as he leaned in slightly. “Maybe. But you make it kinda hard not to.” 

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back some teasing remark, but before you could, Felix closed the space between you, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. The warmth of his lips spread across your skin, catching you so off guard that you froze. For a moment, everything seemed to stand still, the café quiet except for the soft hum of holiday music. But just as your heart started to flutter, your eyes flicked upward—and you saw it. 

There, held high above your heads, was Jeongin’s hand. He was leaning against the counter, the branch in his grip swaying slightly, his grin practically splitting his face in two. 

The giddy warmth from Felix’s kiss vanished, replaced by a sinking feeling in your chest. Of course. Of course Jeongin had been watching, meddling, dangling his stupid branch like some kind of cupid. You stepped back from Felix slightly, your hand brushing your cheek where his lips had been moments before, and let out a nervous laugh. 

“Wow, smooth, Felix,” you said lightly, though your voice felt hollow even to your own ears. You avoided his gaze, your chest tightening with doubt. He’d kissed you, sure, but was it because he wanted to—or because Jeongin had been standing there, making it impossible not to? The thought twisted painfully in your stomach, and you turned your attention to Jeongin, your expression hardening. “And you! Don’t you have anything better to do than play cupid?” 

Jeongin grinned shamelessly, lowering the branch. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ as he straightened up. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

You rolled your eyes and busied yourself behind the counter, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. You could feel Felix’s gaze on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. The moment had been so sweet, so perfect, but now it just felt like a game—like all the other forced encounters this month. The thought of it being anything other than real made your chest ache. 

Felix stood there, his own chest tightening as he watched you. He hadn’t missed the way your expression changed the second you noticed Jeongin, how you’d pulled away like the kiss had meant nothing. His grip on his coffee cup tightened, frustration and regret bubbling inside him. He’d kissed you because he wanted to, but now it felt like everything had been ruined by that stupid sprig of greenery. 

Later, as Jeongin wiped down a table nearby, Felix caught his eye. “Really?” Felix said, his voice low as he gestured toward the branch now lying on the counter. “You couldn’t help yourself?” 

Jeongin smirked, completely unbothered. “You two were this close. I just gave you a little push.” 

Felix sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She probably thinks I only kissed her because of you.” 

“Well,” Jeongin said, raising an eyebrow, “did you?” 

Felix glared at him, his voice soft but firm. “No. I kissed her because I wanted to.” 

Jeongin tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost understanding. “Then maybe next time, let her know that. Don’t let me or some stupid branch do it for you.” 

Felix stayed quiet, his eyes flicking toward the counter where you stood, your back still turned to him. Jeongin’s words echoed in his head as he finished his coffee, determination slowly building in his chest. If there was going to be a next time, he wouldn’t leave any room for doubt. Not this time.

December 22nd:

The Christmas party was in full swing, and Chan’s apartment buzzed with the energy of a group finally free from the weight of exams. The music pulsed softly in the background—a mix of festive classics and whatever Jisung had decided to throw into the playlist for chaos. Colored lights blinked unevenly from every corner, their soft glow bathing the room in warmth, while an unsteady Christmas tree leaned dramatically in the corner, its precarious decorations the result of Minho’s refusal to let anyone touch “his masterpiece.” The air was thick with the scent of mulled wine, spiked hot chocolate, and cinnamon candles that Minho had insisted were “mandatory for the aesthetic.” Empty bottles and half-eaten snacks littered the table, and Santa hats had somehow found their way onto everyone’s heads, whether willingly or not. 

In the kitchen, you leaned against the counter, cradling a drink that had gone lukewarm in your hand. Minho stood opposite you, arms crossed and a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watched you with laser focus. The noise from the living room spilled faintly into the space—Jeongin’s laughter cutting through Chan’s groan of defeat, the clinking of glasses, and Jisung’s exaggerated rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock.” 

Minho raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as he studied you. “Alright, what’s going on?” 

You blinked, startled. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Minho said, gesturing toward the door with his glass, “that you’ve been glancing at Felix every five minutes like you’re in a cheesy holiday rom-com, and you’ve barely said three words to him all night. Spill.” 

You groaned, setting your drink down on the counter with a little too much force. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, though even you didn’t believe it. “That’s the problem.” 

Minho’s smirk softened, and he leaned forward slightly, his sharp gaze not letting you escape. “You know you can talk to me, right? I’m like a free therapist. Minus the therapy license. And the emotional sensitivity.” 

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “It’s just… complicated,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “This whole mistletoe thing—it’s made everything so weird. And now I feel like I don’t even know where I stand with him. What if all those moments didn’t mean anything? What if he only kissed me at the café because Jeongin was standing there waiting for him to do it?” 

Minho let out a long, exasperated sigh, setting his glass down with a dramatic flourish. “Y/n, listen to me. Felix isn’t the kind of guy who does something just because someone else expects him to. If he kissed you, it’s because he wanted to. End of story. Trust me, I’ve known him for years.” 

You frowned, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “But what if I’m wrong? What if I say something, and it ruins everything?” 

Minho gave you a rare, sincere look, his tone softening. “Then at least you’ll know. But, Y/n, come on. The guy looks at you like you hung the stars. You’ve seen it, right? He’s just as caught up in this as you are. But if you don’t talk to him, you’re both gonna keep circling each other forever.” 

You hesitated, the weight of his words settling over you. “You’re really annoying, you know that?” you muttered, picking up your glass again. 

Minho grinned, raising his own glass in a mock toast. “And yet, I’m always right.” 

Across the room, Felix was perched on the edge of the couch, swirling his drink absently as he stared out the window. The faint glow of the city lights reflected in his dark eyes, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He barely noticed the snow falling in lazy flurries, his mind too busy replaying every moment from the past month—the awkwardness, the misunderstandings, and most of all, the way you’d pulled away at the café after Jeongin’s mistletoe stunt. He kept asking himself the same question: Had he ruined it? Had his hesitation made you think he didn’t care? 

Hyunjin plopped down beside him, dragging him back to the present with an exaggerated sigh. “Alright, sunshine boy, what’s your deal?” 

Felix blinked, startled. “What?” 

“You’ve been sulking in the corner all night,” Hyunjin said, poking him in the ribs with a candy cane. “Which, like, fine, maybe it’s your broody winter aesthetic or whatever, but it’s starting to get depressing. What’s going on?” 

Felix let out a soft groan, running a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing.” 

“Oh, it’s definitely not nothing,” Seungmin interjected from across the room, where he was perched on the armrest of the couch. “Even Changbin noticed, and he’s been halfway through that punch bowl for the last hour.” 

Changbin, who was indeed holding another cup of punch, nodded sagely. “Yeah, man. You’ve been staring at Y/n like she’s the last piece of cake at the bakery.” 

Felix groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “I’m not staring.” 

Hyunjin snorted. “Right. Sure. You’re just ‘coincidentally’ looking in her direction every thirty seconds.” 

Felix dropped his hands, shooting them a glare. “I don’t know, okay? The whole mistletoe thing has been a mess, and I feel like every time I try to fix it, I just make things worse. She probably thinks I only kissed her at the café because Jeongin was watching.” 

Hyunjin tilted his head, studying Felix’s slumped posture. “Or—and hear me out—maybe she’s just as scared as you are. Look, Felix, if you want her to know how you feel, you’re gonna have to stop tiptoeing around it. None of this ‘reading between the lines’ crap. Just tell her.” 

Felix’s gaze flicked toward the kitchen, where he could just make out the edge of your figure as you leaned against the counter, talking to Minho. His chest tightened. “Yeah,” he said softly. “You’re right.” 

Hyunjin grinned, clapping him on the back. “Of course I am.” 

The Christmas party had settled into a quieter rhythm, the earlier chaos giving way to a warm buzz of chatter and laughter. Chan’s apartment still brimmed with festive energy—colored lights blinked unevenly from the walls, and the half-decorated tree leaned at an almost comical angle, as though too tired to stand upright after hosting a steady stream of Santa hats and selfies. The scent of mulled wine, cinnamon candles, and something suspiciously burnt wafted through the air, mingling with the faint sounds of Christmas music pulsing from Jisung’s chaotic playlist. 

You needed air. The heat of the apartment and the weight of your swirling thoughts had become too much, so you’d slipped out onto the balcony unnoticed. The cold December breeze bit at your skin, sharp and refreshing, as you leaned against the railing and stared out at the snow-dusted city below. The streetlights illuminated the falling snow like glitter, and for a moment, you let the quiet settle over you, a sharp contrast to the hum of energy inside. 

Your mind, however, refused to settle. It was caught in a loop, replaying every mistletoe encounter from the past month—the awkward laughter, the stolen glances, the kiss at the café. No matter how hard you tried to push it away, one thought kept returning: Did any of it really mean something? Or had Felix simply gone along with it because he felt like he had to? 

The sliding door opened behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder, startled. Felix stepped out, his scarf loosely draped around his neck, and the faint glow from the apartment lit up his freckles like constellations. His cheeks were pink, whether from the cold or the warmth of the party, you weren’t sure. He hesitated for a moment, looking at you like he wasn’t entirely sure he was welcome, before closing the door behind him and stepping closer. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying over the breeze. 

“Hey,” you replied, your breath visible in the cold as you turned back to the view. 

For a few moments, neither of you said anything, the silence stretching between you like the snowfall. Felix shifted beside you, leaning on the railing, close enough that his elbow almost brushed yours. You could feel his presence without looking at him, and the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air. 

“Can we talk?” he asked finally, his voice hesitant but steady. 

You nodded, your pulse quickening. “Yeah. We probably should.” 

Felix let out a slow breath, his hands gripping the railing as he looked out at the city. “This whole month has been… a lot,” he started, his voice low. “The mistletoe, the teasing, all of it—it made everything feel so much more complicated than it needed to be. And I know I didn’t exactly handle it well.” He paused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “The night at Changbin’s… when I reacted the way I did—it wasn’t because I didn’t want to kiss you.” 

You turned to look at him, your chest tightening. “Then why?” 

Felix hesitated, his brows furrowing as he stared down at his hands. “Because I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I didn’t want you to think I was only doing it because they were watching. I didn’t want it to feel like some stupid joke.” His voice softened, and he finally looked up to meet your gaze. “I wanted it to be real. And I didn’t want to ruin anything between us by making it weird.” 

Your breath caught, and you felt the words spilling out before you could stop them. “And I didn’t want you to kiss me because of them either,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I wanted you to kiss me because you wanted to. Not because of some stupid branch, or a game, or anything else.” 

Felix’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. “Y/n,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “that’s the only reason I’ve ever wanted to kiss you.” 

The rawness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, and your heart felt like it might burst. The tension between you was electric, the cold air forgotten as his gaze held yours, unflinching and unguarded. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Felix spotted something on the small table beside you. 

He let out a soft laugh, breaking the moment as he reached for it. In his hand was a familiar sprig of greenery—another mistletoe branch, as though the universe itself had been conspiring against you all month. Felix raised it above your heads, a playful smile tugging at his lips despite the nervous edge in his eyes. 

“Well,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement, “it wouldn’t be Christmas without one of these, right?” 

You stared at the mistletoe for a moment, your emotions a tangled mess of warmth, frustration, and something close to defiance. Then, without a word, you grabbed the branch from his hand, stepped back, and threw it over the railing. The sprig disappeared into the night, swallowed by the snow below. 

“To hell with that,” you said, your voice steady but breathless. 

Before Felix could react, you closed the distance between you, your hands cupping his face as you leaned in and kissed him. His lips were warm despite the cold, soft and tentative for half a second before he responded, his hands gently settling on your waist like he was afraid you might disappear. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like the two of you were pouring every unsaid word, every missed moment, into it. The rest of the world faded away—there was no snow, no cold, no noise from the party inside. There was only him. 

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the frosty air. Felix’s eyes fluttered open, and his freckled cheeks were flushed, his lips tugging into a soft, disbelieving smile. 

“Wow,” he said, his voice low and full of awe. “That was definitely all you.” 

You laughed, your hands still resting against his cheeks. “Yeah, it was.” 

The tender moment was shattered by a loud thump against the glass door. Both of you whipped around to see the boys pressed up against the balcony window—Hyunjin, Jisung, Jeongin, Seungmin, Changbin, Chan, and Minho, all grinning like they’d just won the lottery. Minho smirked as he exchanged a smug high-five with Chan, while Jisung mimed wiping a fake tear from his cheek. 

Felix groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as his ears burned red. “They’re the worst.” 

You couldn’t stop laughing, wrapping your arms around him as you leaned your cheek against his hair. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as the snow continued to fall softly around you. “But maybe we owe them for this one.” 

[casssmalefantasy]

team usa: the series — paige bueckers x oc!

iii. things left unsaid—you kissed. you didn’t talk about it. but everything feels different now.

s: after ivy and paige kiss, everything changes—and nothing does. there are no late-night talks about it, no daytime check-ins. but it lingers. silence isn’t always distance. sometimes it’s waiting.

w: post-kiss tension, shared bed vibes, soft yearning, nighttime conversations, accidental touches, slow emotional unraveling, mutual pining that finally feels returned

wc: 2.1K

last part | next part

part three: “things left unsaid”

paige’s pov

i didn’t sleep much that night. not because i wasn’t tired, but because i couldn’t stop thinking about how ivy’s lips felt on mine.

how soft she kissed. how warm she was. how close.

she fell asleep first, curled toward the wall, hoodie still on, hair a little messy.

i stayed facing the ceiling, barely blinking.

the room was dark.

quiet.

except for her breathing and the occasional click of the ac.

i wanted to reach out, touch her hand again, just to make sure it really happened.

but i didn’t.

“maybe we should focus on the team. figure the rest out later.”

the words she said to me two hours ago after we kissed, replaying in my head.

later?

what was considered later?

and why did it feel like “later” was never?

—

ivy’s pov

waking up the next morning was weird. not in a bad way. just… different.

i took longer getting ready that morning. longer tying my shoes. longer brushing my hair. mostly because i didn’t know how to exist next to her without remembering what it felt like to kiss her.

when i finally turned around, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs swinging slightly like a kid, her phone in her lap.

"you okay?" she asked, eyes meeting mine like she already knew the answer.

i nodded. "yeah. just tired."

but we both knew it wasn’t just that.

we were quiet the whole way to breakfast.

i remembered the kiss the second i opened my eyes. the way she looked at me before it happened.

the way she didn’t pull away until i did.

the words i said after.

and now we were here, in the hotel dining area, next to each other eating breakfast, knees brushing under the table like none of it happened. when everything did.

“you want some of my bacon,” she asked.

“no. not in the mood for bacon today.”

i didn’t know if i should smile at the thought of her offering me her extra bacon, knowing how much i love it.

but i decided not to.

i just got up and threw my plate out, trying to act normal.

but nothing about today felt normal.

✦ ✦ ✦

the next few days were a blur.

we didn’t talk about the kiss or even mention it at all.

but everything had shifted between us.

in practice, we’d still pass to each other. still run plays like nothing happened. but during water breaks, when i’d catch her already looking—i’d look back.

and some nights, i could feel her hand brush against mine under the covers, slow and intentional.

neither of us moved away.

the way we sat closer than usual at team dinners, the way her hand lingered a little too long on my back after drills, and how she looked at me like i was the only person in the room.

our teammates didn’t notice. or if they did, they didn’t say anything.

but i noticed.

every. single. thing.

especially at night—in the one bed we still had to share. we used to laugh before sleeping. talk until one of us drifted off.

but now there was tension.

complete silence.

like we were both scared of crossing that invisible line again, but also kind of desperate to do it.

—

paige’s pov

the worst part of all this?

i couldn’t tell if ivy regretted it.

she acted the same during the day—focused, funny, a little guarded.

but at night, i could feel her thinking. i’d lay there, back turned, eyes open, trying not to move too much.

then one night, i rolled over and caught her watching me.

“can’t sleep?” i whispered. she shook her head. “no.”

“me neither.”

the pause between us stretched too long.

“you been thinking about it?” i asked finally.

"i think about it all the time," she admitted, voice small. "when we’re stretching, when i see you across the court… when we’re lying here not talking."

"me too," i whispered. "i keep replaying it. wondering if you were gonna kiss me first if i didn’t."

she let out the smallest laugh. "i was too scared to." i shifted closer, just a little. "you didn’t look scared."

"that’s because it was you."

then her voice, low and nervous. “did the kiss mess things up?”

“no,” i said instantly. “i don’t think so.”

she looked down at the blanket between us. “me either. it just feels… different.”

i nodded slowly. “do you want it to happen again?” she looked up. our eyes met.

and she whispered, “yeah.”

✦ ✦ ✦

ivy’s pov

after that night, something cracked open. we didn’t kiss again.

yet.

but everything we did felt closer. softer. charged.

our conversations at night got longer again. she started laying a little closer, brushing her foot against mine under the blanket, like it was her way of checking in.

and i let her.

one night, she handed me a gatorade without asking what flavor i liked.

it was my favorite.

i didn’t say anything, but i smiled and she smiled back like she’d been waiting for it.

we shared headphones again.

sat next to each other at team meals.

we sat beside each other on the bus one night, after a hard game. the whole ride, she played with the strings of my hoodie, absentminded.

"you’re quiet," she said.

"just tired."

"no you’re not," she teased.

i turned to her, heart stupid in my chest. "i’m thinking."

"about?"

"you know what i’m thinking about."

she didn’t say anything. just leaned her head onto my shoulder and stayed there the rest of the way back.

and when i saw her with azzi again, i didn’t feel that same ache.

not because i wasn’t jealous—but because i finally knew she saw me back.

—

paige’s pov

it wasn’t love. not yet.

but it was something.

and it scared me.

i didn’t know what this was yet. not exactly, but i knew i wanted it to be something real.

and i think she did too—based on the way her hand always found mine first, even if it was just for a second.

so i moved slower.

took my time.

paid attention to the way she leaned into me when she was tired, or the way she laughed harder when i wasn’t trying to be funny.

i liked watching her and i didn’t mind that she caught me sometimes.

—

ivy’s pov

one night, after a long travel day, we got back to our hotel and flopped straight onto the bed. she kicked off her slides and pulled her hoodie over her head, tank top underneath. arms on full display.

i tried not to look.

but failed immediately.

she looked over at me, grinning. “what?”

“nothing.”

“you sure?”

i rolled my eyes, trying to hide the heat in my face. “yes.”

she laughed, leaning back on her elbows. “you’re a terrible liar.”

i threw a pillow at her.

she caught it mid-air and grinned even wider.

“you were looking.” she said with a smirk

"maybe i was," i muttered.

her eyebrows lifted. "oh?"

"don’t let it go to your head."

"too late."

“yeah whatever you say paige”

“mmhm.”

“go to sleep.” and she did. eventually.

but i stayed up for a few extra minutes, watching her chest rise and fall beside me.

thinking about the kiss and thinking about the next one.

because i knew there was gonna be a next one.

and i wanted it.

authors note: our favs are finally going back to the way they were, right?

[yurmomsawh0r]

•°His Perfect Little Wife °• - p2

You and Nanami’s relationship has been a little difficult during your pregnancy and one turn of events has you ready to divorce him. But Nanami would never let you leave. You were his wife and he’d never let you go.

@delightfulmoonbanana @i-killed-a-prostutute @muzanswaifu @ebonydumbslut

Sorry it took super long! I’m pregnant with a toddler and it’s super hard to have energy to write anything, but I’m definitely coming back on here because YALL, I have soooo many ideas in my notes for tumblr and oof I can’t wait to drop them! But I hope you enjoy part 2 it’s different from part 1 because I kinda had to make it a small story but anyways enjoy 😊 💙

Prompt idea by @ebonydumbslut

“ I’m literally fina write a whole plot feel free to just take parts from it but I’m thinking For his perfect wife maybe yandere and Angst like since y/n pregnant she hasn’t been at her best with waking up on time doing things for her husband hasn’t felt like having sex so her husband hires a maid and y/n can tell that she is trying to take her husband away being to Close and saying things like “ofc I will make you food if you were my husband with how hard you work I would make sure you didn’t even have to ask he doesn’t see it but y/n does he’s also been a little distant and hasn’t been able to see her much because when he comes home y/Ns sleep y/n know this and stays up untill he’s home and by the time she gets all pretty for him she walks down stairs to see her husband and the made doing something that looks inappropriate (yk how In the movies someone walks in at the wrong time and it looks wrong) anyways she runs to her room and he goes after her to tell her it’s not what it looks like and y/n is getting ready to go to her moms house or something she tells him that he can have the maid and she’s going to leave and this is we’re the yandere starts he tells her she can’t and what about there baby and whatever else you want he makes y/n feel bad and she stays then he shows her how much he loves her by yk having sex’s loud to the maid hears everything while there having sex he tells her how she knows that she can’t leave because she needs him she’s to much of a dumb slut to do anything without him all she’s good at is being his perfect little wife y/n falls into this brain washing and promises she will never leave and that she’s his and will always be you could also put some fluff in there sorry for how long this is I Basically could have made the book for you😭”

CW - Yandere-ish, Manipulation, mentions of cheating, pregnant reader, penetration, pregnant sex, cursing, pet names, mentions of a divorce

Part 1 here

–

Nanami was frustrated to say the least. Between working extra hard and keeping your need’s satisfied, he definitely had his hands full. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he typed away on his computer. It was going on another late night and he had many things to get done. It always felt like he’d never have another second for himself or for you.

A knock on the door had an oh - so, very tired Nanami shifting in irritation. “What?” Came his groggy, stress filled voice. A subordinate of his walks through the door. A file in his hand. “Sorry sir. I just wanted to drop off my report you requested.”

“Place it in the black tray.”

The man did what he was told, quickly placing it in the tray and making his way out of the office.

Nanami glanced at the clock and seen that is was going on 1 am in the morning, making a sigh leave him. He knew you’d be in bed by now. You both couldn’t seem to catch a break. Nanami thought about the conversation you both had about hiring a housekeeper. You were about 4 months pregnant and you’ve grown quite a lot. It was getting hard for you to keep up your regular routine.

Nanami has even taken it upon himself to be home more to help out, but it was definitely putting him back, which resulted in him having many late nights and causing him to be way more irritated than normal. Anytime you both found a moment to yourselves, you would be to tired to do anything. You slept way more than you normally would these days, which he didn’t mind. It wasn’t your fault you ended up pregnant.

It was decided, he would take it upon himself and hire a housekeeper as soon as possible once he was able to cut back his work load.

~*~

It’s been about 3 weeks since the new maid started working for you both. She had tremendously been a big help around the house keeping things tidy and organized. Although you’ve had more help around the house, you still haven’t been able to see your husband for a while. The times you both did run into each other, he would always seem irritated with you. You knew work has been hard since he’s been catching up, so you decided to suck it up and do the things he normally liked.

“Oh! I see you cooked dinner Martha!” You honestly weren’t surprised. The past week she had been taking over in the kitchen before you even had a chance. “It was no problem. I understand that you’ve been tired lately.”

Although that was true, you usually pushed yourself to cook dinner for your husband but you haven’t been able to because she always did. It kind of bothered you, but you decided to try and be grateful for all the help.

“Well thank you, I can prepare the plates for dinner, as well as Nanami’s lunch for tomorrow. You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Oh no need ma��am. I already prepared his lunch as well as his plate for dinner.” She spoke. This was another thing that bothered you. She always took it upon herself to do more than she needed. You even seen that she left a note on his lunch one time. It was a small “Have a great day at work.” But you felt as though she crossed a boundary. This was your husband, not hers. Leaving notes wasn’t in her job description.

Before you could say anything else, the front door opened and in walked your husband. You went to greet him as usual. Helping him remove his coat and hanging it up for him. “Hi honey! How was work.”

He only grunted. “It was work.” Was all he said and brushed passed you, not a single glance your way. Not even a small forehead kiss as he usually did. An ache in your heart throbbed through your body.

In the kitchen, you could hear Martha speaking to him. As you went to peak, you seen her placing his plate in front of him and pouring him a glass of wine.

You couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt you to see the small act, but it did. Your own sensitive emotions plus being pregnant didn’t help, the tears started to flow. You turned on your heels and made your way to your shared bedroom skipping dinner that night.

Weeks had passed and still nothing had changed, well except you did. You weren’t yourself. You had completely stop doing your house work and just left it to the maid since, she took it upon herself to do everything. So you just rested in bed most of your days falling asleep when ever he felt like it.

You haven’t seen your husband for most days. By the time he came home you were already in bed passed out.

Martha had also been getting a little too close to your husband for your liking but Nanami didn’t seem to care to stop her advances so you assumed that maybe your were making things up, but you couldn’t help but think about all the little smart remarks she took it upon herself to say.

“Wow, you’re such a hard working man, if you were my husband I’d be sure to reward you everyday.”

“Would you like me to give you a massage sir?”

Maybe she was being nice? Maybe you were reading into it a little too hard. Either way Nanami didn’t seem to mind her forwardness so maybe you shouldn’t either.

Having enough of your pity party, you finally decided that it was time to put an effort in getting your husband’s attention again.

That night you got yourself all clean and dolled up in one of his favorite lingerie pieces and one of his t-shirts. He loved seeing you in his clothing. He always told you it made him feel like the best man in the world seeing his woman comfortable in his attire. It was almost 1 in the morning, the usual time he had gotten home. You had waited all night, despite being so tired, to see him. Lights shown through the curtains and the sound of a motor vehicle pulling into the drive way shook away any traces of sleep you had in you.

This was it! Tonight’s the night you and your husband rekindled.

~*~

Nanami walked through the door tired as ever. He was finally done with playing catch up and attending hour long business meetings for the month. He’s finally be able to catch a break. He felt as though he had be in a trans working and powering through his long streak, and finally he would be able to settle down for a while.

He made his way to the kitchen to look for something to eat. I was a little after 1 so he knew you’d be sleeping.

When he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see Martha standing there in nothing but a small tank top and shorts to short for her size.

“Oh! Nanami, I didn’t think you’d be home just yet. Are you hungry?” Nanami only grunted and moved passed her and headed towards the fridge.

“Would you like wine with your meal sir?” The sultry tone of her voice rung in his ears. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before shrugging it off. “No thank you, not tonight.”

He told her with a monotonous tone. He grabbed his plate that was left in the fridge and placed it in the microwave to warm.

“Alright, I’ll just put this back then.” She had a smile on her face as she strut her way towards the wine holder that was just behind where Nanami was standing.

Just inches away from him, she had stumbled, almost dropping the bottle in the process. Nanami kept forward, grasping her in his arms just as he was able to fall, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck as if they were lovers about to ignite in a night of passion.

She giggled, pulling him closer. “I’m sorry, I’m such a klutz! It’s a good thing a big strong man like you were here to catch me! You’re just like a knight in shinning armor. And my knight deserves a kiss for saving me.”

As she tried pulling him closer, Nanami started to pull away, but it was too late. A small gasp had them both frozen.

“Oh! My lady! I didn’t think you’d be up.”

There you stood from your stop in the kitchen, watching as your maid and husband were about to share such a passionate kiss. It brought tears to your eyes seeing how good they looked together.

You knew you hadn’t been up to par in taking care of yourself as well as him, but you didn’t think he’d cheat on you for such a small inconvenience.

“Wait! Y/n-“ He called out to you but you just turned and ran to your bedroom to grab everything you needed to leave.

Nanami dropped Martha letting her fall to the floor leaving her in pain as he chased after you.

Once he made it to your shared room, he saw that you were packing a suit case with everything valuable and important to you.

“It’s not what it looked like y/n” he tries to reason with you but you didn’t listen. “I don’t care Nami, it’s not like I haven’t noticed we haven’t been the same in a while. Especially since she got here.”

“What do you mean? I know I’ve been busy, but I’d never do something like that to you. I love you.”

“You don’t love me. If you did you wouldn’t have been all up on her. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done.”

This caused Nanami to freeze. His voice dropped, a menacing tone sounded in his voice. “What do you mean you’re done?”

It sent a chill up your spine but you remained strong. “It means I’m done. I want a divorce. I can’t do this anymore. My own husband doesn’t even want to look at me, let alone act like I exist.”

You finished packing whatever you could and zipped it up, but Nanami was faster than you. He grabbed your luggage and threw it aside, shattering your vanity. “What is your problem! I don’t understand why you are so upset. Go be with your fucking mistress!” You yelled.

“I’m fucking upset because my wife is trying to leave me over a misunderstanding!” He cornered you. His pupils dark and expression angry. It was look you never wanted towards you.

He broke out into a laugh that boomed into the room. “You can’t fucking leave me y/n. You can’t break up our perfect little family that’s just getting started.” His hands slid up the sides of your waist pulling you closer to him.

“I take good care of you and I always will. No matter what. You are mine and I’d never let you go. I need you here with me little one. I don’t know what I’d do if you decided to break up our perfect little life.”

A flood of memories flew through your head. Even images of the future that you thought were to come. You felt a little guilty for trying to leave instead of making things work, but you couldn’t help but think about him being with another woman.

“How long have you been messing with Martha.”

Rage sparked in his eyes as he punched a hole in the wall by your head making your scream. He gripped your chin tightly and forced you to meet his gaze.

“I’ve never touched that fucking woman! She fell and I caught her, nothing more. Do you understand?” When you didn’t respond, he sighed.

“My love. My perfect little bunny, must I show you just how much you mean to me? Shall I show you that nobody can make you feel the things you do for me? Hmm? Must I show you one of the many reason that you love me?”

“Must I remind you who you belong too!?”

~*~

You couldn’t think straight. You really couldn’t think at all. The only thing filling your senses was your husbands dick penetrating you so hard and deep. Your face was wet with tears and saliva that pooled onto the pillow as he drilled into you from behind.

“Ahh, you feel so good little one.” He grunted in your ear. Nanami gripped your neck and pounded deliciously into you. The feeling of your juices getting him going.

It had been too long since you both last had sex and he was going to make it last as long as possible.

“And you’d thought I’d let you leave? With my baby in your womb? You’d thought I’d let another man have you? No, I’d kill anyone who thought they would have a chance.”

Your body shook as another orgasm ripped through you, but he didn’t let up, he just fucked you harder through it. “P-please Nami!”

But your please fell on deaf ears. “No, not until you learn that you can never leave me. You’re mine y/n. You’re nothing but my little dumb slut, my perfect little wife.” He licked up your tears grinding deeper into you.

“Say it! Say that your mine and that you will never leave me! Say that you’ll stay and be my perfect little housewife forever.”

You could feel him going deeper and deeper, skin slapping against each other in perfect rhythm. It was too much, you couldn’t even get a word out. You were moaning so loud and the bed was banging against the wall you were sure it would break. You were also sure Martha could hear everything.

“I’m waiting my little bunny.” Nanami’s voice warmed you. You gushed around his cock even more at his power over you.

He was dominating you. Showing you that you were indeed his. Nobody would make your body feel the way he did. Nobody ever could.

Just as another orgasm ripped through you, you wailed “y-yessss Naaamiiii, yessss i-im yours!”

“You’re my what?” He pressed his shaft into the opening of your cervix making you yelp. “IM YOUR DUMB SLUT DADDY!”

He moaned as he felt you squirt on him. Your essence pooling on the sheets. “Uhhh, that’s it! Let daddy have it all!”

His thrust started to get choppy as he reached his own peak. Spilling all of himself into you. Telling you how much he loved you. How he would never let you go. Ever.

As you both came down, he pulled you into his arms, gently caressing your face and smothering you with gentle kisses. You were exhausted. Falling in and out of sleep with a dazed but satisfied look on your face.

“Fire her.” Was all you could muster up. Nanami laughed and kissed your soft lips.

“Your wish is my command my lady. It always will be.”

You both laid there in each others embraces.

“But don’t think I’m done with you my love. You have awoken a part of me by just telling me your going to leave me. I need to make sure that never happens again.”

His perfect little wife, forever and always.

[clairedsfield]

sdl ep. 272

[carllgrimesgf]

Diet Pepsi

PAIRING: Older!leon Kennedy x Fem reader

GENRE: smut

WARNING: 18+, MDNI, spiting, handcuffs, teacherxstudent, car sex, nickname (baby, good girl), almost getting caught (they didn’t get caught), cheating (Leon and his wife are going through divorce), fingering, PnV, age gap reader is in her 20s and Leon in his 40s

Note: this isn’t for everyone so if you don’t like it please exit and read the pin post for more information.!

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay” Leon said as both of you are in the backseat of his car in a shitty motel with his fingers inside of you as you are sitting on his his lap on a Thursday night

“It hurts.” You said as tears began to swell in your eyes falling down onto your cheek. He leans forward kissing you distracting you from the pain when his wedding ring gazes your skin drawing a bit blood but also cause of how tight you are

Pulling away from the kiss he leans down kissing your neck leaving his mark on you “I’m sorry baby, but it’ll feel good yeah? I’ll make you feel good.” He said pulling out his fingers out of you making squirm needing him

Chuckling he pulled out his cock rubbing his tip on your bud making your thighs shake. You grabbed onto his shoulder letting out a small cry rubbing against you. You glanced down seeing his precum leaking out of tip making your pussy wet

“Oh, look at you getting wet for me all over again. Shit” he cut himself out when he finally pushed himself in you “Oh fuck, you are so fucking tight- shit, shit.” He grunted holding onto your waist as you both let a moan feeling how deep he is reaching in you

“Please move.. please” you said wanting him to move already as you clinched around his cock “Baby wait, you still haven’t gotten used to my size. Do you want me to move while you’re in pain?” He said moving his hand to hold your cheek as you shake your head no.

Moving a bit he took out handcuff putting them around your wrist both you hands behind you “Open your mouth pretty.” He said once you open your mouth he spit in it making you swallow his spit he hummed in approvment when you showed him

After a while he started moving his up moving inside of you fast making you whine and moan at the same time not knowing you it’s possible to do that as you feel his tip hit your g-spot but all that stops when his phone started ringing next to them stopping his movements

Glancing at his phone you notice it was his wife- fuck. He grabbed his phone before answering just as you were gonna get off his lap he gripped your waist with one hand and he started moving in and out of you fast making you gasp closing your eyes not thinking he would do that

“Hello? I’ll be home in a bit I still need paper to grade” he said almost letting out a moan when he felt you cliched around him “Leon-” you whisper to him only for him to cover your mouth with his hand going in and out of you faster than before making your eyes roll back

“What.. what noise? Uh it’s was nothing it probably the show your watching. But I’ll be home in a bit I won’t take long. Yeah okay bye.”

He hanged up but his hand kept on your mouth “You little slut trying to get us caught huh? I bet you’ll like that yeah? My little slut trying to get us caught with your whining and moaning huh? Well too bad I’m only get to hear you”

“You like your teacher fucking your little pussy baby? Yeah, yeah I know you do baby, I know you do”

He reached down rubbing your clit making you clinched around “are you close? come on baby you can cum I know you can cum on dick it’s okay cum on your teacher dick” he said making you cum on his dick and him following you after his cum filling you up

“You okay baby?” He asked taking out the key for the handcuff once the handcuff were off of you he gently rubbed your wrist “I’m okay” you said watching him closely rubbing his fingers on your wrists

Letting go of your wrist he grabs your face giving you a gentle kiss on your lips mumbling “I love yous”

I’m sorry it has a shitty ending my pookies but here!! ITS FINALLY HERE!!

[actiniumwrites]

hiii ! I saw that your requests were open :) could I request a scenario with scaramouche and xiao. Where their lover is a super cheerful person, but someone makes fun of them and they get super protective. p.s I really like your writings ^^

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

synopsis: how they defend you, their cheerful lover, after hearing other people talk bad about you

characters: scaramouche, xiao x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: fluff, a pinch of angst, hurt/comfort, insults, physical violence (not toward reader), swearing, insecurity, xiao may be a little ooc

notes: thank you so much for the request, anon! these are a little short, but i did enjoy writing this. i also tried my hardest to capture the reader as very cheerful, but it was a little difficult to do without it being overbearingly cheerful, so i hope it turned out okay. and i’m very happy you enjoy my writing, it means so much to me <3

Scaramouche:

A trip around Sumeru City was not what Scaramouche had planned to do that day when he offered to spend time together — of course, he couldn’t admit that what he really wanted was to go on a proper date, but he settled for this nonetheless. As long as you’re happy, he thought.

All day you had been pulling him around to various little shops and sights around the city. Even though many of them had existed for many years, you felt as though they were hidden gems amongst all of Teyvat. And with both of you originally being from Inazuma, neither of you had really had the chance to experience all of Sumeru together.

Scaramouche didn’t mind it to be honest — you dragging him around, to be specific. As soon as he saw that stupid big smile on your face, any ounce of resentment for his inability to communicate what he wants drained from his body. Naturally, he still put on the mask of boredom, but with you being your excited self bouncing around the city, you hadn’t even noticed. So he dropped the act, and just let himself live for once.

Just before the sun was about to set and conclude the day’s fun, your hand quickly grabbed his as you dragged him over to a flower shop. When you had first arrived in Sumeru, the very first thing you ever took notice of was all the different plants and flowers. And ever since, you’ve tried to get flowers or other little plants whenever you can.

Scaramouche picked up his pace to match yours, although still dragging a bit behind, his hand held on tight to yours. But as soon as you arrived at the front of the shop, your hand moved to the flowers and away from him. Quietly, he moved to the side and watched as you admired the flowers.

“Wow, these are so beautiful! Did you grow them yourself?” you excitedly asked the man at the shop. There were an array of bright and colorful flowers in front of you, each one carefully tied among others to create stunning bouquets.

The man, who appeared to be the shop owner, furrowed his brows and gave you a light scoff, “Pfft, of course I did.”

To that, Scaramouche snapped his eyes over at the man who hadn’t seemed to pay him any mind. His arms crossed over one another as he eyed the man, not pleased with his attitude, but not saying anything just yet. As Nahida had taught him, he can’t just go around accusing everyone of having malicious intent. So for once, he would wait and see, maybe give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was just having a bad day or something or didn’t mean to come across like that.

“Oh, Archons. Those vases are just as beautiful as the flowers. I saw some really pretty ones at another shop, but these are even better! You really have a good eye, sir!”

The man rolled his eyes and ignored your comment. Meanwhile, Scaramouche sent him a subtle glare from the other side of you. The guy was giving him a bad feeling that he just couldn’t seem to shake.

After a few more minutes of you pointing and beaming at different bouquets and individual flowers of all different kinds, compliments pouring out of you left and right, the man finally snapped.

“Would you just shut up already? I’ve had it up to here with how much you talk. You are so annoying, I mean my god, I get it! I have nice flowers and I’m a talented gardner, just pick some and go!” he yelled out, flaring his arms around the air.

“Screw what Nahida said,” Scaramouche grumbled.

In a split second, you were behind your boyfriend and his arm was held tightly onto the shop owner’s, “Are you done? Cause let me tell you, you have to be a real piece of shit to yell at someone who’s just excited about flowers.”

“Let me go, damn it!” He tried yanking back his arm, desperately trying to pull Scaramouche’s off of him. If only he had known he was messing with an ex-harbinger and a being created by a God.

Scaramouche spoke in a dangerously low tone, “You don’t get to talk to them like that, you hear me? Do it again, and I’ll ruin your fucking life.”

The man backed up quickly, hitting the side of his shop and falling backward. A few people stopped to snicker at him, but Scaramouche paid no mind. His hand slipped into yours and he eagerly pulled you away from the chaos.

He gagged and wiped the hand that grabbed the man against his shirt as the two of you walked to a quiet area, “People like that disgust me.”

You nodded quietly and sat down on the bench he had brought you to. His eyes filled concern for a brief moment before he blinked it away. Sighing, his hand squeezed yours and he nervously gulped, unprepared for situations that involved any form of comfort, “Are you…are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you spoke softly, not quite meaning it, “Thanks for sticking up for me back there.”

Gently, he pulled you into him, “Don’t listen to people like that, you hear me? The only annoying one out of the two of you was that ugly piece of shit. So don’t go all sad on me, okay? I mean it.”

Xiao:

“Hello, my love!” you loudly called out at The Inn, happily marching in to greet him on the upper floor. A few people on the deck below looked up quickly, startled by your bold introduction.

Xiao nodded at you, a small blush on his cheeks and small, “Hi.” Even after nearly a year of dating, you still managed to fluster him.

Your arm looped around his, pulling him closer to you. You sent him a bright smile and tilted your head toward his, “Are you ready for our lunch date?”

Xiao nodded and moved your hand off his arm and down to his hand where he softly clasped his fingers around your own.

When you arrived at Liyue Harbor, the two of you began walking to your favorite restaurant. It was really nice with all the outdoor seating that allowed the both of you to enjoy the fresh breeze from the ocean while you ate. It also allowed Xiao to be more comfortable instead of being cramped up inside some restaurant with a bunch of people he was unfamiliar with.

If Xiao was being honest, the restaurant itself still was not something he particularly enjoyed. Not because he disliked the service or the other people who ate there, but because he wasn’t a huge fan of their food being an adeptus and all. However, you raved about it all the time and got super happy whenever you got the chance to go, especially if it was with him. Xiao could never bring himself to say he didn’t enjoy it when it made you so happy.

“So, have you done anything super interesting lately?” you excitedly asked your boyfriend, eagerly awaiting his weekly stories.

“Not really. I went to the Chasm recently, but I was unable to find what I was seeking,” he answered and nodded at you, “What about you?”

“I went to this really cute tea shop the other day with Yun Jin! You know, my friend from the opera we saw last year? They had the cutest cups and the tea was so good. We should go together some day!”

Xiao smiled ever so slightly as you spoke, not even focused on the food on his plate, but instead entirely focused on you, “That sounds nice.”

You went back and forth for around thirty more minutes, updating each other on the week, laughing about silly jokes you heard from Hu Tao, and talking about some future plans. Xiao had barely touched his food, but you hadn’t noticed with how caught up with him you were.

Nor had you noticed the snickering behind you.

“Oh my god, is that the Yaksha?”

“I think it is!”

“Woah he’s kinda hot, what’s he doing with a person like that?”

“I know right!”

It was hard for Xiao not to hear them, and he really wished he hadn’t. Of course he wanted to defend his relationship, but he always hated how people seemed to stare at the two of you.

Polar opposites.

To be clear, you were not the one that made him feel insecure, but rather the thoughts in his head. Xiao already had such a hard time believing someone like you could even like someone like him. You were so happy and cheerful and brought the best out in him. Xiao didn’t feel like he deserved you at all, not when he is the way he is.

Insecurity and all, it didn’t stop him from glaring past your shoulder. The more they talked, the worse he heard about you. It was like all they could talk about was your personality and how much it seemed like you didn’t deserve him. How you “couldn’t seem to shut up,” or “wipe the smile off your face.” Or that you “probably had to pay him to date someone like you.”

Xiao was already seething, but what set him off the most was when one of them made a comment about wanting to physically hurt you to take your smile away.

“Xiao?” You shot up out of your seat when he suddenly teleported away from you. When you turned around, you found him at the table behind you.

His hands were grabbing a guy by his shirt collar, holding him up into the air until he began to choke, “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

The guy rapidly nodded up and down. Meanwhile, the two girls at the same table were gawking at the scene in front of them until one of them began yelling for Xiao to put the guy down.

“Stop it! You’re hurting him!” She screamed out.

“You said you wanted to hurt my partner. I am only returning the favor,” he said calmly before slamming the guy to the floor and walking to the girls behind him, “leave before I do something worse.”

Your jaw dropped as you watched the scene play out in front of you. Within seconds, the three of them had scrambled away. Xiao walked back over calmly and sat down. You were still stood up in your seat, confused at what had just occurred, “What the hell was that!”

“They were not saying nice things about you.”

Your eyes widened. You were happy he had defended you, but concerned for the consequences that could follow, “You can’t just go beating up random people like that, you could get in trouble!”

“That does not concern me. Any one that says anything bad about you does not deserve to be in your presence.”

“Xiao…” your voice softened, unable to think of anything to say. You knew he was protective, but it was rare for you to see that side of him up close and in person.

His hand gestured to the table, “Now please sit. I would like to hear more about your week.”

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister-in-Law!

 Story Masterlist

Chapter 13

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Interact with this post to be on tag list. The DNI is on it so read that before anything.

UPDATED NOTE: I HAVE EDITED THIS STUPID THING HAHA. Also, I forgot how many people I tagged for this chapter originally and I deleted everything, including the tag list without realizing it... so I just sort of... tagged everyone. Again. Should I retag everyone in the remaining chapters as I edit them? Or no since technically speaking you guys already read the original chapter(s). Let me know in the comments/anon or however.

NOTE: I gave up on looking for computer error codes (I do not understand what they stand for in full detail, I’m just a silly little guy), so sorry if I used the wrong one.

WARNINGS: general yandere themes, obsessive and possessive themes/possible actions/behavior, themes of imprisonment (probably), blood, blood drinking (kinda? Not really, but JUST in case), blood, self-harm (biting thumb hard enough that it’s implies the wound reopened), violence (kicking Dion in the chest), thoughts of violence (thinking of kicking Dion’s face), vomit, panic attack, mention of suicide but Reader is NOT suicidal, one or two suggestive lines, kinda implied future violence (not towards Reader OR her family for plot reasons). Please tell me if I missed any.

Reader is NOT having a good time as usual. Pray for her.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND TOXIC.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH FANDOM RELATED THINGS (REBLOG/COMMENT ON FICS/ART, ETC.) DNI.

= = =

You ruined your own life.

That is the conclusion you come to when you wake up with an awful hangover, head throbbing, mouth dry, nausea kicking at your stomach as your mouth waters with acid. Your entire body aches, fatigue and dizziness making themselves right at home - the room swirls whenever you move.

When you dry heave, it feels like something is punching your lungs and gut, hot tears rolling down your cheeks from the pressure. Your stomach twists, becoming a knot, and you’re both cold and hot - covered in a cold sweat that’s worse than running in the heat. 

You gag again. Your mouth opens wide just like a snake’s and yet nothing comes out - not until you gently squeeze your throat, adding just enough pressure that brings forth the bitter and sour vomit that burns your throat. But it doesn’t stop there, not until you’re grabbing your stomach, praying that this will end.

Why did I fucking drink so fucking much?

The answer is simple - you wanted a distraction before you could become a hysterical mess during the dinner last night. Still, regret is a thing, and oh boy, are you feeling it in full.

Retching, your lungs painfully take in air, upset stomach getting in the way as every breath feels sharp. Sweat dribbles down your temples and face, eyes wide as your body rejects everything from last night. Your entire body trembles violently, holding your stomach like it would decrease the pressure, the urge. Hands clammy, you almost start to think that having a panic attack would be better than this. 

It still hurts when it finally ends.

“Urk! F-fuck…,” wiping away some of the vomit that clung to your chin, your body allows you to have a moment of recovery, muscles relaxing as you pant, lungs finally taking in the air that you desperately need. Heavy eyes struggle to stay open, a small dizzy spell falling over you. Your headache only worsens.

It feels like you’ve been through hell.

Tears stop rolling down your face as your breathing becomes steady. Everything still awfully aches, though. Your throat still burns, the sour taste of vomit doesn’t die on your tongue. It doesn’t go away even when you smack your lips and swallow.

Finally becoming aware of your surroundings, you notice a gentle pat against your back as someone also holds your hair back. So gentle and comforting, and automatically assuming it’s Hana, you accept the help without a word of complaint. Your eyes flutter close, grateful that the older woman is doing her best to comfort you in spite of yourself.

Well, that is until cold shivers run down your spine, as a oh so familiar low and sleepy voice speaks, only now noticing how large the hand that was patting your back was. Your eyes snap open immediately.

“Better?” 

Freaking out was an understatement. 

Violently scampering away, definitely not missing the touch of Dion Agriche, a terrified and horrified expression paints your face, heart running and beating fast enough it could win first place at a race. Nausea fills your entire being, but for a completely different reason now. 

A worse reason. 

Opening your mouth, words fail to leave your dry lips. You lick them, mind racing on what to say and do. In the end you spewed out nonsense that doesn’t even make sense to you.

“O-oh, u-um, Agriche, good - fuck - good day? Weather?” 

The slight twitch of his dead tired eye that resembles blood doesn’t help your anxiety. Had you offended him? If so, how - because he witnessed an unsightly sight? One that he decided to stay for?

Quick pants and shaky legs, you search and search and search for any type of exit - failing to remember that the heavy double doors were literally right behind you. No, instead you eye the terrace behind him and consider jumping off. 

Your legs almost beg you for it. 

How quick can you run? Would he stop you? No, rather would he get the wrong impression and think you were trying to commit suicide?

What then? Hand you over to his mental father or mother to use as a damaged toy? Burn your face and stitch up wounds that they created? 

“S-sorry, but -,” scooting away until your back hits something sturdy and hard, the only thing you’re capable of is stare at your arranged husband like a deer in headlights. Dion doesn’t crawl closer, still kneeling, an unreadable expression across his facial features. Like a predator staying still so as to not scare off their prey.

“I - I, um, didn’t mean to make a mess -” On the verge of crying from stress, you blink rapidly, unable to decide if you should look at him or close your eyes. Tears kept at bay, by reflex you bring your thumb up and -

CHOMP

It hurts more than usual, teeth tearing into injured flesh. It’s raw, desperate, a need to ground yourself. Your tongue swipes over the healing bite mark, crimson blood that resembles his eyes drawn as the metallic taste all but makes itself at home on your tastebuds. Hysterical, you cower, hoping, praying that Dion would look the other way and ignore you.

He does anything but. 

He crawls, fucking crawls like a bug, like he wasn’t Dion Agriche, the man whose pride exceeds the skies - or so you heard, the spoilers hazy. He rests on his knees again once he reaches you, long fingers forcing your thumb out and proceed to wrap around your wrist right after. You hiccup as he stares at it, unable to tell what he’s thinking. Maybe it’s better if you don’t.

“That’s a horrible habit you have there,” he states like it’s the morning news before he, like the creep he is, takes the injured digit into his mouth.

You’re too flabbergasted to react. 

Your brain fries, error code 43. 

It doesn’t reboot until moments later when his disgusting and slimy tongue runs over the wound, his saliva unfortunately soothing it just the slightest bit.

The urge to puke returns.

You jerk your hand back and he lets you. You think your expression is one of disgust, but it’s hard to tell when Dion blinks oh so calmly. Like he didn’t just shove your thumb into his mouth like the pervert he is.

But fear overrides the disgust, helplessly watching as your horrible husband comes even closer. You feel trapped between the wall - doors, actually - and his towering, intimidating figure. Without a care in the world, he wordlessly places a hand on the door slightly above your head. It wasn’t romantic, it was a way to keep you trapped, you’re sure. He resembles more of a creature than a human the longer you look at him - those eyes, so bloody, so bright, are inhumane. 

Because there’s a ‘light’ you can’t recognize, a ‘light’ that wasn’t in the manhwa. Here, he feels more sadistic - he’s only here to study you, to torture you and - 

You flinch when he oh so gently grabs your right wrist again, inspecting your bloodied thumb. You become boneless as he licks it, all the while keeping eye contact with you.

The shivers that run down your back aren’t pleasurable. 

“You should stop this,” he says as his head tilts, like he was curious about your reaction to everything. “You’re just making it worse.”

His genuine concern sounds like nothing but threats to you. Your flight-or-fight response kicks in when the hand planted against the wall - doors - goes to  your cold and sweaty cheek. His fingers are cold.

 As any sane person would, you kick him straight in the chest.

And somehow, someway, it hurts you more than him. It almost feels like a brick wall, wincing while he only fucking blinks. As if finally understanding the situation, he lets go and backs off, but stays in front of you. You’re on the verge of throwing up, of running past him to jump off the terrace, laughing as a fear response.

The only reason you don’t do any of it is because your body is boneless, barely able to breathe. Barely able to think. 

Neither of you talk nor move, the distant sound of footsteps and chirping birds filling the silence. He’s treating you like a scared animal while you’re treating him like a predator. Two people unable to understand the actions of the other. Two people on the opposite sides of the spectrum, their definitions of ‘loving’ completely different.

Regardless, he still tries, and maybe if you were into the possessive and obsessive type, you would have praised him. Assuming you notice and realize he didn’t plan on hurting you and was in ‘love’ with you, of course.

That he tries his best to be a gentle giant.

“D-D-Dion.” You stutter after slightly recovering from the fright, the throbbing of your thumb forgotten in the background. You can’t feel anything, really, even the cold tiles you sit on.

“Wife.” His response does little to soothe your nerves - no, rather, they freeze at his voice. 

“W-what… were you doing? I think-think I’m still half asleep, haha…” Nervously forcing out a small laugh, you truly hope that this is nothing more than a nightmare. You’d rather wake up to the sound of loud and annoying construction going on outside your apartment.

Ah, but, you weren’t in your old world, were you? The world that you foolishly abandoned - 

“Soothing it.” It’s uncharacteristic of him - he should either be mocking or ignoring you. Not whatever… this is.

Your stomach drops the longer you look at him. Words feel like mush in your mouth as you force them out. The air you breathe in feels tainted. 

“O-oh… um, you do realize you essentially drank my blood…?” It’s a miracle you’re holding a conversation without fainting. Still, the idea of jumping off the terrace doesn’t leave your head. It was a reckless plan, but there was a chance you wouldn’t die or break something, and at least would get a minute or two to yourself without him. If you weren’t caught by the guards immediately afterwards, that is. 

“And?” His head tilts, observing your reactions, like you were a science project. Scarlet eyes leave your terrified face to travel to your right thumb. A very, very small part of you want to bite it again, to bite it harder out of spite. The thought leaves when he makes eye contact with you again. 

You look away.

“That’s-that’s really unhygienic…” A whisper is all you can manage, eyes swirling as a dizzy spell falls over you again. How are you able to talk to this perverted brute?

Maybe you were only able to talk to instinctively smooth out the situation as much as you could. Or maybe your mouth was just running on its own, hoping this is what he wanted. Why else would he do such a thing? Aside from satisfying his sadistic and perverted urges.

All you want is to go home.

“So?” His head tilts, unkempt midnight hair falling into his scarlet eyes. There’s a very small expectation in his eyes - like he expected you to accept this ‘treatment’, to at least some degree. 

“I-I mean, it’s rather-rather…disgusting, is it not?” Holding your right hand close to your chest, left one wrapped around your wrist, you hold your breath. You can’t think straight, unable to decide on staying or running away. To keep talking or go silent as a mouse. 

He blinks before saying, “Not if it’s you.” 

Error code 43. 

Error code 43.

Request for maintenance. 

Maintenance needed to continue functions. 

Ever so slightly, a grin tugs at his lips at your flabbergasted expression. Little do you know that your husband doesn’t like seeing you scared, but he enjoys making you speechless, mind blank. Now, if only he could do that to you in other ways…

No. This isn’t the time to think about such things, he chides himself. He shouldn’t have these urges, innocent or not - he should be on the battlefield, soaked in red as corpses lay about, scattered like autumn leaves. He sees the fear in your eyes and something ugly twists and turns - this isn’t like him.

A part of him wants to stab the pang of dim guilt, to get rid of these useless things. But when he sees you, all he wants to do is hold you. And it’s disgusting, but he chooses to accept it, far too late and gone to deny himself any longer. 

It seems that you still haven’t realized you hold his leash.

“Is that so hard to believe?” He questions after a bit, once your mind is working again.

“H-huh? Wait - this - don’t play with me, please…,” you beg while shaking your head. Your breathing speeds up again, heavier than it was moments ago. Your feet firmly plant themselves flat on the floor. 

You think about kicking his face this time, giving you some time to run before the shock wears off. 

“I’m not,” carefully and slowly, he leans in closer, gently holding the back of your neck like it’s his favorite thing to do. He pulls you closer and closer until he’s able to whisper in your ear, hot breath hitting it. He whispers, almost possessively like he was confessing a grave yet delicious sin.  

“I mean it, really. You should stop assuming I’ll eventually throw you away.”

If the circumstances were different, if this was a healthy marriage, if this was a loving marriage, it would have been romantic. But because you’re married into the Agriche family, because your husband is Dion Agriche, it sounds like he’s trapping you in a cage, throwing away the key.

And in a way, he is, not wanting to let his pretty, lovely wife to part ways with him. 

Really, he’s not sure of how much longer he can keep himself in check - you drive him crazy and you don’t even know it. He wants nothing more than to keep you locked up in this room, your eyes reflecting his figure, your attention on him and him alone. His grip on your neck tightens the slightest bit - you’re practically in his arms. 

You fit perfectly against him - and yet, his mere existence makes you bleed. Dion shudders when you weakly push him away, hands pressed against his chest. Reluctantly he backs away, fingers grazing against your tear stained cheek as he lets go of the back of your neck. You don’t make eye contact, instead focusing on your feet - the cold tile reminding you that you’re not dreaming.

He hums while you bite your lower lip. This room is a cage, one that you can’t break out of. No. This marriage was a cage, heavy shackles on your ankles - not to the Agriche family but to him.

An obsessive and possessive husband with a scared wife, who will  one day, realize she has him tied around her pretty little finger. At the cost of her own loose leash in his hand, two people unable to escape the other. 

It’s awful, it’s insane, but who could blame him?

You’re just too lovely, too addicting to pass and give up. 

May God bless the poor soul who’s stupid enough to try.

“You’re starting to hurt my feelings by doing so, (Name).” = = =

@tiny-mimi @corpseri @queenofspades403 @pix-stuff @manitscold @darkumbreon92 @s-ajia @disappointment-san @louissatturi @cjafjatkstke @rainofcrime @danae-misfortune @kokomi2 @elvinapandra @labryel @rentaldarling @ishamyshaylaaa @semi-wife @rosedellamorte @puggyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[laylainalaska]

Still on my MASH nonsense, I watched 8x22 "Dreams" last night and I'm completely full of meta thoughts about it. I don't think I'm going to cut this for spoilers for a 40-year-old episode (unless it gets long) because I figure everyone reading this has probably either seen it or doesn't care.

So I think what fascinated me most is that Hawkeye and Charles were the only people out of the main cast whose great fear was specifically not being able to save people because they weren't good enough. This fascinates me doubly because Hawkeye also dreamed Charles into his dream, trapped in the same hell he's in, and then this is reflected in the finale (I'm watching out of order, I watched the finale recently even though I still haven't seen most of seasons 9-11), when Charles and Hawkeye are the two people with the most visible emotional trauma from the war and specifically about people they failed to save in it.

There were other people whose dreams were clearly about the tragedy of soldiers dying around them (Margaret and Mulcahy in particular) but not in a way that really feels quite so much like they're blaming themselves for it, whereas Hawkeye and Charles's dreams very clearly were about that.

Okay, this did get long, so I'll cut it a bit.

In general, going through the dreams in no particular order:

Potter's been around so much and seen so much that he's not even that affected by what's happening; he just has a fairly nice dream about his childhood. (Though he also got interrupted in the middle, so it's possible things would have gone bad later.)

Margaret has the other most complicated dream next to Hawkeye's; like Hawkeye's, hers is full of symbolic elements and changes. I read Margaret's dream mainly as craving home and family, which the war is constantly taking away from her, leaving her alone with a marriage bed full of dead soldiers and a wedding dress drenched in blood.

BJ misses his wife and blames the war for taking him away from her.

Klinger is simply afraid that the only way he's going home is as a corpse.

Mulcahy is probably the other one who has a dream that's the most similar to Hawkeye and Charles's in terms of sheer guilt; his is about faltering faith, in which even the trappings of the highest office in his faith can't stop him from being splashed with the blood of the dead.

Charles dreams of all his skills and talents as nothing more than empty stage magic that can do nothing to stop a patient from dying in front of him, while everyone stands around judging him and slowly recognizing him for a fraud.

And Hawkeye dreams himself and Charles into the world's most horrifying medical school, in which he (and Charles, more indirectly) are tortured for not paying attention and failing to answer questions correctly.

I think what really gets to me about the first part of Hawkeye's dream is how terrified and hurt they both look.

Their entire body language is that of kids being punished, who are trying to avoid drawing attention and being punished more.

Charles dreamed of failing to save patients as a direct personal failure, with adoration turning to condemnation as people realize he's a fraud. Whereas Hawkeye sees both himself and Charles as victims of an impersonal system that punishes them cruelly for failing - but it's still Hawkeye's failure that leads to punishment.

I actually thought this was going in a slightly different direction with Hawkeye being forced to choose whether to give up his own limbs or sacrifice Charles's; instead it's Charles being ordered to torture him, clearly not wanting to but doing it anyway - I think that there's just a lot to unpack here about how Hawkeye sees himself and everyone around him as being victimized by an unfair system that brutalizes them constantly.

And then he ends up surrounded by the pieces of the people he couldn't save, unable to help anyone because he has no hands to help them with, and the helicopters just keep coming - oh, Hawkeye.

MASH: a comedy.

Tying this to the finale, though, it made me think that after Hawkeye (and Mulcahy, who is similar to Hawkeye in bleeding for everyone who's hurt in the war) Charles probably has the next-highest tendency to get attached to people that he meets as one-offs in various episodes, which is fascinating because you wouldn't think he would be like that, but that's what got to him in the finale, was bonding with people he'd only just met. And he does that off and on throughout the series, too, like in the episode with the injured musician, or the stutterer, or the baby episode.

BJ and Margaret simply compartmentalize better. BJ's entire life is centered back home, where nothing that happens to him out here is really going to affect him as much. And Margaret has a fairly highly developed ability to be empathic in the moment but turn it off later - I'm not saying she's unfeeling, she clearly isn't, but as someone in a profession where she deals with helping injured people with their physical needs and soothing their pain all day every day, she has to.

Charles isn't high-empathy in the same way Hawkeye is, but once he sees his patients as people, he can't really unsee it, and he can't turn it off and on as easily (which I think is the thing both BJ and Margaret can do; they can feel for the people they're helping and then let it go and move on - they're both emotionally healthy enough to recognize that it's not their fault if things turn out badly and let it go). Charles is harder to get emotionally engaged but once he does, he gets really into fixing things for that person, I think.

And Hawkeye can't turn it off at all, poor guy 😭; he bleeds for everyone like that, all the time.

[serenityluvz]

𝗘𝗻𝗵𝘆𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗠𝗧𝗟: 𝗗𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗸 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗪𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗦𝗲𝘅

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

Jake is hands down the worst when he’s drunk—clingy, needy, and completely shameless about what he wants. The moment the alcohol hits, he’s all over you, whispering dirty things in your ear, hands wandering everywhere. You barely get him through the door before he’s pressing you against the wall, his breath hot against your skin. "Y/N, please," he groans, fingers fumbling with your clothes. "I can’t wait, I need to feel you." He’s desperate, panting against your lips, grinding against you like he might lose his mind if he doesn’t have you right now. And when you tease him—pulling away with a smirk, asking if he’s sure—his voice drops into a needy whine. "You’re so mean, baby… please, let me have you."

MOST LIKELY

Jake – "Baby, I need you. Right now."

Sunghoon – "Come here. Now."

Sunghoon doesn’t get wasted often, but when he does? He’s so horny and possessive, his usual coolness gone. You’re laughing at how tipsy he is—until he suddenly yanks you onto his lap, his grip firm. "What’s so funny?" he murmurs, eyes dark as he tilts your chin up. "You think I won’t fuck you just because I’m drunk?" Your breath hitches when he presses against you, his voice low and husky. "You’re mine, Y/N. You know that, right?" And then he’s kissing you, deep and slow, his hands gripping your waist hard as if daring you to pull away.

Heeseung – "I bet you won’t let me do whatever I want to you."

Drunk Heeseung is filthy. The alcohol strips away his shyness, leaving him cocky and teasing, his hands always slipping lower than they should. He leans in, his breath fanning against your ear. "I know you’re turned on," he whispers, his fingers tracing circles on your thigh. "Don’t lie to me, baby." He wants to tease, to play with you until you’re begging, but he’s also so impatient—his hands gripping your hips, his mouth leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck. "Fuck, I need you," he groans, pushing you onto the bed. "Let me take care of you."

Jay – "Let me make you feel good, baby."

Jay is so smooth when he’s drunk—slow, sensual, and dangerous. He’s all about worshiping you, letting his lips and hands explore every inch of your body. He pulls you into his lap, dragging his hands down your back, his lips ghosting over yours. "I want to make you feel good," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. When you hesitate, his grip tightens. "Just relax, princess," he whispers, his fingers slipping beneath your clothes. "Let me do all the work."

Ni-ki – "I shouldn't be thinking about you like this, but fuck…"

Ni-ki is conflicted when he’s drunk—part of him knows he shouldn’t touch you like this, but the other part? He can’t stop himself. He leans against you, his head buried in your shoulder, his fingers gripping your thigh. "I shouldn’t want you this bad," he mutters, his voice wrecked. But when you move even slightly, he groans, gripping your waist. "Don’t tease me, Y/N. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into." But the moment you kiss him back? Oh, he loses it.

Jungwon – "You’re driving me crazy, you know that?"

Jungwon thinks he can handle himself, but when he’s drunk, he’s a mess—flushed, frustrated, and so easily turned on. "Y/N, stop looking at me like that." You blink innocently. "Like what?" His jaw clenches, his fingers twitching against his drink. "Like you want me," he says, voice lower than usual. And when you keep teasing him? He finally snaps, grabbing your wrist and pulling you onto his lap. "You started this," he growls, lips brushing yours. "Don’t you dare run now."

Sunoo – "You’re so lucky I’m drunk right now."

Sunoo acts like he’s unbothered, but the moment the alcohol kicks in? He’s so touchy and so whiny for you. He flops onto the couch beside you, pouting. "Y/N, come closer." You hesitate, but then he grabs you, pulling you into his lap. "You like torturing me, huh?" he mumbles, his lips trailing up your jaw. "You know I want you." And when you finally give in? He smirks. "Took you long enough, baby."

LEAST LIKELY

[my-little-random-world]

Marta: Do you think we’ll need more fruit? Or… Fina: Marta, calm down, please. Everything is going to be fine. I know you’re doing this for me, and that’s what matters. Marta: Well, I’m also doing it for myself. I really appreciate your father. I want to show him how I feel. Fina: Whatever the reason, it’s not necessary, really. I appreciate it a lot. Marta: Besides, doing these kinds of things makes me feel like we’re a normal couple. Fina: Haha.

Isidro: Good morning, daughter. Fina: Hello, Father. Isidro: What are you doing here so early? Fina: Um... Marta: Good morning, Isidro. Isidro: Ah, good morning. I heard voices and thought it was my daughter talking to Teresa. Fina: We came to have breakfast with you. Marta: And since you’re such an early riser, we wanted to have everything ready for when you got up. Isidro: You’ve gone to so much trouble. Fina: Father... Isidro: Are the two of you finally going together? Is that it or not? Fina: No, be patient, please, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Marta: Don’t you prefer to talk with a coffee in hand? Fina: Yes. Father, no one’s leaving here, neither Marta alone, of course, nor me after her, which I would have done without a doubt. Marta: We’re both staying.

-Next Scene-

Isidro: So, does that mean all the doubts you had about running the company without ending up like your father and brother have been resolved? Marta: It’s true that I was tormented by the thought that ambition might consume me, but after talking with Fina, I realized that as long as she’s with me, that won’t happen. Because she’s my support, and she’s my pillar. Fina: Father, trust in us. This is a decision we’ve made together, and we want you to be a part of it. Marta: And although you may have reasonable doubts, it matters to me, it matters to us, what you think. Isidro: Marta, I want you to understand... Marta: I understand you. You don’t have to justify yourself... Isidro: No, no, let me, let me finish, please. I have to look out for my daughter. When I asked you to leave her, I looked into your eyes and knew I wasn’t being fair. Because your eyes told me that you would never abandon her, because that would be like tearing part of her soul away. Marta: That’s right.

Fina: Well, we’d better eat these scrambled eggs, or they’ll be cold. Isidro: Yes, ma'am! Scrambled eggs... You know, Kelly would say this needs a slice of pancetta. Marta: Pancetta! Fina: Look at him, seriously, there’s no excuse bad enough for him to break his diet. Isidro: Oh, for God’s sake, what a tyrant you are, daughter. Marta, help me convince her, please. Marta: No, the one I need to convince is you, to start addressing me informally... we could say... well, we’re almost family. Fina: Fruit! Father, what you need to eat is fruit! Pancetta, what pancetta? Don Damián: Good morning. Fina: Good morning, Don Damián. Isidro: Do you need something, sir? Don Damián: I was just looking for Gema or Teresa... Because we’ve run out of coffee in the dining room. Marta: There might be some left in the kitchen. Don Damián: Well, no problem, I can check. Eh… by the way, I wanted to let you know that tomorrow some technicians will come to install a television set. I mention it in case someone doesn’t want to miss the momentous occasion. Marta: Looks like we’re modernizing. Don Damián: Eh, yes. Well, Julia deserves the best welcome. *crickets* Well, I’ll stop bothering you. Enjoy your meal. Isidro: Well... is that pancetta coming or what?

-Next Scene-

Don Damián: This morning, when I saw you having breakfast with your father... Fina: Yeah, I saw your face; you were waiting for us to invite you to join, weren’t you? Don Damián: I know I can be pathetic, but yes. Fina: No, Don Damián, you’re not pathetic at all. Don Damián: It’s not your fault, but I didn’t like feeling like an outsider. Fina: In any case, it’s something you need to discuss with your daughter. Don Damián: Yes, I should talk to her, but the problem is that our communication isn’t very good right now. A family issue has come between us. Fina: Yes, Don Damián, I know. You understand that Marta is affected by it, right? Don Damián: Yes, I do. I’d like to fix things with my daughter, but I don’t know how to start. I thought maybe you could help me. Fina: What? Me? No, Don Damián, this is between you and your daughter. I don’t want to get involved or get dragged into it. I hope you understand that. Don Damián: Yes, I know I acted wrongly, Fina, and I’m very sorry, but I can’t change the past. What I want is to make amends. I’m also capable of doing good things, Fina. If Marta trusts you enough to tell you all the bad things I’ve done, she must have also told you how I burned those photos they took of you two. Remember how I made sure your father got the treatment he needed. Fina: And now you come here so I can repay you for all those favors by talking to Marta, is that it? Don Damián: No, no, no, no, please don’t misunderstand me at all. Everything I’ve done, I did from the heart, and I would do it again, Fina, a thousand times. Just as I would cover for my son again. Protecting your loved ones comes naturally to you, doesn’t it? Love is impulsive. Fina: Don Damián, please, I don’t even want to hear about it. I can’t do what you’re asking me to do. Don Damián: I just want Marta to forgive me. Is that so hard for you to understand? I beg you, Fina, give me some clue about how I can do that. Fina: Marta just wants to be herself and live accordingly, without having to justify herself, without pressure. Until you understand that, there’s not much you can do. Don Damián: I’m trying my hardest. Fina: Is that how you try? By sending me to Barcelona or talking to my father to convince me to leave? Is that how? Don Damián: That was at the beginning. You have to understand that it was very hard for me to find out about your relationship like that… all of a sudden. Fina: Don Damián, no! I’m not going to help you.