#relationship . and they should’ve talked about it

[dilfismz]

Hi! Can you write jealous professor dom!cho sangwoo x student sub!reader. Can you make sangwoo become real mad and some spanking too? Thank you so so much 🥹🥹

Mine

Summary: Turns out Professor Cho doesn’t like it when stupid young boys touch what’s his.

A/N: there are a few flashback scenes in order to build a backstory so don’t be confused!

Warnings: age gap, inappropriate teacher/student relationship, spanking, some degradation?, p in v, no prep (Sangwoo is desperate), dom/sub dynamics, and hair pulling.

In all honesty, you and Professor Cho had become close by complete accident. If you could even call it close…more so acquainted. You could recall every detail of your night spent together as if it had just occurred. Every single time you step foot into his lecture hall you can’t help but reminisce.

⋆ ──── ❍ Δ □ ──── ⋆

The bar was quiet that night, many students in their dorms studying for finals. Luckily for you, yours had concluded in one long, godforsaken day. It was tough but the reward was getting to celebrate the end of the semester early.

Sliding into a seat with your friend you spot him. He was seated a few spots down, leaning casually against the bar. He looked out of place in his crisp, tailored shirt and sharp jawline—older than most of the patrons and far more composed. His presence seemed to draw attention without trying, though he didn’t seem interested in anyone else around him.

You weren’t sure why you caught his eye, but you did. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he spoke, his deep voice cutting through the noise.

“Not a regular here, are you?”

You smiled faintly, shaking your head. “Does it show?”

“Just a little,” he said, taking a sip from his glass. “You seem…young for this crowd.”

The comment made your cheeks flush slightly, but you held his gaze. “Maybe. But you don’t exactly blend in yourself.”

He chuckled, low and warm, and moved to sit closer. “Fair enough. I’m Sangwoo.”

You gave your name, and from there, the conversation flowed with surprising ease. You told him about your studies, your aspirations, and the stress that had driven you here tonight. He listened intently, asking thoughtful questions that felt more probing than casual small talk.

“I have to say,” he murmured at one point, leaning in just slightly, “I don’t usually find myself talking like this with someone… your age.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened. “Maybe age doesn’t matter as much as you think.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze flicking to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Maybe.”

The air between you shifted, heavy and undeniable. When he suggested leaving, you didn’t hesitate.

The night blurred into stolen kisses in the cab, whispered words, and the heat of his hands on your skin. You fell into his bed with reckless abandon, the difference in your years forgotten in the haze of passion.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, forcing your eyes open. The unfamiliar room was quiet, save for the soft sound of breathing beside you.

You turned your head to see Sangwoo lying on his back, his arm resting over his eyes. The sharp lines of his face were softened by the light, but there was a tension in his expression that hadn’t been there the night before.

“Good morning,” you said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

He let out a soft sigh, finally lowering his arm to look at you. His eyes were darker now, clouded with something that felt like regret.

“This… probably shouldn’t have happened,” he said, his voice low.

The words stung, even though you’d expected them. “Why not?”

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. “You’re young. Too young to be tangled up with someone like me.” His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a firmness to it that made your stomach twist.

You sat up too, pulling the sheet around you. “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

“That was a mistake,” he said, glancing at you briefly before looking away. “I should’ve known better.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the warmth of the night before replaced with a cold, sinking feeling. You wanted to say something, to argue that you were old enough to make your own decisions, but the look on his face stopped you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, standing and reaching for his shirt. “You’re… incredible. But this can’t happen again.”

As he moved about the room, dressing and avoiding your gaze, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever been more than a fleeting distraction to him.

⋆ ──── ❍ Δ □ ──── ⋆

Another thing you always thought of when you’d step into Professor Cho’s room is the moment you’d realized just how disastrous your night together actually was.

The first day of the new semester carried the usual energy—a mix of fresh starts and quiet dread. Students milled into the lecture hall, some chatting excitedly, others scrolling through their phones or sipping lukewarm coffee. You were somewhere in the middle, adjusting the strap of your bag as you stepped into the massive room.

You hadn’t given much thought to your schedule beyond the requirements you needed to fill. This class—some upper-level finance course you had reluctantly signed up for—was just another stepping stone toward your degree. You were more concerned with surviving the workload than anything else.

That was, until you looked up.

Your heart nearly stopped.

There, standing at the podium, flipping through a stack of papers with an air of quiet authority, was him.

Cho Sangwoo.

Your throat went dry.

For a second, you thought you had to be mistaken. But there was no mistaking him—not the sharp jawline, not the dark, intelligent eyes that had lingered on you once in the glow of a streetlamp, not the hands you could still feel on your skin if you let your mind wander too far.

You froze mid-step, the chatter of the other students fading into white noise. The last time you’d seen him, he had been pulling his shirt over his head in a dimly lit bedroom, his words clipped, his expression guarded.

“This can’t happen again.”

And yet, here you were.

And here he was.

As if sensing your gaze, Sangwoo glanced up from his notes.

The reaction was instant.

His confident posture faltered, his fingers tightening slightly around the edges of his papers. His brows lifted just barely before his eyes widened in unmistakable shock. You saw the exact moment recognition hit him, watched the composed, professional mask he undoubtedly wore every day crack—just for a second.

A blush rose to his face.

It was slight, barely there, but enough for you to notice. Enough for you to know that despite his careful words that morning, despite whatever lines he had drawn in his mind between you, the sight of you standing in his lecture hall had caught him completely off guard.

The confident, articulate professor—who had surely done this a thousand times, who commanded rooms full of students without hesitation—had lost his composure.

Your stomach twisted.

For a fleeting moment, it felt like you were back in that dimly lit bar, your bodies too close, your words laced with the kind of reckless flirtation that had led to this. The memory burned through you so suddenly that you were sure it showed on your face.

But then, just as quickly as the moment had come, you watched him shove it back down.

Sangwoo cleared his throat sharply, turning his attention back to his papers. The color in his face faded as he schooled his expression into something unreadable, his professional demeanor snapping back into place like a steel trap.

But you had seen it.

You had felt it.

And now, you had to sit through an entire semester pretending it had never happened.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to move, slipping into a seat near the middle of the lecture hall. Around you, students continued their chatter, completely unaware of the silent war raging inside your head—or his.

Sangwoo took a breath, straightened his tie, and finally spoke. His voice was steady, controlled.

“Good morning. Welcome to Financial Strategies.”

If you hadn’t seen the way his hands curled slightly against the podium, you might have believed he was completely unaffected.

But you had seen it.

And you weren’t sure either of you would be able to ignore it.

That day, after class ended you sat frozen in your seat, your fingers gripping the edge of your desk as if that could steady the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

Sangwoo hadn’t looked at you once throughout the entire lecture.

Not directly, at least.

Instead, his eyes had skimmed over you like you were just another student, his voice measured, his posture rigid. But there were moments—fleeting, barely-there moments—where his fingers tensed slightly on the podium, where his breath hitched in the smallest, most imperceptible way before he forced himself forward.

And now, as you remained seated while the rest of the students shuffled out, he still wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Stay after,” he had said near the end of class, his voice neutral, yet somehow sharp.

You knew this conversation was coming. There was no avoiding it.

Sangwoo stood by his desk now, organizing papers that didn’t need organizing, straightening his laptop screen only to close it again. It was almost frustrating—watching him fidget with anything but you.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, as if bracing himself.

“If you wish to remain in this class,” he started, his voice clipped, “you will forget about what happened between us.”

You swallowed, gripping your bag strap tightly, but said nothing.

He continued, his expression carefully blank, though you could see the tension in his jaw. “It was… inappropriate. A mistake.” His fingers curled around the edge of his desk, the only sign that his control wasn’t as steady as he wanted it to be. “And it cannot affect your education.”

Your throat felt tight.

He was speaking to you as though that night had been some careless accident, as though it hadn’t been charged with something real. And yet, even as he spoke, his voice was too deliberate, too forced, like he was convincing himself as much as he was convincing you.

But you didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched slightly against the desk.

Your gaze dropped to his hands—the same slender hands that had once roamed your body, tracing paths of fire along your skin.

You could still feel them if you thought about it long enough. The way they had tangled in your hair, how his fingertips had brushed over your bare waist with aching slowness, how they had tightened possessively around your wrist just before he kissed you—

“Are you listening?”

Your head snapped up.

Sangwoo was watching you now, his brow furrowed slightly, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

You nodded, trying to ignore the heat rising in your face.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face before crossing his arms. “Good,” he muttered. “Because I can’t have distractions in my classroom. Whatever… that was, it’s over. Understood?”

His words were cruelly impersonal, but his body language betrayed him. The stiffness of his shoulders, the way he seemed almost restless standing still, as if part of him wanted to move, to do something else.

You wondered if he was remembering it, too.

The weight of him pressing you into the mattress. The way he had looked at you, his usual self-control slipping with every kiss, every touch.

You sat up a little straighter, ignoring the pang in your chest. “Understood,” you said quietly, though the words felt like a lie.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

His fingers tapped once against the desk. Then again.

Then, as if snapping himself out of something, he turned away, collecting his things with more force than necessary. “You’re dismissed,” he said, not looking at you.

You hesitated.

But there was nothing left to say.

So you grabbed your bag and walked toward the door, feeling his eyes on your back even though he had told himself not to look.

————-

Now here you are today and you have done exactly what Sangwoo asked.

For months, you kept your distance, pretending as though nothing had ever happened between you. No lingering glances, no hesitation when he called on you in class, no trace of the night you had spent tangled in his sheets. You became cold, detached—indifferent.

And it was driving him insane.

At first, he convinced himself that this was what he wanted. That this was the right thing.

But then Jisoo happened.

A boy your age. Bright-eyed, eager, always quick with a joke that made you laugh—actually laugh. You had never laughed like that in his class before. Not when you were with him.

Sangwoo ignored it at first.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Soft whispers shared between the two of you, your heads leaning close as if nothing else in the room existed. His blood simmered every time Jisoo touched your arm, every time he caught you smiling at him—every time he saw you looking at Jisoo the way you used to look at him.

But today was the worst of it.

Today, Jisoo had whispered something in your ear, and your face had gone warm—cheeks flushed, lips parting just slightly in surprise before you giggled.

Sangwoo gripped his pen so hard it nearly snapped.

The moment class ended, his voice cut through the murmurs of students packing up their things.

“Stay after.”

Jisoo glanced at you, curious. You barely reacted, nodding as you finished gathering your notes.

The last student filtered out.

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

Sangwoo remained standing at the front of the classroom, bracing his hands against the desk, his head tilted downward. You could see the tension in him—the way his fingers curled, the way his breaths left him in slow, controlled exhales.

You knew this was coming.

You waited.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“Tell me,” his voice was low, measured. “Do you plan to seduce him the way you seduced me?”

Your heart stuttered.

The accusation hung heavy between you, thickening the air, making it harder to breathe.

“What?”

Sangwoo lifted his gaze, and for the first time in months, his carefully constructed mask had cracked.

No indifference. No feigned professionalism. Only raw frustration—barely-restrained jealousy simmering beneath the surface.

He took a step forward, slow and deliberate.

“You heard me,” he murmured, his voice dark. “Is that your plan? To make him desperate for you? To make him think, even for a second, that he can satisfy you the way I did?”

Heat pooled in your stomach, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “That’s not—”

He scoffed. “Not what?” Another step forward. “Not true? You don’t think I see the way he looks at you? The way you let him lean into you, whisper in your ear?”

His jaw clenched.

“Do you think he can touch you like I did?” His voice dropped lower, barely above a whisper. “Think he can even attempt to please you?”

Your breath hitched.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, knuckles whitening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you forced out.

His lips quirked up—not in amusement, but something far crueler.

“Liar.”

Your stomach flipped.

You hated how easily he unraveled you.

Sangwoo exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t care,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I told myself I wouldn’t.”

You swallowed hard.

“But then I see you with him,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I see you laughing, smiling, and I—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply as if disgusted by the confession sitting on his tongue.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“You’ve been punishing me,” he murmured. “All these months, Ive been trying to forget, trying to pretend it never happened—but it did. And here you are pulling this shit right in front of me.”

His fingers twitched.

“And it still matters to you…”, you intended to ask but it came out more like a statement.

Sangwoo inhaled sharply, and before you could react, his hand shot out—grasping your wrist.

Your breath caught.

His fingers, long and slender, wrapped around your skin. Not tight. Not pulling. Just holding.

A mistake.

A reckless, dangerous mistake.

But neither of you moved to stop it.

“You don’t get it,” he murmured, his voice lower, almost pained. “I broke the rules for you once.”

Your throat went dry.

His fingers slid down, tracing your palm before hesitantly releasing you.

Then, barely above a whisper—so quiet you almost missed it—he admitted:

“I think I’d break them again.”

Your stomach clenched.

Sangwoo exhaled slowly, looking at you as if he were already regretting saying it out loud. But it was there now. It couldn’t be unsaid.

For the first time in months, he wasn’t telling you to forget.

He wasn’t telling you to leave.

Instead, his voice was quiet. Measured. Unsteady.

“Stay, it’s your turn to be punished.”

You take a tentative step in his direction, testing the waters. Sangwoo blinks slowly, looking you up and down, “You stay there”, he commands while walking to the lecture hall door. He locks it with a flick of his wrist and returns.

He sits on his chair behind the large desk he often spends hours sitting at. He spreads his thighs, patting them expectantly.

You take this as a sign to straddle him but he immediately grunts in dissatisfaction. “No, bend over my knees, face down ass up”.

You flush at the command, all self respect fleeing your body as you comply without a second thought.

Tch tch

He clicks his tongue mockingly, all while lifting your skirt up to expose your plump ass, barely covered by a tiny thong.

“Now did you wear this for me or him”, Sangwoo asks, a scowl etched onto his features.

“You Sangwoo, always for you-”, before you could finish your sentence a loud smack echoes throughout the lecture room. Before you can even register the pain another red hot slap lands on your bottom, leaving you breathless.

“It’s sir”, he commands, a shit eating grin already overtaking his features.

“Y-yes sir”, you respond.

“Good fucking slut, finally you do something right. Maybe I should’ve done this right away, then we never would have had that silly little problem huh?”

You simply nod, his words going in one ear and out the other. Sangwoo pulls your hair harshly, forcing your head back to look at him.

“Speak when you’re spoken to”, he commands, his other hand landing another firm slap to your stinging ass.

“Yes sir-“, you moan as he kneeds the sensitive flesh, “-wish you would’ve done this sooner.”

He nods in approval, forcing you off of his legs and pushing you against his desk.

You can hear him unbuckle his belt and all but shake with anticipation. You’ve waited oh so long to feel him again.

Suddenly his swollen tip is prodding at your entrance, your thong pulled to the side. Sangwoo lets out a heavy sigh and declares, “I’ve waited way too damn long to do this again…now tell me have you been whoring around campus or is the last time your pussy got stretched with me?”

“Y-you sir, haven’t done anything since that night”, you splutter out, backing up into him, hoping he’ll just push in already.

“Good girl, that’s what I like to hear”, he says right before completely bottoming out in one harsh thrust.

Sangwoo doesn’t start out gentle, he keeps thrusting into you slowly but oh so roughly. You swear you can feel him reaching spots even he didn’t hit last time.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as his hands grip your hips with a bruising force. He scoffs at your desperate mewls, “I won’t last long sweetheart so you’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful, ya?”

“Yes sir”

Sangwoo can feel his glasses slipping down his nose as his pace quickens. The entire room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and its filthy.

“Please don’t stop sir I’m close”, you beg as you feel that all too familiar feeling within you.

He doesn’t stop. His hands gripping you even tighter as he grits his teeth, cock twitching as your gummy walls suck him in.

“Fuck, it’s like this pussy was made for me, can’t believe I stayed away for so long”, he gasps out.

That’s all the praise you needed to reach your peak. Your walls spasm around Sangwoo and he continues his assault on your insides, coming to an abrupt stop as you feel his warm seed fill you up.

The both of you are a panting mess and he runs his hands through his own hair, pushing him glasses back up his nose.

When Sangwoo finally pulls out he sighs and looks at your pathetic form in front of him.

“Clean yourself up and we’ll have a serious conversation about how this arrangement is gonna work.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

guilt fades, scars remain

written as part of @st-loveconfessions february kindness event for today: write a fic based on art! the moment I saw this absolutely stunning art by @stervrucht, I knew I had to get some words out. @runninriot also wrote something inspired by this art and it's just as stunning as the art itself, you can find that here!

rated m | 1031 words | cw: blood and injury | tags: eddie munson lives, steve rescues eddie, eddie has a crush on steve, pre-relationship, open ending but assume they're getting together

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The tears drip. The rain hits the roof. The sweat builds along his hairline.

Eddie’s alone. He’s scared. He’s sick of feeling pain everywhere.

“Eddie?”

The voice is back. He should be happy. Hearing Steve’s voice is a relief compared to what he’s been feeling for so long. He’s not even sure how long he’s been stuck here. Hours, days, weeks?

Years?

“Eddie.”

The voice is clear, but it’s always clear. Sometimes it’s far, sometimes it’s close. It sounds worried, but talking back to it doesn’t help.

He’s sure of only one thing: Steve Harrington’s voice is a balm on his nerves and patience alike. If he can’t have the real Steve saving him, he’s glad he at least has his voice in his ears.

Cool hands are covering his naked chest. It feels so nice, like an ice pack on an injury.

He supposes he does have an injury. Probably a lot if the shooting pains across his side and legs are anything to go off of.

“Eddie, hey.”

Eddie blinks. His vision focuses.

“There you go. Keep your eyes open. I’m getting you out of here.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry we kept you waiting so long.”

Eddie’s got tunnel vision, which is weird for a hallucination. Or maybe it’s not. He’s only done shrooms once and he barely even hallucinated before he passed out.

Eddie reaches one hand up to try to feel if Steve is real. He touches bare skin and he laughs.

“‘S fake.”

Steve’s got a lot of hair on his chest, he remembers from when he jumped into the lake. He remembers thinking how nice it must be to fall asleep on his chest, run his fingers through the soft hair there.

“What’s fake?” Steve asks.

An interactive hallucination is very strange, but it’s a nice distraction from the pain. It fades in and out like the intro and outro to songs. He’s gotta figure out how to put this into music.

“You,” he answers. There’s still no other voices and there’s no way Steve would rescue him alone. No one would let him come down here alone. “Me.”

“We’re not fake, Eddie. I knew we should’ve come back sooner. You’re fuckin’ delirious,” Steve sounds panicked now, and Eddie doesn’t want that. Hallucination Steve should be relaxed.

“Calm. Hurts, but calm.”

He’s being lifted up slowly and he’s sitting for the first time since the bats started trying to eat him. Feels a little weird, something internally screams, and then he realizes he’s actually screaming externally.

Steve’s trying to keep him calm and quiet, shushing him as he pulls him to his shoulder, hand tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s nice, smelling something that’s not the stench of the Upside Down or his own blood. Feeling something human where all he’s known is dirt and ash.

“It’s gonna hurt for a few minutes, but it’ll be worth it,” Steve’s saying in his ear.

Eddie raises an arm. It hurts. It’s not as bad as when he sat up, but it’s more pain than he should be feeling.

He must make a noise because Steve’s burying his nose into Eddie’s hair and it feels intimate in a way that doesn’t belong here. This place is broken, Eddie is broken, and Steve is stable.

“I’m gonna lift you up. Is anything broken?” Steve whispers against the side of his head.

Eddie hopes he remembers all of this. He hopes when he wakes up— if he wakes up— the first thought he has is about Steve touching him like this, making him feel alive and precious, worthy.

He must’ve answered Steve because he feels the ground fall out from under him and then searing pain in his side. Steve’s carrying him and he’s going to black out from the pain.

“Just a few minutes. Just hang on a few minutes. For me, Eddie,.”

Eddie can do anything in his dreams, so he hangs on for a while and then everything goes dark.

++++

“Eddie.”

The voice again.

It’s not clear this time, but he knows it’s Steve.

“Eddie, wake up.”

He blinks his eyes open and immediately closes them again, whining at the obnoxious bright light right in his eyes. If heaven is this bright, he’s not interested.

“Sorry. Let me turn those off.”

Steve’s voice is clearer now, sinking into his brain as the memories start to float back to him. Steve saved him. Steve showed up in the Upside Down shirtless and-

“Where was your shirt?” Eddie asks, voice raspy and trembling. He sounds as weak as he feels.

“My…shirt?” Steve asks.

“Y’were naked,” Eddie continues. “Nipples everywhere.”

Steve lets out a bark of a laugh and Eddie is going to combust. Making Steve laugh might be the best thing he’s ever done in his life…or death, if he’s dead.

“I was using it to stop the blood on your leg,” Steve explains. “It was still bleeding.”

He sounds…haunted.

“Did I die?”

Eddie focuses on Steve, the way he holds himself as if he’s in trouble, the way he won’t look directly at Eddie’s face. He’s guilty, but Eddie can’t imagine why.

“No. I don’t know how, but no.”

“You saved me.”

“I was almost too late.”

Eddie hums in protest. He’s too tired to argue, but he knows he’s right. Steve saved him. It doesn’t matter how long it took, or how many shirts were ruined in the process. He’s alive.

“C’mere,” Eddie whispers.

Steve steps closer. Eddie manages to grip his shirt, not tight, but enough for Steve to look down and then back up, finally settling on his face.

“Y’did good,” Eddie says. He closes his eyes hoping that’ll conserve energy to say what he needs to. “Thank you.”

“Eddie-“

“Sit. Sleep.”

He’s not sure if Steve listens because he’s already drifting back out of consciousness, but he can feel the weight of Steve’s hand in his and he’s pretty sure he’s not gonna let go.

When he wakes up, he still feels Steve’s hand in his.

His eyes flutter open to see Steve asleep in the chair next to his bed.

Shirt on, unfortunately.

[overadores]

જ⁀➴°⋆ Love Me Like A Friend

When Katseye’s main dancer, Daniela Avanzini makes her debut, no one is aware of her secret friends-with-benefits arrangement with chart-topping producer and singer Y/N L/N—a relationship they’ve kept under wraps due to Daniela’s strict no-dating rule. However, as rumors circulate about Y/N’s supposed affairs with other women, and her enigmatic song lyrics appear to reflect Daniela’s mixed signals, tension starts to build. With public speculation intensifying and jealousy brewing behind closed doors, their closely guarded secret is on the verge of unraveling, compelling them to face what they truly mean to one another.

chapter 39 - make me fall in love again (wc: 970)

The song was so loud it rattled the glass of her window.

Y/N blinked, torn from the soft melody of her own cover, the reverb of the outside music pounding through her walls. She reached for her phone, heart-stopping when she saw the notification.

Manon replied to your tweet: "DANI’S THE ONE PLAYING THAT DUMBASS, GO OUT!"

Y/N shot up from her bed, pulse thrumming. Dani? Here? Now? The same Dani who had broken her heart, who had sent every mixed signal imaginable? The same Dani who had spent weeks making it clear that Y/N was nothing more than a passing fling?

The song was deafening, even through the walls of her apartment. Y/N clenched her jaw. She had told Daniela she was done, that she was moving on. 

But there she was outside.

Standing in the pouring rain, making a scene like a lovesick idiot, a speaker cradled in her arms, drenched from head to toe. Rainwater dripped from her clothes, soaking the concrete beneath her feet, but she didn’t care. 

The song played on repeat, the one Y/N used to hum under her breath when she thought no one was listening—the one Daniela teased her about, called their song. Y/N swallowed down the lump rising in her throat, grip tightening on the door handle.

Y/N yanked open the door, her breath catching in her throat at the sight before her.

Daniela stood there, drenched to the bone, rainwater dripping from her lashes, her grip tight around a speaker blaring the song that had once been theirs. The chorus played on repeat, each lyric a gut punch, a reminder of everything they’d lost.

“Are you fucking crazy? It’s raining! You’ll get sick!”

“I don’t care,” Daniela said, her voice hoarse, raw. “I need to talk to you.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, glancing at the way Daniela’s arms shook, the way her lips quivered from the cold. “You’re already shaking, Dani. Can you at least come inside?”

Daniela shook her head, hair clinging to her forehead in wet strands. “This is more romantic.”

Y/N scoffed. “You look like a drowned cat. This is insane.”

“Then let me be insane,” Daniela said, stepping closer, rainwater dripping from her lashes as she locked eyes with Y/N. “Let me be a mess. Let me tell you what I should’ve told you before.”

Y/N didn’t move, didn’t stop her. Didn’t look away.

Daniela inhaled shakily. “I was an idiot, Y/N. A selfish, careless idiot. I took you for granted, I gave you every mixed signal possible because I thought if I pushed you away first, it wouldn’t hurt so bad when you left.” She clenched her jaw, exhaling sharply. “But you did leave. And it hurt like hell anyway.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the weight of Daniela’s words pressing against her chest.

Y/N’s chest tightened, memories clawing their way back—late nights tangled in sheets, words unspoken between them, the way Daniela’s touch lingered long after she was gone.

“All those times I made you feel like you weren’t enough like you were just some temporary thing—I hate myself for that. I was scared, Y/N. I was terrified of how much you meant to me. So I ran. I convinced myself I could keep things simple, but you were never just something simple.” Daniela’s voice cracked, her hands trembling around the waterlogged speaker. “I tried to push my feelings down, tried to pretend like this wasn’t real, but it was. It is.”

Daniela swallowed. “Those IG stories? They were just friends. I was asking for advice. Because I didn’t know what to do with this—” she gestured between them, voice breaking. “I was so scared of losing you that I ended up pushing you away instead. And that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”

The song looped again, crackling from the rain-soaked speaker, but neither of them moved to stop it.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Daniela said, her voice softer now, heavy with the weight of everything she had left unsaid. “But I had to tell you. Because I do like you, Y/N. I always have. And if there’s even the smallest part of you that still feels the same, tell me.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, the cold pressing in around her, but Daniela’s words burned through, warm and desperate. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to slam the door, make her feel the ache she had felt when Daniela let her walk away. But she couldn’t. Not when Daniela was standing there, drenched and vulnerable, for the first time truly letting herself be seen.

Y/N’s lips parted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Make me fall in love again.”

Daniela’s breath hitched, hope flickering in her eyes like a flame against the storm. And then, before Y/N could say another word, she stepped forward, closing the space between them in a heartbeat.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first—then deeper, hungrier, the taste of rain and salt and everything Daniela had been too afraid to say before. Y/N felt herself melt, fingers curling into the damp fabric of Daniela’s sweater, pulling her in like she was afraid to let go.

Daniela sighed against her lips, whispering between kisses, “I won’t mess this up again. I swear.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to look at her, a small smile breaking through. “You’re still an idiot.”

Daniela let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she grabbed Daniela’s wrist, tugging her inside. “Come in before you get hypothermia.”

As the door shut behind them, the storm raged on outside—but inside, for the first time in a long time, there was warmth.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ masterlist next

taglist: @sunshinez4 @haerinkisser @altaroflux @kristalag@1luvkarina @p1hbrook @xochitlisbest @peanutbutterlover05 @goofymickeyr @ourlovesarang @meizinisnumberone @linnnsworld @bandaidss320 @meiphobic @yeetaberry127 @urmom2314 @chaepu @leotapes @gtfoiydlyj @ratzeye @cassiespoiler @wtfisthisnoclueman @bowforgodjihyo @skz-xii

a/n: why does it feel like this is their song?

[hamiltonfc]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆⭒˚｡⋆ MOTH TO A FLAME; JUDE BELLINGHAM (Chapter One)

➤ Summary: Kaia tells Jude about her new beau, throwing yet another spanner in the works of their already complicated relationship.

➤ Pairing: Jude Bellingham x F!OC

➤ Warnings: Swearing, Food mention.

➤ Discussion tag: #my works: moth to a flame (if you ever have any questions about the story, release schedule, etc. my inbox is always open.)

➤ Word Count: 2,254

TAGLIST | SERIES PLAYLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Kaia’s POV

The dial tone wasn’t unfamiliar when it came to my relationship with Jude. Over the past few years, phone calls between us have been the main way of communicating with my best friend. With him away in either Germany or Spain, or with myself at my home in Surrey, or away on a film set somewhere, phone calls or long text threads were the best I could get. 

But this call was different. Jude was finally back home in England. Not for long, just for a week or so during the winter break in the Spanish season. It just so happened that I had made the journey up from Surrey to be home with my family for Christmas, so it was only a matter of time before I picked up my phone, ready to call him. 

“Hello?” I heard at the other end of the line when Jude picked up. “Who’s this? The number kinda looked like this girl who last spoke to me about three weeks ago, but, you know, I could be mistaken.”

“Jude,” I say, deadpan. “I swear to God, the day you answer a phone call in a somewhat normal way, that’s when I’ll know the aliens have invaded.”

“I find offence in the fact that’s not the first time you’ve referred to aliens when talking about me,” his smirk was obvious through the way he spoke, it’s not like I’d never heard him speak that way before. “Anyway, stranger, what’s up? Miss my pretty face?”

“Always. But no, I need you to come over,” I stand up from where I was lying on my bed and walk over to my desk, taking a seat on the chair in front of it. 

“You need me to, huh? You should’ve said, Baby, I’d have been over already.” 

“Jesus,” I pinch the bridge of my nose, slumping further back into the chair in feigned annoyance. 

“My name’s Jude, actually, but close enough.”

“Please, Jude. I need to tell you something,” I twist my body, swinging the desk chair side to side a little, nerves creeping up to my heart, which is pounding in my chest. 

“God, I love it when you beg,” Jude whispers, voice a little more serious than it had been before. “Sorry, uhm, I’ll be over in ten. See you soon, Darling.”

****

*knock knock knock*

“FBI, open up!” Jude yells, in the worst American accent I might’ve ever heard (and I’ve been an actor my whole life so I’ve heard some terrible ones), from the other side of my door. He swings the door open, and his beaming face is the first thing I see when he’s revealed. 

I furrow my brows, staring at him with a disappointed look on my face for a few seconds. “Remind me, Jude, why the fuck are we friends?”

Jude places his hand against his chest, mouth open in fake, way too dramatic, offence. “Because we love each other, duh? Did you like it, though? It’s like that show you like, Criminal Brains or whatever it’s called.” He throws himself onto the bed beside me, landing on his stomach, before pushing up onto his forearms, leaning in towards me with only one thing on his mind.

“No,” I whisper, my hand gently placed on his collarbone as I push him back. “I need to talk to you first.”

“Oh,” Jude says with a nod. He grabs one of the many pillows on my bed and tucks it under his head, getting into a more comfortable position so he can look at me properly. Before Jude speaks, I see a look pass across his face, one that I can read instantly. “It’s serious enough that you don’t want to kiss me? Okay,” he drags out the vowels, chocolate brown eyes landing on mine, and at that moment I can do nothing but stare into them. 

My eyes flutter away from his, too scared to look at him during what I’m about to tell him, the weight of his gaze upon me enough to knock my mind off balance. 

“We can’t do this anymore,” I say softly, lips barely moving, but they fall loud and clear upon Jude’s ears. 

“We can’t do what anymore?” He knows. I knew he’d know what I would tell him when I refused to kiss him. But that’s what Jude is like, he is always going to give me space to tell him in my own time. He knows that’s how I want this to go. 

“Whatever we’ve been doing for the past however many years,” it’s then when I look at him, the image of his face etched into my brain of what I imagined he looked like in the moment, and I wasn’t wrong. 

Jude shakes his head, breaking eye contact, his jaw tight, before looking right back at me. “Why?”

“I have a boyfriend.” Silence washes over the room. Only sounds of our breathing can be heard and the ruffling of the bedding when I shift my body towards Jude. “We, uhm, we met on set a few months back and we hit it off, so… yeah. We’re now together.”

I give Jude a tight-lipped smile. He nods slowly in response, eyes wandering around my room. “I’m happy for you.” There it is. Four simple words, but they’re exactly what I expected him to say. He is so predictable. 

“So,” Jude slaps his thighs as he moves to sit up, almost falling backwards due to the lack of support from the mattress underneath him, but his strong core just about manages to complete the manoeuvre. “What’s your mom cooking?”

“A roast, but ab-”

“A roast? Oh, get in, I fucking love your mom’s roasts. Don’t tell my mom but, if I’m being completely honest, I prefer your mom’s Yorkshire puddings,” he smiles, but I can tell in the way he’s moving, his body language, the way his eyes can’t hold contact with mine for longer than three seconds, that he’s trying to distract himself from everything that’s going through his mind. “Mine does do better roast potatoes, though. They’re crispier.” 

“Jude,” I say sharply, placing a hand on his thigh in an attempt to bring him back to reality a little, as I stare at his heaving chest. “Slow the fuck down, yeah?” My stare is wide and long as my hand moves up and down his thigh, the only thing separating our skin are his grey sweatpants. “Take a breath, next time.”

He nods, his hand instinctually moving to grasp mine, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go, knowing that if he held on any longer he wouldn’t want to let go at all. “Quick question,” his eyes meet mine. “Why are we having a roast when you’re coming round mine for Christmas dinner in three days?”

I shrug. “Think of it as a pre-roast. You know how my mum gets when she’s not hosting, she can’t sit still to save her life, the roast dinner is just a product of that.”

“Cool,” Jude nods. “Two roast dinners in a week is a lot better than all the nutritional shit I have to eat throughout the season, anyway.”

I let out a quiet laugh, pulling my hand out from underneath his. “Anyway,” I take a deep breath. “As I was trying to say, about the dinner, Noah, my boyfriend, is coming over to eat with us.”

“Okay,” Jude’s voice fades out as he says, a confused look on his face.

“I mean,” I tell him. “It’s up to you, you can stay and meet him if you want, I don’t mind. Like I understand if you don’t want to, but, like I said, it’s completely up to you.”

Jude scoffs. “And like I said, I want that roast dinner. Of course, I’m staying.”

“Right then, I get up from my bed, stretching and letting out a yawn, catching Jude looking at the sliver of my belly that appears when I raise my hands over my head. “We best get downstairs and set the table, because we both know that sister of mine won’t have done it.” 

****

“You do know you have legs, right?” I say to my fifteen-year-old sister, Olivia, as soon as I enter the dining room only to find that the table hadn’t already been set like I had previously hoped. 

My sister only lets out a grunt and shrugs at my words. 

“You alright, Liv?” Jude grabs the coasters, placing one in front of each chair, making sure to count one extra than usual for Noah.

Olivia gives Jude the same grunt as the one that she gave me. 

“Remember when we were like that?” I nudge Jude with my elbow, setting up everyone’s cutlery. 

“What, when we hated everyone and everything that wasn’t on our phones? Yeah, that was rough,” a reminiscent look passes across Jude’s face before I slap him in the tummy with the placemats. 

“Come on, slacker, you going to put them down before I whack you round the head with them, or what?” I giggle, making my way into the kitchen to see if my mum needs any help. 

I see Jude smile at me over my shoulder as he watches me walk away. “You alright, Mum? Need help with anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks, Love. You go and sit down, I’ll bring the food through in a bit,” she flashes a smile at me before opening the oven up, and checking on the beef and potatoes. 

I turn on my heel, walking back into the dining room when my little brother appears at the doorway. “Judey!” he yells as soon as he spots my best friend. 

My youngest sibling, Leo, runs at Jude, causing him to stop everything he’s doing before he leans down to pick up the little boy. 

“Hello, little man, how are you doing?” Jude squeezes him as tight as he can. In the time that Jude and Leo had known each other, which was the entirety of Leo’s seven years on the planet, they had built up an amazing relationship. Leo considered Jude to be one of his best friends and even went as far as saying that Jude loved him more than me. If he only knew. 

“I’m not too good,” I watch as Leo pouts up at Jude after he’s placed him back on the ground. 

“Why not, Kid?” Jude’s brows furrow, continuing his work setting the table while also giving the small boy as much attention as he can. 

“I’ve been doing my homework all day because Mummy said I had to and if I didn’t I wouldn’t be able to play Roblox later.” 

“Well, we can’t be having that, can we?” Jude smiles when Leo shakes his head and lets out a heavy sigh. “So, did you get it all done?”

“I did,” Leo nods, a proud smile on his face. 

“Good kid,” Jude ruffles his hair before he spots me, leaning against the doorframe, watching their interaction. 

“Go and take a seat, Leo,” soft thuds against the floor can be heard as he runs to his chair next to his older sister. “Mum says dinner will be ready soon.”

I sit down in my usual spot, with Jude going to take the seat right next to me before changing his mind and walking around the table to sit in the seat directly across from me instead. 

Jude and I engage in barely thirty seconds of conversation before it’s broken up by the sound of the doorbell ringing. I feel my expression change immediately, to one full of nerves. Jude notices that immediately, watching me in anticipation as I get up from my seat. 

“That’ll be him,” I say, leaving no room for Jude to reply because I’m out of the room in seconds, making my way towards the door. 

“Hey, Babe,” Noah says in his thick American accent as soon as I open the door. 

I move to the side, signalling for him to come in. “Hi,” I say, my words a lot more muted than the bubbly voice that he’s used to. 

Noah shrugs his coat off as he steps inside and I grab it from him, turning to hang it on one of the hooks beside the door. He leans down, pressing a quick kiss on my lips. “You okay?” His brows furrow together as he analyses my face. 

“Yeah,” I nod, smiling up at him. “There’s someone here I’d like you to meet,” I tell him, leading him into the dining room after about a minute of being gone. 

As soon as Noah and I enter the room, I notice Jude look Noah up and down the moment his eyes land on him. He takes in his outfit, his tanned skin and his blonde hair. I can practically see the moment where he acknowledges that he’s not my type, no that that matters, he doesn’t know my type to be anything other than himself. 

“Noah,” I turn to him, a slight smile on my face. “You’ve already met my brother and sister,” I can feel Jude watching me as I point at the kids beside him. I can also see his face change slightly, most likely to show his disdain at the fact that I let Noah into my house before ever telling him about our relationship. “And this,” My gaze falls upon Jude, prompting Noah to look at him for the first time this evening. “Is Jude. My best friend.”

Taglist: @eunoiasgoal @4evermyownmuse

If you would like to support my work make sure to like and reblog this post, and if you're able, consider buying me a pastry! (I also take writing commissions if anyone would like one).

[irisinluv]

Careful What You Wish For

TW: Depictions of violence, toxic relationship, slight nsfw themes at the start, magical bargaining, and not proof read

You know, when you have a deadbeat boyfriend, you think that surely, the worst thing that can happen has already happened. He forgot our anniversary, asked me for money on my birthday, punched my uncle at a family barbecue, the list goes on. But sacrificing me to a demon is an all time low.

I really should’ve realized something was off when he asked if we could spice it up in the bedroom…. And that he’d do all the work. This, coming from the guy who thinks missionary is too much work. But hindsight is 20/20…. I eagerly agreed. He tied me up with some itchy nylon shit, and while his knots were sloppy and didn’t feel sexy in the least… I still was so unbelievably excited at the initiative. I was completely bound to the bed, he had slipped a blindfold over my eyes…. This was new, exhilarating, and completely out of character for him.

As I listened, holding my breath as the anticipation built, I could hear him muttering to himself, heard the nightstand drawer open, and I shivered as my mind flashed to thoughts of the vibrator I kept in that same drawer. I felt the warmth of his body as he climbed ontop of me, sliding my shirt up ever so slowly. This was the same man who spent all day raging as he played Fortnite against 9 year olds, I really couldn’t believe it, I was soaked already any he hadn’t even touched me properly yet.

I squirmed at the agony of waiting, and then a knife sliced my chest from my sternum down. Burning pain crashed over my body. As I screamed in shock, fear, and pain, struggling uselessly against the ropes, he started chanting. It was some unknown language that commanded more respect than the stuttering pronunciations falling from his inexperienced lips. He fumbled over the words, his cadence was off, and yet; despite his less than stellar performance, a low pitched hum filled the room.

A sound like grating stone followed soon after, my ears straining to locate its source. I screamed the safe word, sobbing as I felt hot blood dripping down my body and pooling on the mattress beneath me.

That’s the first thing the demon saw when he appeared. My bloodied form yanking at the ropes, panicked sobs and pleas that oddly enough included the word “avocado,” and then the one who summoned him. A greasy man who appeared to be wearing a Minecraft t-shirt, now splattered with blood.

“Belial! Lord of the fourth hell! I, Matt, Duke of discord, present to you this soul sacrifice in exchange for my hearts desire!”

The throbbing pain from my chest, coupled with the blood loss made me lightheaded, and so it took me a moment to realize he was talking to someone, offering them my soul.

The demon remained silent, assessing. Matt continued,

“In exchange for this mortal soul, my wish is to never have to lift a finger again, to have all the money I could ever want, I want to be treated like royalty!”

If let out a frustrated scream at that, I’m bleeding out on the bed, the woman who’d been providing for him financially, making all his meals, doing his laundry, giving him below the desk support whenever he wanted it, and this is what I get in exchange? He’s sacrificing my soul, for what? So he can rot online for the rest of his life?

“Matt you lazy fucking asshole let me go!”

The demon watches silently as the I thrash and scream at Matt, and how Matt only rolls his eyes and says,

“I’m sorry about her. This is why I can’t wait to get rid of her, I mean really, I’m suffocating over here!”

I’ll show him suffocating…. But that’s when the demon finally speaks.

“I will accept your bargain. In exchange for this mortal soul, all your wishes shall be granted.”

Matt’s pimpled face breaks out into a grin and he pumps his fist in the air as if he’d just won a match. I sob in terror, still unable to see the figure, but his voice was deep and eerily calm. The demon snaps his fingers, and suddenly I feel the gash on my chest knitting itself back together. I gasp and take a few sniffling breaths as I assess what is going on, confusion wracking my brain. Aren’t I supposed to be damned to eternal torture or something now? Why is my head no longer pounding from blood loss? Why are my wrists no longer raw and throbbing from yanking the ropes? A hand reaches over and lifts the blindfold from my face, and I blink against the light.

The demon is tall and imposing, dark jagged wings and horns clashing with an eerily beautiful face. He strokes my face gently before turning to Matt, who is looking equally confused,

“You end has been fulfilled, allow me to uphold my end of the bargain.”

He snaps his fingers, and Matt screeches as his limbs snap to his side, immobile.

“Your first wish, to never lift a finger again.”

Another snap of his fingers, and gold coins begin raining down around Matt, thunking against his head and causing him to yelp and curse as the heavy disks continued their assult, pooling at his feet and slowly starting to swallow him up.

“All the money you could ever want.”

With one last snap, Matt’s prone form begins to be wrapped in bandages, his panicked screeches muffled at it wrapped around his face. A beautiful sarcophagus materializes, and Matt is lowered inside, the sounds of his terror cutting off as the sarcophagus sealed shut, standing silent and still amidst a pile of gold coins.

“And finally, to be treated like royalty…. Enjoy the pyramid, Matt, Duke of Discord.”

And with that, the sarcophagus and gold all disappeared, leaving me alone with the demon. Unsure of what to expect next, I was silent, terrified. He flicked his wrist and all the blood disappeared from my clothes and skin, the ropes securing me to the bed unraveled. He took my hands in his own and lifted me from the bloodied mattress, and then he smiled.

“Finally…. You’re mine.”

[saebyeokbliss]

ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU— PART XI.

synopsis: on a cold january day, you were worrying about the reason your girlfriend wasn’t texting back. when she finally does and asks to meet at your apartment, you’re met with heartbreak as she ends your relationship. no explanation. two years later, you run into her at a cafe with someone new. what are you to do?

warnings: violence, threats of harm, use of weapons, gagging and restraining, emotional distress, mild language

pairing: sae-byeok x fem!reader

The alley felt smaller with him in it. The way Deok-su loomed over you, his shadow stretching long across the pavement, made the narrow space feel suffocating. His sneer was sharp in the dim light, his eyes gleaming with something cruel and unrelenting. You could almost smell the malice radiating off him, thick and heavy like oil.

“I asked you a question,” he said, his voice dripping with menace. “Where’s Kang?”

Your heart pounded so hard you thought it might burst out of your chest, but you forced yourself to stand your ground. You straightened your back, your bag still slung over your shoulder, and glared at him.

“She’s not here,” you said firmly, your voice sharper than you felt. “And even if she was, you’re not going to get anywhere near her.”

Deok-su’s sneer widened into a grin, but there was no humor in it—just teeth and malice. “Oh, really? And what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to tell you to fuck off,” you snapped, your fists clenched at your sides. “Leave her alone. Leave both of us alone.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his grin faltering slightly as though he couldn’t believe you were talking to him like that. Then his expression twisted into something darker, more dangerous, and he took a step closer.

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he said, his tone low and almost amused. “I don’t think you understand who you’re talking to.”

“And I don’t think you understand that I don’t give a shit,” you shot back, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to sound confident. “You’re not going to scare me into giving her up. So why don’t you crawl back into whatever hole you came out of and leave us the hell alone?”

The words were out before you could stop them, and the moment they left your mouth, you regretted them. His grin disappeared entirely, his face hardening as he closed the distance between you in two quick strides.

Before you could react, his hand shot out and grabbed you by the front of your jacket, slamming you back against the cold brick wall of the alley. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs, and you gasped, your hands instinctively reaching up to try and push him away.

“You’ve got some guts, I’ll give you that,” he growled, his face inches from yours. “But you should’ve kept your mouth shut.”

His other hand came up, and your blood ran cold when you saw the glint of a knife in the dim light. The blade pressed against your neck, the cold steel biting into your skin just enough to make you freeze. Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your chest as your mind raced.

“See, I don’t like being told what to do,” he continued, his voice low and venomous. “Especially not by some little nobody like you.”

“Go to hell,” you spat, your voice shaking but defiant.

His grin returned, but it was crueler now, his eyes narrowing as he pressed the blade a little harder against your neck. “You’re brave. Stupid, but brave. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Before you could process what was happening, he pulled the knife away and shoved you roughly toward the ground. You stumbled, catching yourself with your hands on the cold, grimy pavement, but before you could get up, his hand was in your hair, yanking your head back painfully.

“Stay quiet,” he hissed, pulling something out of his pocket. You struggled, kicking and clawing at him, but he was too strong. He forced a gag into your mouth, tying it tightly behind your head before you could make a sound.

Panic surged through you as he pulled a strip of fabric out next, wrapping it around your eyes and knotting it securely at the back of your head. The darkness was immediate and disorienting, your other senses suddenly heightened as you felt his rough hands grabbing your arms and yanking them behind your back.

You thrashed against him, trying to scream through the gag, but all that came out were muffled sounds. His grip tightened painfully, and you felt rope biting into your wrists as he tied them together, the coarse fibers scraping against your skin.

“Keep struggling,” he said mockingly. “It only makes this more fun for me.”

Terror gripped you as he hoisted you to your feet, your body jerking against his hold as you tried to get away. You couldn’t see anything, and the darkness made every sound sharper—the heavy thud of his boots against the pavement, the distant hum of traffic, the sharp intake of his breath as he dragged you further into the alley.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice dripping with false reassurance. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not yet, anyway. You’re just going to help me send a little message to Kang.”

You shook your head violently, trying to scream again, but it was no use. The gag muffled every sound, and the blindfold left you completely disoriented. You had no idea where he was taking you, and the thought of what might happen next made your stomach churn.

You heard the sound of a car door opening, and before you could react, he shoved you forward. Your knees hit something hard—the edge of a seat—and he forced you down into it, his hand on your shoulder keeping you in place. You felt the cold press of the knife against your arm, a silent warning not to resist.

The seat beneath you smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and something metallic, and the air inside the car was stale and heavy. The door slammed shut beside you, and a moment later, you heard him climb into the driver’s seat.

The engine roared to life, and the car lurched forward, sending you sliding slightly against the seatbelt he hadn’t bothered to fasten. You twisted your wrists against the rope binding them, but it was too tight, the fibers digging painfully into your skin.

“You’ve got a big mouth,” Deok-su said from the front seat, his tone almost conversational. “I can see why Kang keeps you around. But don’t worry—we’ll see how long that attitude lasts when she shows up to get you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the realization of what he was planning sinking in. This wasn’t just about you. This was about Sae-byeok. He was going to use you to get to her, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

You tried to scream again, the sound muffled and desperate, but he just laughed.

“Save your energy,” he said. “You’re going to need it.”

The car sped up, the hum of the engine and the vibrations beneath you the only indications that you were moving. Your heart pounded in your chest, fear coursing through your veins as you struggled against the ropes, the gag, the blindfold—anything to free yourself. But it was no use.

For now, all you could do was wait.

The apartment was quiet when Sae-byeok got home, the kind of stillness that settled after a long day. She dropped her bag by the door, kicking off her shoes with a sigh. Her body ached, but her mind was louder. The image of you standing in the break room earlier, your voice breaking as you talked about how lost you felt, had been replaying in her head all day.

She didn’t know why it got under her skin so much. Maybe it was the way your hands trembled when you tried to hold back tears, or the way you said you felt alone. She knew that feeling too well. It was one she carried every day, no matter how hard she tried to bury it.

“Looks like someone’s brooding again,” Ji-yeong’s voice broke her thoughts, light and teasing. She was sprawled on the couch, one leg draped over the armrest as she scrolled through her phone. She glanced up at Sae-byeok with a smirk. “What’s got you sulking this time?”

Sae-byeok rolled her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips as she made her way to the couch. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Ji-yeong shot back, sitting up and tossing her phone onto the coffee table. “You have that look on your face. The one where you’re thinking about her.”

Sae-byeok paused mid-step, her expression hardening. “I’m not—”

“Oh, please,” Ji-yeong cut her off, grinning. “Don’t even try to deny it. You’re so obvious. Did something happen with her today? Did you two make up? Did you kiss? Oh! Did you f—”

“Shut up,” Sae-byeok said, though her voice lacked any real bite. She sat down on the couch, leaning back with a sigh. “She came back to work today.”

Ji-yeong’s grin widened. “And?”

“And… nothing. She’s dealing with a lot right now.” Sae-byeok hesitated, her jaw tightening slightly. “Her sister just died. She’s barely holding it together. I don’t think now’s the time—”

“Now’s exactly the time,” Ji-yeong interrupted, jabbing a finger in Sae-byeok’s direction. “She needs someone. And lucky for her, you’re, like, annoyingly good at pretending you don’t care while secretly being the most loyal person on the planet.”

Sae-byeok raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Ji-yeong said, leaning forward, “you still love her. And if you keep waiting for the ‘right time,’ you’re gonna end up waiting forever. Life doesn’t work like that, Sae-byeok. Sometimes you just have to take the leap.”

Sae-byeok frowned, her gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is,” Ji-yeong said, flopping back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Step one: Go to her. Step two: Tell her you’re sorry for being a stubborn idiot. Step three: Kiss her. Step four: Profit.”

Sae-byeok snorted, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“No, you’re ridiculous,” Ji-yeong shot back, pointing at her again. “You’re sitting here moping instead of doing something about it. What’s the worst that could happen? She already forgave you once, didn’t she?”

Sae-byeok didn’t respond right away, her thoughts swirling. Ji-yeong had a point—not that she’d ever admit it out loud—but it didn’t change the fact that things were complicated. You had every reason to hate her after everything that had happened. The fact that you didn’t made her feel even more guilty.

“Just think about it,” Ji-yeong said, her tone softening slightly. “She’s a good one, Sae-byeok. Don’t let her slip through your fingers again.”

Sae-byeok glanced at her, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Ji-yeong said, grinning again. “But for the record, if you don’t make a move soon, I’m going to do it for you.”

Sae-byeok rolled her eyes, standing up and heading toward the hallway. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re boring,” Ji-yeong called after her, laughing. “Go get your girl!”

Sae-byeok shook her head as she made her way to Cheol’s room, the faint sound of Ji-yeong humming to herself fading into the background. She pushed the door open quietly, peeking inside. Cheol was already asleep, his small body curled up under the blankets with only the top of his head visible.

For a moment, she just stood there, watching him. He looked so peaceful, so untouched by the chaos of the world around him. It was moments like this that reminded her why she was still fighting—why she had to keep going, no matter how hard things got.

She stepped inside, tucking the blanket more securely around him before brushing a hand gently over his hair. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, and she allowed herself a small smile before slipping back out of the room.

The next morning, Sae-byeok woke up early, the faint light of dawn filtering through her curtains. She went through her usual routine—showering, getting dressed, making sure Ji-yeong didn’t eat all the bread for breakfast—before heading out to work.

The diner was as busy as ever when she arrived, the usual clamor of customers and coworkers filling the air. Sae-byeok slipped into her role effortlessly, taking orders and clearing tables with the same quiet efficiency she always did. But her mind kept drifting back to you.

She hadn’t seen you yet today, though she knew you were scheduled to come in later. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say to you, but Ji-yeong’s words from the night before were still rattling around in her head. Maybe it was time to stop holding back. Maybe it was time to—

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, cutting off her train of thought. She frowned, pulling it out to see a text from an unknown number.

She almost ignored it, assuming it was spam, but something made her open it. The moment she did, her blood ran cold.

The text was short, just two words: "Come alone."

But it was the picture attached that made her stomach drop. It was you—tied to a chair, your face bruised and bloody, your eyes wide with fear. The background was dark, but that didn’t matter. All Sae-byeok could see was you.

Her chest tightened, and she felt a surge of panic and fury all at once. She didn’t recognize the number, but she didn’t need to. There was only one person who would pull something like this.

Deok-su.

Without a second thought, Sae-byeok shoved her phone back into her pocket and stormed toward the door. She didn’t stop to explain to Mrs. Hanuel or anyone else why she was leaving. She didn’t have time. All she could think about was getting to you.

She didn’t know where you were or what Deok-su wanted, but one thing was certain: He was going to regret ever laying a hand on you.

taglist: @monroesturnns@everly-summers-solace@holyshtimgay@knfthxv@delfinadolphin@madebysae@jetaimeeeee@m0rtifiedg0th@katieschry1@erika-mon2-blog@tcvazq not taking anymore taglist additions!! sorry!!

[gimmebackmyskeeball]

needed to speak abt this cuz HELLO

might be controversial, might be a bit of a stretch, might be rude but some of y’all are WEIRD

madison has a gf, rudy has a gf, the two never publicly spoke about ever dating which means even if they did, they DON’T want people knowing or speaking about it

yes I liked Jiara, yes I miss Jiara, yes I think it was EXTREMELY forced but it was sweet, yes I don’t think JJ should’ve ever died and yes I think it sends the wrong message that contains ‘abused kids never get a happy ending’ which could cause some serious mental issues for kids that take it seriously— but that’s not what we’re talking about here

the season is OUT, jj DIED, rudy LEFT (he’s mostly likely not coming back) y’all have no business tryna create more drama

“madison didn’t recognized her own gf, she recognized rudy!!!!” don’t care. doesn’t mean they dated. nobody asked. shut the fuck up.

“rudison 2025 = jiara obx s5! jj comeback confirmed!!!” do u hear the shit leaving ur mouth? do u seriously hear the delusional bullshit that is leaving your mouth?

“they dated, y’all don’t GET IT” I’m employed, what does this mean? why do u care? WHYYYYY do u care? go get a job.

this shit is exactly the reason why the cast got fucking icky and why rudy left and now y’all wanna go out there and cry about jj’s death when all this time YOU WAS THE REASON

as a FUCKIN FAN I’m tired of hearing this bullshit imagine mariah or elaine (I have no comments on both, I’m not interested in their personalities, they can suck as people, doesn’t mean y’all have the automatic right to mess with their relationships)

I need y’all to be so fucking fr for one second, it is SO disrespectful and BORING to come out here and write paragraphs about why you think rudison ever happened. “it’s time for us to accept the truth!!” bitch, it’s the time for you to go do your damn assignments

y’all need to learn the concept of boundaries and sit your asses down and read fucking fanfiction to cope. I don’t wanna stalk madison bailey and see comments about her ‘BOYFRIEND’(?) rudy. you FREAKS.

[jjkyaoi]

by the way. people are allowed to complain about this season feeling rushed. i don’t know when it became a thing in this fandom to completely jump people who have valid complaints like YES arcane is a fantastically produced and beautifully animated show and nobody will be able to top it but they did start things with some characters only for it to never go anywhere so it can all be wrapped up in three episodes 😭

[inanshalla]

the fact that this has to be stated means that it was not clear and it wasn’t lol

[freakpit]

“we need more flawed characters in media!” you guys can’t even handle the dungeon meshi cast

[redgoldblue]

.

[ntaras]

ik i’ve said before but it kind of (not kind of it really does) agitates me how people talk about mk12 kuai liang because it really does show that people want nothing but to baby him. like, people don’t really anything interesting to say about him besides he’s a good guy. yes he is a good guy. but is he not more? i get mk12’s story does write to be THE good guy to be bi-han’s foil, but i keep on thinking about how kuai liang was going to kill bi-han but no one really cares about discussing that as a part of kuai liang’s character in this story.

i’ve also said before that kuai liang and scorpion clash as characters and fit together well as separate characters, not as one character, but scorpion kuai liang could have been a somewhat good character and i do think that scene of him almost bashing bi-han’s head in with his chains shows potential in something interesting. kuai liang’s story is a struggle against the old lin kuei, but couldn’t it also be a struggle against himself? couldn’t it be a proper clashing of his self-control and the urge to act on only emotions?

seeing kuai liang keep a hold on himself until the reveal of their father’s death is (well not is but could’ve been) a fascinating flaw of his character. i think we should’ve actually seen a build up of his frustration towards bi-han growing over the course of the story, but keeping a cool head until he finally snapped.

but there really isn’t talk about that scene. there isn’t any care about his negative traits. there isn’t any care about him besides the want to just call him traumatized.

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

I love how Taylor writes about leaving as an act of self-preservation.

[pepprs]

ok actually yeah. i really need to do dishes and go to bed and not stay up late mentalillnessposting a little too viscerally on tumblr the night before i facilitate a workshop in front of the literal president of the university and the vp of my division (LOL about that btw. actively shitting my pants.) but oh my GOD. so saying goodbye to lia was actually fine in the moment. neither of us cried and we talked about all the ways we’ll still be in each others lives and reasons we’ll have to interact in the near future. and she gave me an extremely heartfelt thoughtful gift and we left on a very hopeful note and i felt better and content bc there’s still the rest-of-life and we’ll see each other there. but like an hour before that as i mentioned i was HYSTERICALLY sobbing. in full view of people i know AND people i don’t. and i just sat there and sobbed while everything carried on around me. everything carried on around me!!! and i feel like im about to sob again thinking about it.

[badnew2005]

mac and charlie childhood bffs. cat in the wall okay i know this game. dee and dennis twins with a very isolated lonely childhood . dee can’t find a point of entrance to the wall. charlie’s seen this before. cats do not abide by the laws of nature !!!! dennis very quietly very pathetically in the background trying to distract them. he does not want to open up the walls and get the cat out. dee sympathetic i think it’s stuck in there. charlie it’s not stuck, he made a conscious decision to go in the wall. dennis getting more and more agitated in the background. it chose to be in there it wants to be in the wall. the cat is Going to know catnip is a Trap. a trap to get the cat out. pretending that the world outside the wall is all good and celebratory for the cat. it’s not, and now it’s out of the wall and can’t go back in. catnip is going to irritate the cat then it’s gonna dig its self down further. we may never get to it. dennis still very uncomfortable in the background. let’s start thinking like a cat here. dennis moves forward in his seat as if about to interrupt and say something . he doesn’t want this happening, he just wants to watch a movie. charlie, who’s had mac his whole life saying we need another cat. dennis starting to really pay attention to the conversation. stands up and moves towards dee and charlie as the plan to introduce another cat is explained. those two will become codependent. the same very episode mac and dennis are called codependent, ever so slightly called out by dee for acting gay and it completely threw dennis he has completely separated himself from mac. the second cat comes out of the wall. dennis is still walking forward. and the first one hopefully, hopefully will follow. he interjects. stops the conversation. let’s watch a movie. dennis as dees cat and mac as charlie’s cat. nobody survived

[classyrbf]

IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...you and gojo get into a fight after realizing that he’s been hiding something about your relationship the entire time

INFO...gojo x fem!reader, angsty, arguing, breaking up(?), not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You slam the door to the penthouse, your heels clicking against the mahogany floors with each step. You toss your purse on the couch, hearing Gojo opening the front door and shutting it quickly. “Baby, please just listen to me.” He pleads, following after you.

“I don’t wanna hear your bullshit excuse, Satoru.” You roll your eyes, plopping down on the edge of the bed to relieve your sore feet of the heels you’ve been wearing all night to your boyfriends opening event he’s been planning for months now.

“I’m not trying to make excuses. Please.” He walks over towards you and toss your heel at him. “Stop throwing shit and just talk to me!”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You stand to your feet, glaring daggers at him. “Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? God, you’re a fucking asshole.” You seethe, narrowing your eyes. “I sat there all alone, while you let some woman feel up on you the entire night? Are you out your fucking mind?” You scoff.

“She’s just an old friend, y/n. I swear I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He shakes his head at you, grabbing onto your arms tightly.

“Oh, yeah? So I when I came up and introduced myself as your girlfriend none of your friends were looking at me like I was crazy? I know we’ve been only together for a year, Satoru, but that’s fucking low.” You pull away from him. “They didn’t even know who I was. Then you got miss prissy bitch clearly flirting with you in front of me and you didn’t do a damn thing to stop it!” You brush past him, stomping over towards the bathroom.

“Slow down, y/n! Baby—”

“I’m not your fucking ‘baby’, Satoru.” You gather all of your products from the bathroom, from your makeup and skincare to your clothes and shampoo.

“Stop for just one second.” He spins you around so you’re facing him. “Don’t leave. I swear you’re the only girl for me. I know I fucked up, I know I did. I embarrassed you, made you look stupid and I am so fucking sorry. But please do not leave.” He cups your face gently and his touch feels so inviting, but you can’t forgive him that easily. “I only want you. I only need you.”

You look up at him through your lashes, swallowing thickly as you bite the inside of your cheek. “Should’ve thought about that when you let her kiss your cheek and you smiled at her. Right in front of me. Get the fuck off of me.” You push him, rushing to grab your bag from the closet.

Gojo lets out a tired sigh, following you. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not like this. “I shouldn’t have let her near me.”

“Why was she so comfortable with being that close to you, huh?” You question, furrowing your brows as you turn to look at him. “Now that I think about it. Let me guess, you two were more than just friends.” You stand to your feet, snatching your clothes off the hangers and shoving them into your bag. He looks at you, opening his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. And from the look in his eyes, you already knew the truth. A bitter laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head in disappointment.

“It was before you! Before us! We never dated it was just a small thing between me and her!” He tried to explain. “Baby, I swear! Once I met you, everything changed. I cut her off and focused all my attention on you. You’re the only who has my heart.” He grabbed your wrist only for you to pull away.

“Clearly I ain’t the only who who’s got your dick, though.” You slam the closet door shut, turning your back towards him.

“Don’t say that, y/n. That’s the first time I’ve seen her in years!”

“Yeah? Well all your friends sure know about her. She must’ve been great in bed, Satoru. Me? Well, they looked at me like I was a fucking ghost!” You scoff. “Like I was some delusional bitch who came up to you and said I was your girlfriend!” You throw your hands up in disbelief. “You must take me for fucking joke. It must be written on my forehead or something!”

“I don’t take you for a joke! You’re my goddamn girlfriend. You live with me. You have my initial around your fucking neck! I love you and you know that!” He takes a step towards you.

“Do I know that?” You ask aloud, cocking your head to the side.

“What—of course I love you. What the fuck are you saying?” He looked at you with pure confusion.

“You’re a joke. One of your friends, Shoko, pulled me aside and told me the only reason you got with me is because your little fling ended up getting a boyfriend herself around the time we started dating. You’re a piece of shit.” You revealed the truth to him, watching him stare at you blankly, lost for words. “Think I wouldn’t find out?” You ripped off the necklace with his initial, tossing it at him.

“Yes, I was upset that she got a boyfriend but—”

“So you had feelings for her. And just to cover them up, you got with me as a distraction.” You step closer towards him. “Listen to me, Satoru, don’t ever try and contact me again, keep whatever fucking gifts you bought me and return them, sell them, do whatever because I am done,” you spoke through gritted teeth.

“No, no, no, baby. You can’t leave me. Yea I liked her before, but so fucking what? I was never in love with her, not like I am with you. I was too fucking stupid. I still am! Just give me another chance to fix this. I don’t want us to end this way.” He grabs your packed bag from your hands and tosses it on the bed.

“Let me go, Satoru.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I can’t. You’re everything to me. She’s nothing compared to you.” He sniffles, holding your hands in his. “I love you so much and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. And I’m sorry for entertaining the idea that she could even come close to you. She can’t.” His hands cupped your face, his heart pounding in anticipation as he waited to hear any words from you.

You reached up, pulling his hands away from your face. “Bye, Satoru.” You walked past him, grabbing your bag off of the bed. As much as it hurt to leave, you knew you had to respect yourself. Time and space was what you needed to think. With each step out the door, you could hear Gojo’s sobs, something you’ve never heard before in the year you’ve been with him. For the strong, flashily and confident man he is, you never once thought you’d see or him break down. Especially not for you.