#Exhausted boiling and heaving

[a-leg-without-fear]

Flooded Red (pt.1)🩸🌧️

some lore for the reader character!! this takes place during the raid on the mansion in X2: X-Men United. please enjoy some Gore and some BAMF reader :)

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 4.7k

Warnings: gore, violence, Carrie-levels of blood, mentions of child abuse/abandonment, child endangerment, mentions of experimentation, depressive thoughts, drugging, choking, mentions of serious illness

Series: Flooded Red

You were no stranger to nightmares. Whether they were your own, making you toss and turn and wake up feeling exhausted, or Logan’s, leaving him shaking and panting. Yours were more infrequent than his. Every other night or so, your dreams were edged with that toxic darkness compared to his nightly torment. Anxiety-fuelled imagery that made your heart pump and your skin sweaty.

Tonight, it seemed, was your turn on the nightmare-express. Flashes of your life before joining Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters pierced your mind like a hot poker. Your father dying of polio, your mother abandoning you when your mutation showed itself, you begging for food on the side of the road for twenty years. 

In particular, one evening in the ‘50s decided to plague you. 

You, a 54-year old who appeared to still be twelve, were hunkered down in the abandoned building you called home. It was raining, humid summer air leaking in through the boarded up windows. Mildew spots covered the aged wallpaper. A distinct, old-house smell permeated the aged floorboards. 

You sat on your collection of moth-eaten blankets. An array of warm reds and cool blues created a cushy, makeshift bed that you spent your nights in. Pale orange filtered in from the streetlamps outside the abandoned house. You had tried your best to block out light by sticking newspapers to what windows weren’t covered by pine boards.

A group of men stood in front of you. Varying heights and weights. One had darker skin and cropped black hair, another had a neck tattoo and a cleft lip. Those two stood at the front of the pack of five. All wearing dark clothes and brandishing various household items as weapons. Steel pipes, wrenches, tire irons.

“You guys really don’t want to do this,” you squeaked out. You silently cursed your prepubescent voice. The man with the tattoo scoffed, squinted eyes peering around where you sat.

“And what’re you gonna do, pipsqueak?” he sneered. He smacked his palm with the pipe in his hands. The others moved to form a line next to him, blocking you from any exits.

“You’re not gonna like it,” you muttered under your breath. The man on the far right, blonde-haired and green-eyed, chuckled at you.

“You are the least threatening girl I-”

His words were cut short, breath caught in his throat. Your head was tilted as you focused. Dark eyes flooded red, blood overtaking the white, as your left arm raised toward the group.

Rough gurgles echoed from each man’s chest. Eyes wide with fear, skin flushing, lungs filled with liquid. Your lips spread into a knowing grin.

With one flick of your fingers, you made the men’s blood reach its boiling point. Explosions of crimson ichor burst from the five men. Skin split and flowered around large wounds. Bones cracked, limbs twitching and flailing.

One by one, each man fell to the ground. Bodies turned to sacks of flesh and organs. Blood seeped from the empty carcasses into the wooden floorboards.

Your smile remained stretched across your face. You hadn’t moved from your pile of blankets. Left arm covered to the elbow in blood, rest of your body clean, eyes returning to their normal ruby shade.

A piercing, world-shattering scream broke you from the shackles of your nightmare. You darted up, chest heaving, hands covering your ears to shield yourself from the noise. Glancing briefly at your own body, you were met with your adult self. Your wide eyes looked up and darted around your room.

The left side of your bed was empty. Sheets bunched up by your knees, pillow ruffled. Results of Logan sharing your bed. Yet the grouch was nowhere to be seen. You looked up to the door hoping to see him standing there.

Instead, your eyes landed on three heavily armed men. Covered in kevlar, bullet-proof vests, thick helmets. Each one having several guns attached at various points on their bodies. They were hunched over, hands over their ears, occasional grunts coming from beneath black, cloth masks.

Ignoring the scream that jabbed your eardrums when you lowered your hands, you scrambled out of bed. Your socked feet slid slightly on the hardwood floors as you dashed to the doorway. 

Just as suddenly as it had begun, the screaming stopped. You shook your head and blinked a few times. You took the chance you saw before you while the armed men reoriented.

A sharp jab to the front man’s jaw, his head ricocheting back, and a swift kick to his stomach sent him careening back between the other two. You couldn’t stop to check if he was out yet. You swiveled on your backfoot to the man on the right. Grabbing the sides of his helmet, you yanked his head down and connected his eye socket with your knee. You punched him in the temple for good measure as he fell to the floor.

The last man raised his machine gun to your torso. You paused briefly, eyeing the man up and down, then dropped to your knees as gunshots ringed over your head. You lunged forward at the man’s legs and knocked him to the ground. A strong kick to the face and he was out.

Breathing heavily, you clambered to your feet. Your gaze landed on the wooden door behind you. You expected to see bullet holes and splintered shrapnel. Instead, three small, white darts were embedded in the wood grain. You plucked one from the door to inspect it.

Right when the dart was lifted to your face, thick arms wrapped around your neck. Kevlar vest met your t-shirt clad back as the man who you’d failed to check choked you. Your breath came out ragged and strained. You tried to stomp back on the man’s feet, but he just stepped out of the way. Your vision was growing blurry around the edges.

“Stupid fucking mutant,” the man huffed in your ear, every word laced with malice and hate.

In a last ditch attempt, you took the dart still clutched in your fingers and stabbed it into the man’s arm. A string of pained curses left the man’s mouth as he released you. You stumbled forward, chest heaving to recover lost air, as you pivoted to face your attacker.

The man blindly grabbed at the dart in his forearm. He stumbled back, body connecting with the wall behind him, then started sinking to the floor. His head lolled to the side.

Huh, tranquilizers, you thought.

You hardly had time to assess your situation as you heard scuffling down the hall. Dozens of thick boots stepping quietly across the hardwood floor. When you listened closer, you heard the clatter of guns in gloved hands.

An involuntary growl left your chest. These men were here for the kids. Your kids. The kids you’ve helped teach and care for and raise. Flashes of fiery anger licked up your chest. You knelt and tore one of the machine guns filled with darts away from the unconscious men.

You kept low to the ground as you peered out of your bedroom doorway. A larger group of kevlar-clad men, about eight strong, were walking away from your room and toward the edge of the mansion. You nestled the stock in your shoulder and aimed at the group.

Muffled, quick shots echoed from the rifle as you shot at the men, each bundle of three darts connecting with a limb. Helmets clattered on the floor as the men collapsed. They had no time to register where the shots were coming from before they laid in an unconscious heap on the floor.

You threw the empty gun to the floor as you stood. You hated guns. Hated what they represented, the violence they caused, the people who wielded them. It was a very rare circumstance that placed a gun in your hands.

A chorus of children’s screams came from the hallway behind you. Terrified, heart-wrenching, utterly fearful. Pure, unbridled rage tugged at your chest. You could feel red coat the edges of your eyes. Blood seeping into the whites to make you look like some kind of demon.

You turned and walked briskly down the hall. Hands clenched in fists at your sides, pulse beating rapidly beneath your skin, eyes clouded in a flaming scarlet.

When you approached the next group of men, this group being six strong and standing outside Ryan and Addie’s room, your mind seemed to click off. All you could see was red, all you could hear was your own pulse in your ears, all you could taste was fresh blood coating your tongue. 

Your body wasn’t your own. Fingers twisted and manipulated the pumping blood beneath the men’s skin. Bubbling and boiling the flowing ichor until each man froze where they stood. Twitching and shaking, eyes crying scarlet and mouths leaking red. Another flick of your fingers and they exploded into clouds of steamed blood. Crimson coated your entire body, leaving you drenched in the men’s remains.

Six men. Turned into empty skins and abandoned organs. Blood seeping into the hardwood floor. Dead.

Your vision came back to you. Gasping breaths left your throat in short bursts. Warm liquid beaded on the sides of your face and dripped down your skin. Your clothes were utterly drenched, your hair plastered to your scalp, feet submerged in a puddle of red.

It had been so long since you’d lashed out like that. Mind going blank and fingers acting of their own accord. Since that night in the abandoned house, you’d kept your wits about you. Always resorting to hand-to-hand or to weapons if the need presented itself. You never used your mutation if you could help it.

You felt ashamed. These six men were just doing as they were told. They were only following orders. No one, not even the worst humans, deserved to die like that.

Before the panic could grip you in a chokehold, another group of booted footsteps came from down the hall. A small voice echoed in the back of your mind. The kids. Protect the kids. Whatever it takes. How could you refuse, when the children were your life? Your reason for being?

You splashed through the puddles of blood as you moved down the hall. Eyes flooded red, fingers twitching at your sides, anger gripping your chest in a vice. You weren’t yourself anymore. You weren’t the art teacher the children loved, the friend that the X-Men laughed with, or the lover Logan had grown to know.

All you were was a burning, churning whirlpool of fiery hate. Flames licked at your lungs, filling each breath with fire. Swirling images of corpses at your feet filled your stomach to the brim.

“There’s another one! Wait… holy shit!” yelled out from in front of you. You cocked your head as you observed this new group of men.

Ten strong, all clad in kevlar and vests, all pointing their rifles loaded with tranquilizer darts at you. You could see a shake in their hands as they took in the sight of you. Eyes flooded red, blood seeping through your hair and into your clothes, feet tracking crimson in their wake. If there was a physical embodiment of Carrie, you fit the bill.

“D-Don’t move!” called the trembling voice again. Guns clicked in gloved hands as the safeties were switched off. You could see every hand had a finger resting on a trigger.

Your right hand twitched, fingers curling, as a manic grin overtook your stoney expression. These men, these infiltrators, were giving you commands? Were demanding you stand down as they took your children away? These puny, insignificant men were instructing someone with the power to kill them in a single motion? The thought made you laugh under your breath.

“Or what?” you said back. Red dots centered on your chest as every man aimed at you. Another chuckle flitted through your lips, “Good luck with that.”

Dozens of gunshots ringed out through the hallway as dart after dart embedded in your chest. Clusters of white needles protruded from your blood stained shirt. You glanced down at the intrusions to your bloodstream. A tired edge overtook your mind as the tranquilizers pumped their chemicals into you. 

You gripped the darts and ripped them from your chest. A cacophony of clatters bounced back to the men as the darts fell to the floor. You shook your head to rid yourself of the chemicals threatening to knock you out. 

“Wanna try that again?” you asked, every word dripping in sarcastic confidence. 

Before the men could reload and obey your request, you raised your left hand to the group. Your senses focused on the blood pumping through their scared little hearts. Cortisol coursed through each man’s veins. Pathetic.

A twitch of your fingers made their hearts careen to a stop. Blood froze in their veins, oxygen being deprived from their lungs, eyes widening and limp hands clutching at their throats. It only took a few moments for them to collapse to the floor.

You breathed a humorless laugh at the mess of corpses in front of you. Who did they think they were, to challenge you like that? Especially after they saw that their darts didn’t work. You tilted your head side to side as you stretched out your neck.

“Vampire?” a small voice said from behind you. You turned to the source, fingers twitching in preparation. Whoever this new threat was, you’d deal with it quickly.

Regret filled your stomach like a lead ball when your eyes landed on Addie and Ryan. They stood, hand in shaking hand, feet soaking in the puddles of blood, wide eyes looking up at you. Your breath left your lungs in one sharp gust.

“Are you okay?” Addie asked, being the one who’d said your nickname before. She tucked a strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear. You sank to your knees before the siblings.

“I… Yeah, I’m okay,” you sighed. You squeezed your eyes shut, clearing your head of the hatred it was filled with. When you opened them again, Ryan stood before you. His blue eyes looked you over with a deep concern crinkling in the corners.

“You sure? You’re pretty bloody,” he said. You wiped at the blood covering your face. It was no use, your hands being equally drenched.

“Is it your blood?” Addie questioned from behind her brother. You shook your head.

“No. No, it’s not. Are you guys okay?” you asked, desperate to shift the attention from yourself. Both children nodded. You gave them both a once over. Their hair was ruffled from sleep, hems of their pajamas and white socks soaked in the blood covering the floor, wide eyes looking to you for reassurance. You cleared your throat, “Did those guys hit you with anything?”

Both siblings shook their heads. You breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Alright. Let’s get you to the passageway on this floor. Ryan, You’ll be right behind me. Protect your sister,” you instructed. The kids nodded their heads again. You stood before them, giving yourself a look up and down. 

You looked horrifying. Once white t-shirt and green shorts were drenched in thick blood. Your hair clung to the sides of your head. Rivulets of crimson leaked down your bare legs and arms. 

Yet, when your gaze met the kids’, they looked at you with nothing but adoration. How could they look up to someone as terrifying as you? Someone who just killed sixteen fucking people? What would that teach them?

You squared your shoulders, pushing your insecurities down as far as they could go, and started leading the kids back down the hall. Your knees were bent as you kept low to the floor. You would pause every few moments to listen to the mansion around you. More gunshots from the floor below you, screams of terrified children, grunts and yells from the men in kevlar. You kept your mind from wandering to that rage and continued to lead Addie and Ryan to safety.

Relief flooded your lungs when you saw a group of children, led by Piotr, standing by this floor’s escape passageway. You straightened your posture. Addie and Ryan ran ahead of you to reconnect with their classmates.

“How many do you have?” you called over the swarm of scared children. Piotr, an older student whose skin could turn to metal, looked up at you from directing kids through the narrow doorway. His eyes widened at the state of you.

“Uh… Twelve, I think,” he replied. He ushered Addie and Ryan through the door, then turned to you, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said through gritted teeth. Your shoulders seized when you heard heavy boots across the hall from you. Piotr looked over his shoulder, having also heard the approach.

Logan turned the corner. White tank top bunched around his midriff, jeans torn around his thighs, dark hair mussed from its two points. He held a knocked-out Jones, a young brunet who could manipulate electrical frequencies, in his arms. His hazel eyes glanced at you then fixed on Piotr.

“Hey, take him. He’s stunned,” Logan said, handing Jones over to Piotr. The larger boy held Jones tight against his chest. 

Just as Logan was turning to you, Piotr called out, “I can help you!” Logan looked back at Piotr. He pointed down the passageway, then said, “Help them.”

Piotr nodded at Logan, ducking into the doorway and sealing the passageway behind him. Logan suddenly grabbed your shoulders in both of his hands. You met his frantic eyes, narrowed lids shadowed by his furrowed brow.

“What the hell happened to you? Why are you covered in blood?” he asked. 

“I’m fine, Lo. It’s not my blood,” you said, shrugging his hands off your shoulders. His indignant reply was cut off when you both heard movement around the corner. 

Logan shoved you behind him as you both approached the corner. He pushed on your shoulder so you could squat next to him. His sturdy arm held you against the wall at your backs.

“Stay here,” he breathed into your ear. You nodded once in acknowledgement. Logan nodded back, then turned his attention back to the approaching group. 

You focused on lifting the blood from your shirt. Beads of crimson drifted away from your body and floated in the air before you. Your fingers twitched and the beads crashed into each other. Blood cell on top of blood cell, stacking together and forming a sharp lance the length of your forearm. One last flick of your wrist and the iron in the blood hardened the lance. A solid, red, metal weapon fell out of the air and into your open palm. At least you were significantly less bloody now.

Logan watched you out of the corners of his eyes. An air of admiration crossed his face. 

The brief moment was interrupted as a combat boot landed by Logan’s knees. Logan’s chest rumbled a deep growl, his claws shinking out of his knuckles, as he lunged forward and stabbed his right claws through the toe of the boot. A pained cry fell from the kevlar wearing man. Logan leapt to his feet as he plunged his left hand into the man’s stomach, shoving them both around the corner and out of your sight.

You remained crouched, back leaning against the wooden wall. Loud pops of gunfire echoed around you. Real guns, loaded with bullets instead of darts. Sharp cracks pierced the air as bullets flew in rapid succession toward Logan. A few bullet casings landed, smoking, by your feet. 

Light beamed from the dropped flashlight that rolled into view. Spurts of blood coated the tool in red jets. You spun the lance a few times in your hands, waiting.

“Clear,” Logan called. You pushed yourself upright and rounded the corner. About a dozen men, all clad in the same dark kevlar, lay dead at Logan’s feet. His chest was heaving, eyes darting to and from each man’s face, fists still clenched with claws poking out between his knuckles.

“All good, Lo?” you asked. His claws fully retracted as he met your gaze. He gave you a sharp nod then turned on his heel. You picked your way through the bodies, accidentally kicking a few limbs here and there, as you followed after him. 

“You never answered my question,” Logan said. You caught up with him and met his fast pace down the hallway. The two of you jogged while you tried to ignore his question. A few moments passed, the clipping of Logan’s boots on the floor being the only noise between you.

“I snapped,” was your quiet response. Short, simple, to the point. And it was all Logan needed. He threw you another quick nod while you two approached the balcony overlooking the mansion’s foyer.

Bright lights shone on Rogue, Bobby, and John as they stood below the balcony. All in their sleep clothes, all looking absolutely terrified. A guttural yell came from Logan as he leapt over the railing and dived into the four men aiming rifles at the older students.

You were about to follow when the back of your head was grabbed, a rough hand shoving your face into the railing and knocking your forehead on the wood. Spiked pain shot through your head, your knees crumpling beneath you. The hand tangled in your hair remained.

“Got the bloody one,” the man gripping you called behind him. You scratched at his hand as you tried to free yourself.

Slicing claws through flesh and pained yells soared over the balcony from the floor below. Your dazed mind tried to comprehend what was happening around you.

Some of the kevlar-clad men stood around you. Five, or was it seven, surrounded you with the muzzles of their guns aimed at your woozy form. Your head was utterly spinning. Nausea flooded your stomach and sent you reeling. If it weren’t for the gloved hand in your hair, you’d be sprawled out on the floor.

“Vampire!” Bobby called. You could just barely see his face through the bars of the railing. Wide, blue eyes glanced between you and the men surrounding you. He threw a hand up in your direction, “Duck!”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You yanked your head away from the man above you and dove to the floor. Just as your hands covered the back of your head, a biting chill filled the air above you. Wave after wave of flowing ice coursed over the balcony. You shivered from where you laid on the floor.

“C’mon!” John yelled up at you. You peered at the men who held you captive. All of them were coated in a thick layer of ice, skin turned pale and blue, joints frozen in place. Living ice sculptures. 

You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the sway in your motion, as you prepared to vault over the railing. Just as you had swung your leg over the wood banister the front door burst open, streams of LED lights illuminating the four mutants below you.

Logan motioned for you to stay where you were, looking you up and down, then ushered Rogue, Bobby, and John further into the mansion. Dozens of men followed in their wake.

You, not being one to listen to instructions very often, crept along the banister until you reached the stairs. Lucky for you, your socked and soaked feet wouldn’t make much noise on the hardwood. You snuck down the stairs while listening to the kevlar-clad men flood through the front door. When you reached the bottom you paused. Squatted, lance clutched in both hands, waiting for the last of the men to pass.

Once you saw a break in the stream of soldiers, you dashed between shadows while trailing after Logan. Keeping out of sight, ducking beneath flashlight beams, sneaking around corners. 

“You want to shoot me? Shoot me!” you heard Logan yell down the hall from where you were. You picked up the pace. Soaked feet slapping against the wood floors, clubbing soldiers on the head as you passed with the blunt end of your lance to knock them out, racing to try and prevent Logan and the others from getting hurt.

“Don’t shoot him!” a male voice yelled. You slid around the last corner and found a cluster of kevlar-clad men. All with their rifles and flashlights pointed at Logan down the hall. You froze in place, breath held. One of the men stepped forward, a flashlight held aloft in his gunless hands. He moved to stand in the middle of the rest of the men, “Not yet.”

You slipped behind one of the giant vases scattered throughout this hallway. Tucking yourself into the long shadows thrown by the large piece of pottery, your head just barely poked out to watch the scene unfold.

“Wolverine? Well, I must admit, this is certainly the last place I’d expect to find you,” the unarmed man said. He took a few more steps forward. Logan watched his approach, confusion written in his knitted brows. The lone man chuckled, “How long has it been? 15 years? You haven’t changed one bit. Me, on the other hand…” the man trailed off. He stopped a few feet in front of Logan and gestured to his own face, “...nature.”

You didn’t like this. The man in front of Logan gave you a bad feeling. Like shocks of anxiety pricking over your hypersensitive skin. You gripped your lance tighter in your hands.

Logan’s claws retracted back between his knuckles. Narrowed, hazel eyes analyzed the man standing in front of him.

“I didn’t realize Xavier was taking in animals,” the man said with a laugh. He adjusted the glasses sitting on the bridge of his wide nose, “Even animals as unique as you.”

“Who are you?” Logan asked. His hands remained clenched at his sides.

The man laughed again, “Don’t you remember?”

Logan stared at the man, mouth agape. He took a few steps forward.

You’d had enough. This man, whoever he was, wasn’t going to talk Logan into… whatever it is this guy was trying to do.

You darted out from behind the vase, lance brandished in your hands. Your head cocked as you sent the weapon soaring through the air. One of the kevlar-wearing men to your right gasped as the lance speared through his back and exited from the center of his chest. You focused on the lance as it flew from one man to the next. Sailing through the air until it pierced the men’s abdomens and sent them careening to the floor.

Every gun pointed in your direction. Some men holding rifles containing darts, others aiming real guns straight at you. You paused mid-step.

Your gaze met Logan’s. Recognition flashed in his widened eyes. He took another step forward, this time toward you.

Ice crackled on the walls of the hallway. Large snowflakes linked together as they stretched the width of the hallway and formed a wall. The ice solidified, creating a transparent, blue blockade between you and Logan.

“No, no!” Logan yelled from his side of the wall. He pounded desperately on the ice.

The unarmed man turned to face you. He was older, hair graying and beard wiry. Black glasses framed his squinted, blue eyes. You shifted your weight between your feet.

“Hello, my dear. You must be the one called ‘Bleeder,’” he said. Your posture stiffened at the name. You felt your jaw clench.

“I haven’t been called that in a long time,” you replied. God, if it weren’t for the guns pointed at you, you’d have skewered this man ages ago.

“And yet it was your moniker all the same,” the man said. His boots clicked against the hardwood as he approached you. Thick coat covering his torso, gloved hands clutched behind his back. He stopped a few paces in front of you. His hooded eyes passed over your blood-covered form, “I believe I have use of you. Take her.”

The familiar pop of the dart-filled guns rang out as you were peppered with white needles. Dozens and dozens of pinpricks filled your chest. You gasped, falling to one knee. The edges of your mind began to cloud with a foggy haze.

“Vampire!” you distantly heard Logan yell. You felt the floor sway beneath your feet. Your hands planted on the hardwood when you fell forward.

“That’s it. Off to sleep, Bleeder,” the man said above you. You threw him one last hate-filled glare, then collapsed as the tranquilizers overtook your senses.

some looooooooooore for reader!!! hope y'all enjoyed. and what a cliffhanger, huh?

Want to be on the taglist? Fill out this form!

[semisasseater]

Intro (end of the world.)

Se-mi x fem! reader

Summary: you never wanted to get into a heated argument with your girlfriend se-mi, not even in these death games that were slowly making you and se-mi drift away from each other. not knowing it was lights out but finding out you ran to go find se-mi not knowing that’s the reason you loose your life.

Tw: Gore, stabbing, really into detail on how y/n gets killed, just full angst, crying, wuh luh wuh, grief, no happy ending. let me know if i missed anything!

authors note: if you thought this was bad imagine what i would’ve wrote if they both died. felt a little uh.. heh evil (cause of that damn poll) and sad today.. but anyways this was very not sigma to write also i’m sorry i didn’t post yesterday </3 forgive me.

Not proofread!

Part 2

Word count: 841

The tension had been building between you and Se-mi for days. Every game, she threw herself into the fire without thinking twice, taking reckless risks that made your heart nearly explode with fear. You had warned her, begged her to be more careful and pick X. But she never listened.

And tonight, after barely scraping by in the last round, it all came boiling over.

“I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY! YOU KEPT WANTING TO PLAY AND ALMOST GETTING YOURSELF FUCKING KILLED!” you shouted, frustration and fear twisting your voice.

Se-mi’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “Whatever,” she scoffed, rubbing her temples. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

You huffed, crossing your arms as you watched her walk off. Your chest was still heaving with anger, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t just anger—it was fear. Fear of losing her.

You sat against the cold wall, pressing your forehead against your knees, mumbling curses under your breath. The frustration made your limbs feel heavy, exhaustion from the past games catching up to you.

Then—

BOOM.

The lights went out.

At first, it was just silence. But then—screams. Bloodcurdling, gut-wrenching screams. The sound of bodies hitting the floor.

Your breath hitched as you looked around. The room had turned into chaos. The weak were being slaughtered, and the strong were becoming animals.

Your mind screamed one thing—Se-mi.

You scrambled to your feet, heart hammering, pushing past the bodies and the flashing silhouettes of people fighting in the darkness. You had to find her. You had to—

A hand yanked your hair back violently.

A pained gasp left your lips as you were thrown against the wall, your skull bouncing off the hard surface. Vision swimming, you looked up—shit. nam gyu.

The gleam of a sharp, broken glass shard caught your eye before it plunged into your shoulder.

A piercing scream ripped from your throat as white-hot pain seared through your body. You struggled, kicking at him, clawing at anything to get away, but he was relentless. With a sickening grin, he pulled the shard out, only to drive it into your stomach.

Your screams turned into choked sobs, pain overtaking every nerve in your body. You could feel the glass slowly dragging up toward your chest, your body convulsing in agony.

you wheezed, trying to push him off.

But he didn’t stop.

The next stab was to your hand.

A broken, shattered cry left your lips as your body weakened, your limbs trembling, blood pooling beneath you. Your vision blurred, dark edges creeping in. The pain was unbearable. Your body slumped against the cold floor, breaths shallow, mind slipping away.

You heard more screams. More fighting. But it was all fading.

Until—

“Y/N!”

A familiar voice. A desperate, trembling voice.

Se-mi.

Your eyelids felt like lead as you barely managed to turn your head. Se-mi was there, her face streaked with tears, hands shaking as she grabbed your weak, bloodied body.

“Nonono, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have left you alone!” she sobbed, pressing your head against her chest. Her warmth felt comforting, even as your body turned cold.

You let out a weak, trembling breath. “It’s okay Se-mi… it’s not your fault… it’s mine… I was being an asshole…”

She shook her head violently. “No. No don’t say that You’re gonna be okay You have to be okay”

Your body felt lighter. The pain was dulling, everything slipping away.

You looked at her, eyes heavy with exhaustion and something deeper—love. “Se-mi… I’ll always love you…”

“No—” her voice cracked. “No, no, no, don’t say that.. You can’t leave me. You can’t!”

Tears dripped onto your face as she shook you, desperately trying to keep you here. But you were already floating away.

“Get out of here… for me… okay?”

And then—darkness.

“NO! Y/N!”

Her scream echoed through the room, raw and heart-wrenching. She clutched your body, sobbing uncontrollably, rocking you in her arms.

But you were gone.

The guards arrived, their cold, emotionless hands pulling Se-mi away as she kicked and screamed, refusing to let go.

“DON’T TAKE HER! DON’T TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME!”

But they did. They placed your lifeless body into a black and pink coffin, sealing it shut.

Se-mi collapsed to the floor, her cries silent now, just broken breaths of someone who had lost everything.

She was still alive.

But for Se-mi, she was dead, what was the point of living if your reason to live is gone?

@semisasseater

[ephie-om]

Simeon trudges along the soft carpet to answer Purgatory Hall's door. He vaguely remembers someone was supposed to visit, but in his mind's haze he can't seem to recall who. Between the endless explosions from Solomon's room and late nights comforting Luke after a long day, the angel was exhausted.

The front door creaks open to reveal your smiling face. Your smile quickly drops as you take in Simeon's state. He realizes how he must look. Disheveled clothes, oily skin, probably several stains on his robes. He's fairly sure he should be ashamed, but he's too tired. "I apologize, I'm not exactly... put together." He flashes you a quick smile, hoping to dispel your worries.

You tsk at him and gently push past him into the house. An alarm goes off in his mind, a bit too late, that he should be a gracious host and invite you in. But since it's you, he supposes, there's not much point in telling you to make yourself at home. He watches you drop your bag on the floor and shove it out of the way with your foot. You're looking at him, he realizes. Expectantly. "Um... I'm sorry. What?" Your lips twist (in what? Worry? Disappointment? Has he done something wrong?) and you let out a breath.

"I said, I know your roommates have been getting to you." He nods quickly, eager to show he's listening this time. "So I took the liberty of finding them excuses to not be here tonight. They're safe and in good company, but that leaves you here. Alone, with no distractions." You grin at him, almost evilly. "Which means you don't have any excuse to refuse my help."

You make quick work of boiling water for tea and running a bath. Simeon, having been sternly commanded to not help in any way, is perched awkwardly on a stool in the kitchen. He watches you rush back and forth between rooms, making sure neither the kettle nor the tub can overflow. It's almost amusing, watching you run about like this all for him. Yes, he thinks, it's amusing, and endearing, but if he thinks too long about that he might really say something he shouldn't.

You push a mug full of hot tea towards him from across the counter and stare him down until he drinks. It's warm, the warmest, sweetest thing he's tasted for weeks. He didn't even think he liked this blend. There must be something about your fingers making it that dripped pure nectar into it. He sips slowly, letting his tongue wrap around every drop. He wouldn't dare waste a bit of the liquid gold you'd given him. The silence stretches over the kitchen like a warm blanket and he closes his eyes as he drinks. Your footsteps fade as you go to check the bathroom and he finds himself missing the sound of your breathing.

He drains his mug and heaves himself to his feet. You meet him midway to the bathroom and place a warm hand on his shoulder, guiding him down the hall. Only his angel sensibilities stop him from stripping down as soon as he sees the tub. He sees a thick layer of tiny bubbles floating over the water's surface, and a gentle floral scent rises up to greet him. He swears he could kiss you here and now.

You face him, hand on his arm, and he finds every detail of your lips as you speak. "I don't mean for this to be awkward or anything, but I've been tired like this before and I know how hard simple things can be. So I wanted to tell you if you need any help with this, I'll be right here." You turn to walk out, but he catches hold of your hand.

"Please. It's..." He trails off, embarrassed. "My hair. I don't even know how long it's been since I've washed it." You nod and respectfully face the wall as he disrobes. The noise that leaves his mouth as he lowers himself into the water would be sinful anywhere else. He feels the tension is his back loosen as the warm ripples lap against his skin. When did he get so tired? When had moving a single muscle become such a chore?

You settle on the edge of the tub and gently tilt his head back. He hears you rummage around for his shampoo and finally smells that familiar teakwood scent that drifts down from your fingers. You work his hair into a lather, so slowly he thinks you must be trying to put him to sleep. He doesn't even want to look at what color the bubbles must be coming off his hair, so he shuts his eyes and leans back into your hands. You chuckle softly and rinse his head ever so carefully, making sure to shield his eyes. He hears a generous amount of conditioner plop into your palm and you indulge him in what's practically a scalp massage, going over his head with your fingertips again and again.

You gasp softly and your fingers stop. Simeon's eyes snap open in fear, imagining what horrors you could've found in his hair. "I'm so sorry, I knew it was dirty, I shouldn't have-"

"You're glowing."

"Sorry?"

"Simeon, you're glowing."

His arm sloshes up from the depths of the tub as he checks for himself, and sure enough, an ochre glow emanates from under his skin. "Ah. That must be a quirk specific to angels. It's entirely subconscious, because it only happens in times of utmost happiness." You smile wide, fascinated as he explains.

"So that means..." You trail off expectantly.

He blushes and settles back under the water, an excuse to tear himself away from that blinding smile. "It means you make me happy." he says simply. You're silent for a moment as you work and he wonders if that was too much. Your fingers caress the hinge of his jaw and tilt his head back again, and he opens his eyes just in time to be met with your lips pressed to his forehead. It only lasts for a brief moment, but he thinks he could live like this for eternity.

Neither of you say anything as Simeon finally stands and dries off. Neither of you need to. Your hand wraps around his arm and he finds himself not caring the least but about where you're taking him. The two of you end up on the living room couch as you painstakingly detangle his hair while a late-night reality show plays softly in the background. The manners that the Celestial Realm has taught him over centuries remind him he ought to say thank you. He takes a breath, opens his mouth and shuts it again, silently. The silence is comfortable. In a world where everyone talks and no one ever listens, silence is trust. And right now he trusts you more than anything else in the three realms.

[l2vedive]

TOXIC TILL THE END w. kim mingyu

fighting in the rain + angst (1,085)

pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader

note: thank you rosie for giving me even more writing juice while it rained two nights ago 🎀 if you liked this , please rb with your thoughts and give it a heart. thank you !

the rain drenches both of you, icy and unrelenting, but the cold pales in comparison to the chill between you. mingyu stands there, soaked and trembling, his eyes pleading with you, but you don’t flinch. the exhaustion, the frustration—it all boils over, spilling out in waves you can’t control anymore.

"you don’t get it, do you, gyu?" you start, your voice sharp, cracking under the strain. "all these years—seven years—and you still don’t see it. everything i’ve done, everything i’ve given up, and for what? for you to chase something that’s tearing us apart? for me to feel like i’m always the one holding us together while you… you just get to dream?"

mingyu shakes his head, stepping closer, his voice shaking. "it’s not like that, i swear. i’m not just doing this for me! it’s for us—our future. don’t you see that, (your name)? if i give up now, i’ll regret it forever, and I don’t want that. i don’t want you to unlove me like that."

"unlove you?" you laugh bitterly, the sound hollow, cutting through the rain. "you think this is about unloving you? gyu, i’m falling apart. every day, i feel like i have nothing of myself to pick up and put back together anymore. do you know? what it feels like to come home after working and studying for hours, to be so drained you can’t even think straight, only to feel like you're fighting in this relationship alone? do you even know what it’s like to feel so unseen?"

he freezes, his face contorting in pain, but you don’t stop. you can’t stop. it’s been building for too long.

"you’re chasing a dream that might never happen, gyu. and i’m here, trying to build a life for us—a real one! i’ve been pouring everything into us, into this future we’re supposed to have—we dreamed about. but all i’ve got left is nothing. i’ve got nothing, gyu." your voice cracks, and the tears finally fall, mixing with the rain as you sob. "how many more sacrifices am i supposed to make for you? how much of myself do i have to lose before you finally understand?"

"i do understand!" mingyu shouts, his voice desperate, his hands clenching into fists. "but i’m trying so hard, too. please.. i can’t just let this go—it’s all i’ve ever wanted. please, just give me more time. i’ll make it work, i promise. i promise i'll make it."

"more time?" you repeat, your voice trembling. "seven years, gyu. i’ve given you seven years of my life. my life! and now you’re asking for more? what happens when another year passes? or two? or ten? what will be left of me by then?"

his breath catches, and for a moment, he looks like he might fall apart. "don’t say that," he whispers, stepping closer. "please don’t say that. i love you. i love you more than anything, (your name). and i’ll do whatever it takes to make you stay. just don’t go. don’t leave me."

you stare at him, the rain pounding against your skin, and your heart feels like it’s being ripped apart. you love him—of course you do—but love isn’t enough anymore. it hasn’t been enough for the longest time. a long time ago you had ripped your heart out to put it in his hands and hoped that you both would fight for it. and it's funny because all you can think about in this very moment is when will you both stop trying.

"what will happen to us then, gyu?" you ask, your voice shaking with the weight of everything you’re feeling. "how many years of my life will be wasted if i stay? how many more nights will i cry myself to sleep, wondering if i’m ever going to be enough for you to choose me over your passion?"

he tries to respond, but the words fail him. all he can do is look at you, his eyes glossy, his chest heaving with unspoken loss. and in that silence, you realise it—the answer you’ve been seeing and living with.

"you already chose," you whisper, stepping back one final time. "you’ve been choosing, every single day. and now… now i have to choose, too."

mingyu's hand reaches out for you, but you turn away, your footsteps heavy, your heart shattering with each step you take. behind you, his voice breaks as he calls your name, begging, pleading, but you don’t stop.

because this time, you’re choosing yourself. and even though it feels like it’s killing you, you know you can’t keep drowning for someone who won’t reach for the surface with you.

[pickingupmymercedes]

How dare him ? - Lewis Hamilton

Bonus chapter to the Maybe in another life universe

set somewhere in between the first and second (or the first and the alternative)

part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Broke me first - Tate McRae

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

a/n: back to our roots with the angst (i missed writing them so bad).

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The door opened before he could knock. She stood there, wrapped in an old sweater and glaring at him like his presence alone had stolen her air.

“You need to leave,” she said, her voice flat, her hand gripping the doorframe.

The house was small, tucked at the edge of a mountain road. A single light in the front window casted a soft glow onto the white expanse outside.

It was only 4 in the afternoon, but the snow falling and the grey skies made it look like 8 at night.

The crunch of his boots was the only sound as Lewis approached, breath puffing out in wisps that dissolved into the cold air. He hesitated at the porch steps, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat.

This was it. He had found her.

He’d followed breadcrumbs to this place, miles from anywhere, and now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do. Words felt useless. He’d tried them before, poured them into that letter that had gone unsent for months.

Lewis opened his mouth, but no words came out. They wouldn’t.

What could he say? Every apology, every explanation, every plea had already been rehearsed in his mind, but now they all felt small and insufficient.

So, he nodded, stepping back off the porch, but he couldn’t leave. He sat on the snow-covered steps instead, head bowed, hands clasped between his knees.

Silent.

And she hated him for it.

She slammed the door and leaned her back against it, her chest heaving. Her palms pressed hard into the wood, as if that alone could keep him from invading her space—her life—again.

Because how dare him, rip her apart and then show up, uninvited, asking for what? Forgiveness? Redemption? Closure?

The minutes ticked by. She stared at the window, watching his silhouette blur into the wind. He didn’t move. Not even when the wind picked up and the cold turned biting.

It was infuriating.

By the time she opened the door again, her anger was simmering just under her skin, ready to boil over.

“What do you want, Lewis?” she snapped, stepping onto the porch. “You couldn’t let that letter be enough? You couldn’t just… leave me alone?”

He looked up at her, eyes bloodshot and exhausted.

Still, he said nothing. Just stared at her with an ache that seemed to seep into the air and through her.

“Say something!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “You came all this way. What, you’re just gonna sit there and make me guess?”

Still, nothing. He only shook his head, like the weight of what he carried had stolen his voice entirely.

“God!” Her hands trembled as she ran them through her hair. “You… you did this, Lewis. You don’t get to just show up here and act like it didn’t happen.” Her breath hitched, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “You broke me first.”

And then it all came pouring out, because once she started, how could she stop?

“I was alone” she said, her voice shaking with the meaning of what she had confessed. “Do you understand that? Do you even care? I went through all of it—alone. Do you know what it’s like to carry that kind of pain? To feel it hollow you out, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but grief? And you… you weren’t there.”

She stepped closer, her boots creaking at the wood. “You didn’t have to go through it, Lewis. You didn’t have to wake up every day and remember what you lost. What we lost. So don’t stand there and look at me like you understand, because you don’t. You can’t.”

Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t wipe them away. She let them fall, hot against her frozen cheeks.

She wanted him to see.

“I left that letter because it was supposed to be the end. My closure. Not yours.”

She shook her still not believing he had showed up. “And now, you’re here, and you want… what, exactly? Forgiveness? Another chance? How do you even… how do you have the nerve to ask me for that?”

Her voice cracked again, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek, hard enough to taste blood. “I loved that baby already” she whispered. “I was ready to go to hell and back for it”

Lewis’s head dipped lower, his face hidden by the shadows of the porch light. He didn’t defend himself. He didn’t try to speak over her.

He just… sat there, his shoulders hunched against the weight of her words.

She wanted to scream at him. To push him off that step and make him leave, once and for all. But instead, she sank to her knees in the porch, her body shaking with sobs she couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Why did you come here?” she choked out, her voice raw. “Why couldn’t you just stay away?”

His hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach for her but didn’t dare. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “Because I couldn’t forget you. And what you went through. What I put you through”

“You can’t fix this,” she said, shaking her head. “You can’t just… stay and expect it to be okay.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I… I know I can’t fix it. But I can be here. If you’ll let me.”

The wind howled through the trees, filling the silence that stretched between them. She closed her eyes, her breath shuddering out in uneven bursts.

She wanted to tell him to go. She really did. To slam the door and lock it and never look back. But when she opened her mouth, no words came.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours. The cold seeped into her skin, but she couldn’t feel it anymore. All she could feel was the weight of him—his presence, his regret, his silent plea.

“You’re a coward,” she said finally, her voice a whisper carried by the wind. “You weren’t there when I needed you most. And now … now you don’t even have the decency to fight me. You just sit there. Like your presence is enough.”

“I know” he said again, his voice breaking. “I know I don’t deserve to be here. I know I don’t deserve you.”

She closed her eyes, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I’m just… please, don’t make me leave” he said.

She opened her eyes, staring at him through the blur of her tears. She wanted to hate him. But instead, she nodded, the smallest, most hesitant of nods.

Because maybe… a small part of her was trying to understood why he had to stay.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend @unlikelystay @thesizzler

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[beloveds-embrace]

OKAYY IMA TRY MY BEST HERE TO EXPLAIN, so like reader and ghost were married but got divorced because of how toxic ghost was being but they never can really stay away from each other because they are both still in love with each other and ghost keeps coming to her house and they always argue and then fuck after, and like the argue part is really just the reader yelling at him and telling him how much she hates him and how much she wants him to get out , AND SOTHING I REALLY LIKE IS WHEN THE READERIS PUSHING HIM AND PUNCHING BUT HE NOT MOVING AT ALL, and after she is panting out of breath and then they fuckkk, I KNOW ITS KINDA CHOPPY AND NOT IN GREAT DETAIL BUT WOULD LOVE TO SEE IT <33333

Hmdjsjs i’m so sorry anon i love this, i really do, but I don’t write full smut 😔 here’s a lil drabble for the rest of it though that i hope will be good enough !

The pounding at your door came again, sharp and deliberate, echoing in the silence of your house. You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. You’d been expecting him, even though you’d hoped- prayed- that this time he wouldn’t show up. That this time, you’d be free from this constant, horrible cycle.

With a resigned sigh, you yanked the door open; he’d just use the spare he keeps on him and refuses to let go of even now to enter your home. And there he was, Simon Riley. Ghost. Your ex-husband. Standing there like he owned the damn place, his mask half-pulled up so you could see his mouth, that damn infuriating faint smirk tugging at the corners.

“What the hell do you want, Simon?” you snapped, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his massive frame brushing against you as he crossed the threshold. It hurt your heart, seeing him look so perfectly fitting within your home. The one you used to share with him before the divorce. “Nice t’ see you too, love,” he muttered, shutting the door behind him.

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, shoving at his chest with both hands. A familiar dance. “I told you to stop coming here!”

He didn’t budge. Of course he didn’t. He just stood there, towering over you, calm and unshaken as you pushed and slapped at him, an unshaked pillar. It only made your anger boil hotter, your annoyance burning brighter.

“I hate you!” you spat, hitting him again, your fists pounding against the solid wall of his chest. Damn him, damn his face, and damn his hardened body. “I hate how you just show up like this! Like you have any right to be here! I hate-”

“Get it out, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice maddeningly soft, his hands resting loosely at his sides. “Go on.” Completely at ease, not at all afraid. You hate him so much, and you hate how desperately you miss that level of stability only he’d ever seemed to have even despite all your fights.

That only made you hit harder, your breaths coming in short, furious bursts as you yelled everything you’d been holding in. Every frustration, every bit of heartbreak and resentment that had festered since the divorce. Every drop of fury that rekindles with each visit he does, unable to stay away from you.

But then your blows slowed, your strength faltering as exhaustion crept in. You stood there panting, chest heaving as you glared up at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Feel better?” he asked, his voice low, infuriating bastard.

“Get out,” you whispered, though it lacked the venom you wanted it to have. Your shoulders slumped, and you just stared at him in defeat.

But he didn’t move. He just reached up, his hand cupping your jaw, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek.

“Can’t stay away,” he said simply, rough but achingly sincere. “You know that.”

And damn it, he was right. As much as you wanted to hate him, as much as you wanted him gone, you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted when he was this close.

His lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding, and before you knew it, you were clawing at him, your anger transforming into something just as fiery but far more primal- led by the wet, dripping ache between your legs.

It was always like this with him. A storm of emotions that left you both battered but somehow unwilling to let go. Toxic, yes. Unhealthy, definitely. But no matter how much you told yourself it had to stop, you both knew it never really would. He would never stay away, and you would never push him away.

“Mine,” he mumbles, pulling away just so. A string of spit connected your lips, and you panted for breath in his arms. “Fuckin’ mine, you’ll always be.”

And the worst part? You just wanted more, more, more.

[chillinglyadventurous]

Pissed Off

Thank you for the request, anon! As someone who is also pissed off today, I hope this calms us both. However, I took a bit of a twist.

Tags: fighting, toxic relationships

Fiddleford had caught you off guard as you sat in the kitchen with a book in your hand. You had heard the screaming, the yelling, but your friend’s chest heaved now. His gaze was unfocused and bewildered. “That machine ain’t safe and yer fiancé’s tinkerin’ with it like it’s a toy. It’s gonna end the world!”

“Fidds,” you stared, “what happened? Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer you, running from your home as if he had just escaped certain death. You knew Fiddleford was right. He’d been warning Ford for months, trying to get you on bis side, but Stanford had insisted and brushed the two of you off with that genius air of his. He had said over and over again that he was in control. His muse was an expert.

You couldn’t keep quiet anymore. Enough was enough. Whatever happened scared Fiddleford so badly he wouldn’t even explain, storming out, so you stormed down the stairs, ripping into Ford’s lab with a wild look in your eyes. Your glare fixed itself onto the giant, triangle portal which dominated the room, making you feel small. Fiddleford’s warning echoed in your mind and fueled your exhaustion with this, with being second place to everything in his life. 

What pissed you off the most that Ford didn’t even look up at you. His attention was fully focused on the loose sheets of calculation in front of him. “Stanford Filbrick Pines, are you out of your mind?”

It was like he didn’t even hear you. Your fists clenched, knuckles white as the anger filling you boiled over. In one swift motion, you grabbed the stack of notes off the table in front of him and threw them into the air. Pages flew everywhere, floating down in a fluttering mess. You met his glare with your own. Your eyes were full of rage.

It was as if his whole body shaked is disbelief. You caught him off guard, lost in his wondering of where his muse had disappeared off too. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“This isn’t worth it, Stanford! None of this is worth it!” You shredded the papers that landed at your feet, ripping them apart mercilessly. You watched the pieces fall to the ground. You didn’t care how many hours he had put into it. You didn’t care how meticulous he was. Fuck this.

You kicked over a chair, not knowing what had so quickly come over you. It didn’t matter. You needed to get a message through his thick skull. The chair crashed against the wall and the wood splintered. The sound boomed through the room. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care. All you could see was that portal and the man you loved throwing his goddamn life away for the sake of some mystery, some fucking puzzle. 

You hurled one of his many gadgets across the room. The sound of glass shattering startled you, but you didn���t stop. You truly didn’t know if you were capable of stopping. Not yet anyways. So, you threw another, watching it smash against one of his many workbenches. The wires and circuits scattered across the floor like every single one of his broken promises. 

“Stop! [Y/N], please, stop!” 

Ford’s voice cut through the chaos and you turned to him, eyes blazing. “You promised me!” You screamed, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, “You said this wouldn’t consume you! You said this was safe! Did you see Fiddleford’s face? What did you do to him?!” A hateful laugh escaped you. You gestured wildly around you, “Is this worth it? All of this? Is it worth losing your best friend? Is it worth losing me?”

Ford stood frozen in front of you, your words cutting deep. You lunged at him, you fists pounding against his chest in a plea for him to stop this, whatever it was. You weren;t sure, but it could kill him. It could take him away from you. You didn’t want to lose him.The heel of both of your fists met his chest again and he grabbed you. 

He needed to stop you and you fought him the entire way, even as he pinned your back to the far wall. Tears streamed down your cheeks then and you tried to fight him off, but he was too strong. “I didn’t realize-”

“You never realize!” You screamed into his face. You struggled against him, never stopping until his body was pressed flush to yours, hands pinned between you. “You are always so wrapped up in your work that you forget about everything else. About us! Do you even care anymore?!”

He did his best to hush you. A hand cradled your head and hid your face in his neck. You shook your head, tears burning in your eyes, but the anger was fading now, replaced by exhaustion. “I don’t want to lose you, Ford. I can’t stand by and watch you throw your life away for this obsession.”

He held you as you screamed, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your hands covered your face as he tried to kiss away what you were feeling. He didn’t speak, just trying to calm you. You knew it, you knew, this wouldn’t stop. You were going to lose him to this portal, to his muse, whatever, whoever, it was. Ford wasn’t yours, not anymore. Instead, you let him hold you, savoring what was left. You knew, deep down, he wouldn’t be yours for much longer.

[corroded-hellfire]

could we see the boys going into the hospital to meet eliza after she’s been born? 🥺

This just warms my heart so much. Thank you for giving @munson-blurbs and me the sweetest little prompt for this family 💜

Words: 2.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The moment that Wayne puts his truck in park, both Munson boys are unbuckling their seatbelts. Luke, who sat in between his grandfather and big brother for the entirety of the ride to the hospital, feels like he’s going to tear his curls out of his head when neither of them gets out of his way fast enough. 

“Relax, Luke,” Wayne says as Luke jumps out of the truck with a huff. “Your sister’s not goin’ anywhere. She can’t exactly walk yet, ya know.”

“But I’ve been waiting forever to meet her,” he whines. “Like…a year!”

“We’ve only known about her for six months,” Ryan says with an irritated eye roll. 

“Will you two hush up? We’re walking into a hospital,” Wayne chastises, gesturing his grandsons through the automatic sliding doors before him. The strong smell of antiseptic invades their nostrils as they step inside, making Luke wrinkle up his nose in displeasure.

The entire ride up in the elevator to the third floor and the walk down hallways towards the maternity ward, the excitement buzzing between the Munson men is palpable. There’s a pressure building the closer they get, the boys like pots that are boiling over, ready to pop their lids. Every squeak of their shoes against the white linoleum floor feels like it’s echoing their heartbeats. Finally, they step into the waiting room they’re to meet Eddie. When thirty seconds pass without their father appearing, Luke starts fidgeting and heaving out impatient sighs. 

“Where is he?” he groans. “Doesn’t he know we’re coming? That we’re here?”

Wayne lovingly musses Luke’s hair. “Hold your horses, buddy. He’ll be right out.”

Sure enough, Eddie comes around the corner moments later. Exhaustion paints dark circles under his eyes, but his bright smile doesn’t leave any doubt of his excitement. 

“Are you guys ready to meet your sister?” he asks, wincing when Luke begins cheering and dancing like he just scored the winning touchdown. “Remember, we have to be calm and quiet around the baby. We don’t wanna scare her.”

Ryan nods and holds his forefinger to his lips while Luke tiptoes cartoonishly, making more noise than if he just walked normally. They stick their little heads around the door and see you sitting up in bed and holding a little bundle of blankets. 

“Hi, guys,” you loudly whisper, not to wake the baby. Even though the hospital is making far stranger and louder sounds than anyone in the room could. You yawn, fighting to keep your eyes open so you can see their reactions to their baby sister. 

Eddie walks over to stand by your side, motioning for his sons and uncle to join him. As the boys lay eyes on their new sister for the first time, their faces mirror one another’s as their eyes widen and little jaws drop.

“She’s so little,” Ryan says, awestruck. He reaches out to touch her before sharply pulling back, looking to you for permission. 

“It’s okay, Ry,” you reassure him, punctuating the statement with another yawn. Your heart melts when he brushes his forefinger over her closed fist. 

Eliza follows your lead, tiny mouth opening to let out a yawn of her own. 

Luke wrinkles his nose. “Why is she tired?” he asks. “She doesn’t do anything!”

“Babies need lots of sleep,” you tell him. “Even more than your dad does.”

Eddie playfully narrows his eyes at you. “You’re lucky you just gave birth to my daughter.” My daughter. It hadn’t felt real when he’d said it when Eliza was still in utero, but now that she’s here, it holds a stronger meaning. 

Wayne blinks back tears, trying not to show emotion, but his glassy gaze gives him away. “She’s beautiful, guys,” he manages, clearing his throat. 

Eddie claps him on the back, both men sporting matching grins as they look down at Eliza. 

Luke inspects his sister’s face, then her little fingers. “I was this small?” he asks.

“Smaller,” Eddie tells him. “You were a little over six pounds. Eliza here is just over seven.”

Ryan smiles when he hears her name spoken out loud, still in disbelief that this name that’s been going around now belongs to a person and it’s this tiny person who just came into the world. 

Eliza’s eyes crack open just enough to tell she’s looking in Ryan’s direction, like she already knows that he’s her big brother. 

“Hi, Eliza,” Ryan says softly, a huge grin plastered on his face. “I’m Ryan. I’m your oldest brother. But I’m not old.” 

“I’m Luke,” Luke chimes in, waving at his new sister. “I’m the one who would always sing VeggieTales to you every night while you were in Mama’s belly.”

You know Luke referred to you as “mama” for Eliza’s sake, but with all the hormones rushing through you it still makes you tear up. 

“Do you boys want to hold her?” you ask.

They glance nervously at one another, despite the fact that they both really want to. They’ve been around Amelia Harrington and Tiffany Sinclair as babies, but they’ve never held them, especially not when they were this small and fragile. 

“If you’re not ready, that’s okay,” Eddie tells them comfortingly. 

“No, I want to,” Ryan pipes up.

Wayne makes room for Eddie to bring the chair on the other side of the room up closer to the bed. Ryan sits down when his dad nods at him, while you make sure the blanket is securely swaddled around Eliza. 

Eddie gets down on one knee next to Ryan. “Okay bud, you’ve got to support her head, yeah? She’s not strong enough to hold it up on her own so you have to help her out a little.”

Ryan nods as he scoots all the way back in the chair, eyes wide behind his glasses. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie tells him with a reassuring grin. Of course their father can see the nerves popping up in his two boys. “It’s easy. And I’ll be right here next to you if you need or want me to take her, okay?”

“Okay,” Ryan says, trying to portray more confidence than he feels.

You carefully hand Eliza to Eddie, who coos a bit once she’s in her father’s arms. Eddie holds her in the crook of his arm and Eliza lets out a content little sigh. 

“Such a Daddy’s girl already,” you tease.

Eddie grins, still over the moon that he has a daughter. A daughter with you. And she’s finally here in his arms. 

Wayne leans in to show Ryan how to hold his arms the best, balancing his elbows on the chair’s arms. “Just like that,” the older man says. “And you’ll hold her little head right here.”

Eddie carefully places Eliza into Ryan’s arms. Ryan’s lower lip juts out, overcome with emotion, as he looks down at the baby he’s holding. Of course, he’s always known that he’s a big brother, taking on the responsibilities and duties that come with it. But Luke’s been around since before Ryan can even remember. They’re only two years apart, it’s always been this way for them. Eliza is his new baby sister, though. A renewed sense of big brother love and protectiveness comes over him as he looks down at the dozing baby. She’s so little and she’s going to be coming home soon. There’s going to be a baby in the house. All these things that Ryan already knew are finally sinking in for him. It makes him chuckle for some reason. As he gazes down at Eliza, her tiny face pinching up and tiny coos coming from her tiny lips, Ryan just grins as a wave of happiness comes over him. 

Eddie stands between Ryan in the chair and you in the bed, staying closer to his son just in case. As you watch Ryan with Eliza, you can’t help but get choked up by another round of emotions. The memories of meeting Ryan for the first time are still clear as day to you, as if they happened yesterday, not over five and a half years ago. The little six-year-old who was too shy to even say hello to you at first. It’s amazing how quickly after meeting him you came to adore the person that he is and have such an immense love for him. It seems like you only just blinked and there he is, holding his little sister. Eliza Marie Munson. Your and Eddie’s daughter. Even without the hormones coursing through you this would be emotional, but they’re certainly not helping either. 

You slip your hand into Eddie’s and look up to see his own eyes filling with tears. Images of Ryan being born, being the small little baby coming into the world must be playing in his mind, you think. And now to see he’s grown into this compassionate, intelligent, handsome young man who is holding his baby sister with so much tenderness and love.

“H-Hi, Eliza,” Ryan says as he gazes down at her. “I knew you would be small but you’re smaller than a loaf of bread.”

You, Eddie, and Wayne all share a chuckle at that.

“I’m happy you’re here now,” Ryan tells her. “I’ll do my best to make sure Luke doesn’t get you into too much trouble.”

“Hey!” Luke pouts.

“Is he wrong though?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow at his youngest son—now his middle child as well.

“That’s besides the point,” Luke scoffs. He notices the tiny Band-Aid on Eliza’s foot. “What’s that for?”

“She had to get a shot,” you explain. “In her heel.”

Luke grins. “For scurvy?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “No, Vitamin K, you little weirdo.”

“Oh,” Luke sighs dejectedly before adding, “but you need Vitamin C to prevent scurvy!”

Eddie leans in and whispers into Eliza’s little ear, “don’t ever listen to a word he says, please.”

Ryan looks up at Luke and nods his head towards their sister.  “You wanna hold her?”

“Is it hard?” Luke asks his older brother, face creased with worry. His voice has a slight tremor, as if he’s unsure if his nerves are getting the better of him or not.

“So easy,” Ryan assures him. “Just gotta make sure you got her head.”

“Okay,” Luke decides with a nod on finality. “I’ll do it.”

Eddie can’t help but think Luke sounds more like he’s agreeing to be a test subject for a science experiment. Ryan carefully hands Eliza back to Eddie and gets out of the chair so Luke can sit. Eliza coos again and you furrow your brow as you look at your tiny baby in your husband’s arms.

“Hey, I know you love your Daddy—we all do, but I’m the one who carried ya for nine months and then pushed you out of my body. Why don’t you make those cute noises for me?” you ask. 

“Maybe she’s trying to yell at him in baby language,” Luke says as he sits down. “Who are you and why are you holding me and why do you have so much hair?!” Luke’s impersonation of what Eliza’s high-pitched voice would sound like has you and Ryan laughing. Acting just as childishly as the actual children in the room, Eddie sticks his tongue out at Luke. 

Ryan shows Luke how to hold his arms and Wayne watches on with a smile, proud his grandson remembers the things he teaches him. Slowly, Eddie lowers Eliza into Luke’s awaiting arms. 

Luke giggles once he’s finally holding her on his own.

“Oh my God, she barely weighs anything!”

“Tell that to my hoo-ha,” you mumble under your breath and slightly adjust the way you’re sitting in the bed.

“Hey, Eliza,” Luke says. At the sound of his voice, Eliza cracks her eyes open to inspect the new person holding her. “I’m gonna teach you all the things. Like ice skating and swimming and bowling and a whole lot of other stuff! And I’ll beat up any boys who are mean to you or break your heart.”

Your heart swells at the declaration he’s making to his sister—and you have no doubt he means what he says. She’s only been in this world a few hours and they’re already such amazing big brothers to her, you think. 

All of a sudden, Luke starts laughing, but tries to keep it softer for the baby.

“Look, she’s smiling at me! She knows I’m the funny one.” He sticks his tongue out at Ryan, emphasizing the fact that Eddie was acting with the maturity of a ten-year-old when he just did the same thing.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s what it means,” Eddie warns, but not soon enough. 

“Ew!” Luke exclaims, wrinkling his nose. “I am not changing a poopy diaper, nope!”

Eddie takes Eliza from him. “I got this,” he says softly. 

You watch as your husband delicately changes her diaper, unable to hide his disgusted expression that matches Luke’s. Loving his daughter with every ounce of his being does not negate the odors that come along with her.

Your gaze drifts over to Ryan and Luke, who are watching their father intently. They take in every gentle touch and every soft word and smile Eddie gives to the newborn. You can feel your emotions welling up just thinking about how they’ll be such great dads one day because they have the best role model. 

“Good as new,” Eddie proclaims, wrapping Eliza back up in her blanket. “You wanna hold your granddaughter, Wayne?”

Tears momentarily cloud the older man’s vision. “Give ‘er here.” He opens his arms and Eddie places the baby in the crook of his elbow. “Well, hi there, Ms. Eliza,” Wayne says with a smile. “We’re so glad you’re here. ‘S kind of a crazy family, but you’ll get used to us.”

As he says it, it dawns on you: this is your family. A doting husband who can make you feel loved without even trying, an uncle who would give you all the moon on a string if you asked, two stepsons who keep you laughing on your worst days, and now your daughter, who will grow up in a home filled with love and happiness. 

As Wayne takes the boys back home—it’s past bedtime, and they have school in the morning—you can’t help but stare at Eddie. He’s exhausted from helping you through labor, but he can’t stop smiling. 

“You did such an incredible job growing our little girl,” he murmurs into your scalp. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you more.” You look at him, then back down to the newborn in your arms. “But I’m pretty sure she’s the most loved.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 9

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: in my feels.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Reader

Bucky leaves a dark blue towel on the bar for you. When the door shuts, you stay as you are. You sit on the lid of the toilet and contemplate the walls. The tub laps with running water, lulling your tired mind and body. 

You sigh. Embarrassment nips at the base of you skull. You close your eyes. You don’t even let your doctors see you like that. When you try to describe your pain, they don’t seem to listen anyway. Yet Bucky, he sees more than you want him too. Things you don’t realise. 

Well, you guess he is a hero. He saved you before and it’s his job to help others in trouble. This feels like more. It feels like too much. You don’t deserve any of this. 

You glance over at your cane, another reminder that you can’t give as much as he can. That you can’t ever pay him back for this. Does he get that? 

You strip off your shirt and fold it. You put it on the counter and roll your bra up your torso. You wear the ones without hooks. You can pull them on and off easy. Then the real taste faces you. 

You use the corner of the granite to push yourself up. You grunt and whimper. You get your socks off and your pants. You have to stop. You’re out of breath. The pain is like a red hot iron in your thigh bone. You manage to get your underwear down and step out of them clumsily. 

You catch yourself against the tub. You need another break before you get yourself in. You splash into the water and barely keep from fall over completely. You let the hot water steam over you and lean back. 

The tub is deep and spacious. You cling to the sides with your hands. You shudder and your eyes tinge hotly. The tears fall before you can stem them. You don’t notice until they dribble off your chin. 

All of it, the pain, the stress, the uncertainty, the prospect of being left without a home, it boils in the water with you. You don’t know how much more you can take. You stifle your sobs with your fist, inhaling deeply to keep them in your throat. You can’t break all the way. 

You moan as you sit forward and shut off the faucet. You lean back and shut your eyes. Right now, you don’t need to think about it all. Not about how to get more money or how your stomach is aching or even how you’ll pay Bucky back. You just need that moment to forget. 

Bucky 

Bucky sits on the bottom stair and listens. He can hear her clearly as he focuses above. He can hear her heartbeat chugging as she struggles to move herself around. She grunts in agony and he flinches. Then the water splashes below her staggered movements. He wants to go up and help but he knows he can’t. He’s already pushing it. She’s stubborn and he knows how self-defeating that can be. 

He closes his eyes as he keeps his ears pricked. She sniffles then heaves. And another sob follows, swallowed up as the water stirs. It’s as if he can feel her despair and pain. He knows those kind of tears. The exhausted ones. The ones when you just want everything to stop. 

She shuts off the faucet with a whimper. He drops his head into his hands and splays his fingers wide. He combs them through his short hair as he blows through his lips. His phone is buzzing. Whoever it is can fuck off. 

She doesn’t move for a long while. Only long enough for the water to cool. She sits up, her skin squeaking against the porcelain and she pulls the stopper. He listens to the water drain. 

More grunting as she lifts herself up. He shifts and tilts his ear up the staircase. There’s a tense silence, dangling as she holds her breath. Her heart is pumping wildly. 

*Crash* 

He’s on his feet in an instant. He races up the stairs and slams into the bathroom door. It’s not locked. He bursts in without a thought. She squeals as he slides to a stop before the bath mat. 

She on her side, the towel is haphazardly across her wet skin, her thighs are exposed but she hides her stomach and chest. She hugs the cotton and wheezes. Her eyes find his in horror. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

“Are you okay?” He bends to touch her shoulder. 

“I... just wanted the towel,” she murmurs. “I was okay... I can do it. I... I can’t do it.” 

She’s arguing with herself. He looks around. Her cane is all the way by the counter. He rubs her bare skin and recoils, stopping his touch from straying too far. His eyes are tugging toward her exposed body as it is. 

He reaches to help her adjust the towel, “can I help you?” 

She nods and hides behind her eyelids, covering her face with her hand. He hesitates, trying to figure out the best way to do it. First, she needs to be comfortable. 

“I’m going to get the towel around you,” he explains. She gulps and dips her chin furiously. She’s horrified. 

He gets the towel wrapped around her as best as he can. A zing sparks in his fingers as he touches her thigh. He holds his breath and hooks his hand under her side. 

“Alright, I'll sit you up first,” he continues. 

She makes a noise. She's too mortified to speak. He sits her up and she moans. He leans her against him and wrap his right arm around her back. 

“Okay, I’m going to get you off the floor now. I need you to tell me if it hurts too much,” he instructs. 

“Always hurts...” she mumbles. 

He slides his arm under her knees. He lifts her, first on his knees, then he plants a foot, then the other. He brings her up and he turns to the door. 

“The bed is made,” he assures her. 

She sits in his arms stiffly. He carries her out and down the hall. He puts her on the bed, the towel hanging open at her back. His fingers tickle her bottom as he pulls away. He didn’t mean to. Really. As nice as she feels, he didn’t mean to. As much as he wants to touch all of her. 

“I’ll get you some clothes,” he clears his throat and backs away. 

He goes to the dresser and opens a drawer. He pulls out the grey shirt with military font that reads US Army. With that, he grabs a pair of his plaid boxers. He takes the tautly folded stack to her. She hugs the towel again and stares at the ceiling. 

“I’ll let you get dressed. I’ll check in shortly.” He assures her. 

She sniffles. He understands. He looks down at his vibranium arm. He should take it off for her but he also needs it to help her. 

“Right,” he turns. 

He walks out and shuts the door gently. He goes downstairs reluctantly and grabs his phone from his jacket. Sam called. Several times. And sent a dozen messages. The phone rattles again. He doesn’t have time for that dumbass. 

He answers anyway. 

“What?” 

“So, you were in a hurry,” Sam snorts. 

“Sam.” 

“It’s that girl.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I get it, dude. She’s cute. But I really think she has enough problems--” 

“Leave me alone.” 

He hangs up. Sam is so nosy. He should have never asked him to help out. He shouldn’t have ever let him know about her. She needs to be protected from the world. He doesn’t get that. He can’t understand that. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be different. 

He scrolls through the menu. He taps the icon and waits for the app to open up. How... alright, um... American? That sounds like normal food. He taps the category and scrolls through the options. There’s a chicken place. Chicken and veg, can’t go wrong... 

He picks out a Meal for Two deal and adds it to the cart after the third try. Right, checkout... tip... Too many steps. 

He should get her something in the meantime. He goes to the kitchen and fills a glass of water. He looks around aimlessly, shuffling through the cupboard and fridge. Granola? It will do. 

He goes upstairs. He knocks with his knuckles as the bag of granola rattles. Her heart flips. 

“Yes?” She calls out. 

“I brought you some water.” He replies. 

“Okay,” she says. 

He takes the weak invitation. He enters and finds her under the covers. She sits against the pillows, her arms crossed. 

“Do you need more pillows?” He asks as he puts the glass on the nightstand. 

“I’m fine,” she barely whispers. 

“I brought you a snack. For now. Food is on the way.” 

She doesn’t look at him. She stares at her lap. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Stop. Let me help,” he insists and gently places the bag by her leg. “I have a heating pad.” 

She shrugs, “thank you. It's... a lot.” 

“It’s the right thing to do,” he says. “I can bring you some books or something to do? I have a tablet. Never use it.” 

She shakes her head. 

He shifts on his feet awkwardly. He wish she wasn’t so scared. He wish he could just tell her everything. That he knows exactly what she’s feeling. That they are the same. That he will do anything to make her feel better. To keep her safe. To take care of her. 

“You’ll let me know what you need,” he says. 

“I don’t need anything,” she squeaks. 

“But when you do,” he sighs. 

She nods. 

He stares at her. She’s trembling. She’s in pain. All because she fell. Because he let her fall! He should have been adamant. She needs help or it will all be worse. 

“You know, it’s okay to need help.” 

“I know I need help,” she snips. He’s never heard her speak so sharply. “I know that I’m broken.” 

“I didn’t say that--” 

“I’m broken and I’m a loser. I have nothing to give you, Bucky.” She lifts her head, her eyes hooded with pain. “I can’t pay you back for any of this.” 

“I know.” 

She frowns, “so why are you doing all this?” 

As much as he wants to tell her the truth, to tell her how he feels, that he has nothing else in this world that makes him care. Only her. He knows he can’t. Not yet. She’s not ready. 

“You know, I was alive during The Great Depression. All sorts of people needed help. Including me, my mom, my dad, my sister,” he explains. “They needed help but they also helped others. My ma, she used to make these big pots of stew and when some beggar walked by, she’d hand over her bowl. She thought we didn’t know that her bowl was full of water, but I did. 

“I used to steal canned tomatoes and leave them in the pantry for her to find. She always thought she forgot because she was so hungry...” He shrugs and sniffs. He doesn’t talk about his family. “My dad came and got me from the base when the MPs caught me sneaking around the mess. He almost lost his job but he never told her. And those government issued crushed tomatoes kept going missing at the camp.” 

She looks at him intently. Her face softens and her eyes gleam. She wiggles her nose and lowers her head. 

“You must miss them,” she says. 

“Sometimes,” he admits. “But I keep them close by doing what I know they’d want me to. Like helping those who need it.” 

She doesn’t say anything. He watches her for a moment before he snaps himself out of his trance. He inhales deeply a scratches his neck. 

“I’ll go wait for the food,” he says. 

[imthebadguyyy]

Hold Me In Your Arms Tonight

pairing : steve rogers x reader

fandom : marvel

synopsis : steve comes home from a mission, and all he wants is to be wrapped up in your warmth and in your arms.

a/n : i just wanted to write something tender and sweet and smutty so here ya go

warnings : smut

the usual murmur of the quinjet had dulled, into a thick and heavy silence. as the machine soared through the night sky, the avengers found themselves in a rare moment of quietude after a particularly intense mission.

the air inside the jet hung heavy with a mix of exhaustion, and tension.

tony as usual, was the first to break the deafening silence. reclining, in his seat, his signature smirk missing commented, "well, that was fun, wasn't it? remind me to thank fury for these vacations."

natasha, sitting across from him, raised an eyebrow, one hand pressing an ice pack to the indigo bruise blooming on her wrist.

"now's really not the time" she muttered, eyes gesturing towards steve, who looked the picture of defeat.

the mission had started promisingly and could have been regarded as an amateur operation. intel suggested a hydra base operating in a remote location, with plans for a powerful biological weapon that could endanger innocent lives.

steve and tony had decided that the entire team didn't have to come, so the two of them with natasha and thor had suited up and gone, leaving bruce, wanda, clint you and sam to wait in the compound. they had what they thought was a meticulous plan to infiltrate and neutralize the threat.

until they actually reached the base.

as the team breached the compound, it had become evident that hydra was one step ahead. the entire facility was a trap, a carefully orchestrated ambush. waves upon waves of highly trained soldiers overwhelmed the avengers, forcing them into a chaotic retreat, that had left most of them nursing minor injuries.

"we didn't know cap" nat said, looking at the simmering anger in steve's eyes.

steve didn't lift his eyes off the spot he was focusing at on the wall.

"they knew we were coming. how the hell did they know?" thor asked, slamming mjolnir down in the ground.

tony muttered something along the lines of "our intel was compromised" but steve didn't care.

as the silhouette of the avengers compound came into view and natasha heaved a quiet sigh of relief.

she knew that the only person who would be able to calm steve and get through to him was you, and that you'd be the only person he'd ever open up to a 100%

with a hum, the jet landed, and the four trooped out, to see an awaiting maria hill, a grim furrow in her brow.

"cap we need a debrief on the-" her words died on her tongue and she computed the glare thor sent her way.

she understood the message : leave him alone.

speaking of, steve had walked into the compound, stepping into the elevator, head dropping low, he finally let out a deep sigh, fingers pressing the 4th floor, wanting nothing more than to have you in his arms.

the ding of the elevator signalled his arrival to you before he did.

you were standing in the kitchen, listening to the merry bubble of the kettle as you boiled hot water for a warm cup of midnight tea.

tony had given you and steve the entire fourth floor as your residential area, and you couldn't thank him enough for the state of the art amenities and accommodation.

just as you put your two spoons of tea leaves in the ceramic blue teapot clint and his wife had gifted you for your birthday, you heard the elevator door open, and the heavy footfalls of your husband echoed in the hall.

smiling to your self, you poured the hot water from the kettle to the teapot, just as steve's muscular frame filled the door of the hallway, his long shadow preceding him as he walked into the kitchen.

steve could smell the scent of black tea before he saw you, the homely scent wrapping him a warm hug that he didn't know he needed.

there were softly lit candles glittering softly all around the penthouse, and fresh bouquets of flowers in every vase. the plush sofas looked freshly dusted and soft music was playing in the background

soft, muted lighting enveloped the space, casting a warm and intimate ambiance. the city lights beyond the windows twinkled like a myriad of stars, creating a breathtaking backdrop against the darkened sky.

but to steve, none of this mattered. the only view he cared about was the one of you, shuffling around the kitchen in fuzzy bunny slippers and your silk blue pyjamas.

he watched as you moved with a quiet confidence, navigating the familiar space with ease. the rhythmic clink of porcelain against the marble countertop echoing as the cups were placed gently on a tray as you selected delicate tea cups from the cupboard. he watched your fingers, adorned with subtle rings, tracing the edges of the cups with a practiced familiarity.

as steve observed you with a mixture of admiration and emotion, his gaze, fixed on you, spoke volumes as he recognized the beauty in the simplicity of this moment. the anxious lines on his face softened, revealing a depth of emotion stirred by the sight of someone he cherished engaged in such an ordinary yet intimate act.

"hi baby" you smiled at him, smile dipping when you observed at the tenseness in his body language. his shoulders were taut, remnants of anxious lines softly fading from his forehead as he looked at you.

"hey" he said, voice cracking slightly, even more as you let out a soft "oh" reaching him in two steps to wrap your arms around him.

in the dimly lit room, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken emotions and words, but you both knew he didn't need words, he needed the unspoken reassurance that you were there with him, physically, in the moment.

he stood there, shoulders slumped, carrying the weight of the world on his weary frame. even captain america got overwhelmed sometimes. you approached him with a gentle understanding, eyes reflecting both empathy and love.

as you reached out to him, arms enveloping him in a comforting embrace, he crumbled.

the embrace wasn't just a physical connection; it was a lifeline, a silent reassurance that in this moment of vulnerability, he wasn't alone. your fingers traced soothing circles on his back, a rhythmic gesture that mirrored the ebb and flow of emotions he was clearly feeling.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, desperate to find solace in the softness of your presence. the scent of your hair, a mix of strawberry and vanilla, familiar and comforting, mingled with the quiet warmth of the room.

the thump of your heartbeat, pulsing through your body, steady and reassuring, echoed against his chest, a gentle reminder that they faced the challenges together, and that as you had stated in your vows, your hearts would beat together as one for the rest of your lives.

"we were so close, but everything fell apart. the intel was off, our intel was compromised, we were ambushed. the team got separated, and we couldn't prevent the disaster. it's like no matter what i do, it's never enough." he whispered, voice broken and eyes haggard, pulling back to look at you.

his eyes sought home in yours, desperate to find the love he needed so badly.

you listened attentively, absorbing the raw emotion in his voice. as he spoke, his hands clenched, betraying the frustration and helplessness he felt.

running your hands up and down his back, you whispered back, "you can't blame yourself for everything. you're only human. superhuman, sure, but still human"

steve ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, letting out a bitter chuckle.

"im supposed to be a hero, someone who saves the day. but what if I'm not cut out for this? what if I'm just making things worse?" he said, and you found tears rising to your eyes at the anguish your husband was in, blue eyes as stormy as the ocean, nothing but insecurity and fear reflecting in them.

you reached for his hands, holding them in a reassuring grip, fingers running over his knuckles in a pattern only you could interpret.

"darling, being a hero doesn't mean you always succeed. it means facing challenges, even when the odds are against you. it means being brave enough to admit when you may possibly make a mistake and it means allowing yourself to grow from the bad days. you can't control everything, but you can learn from it and keep going. you're not alone in this. you have all of us and we're always going to be there when you need us because you're always there when we need you. thats what makes you captain america, steve, your unrelenting ability to show empathy in the face of danger"

steve found solace in the warmth of your gaze. the weight on his shoulders didn't vanish, but the shared burden made it more bearable. "i love you so much" he said, leaning his forehead on yours.

bending down, he pressed his lips to yours, as you melted into the kiss, hands coming up to hold his jaw, as your thumbs ran along his cheekbone. he rested his palm on your waist, fingers splayed out and tracing a pattern, as his other hand reached up to caress your face.

you had to reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down by the neck to meet your lips. he pulled you impossibly closer to him, hands gripping you so tight as if you would vanish into thin air.

before you knew it his lips were heavy on yours, hot and needy, each kiss becoming more and more desperate as his hands roamed the expanse of your body.

his tongue pushed against yours urgently, but you broke apart, panting heavily, to kiss his cheek and whisper a soft "i love you"

steve swore his heart melted as you spoke, fingers caressing your cheek as he scooped you up from below, letting your legs wrap around his waist, hands gripping your thighs tightly as he guided the both of you to the bedroom.

the bedroom embraced an alluring intimacy, its subdued lighting casting a warm, hazy glow that danced across the plush surfaces. a large canopy bed, draped in rich, dark linens, stood as the focal point, its soft contours inviting and enticing. the plush cushions and silken sheets glowed softly in the dim lights,

the air was infused with a subtle fragrance of vanilla and lavender, creating a sensory tapestry that heightened the atmosphere.

the heavy curtains were drawn, swaying in the gentle breeze from an open window, allowing a filtered moonlight to cascade into the room, creating a soft interplay of light and darkness.

candles were strategically placed on various surfaces, flickering with a mesmerizing rhythm, casting enchanting patterns across the walls, rose petals scattered on the bed and the loveseat in bedroom.

steve carried you into the room, awestruck at how you had set up the room for his arrival.

"you did this baby? for me?" he asked, eyes softening. "all for you my love" you assured, smiling softly at him. "all of this and all of me is for you" you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest.

you felt him shudder softly against you, and the sudden pick up in his pace as he dropped you gently against the bed.

"i adore you" he murmured, pressing kisses all the way from your head to your forehead, trailing down your face, from the curve of your nose to your plump cheeks, pressing delicate kisses to the soft skin, before ultimately stopping at your lips.

he pressed his pink lips to yours, lips moulding into one as he let his body hover over yours. his tongue darted out to lick your lip, begging for entry and when he squeezed your hip and you let out a moan, he slid his tongue into your mouth, tongue clashing against yours, teeth stopping to sink into your lower lip, pulling it back to watch it snap back into place.

you kiss down his jaw, reveling in the soft sighing that he floods your ear when you near his throat. he groans when your mouth latches onto that sweet spot by his shoulder, your hot tongue sliding against his neck, with your chapstick tasting of shea butter and cherry, fingers dancing across the hem of his suit like a tease. his arms slide down to your top, the silky material scrunching up as he pulls it up, marvelling at the skin below.

"touch me" you whisper against his mouth with swollen lips and nudging noses. he sighs at the phrase, sea blue eyes never once leaving the comfort of yours. "touch me, use me, use me to get rid of your stress" you whisper, rocking your hips slowly against his.

you could feel his hard on against you, and you gently rolled your hips against his.

you were sure it got hard, this facade of being perfect all the time. so maybe just this once he needed to let go. let go of the gentleman person and fuck you raw till he was calmed down and satiated.

your shirt rides up even higher as steve drags a rough palm over your ribs, his rough hands have you jittering. his head rests on your stomach, lips pecking the area around your belly button and down your hip bone until you’re rotating your hips around him. "you're absolutely unbelievable" he groans as he gently licks around your sensitive belly button. he groans in pleasure when you tug on his hair, smiling when you say, "i dont know how lucky I got with you" he murmured.

"touch me. just touch me like you won’t ever stop" you whimper out, and steve studied the want in your glassy eyes and nodded softly, stroking his finger on either side of your cheek. the intimacy of the moment is jarring against how desperately the both of you want each other. but it's sensual and sweet because its a long buildup his finally being at peace.

agonizingly slow, his fingers dip down the waistband of your panties, cotton rubbing against the back of his hand as he curls his fingertips towards your pussy. the gentle notion makes your breath hitch, especially when he spreads your folds apart to expose the hood of your clit.

his middle finger circles draw leisurely over the sensitive nub with slow, rough circles and your thighs twitched.

his voice hitches in his throat as he observes your reaction. "oh, doll, you’re — oh, you’re just dripping, aren’t you?" he groans as you guide his hand further, the pads of his fingers dragging your arousal against your wet entrance. "my gorgeous, gorgeous girl" he whispered, pressing a sugar sweet kiss to your jaw.

"I'll always love you no matter what" you moan, scratching at his shoulders shamelessly, rocking on the heel of his hand for more friction. your eagerness spurs him on and so he increases the pressure, skimming his fingers over your folds and pressing ever-so-tantalizingly near your hole before he returns back to your clit. "fucking tease" you whine and he smirks.

your steve is usually demure even in bed, ever the perfect gentleman, gentle with you as if you'd snap into two if he was too harsh with you.

but this steve was daring and experimenting with his rough side.

your next sentence died in your throat, a soft gasp leaving your lips when he pushed his finger inside you, slow and deep enough to rip a whine right out of your throat from the stretchs.

he inhales loudly, eyes fixating on your mouth when you hopelessly sigh against his neck. you shift your knee higher up his leg, giving him more access to finger you. he hums at your expressions, mirroring them when you suckle dark marks just beneath his sharp jawline.

he mouths at your shoulder, leaving glistening patches of saliva in the wake of his sloppy kisses. you rock against the heel of his palm, mewling as he drags his fingers against your walls and he muffles his own moans against your skin.

"you’re so perfect" he groans, fucking his fingers in and out of you. the noises that leave your pussy and his throat are sinful, sounding like the harmonious mixture of splashing waves and delicate moans, his hand cupping your mound while he fingered you impatiently.

"fuck, Y/N. you’re making quite the mess, aren’t you, my angel? god, your moans are so fucking sweet to listen to"

"steve, your fingers..." you watch his wrist snap against you, juices squelching around him. you nearly sob, waterline beginning to water as the pleasure intensifies, "you get me so wet" you whimper and you hear the groan he tries to suppress at the juxtaposition of your angelic voice and face and the filthy words coming out of your pretty mouth.

"that’s good. I love pleasing you, you know that?" he asks as you clamp down onto the crook of his neck, teeth stifling your wrecked moans as he curls his middle and ring finger against that spongy spot inside you.

his touch is generous, and accompanied by his weathered hands, you can feel your orgasm approaching soon. he fucks you faster, thumb rubbing at your clit hard.

while others would resort to their own personal pleasure to de stress, it's your pleasure that brings steve relaxation. the fact that he could draw earth shattering orgasms from you was what helped him feel good and he knew that it was only when you were completely satisfied that he would be too.

you cry out into his chest, bite marks littering his skin as you hold him tight and gracelessly grind against him until you lose control over your climax.

your body shakes from your orgasm, gradually and slowly, steve's fingers scissoring carefully in and out of you. 

your pussy pulses needily between your thighs, toes curling as you focus your attention on steve undressing. his suit comes off, discarded somewhere in some corner, his under clothes come off, and then finally, he drags his gray boxers down his legs, and his cock stands proudly, slapping against his stomach as he releases it from it's prison.

you moan as you take in the sight of his thick cock, long and girthy and big enough to leave you breathless as it always did. steve after all was a supersoldier, and his cock was to match. he also had incredible stamina and you knew he'd leave you exhausted.

he nears you again, heavy against you and you reach down to stroke him, smiling up at him, realising your hand doesnt fit all of him into your palm. his cock twitches again when you moan, a throb settling at the base of his spine with an uintelligible moan.

"stevie, baby, i want nothing more-" you strain, reaching behind your own hips to take ahold of his cock and line the weeping tip up perfectly "than for you to fuck me. i want you to fuck your pain and your distress away" you say, and his eyes darken with lust, the baby blues fading to black, like a dark and thunderous sky.

his dick catches against your clit first, causing your body to jolt in shock before you sweep him through your dripping folds. he grabs ahold of your hips, seemingly spellbound as to where else to hold you. his eyes flicker all across your bare skin, unable to settle on the best spot.

his teeth reach down to grab your nipple in between them, one hand reaching up to fondle the other. his tongue darts around the perk nipple, sliding all around it, saliva dripping all around it. your hips rut wildly at the pleasure on your sensitive nipples, and the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers toying with the other.

a chorus of gasps sounds between the two of you as you slowly roll down onto his dick, harmonizing almost like a symphony. he stretches you deliciously, and he's big. very big. perfectly filling. It’s akin to losing all sense of direction, unsure of up from down, left from right. your hips stutter and still from the shock because through your haze you feel steve thrust upward and into you to bridge the gap and you whine as he brushed a sensitive spot within you.

a high pitched wine of "oh fuck!* leaves your lips, and a deep groan echoes in steve's chest.

you groan, finally feeling him sink all the way into your pussy, already shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. before you can comprehend, hes bottoming out in your slick pussy.

rising back over the curve in his cock, you lift yourself back up until only his tip is pressed up against your pussy. you pause before you sink back down. you see the almost animalistic need in steve's eyes as he gazes up at you through his lashes, eyes following the clenching of his jaw.

the wet sound of your pussy being filled over and over echoes, the air that had held a chill seemingly warming at your shared activity. you can barely hear his groans, your heartbeat thrumming so loud in your ears that you’re convinced he can probably feel it thudding in your walls.

your eyebrows arch in bliss as the ridge of his head catches up against something so incredible that you’re drowning in pleasure, a light that must surely be heaven flooding your eyesight.

but it's not heaven no, it's a sight far better : your husband, mouth agape and head thrown back fucking into you like your life depended on it.

what you didn't expect was the harsh smack to your ass, his big hand smacking the sensitive skin of your ass and you let out an "oh!" skin stinging and pussy dripping, before the longing for more fills you.

"you like that, my pretty girl?" he asks, pinching the fat of your hips.

you merely moan in response, mind melting at the pleasure. a second smack to the ass follows, and a large vein-y hand grips your throat and forces you to look at him.

"words doll, words" he chides, and you stutter out a shaky "yes" your movements are stuttering at the way a familiar simmering feeling begins deep inside your abdomen, but steve doesn’t want you to stop. his hands take a firm grip of your hips, forcing them down as he begins to thrust up and into you in that same desperate pace.

he continued to brush against that part of you that just obliterated any coherent thought, your mind melting into sludge as pleasure overtook every nerve in your body.

his hands traced over your ass, still hovering between the edge of good boy steve and bad boy steve, but all it took for him to slip was your whimper of "spank me harder daddy" and he was gone.

your sweet gentle steve was replaced by an animal, hands delivering harsh smack after smack to the sensitive skin of your ass, feeling it burn red hot as his large lands landed on your ass with a harsh unoact.

the filthy sound of his hand slapping the jiggly surface of your ass and the sloppy, wet sound of his dick pounding into your pussy echoed around the room, and you had never been more glad for the fact that your floor was completely soundproofed.

you’re not exactly sure what part of his body you’re holding onto, the muscles canvas all melting into one, so far away from comprehension, but you know you’re holding it in a bruising grip, one that leaves a perfect impression of each of your fingertips that would most definitely remain imprinted on his skin.

sweat beaded and dripped down his forehead, as he continued thrusting and pounding into you as if his life depended on it.

your mewls and whimpers perfectly complimented his grunts and groans as his hips snapped further into yours.

your back arched off of the bed as he let your leg rest on his shoulder, pushing the other one away from you so you were perfectly spread out, pushing one leg far away enough so that it was almost touching your ear

the smirk on his lips told you that it was gonna be a long night and that steve wasn't done with you just yet. he grabbed your face, fingers lacking their usual gentility, digging into your cheekbones, before pushing your face sideways into the silky pillow, making you close your eyes at the contrasting sensation of your hot cheeks against the cold pillow, the feelings setting your body on fire.

the sensation of you digging your nails into his back, had his hips falterring and stuttering slightly as he let out another lke growl into his ear, as he allowed himself a moment to bask in the burn of the sting before regaining his pace and thrusting back "you're so, so fucking good, just squeezing me so well hmm?" he growled, grunting as your pussy squeezed him harder and your eyes shut.

you only raked your nails down harder, although your moans were slightly muffled, and the desperate whines leaving your lips fuelled, him, as he continued snapping his hips into you, nails digging into your thigh, the pleasurable sting sending you spiraling. you could feel ths tight muscles rippling in his back, and you scratched down the bare expanse of his back, knowing it always drove him crazy.

the red hot pleasure in the pit of your stomach began to tighten, making you pant. he started guiding his cock deeper into you, which you didn't think was possible, and placed your hand in the outline of his cock in your tummy, and the filthy sound of your wetness and the sounds of your skin slapping together echoed across the hotel room.

the bed began to knock against the wall, the thumping sounding sweeter than the sweetest symphony you had ever heard.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head once again, mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. for a second, you thought you had floated into another dimension, a low hum filling your ears, and your body convulsing in pleasure.

you heard steve moan your name, before letting out a low grunt, feeling him release his chokehold on your throat and hips, watching as you squirted all over him.

your cum splattered him all over, and your vision almost went black from how hard you had just squirted on him.

he reached out to collect your cum on his fingers, licking it, moaning at your sweet taste. the sight had you blushing.

you thought you were done, but just as you began to come to terms with the force of your orgasm, you felt his thumb on your clit, making you jerk your hips away, shaking your head. "daddy please, no more, i can't, not anymore" you whined out, feeling your pussy throb.

"yes you can, one more my doll, just give me one more" he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again harshly, in a rough, dirty, demanding kiss.

you could feel his hips stuttering, his cock beginning to pulse inside you, his thrusts becoming sloppy, signalling he was close to his own orgasm.

you moaned into his mouth, taking the opportunity to suck his tongue. "come on captain, cum for me, wont you? you work so hard and I'm so fucking proud of all your hard work" you whispered into his ears, licking at the shell of his ear

at your words, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his tongue poking out to lick patterns on the skin there, and you could hear his low, soft grunts as he chased his release, making the veins in his neck pop.

you could see his body glistening in the layer of sweat that had covered him, he continued to thrust into you for a second or two more, before a deep groan left his swollen lips, and an even deeper moan of your name echoed in your ear, as he spurted his cum into your warm pussy with a groan, your pussy clamping down on him like a vice, milking his cock

your body shuddered at the warm liquid dripping into you in hot spurts, covering your pussy in his cum, moaning in pleasure as the warmth of his release spread through you, enveloping you in a warm daze. panting softly, he stayed enveloped in your warm walls.

the both of you cuddled into the silk sheets, the aur conditioning doing little to cook your overhead bodies. steve pressed tender kisses to your face and body, whispers of "my beautiful girl, my angel, my doll, i adore you" leaving his lips like a mantra.

his hands, now no longer rough with want, traced soft patterns on your flushed skin.

"was that too rough for you?" he asked, concern etched in his eyes and worry lines appearing on his face.

"not at all" you said, quickly quelling his fears.

"you should do that again" you smirked, giggling when he blushed red. "thank you for that my love" he said, raising your knuckles to his lips to press a soft kiss to them.

"you don't have to thank me, steve. I'm always here for you no matter what" you murmured.

you were slowly sinking into a daze, but you registered him pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and heading to the bathroom

"I'll be back in just a second honey, I'm just getting some towels to clean us up" he explained, grinning at the pout adorning your bruised lips.

sure enough he came back, with cold towels to wipe you up with and a fresh set of pyjamas (his shirt and your shorts) to slip into, gently tugging you into the clothes and cleaning up the sticky mess on your thighs and cleaning you up.

he brushed the stray strands of your hair away from your face, pressing a soft kiss to your nose then your forehead, and then your lips.

he fed you a glass of cold water, and a piece of chocolate for a little bit of energy in the morning. cleaning himself up, he slipped into bed with you, his large arms wrapping you up, his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as you snored softly beside him.

in the warmth of your embrace, he felt an unspoken reassurance. as he held you close, the rhythmic beating of your heart echoed a comforting melody

in that tender moment, he realized that in your arms, he was not just physically close, but emotionally anchored. the world outside ceased to matter as he embraced the profound sense of safety and love that enveloped the both of you, creating a sanctuary where worries melted away, leaving only the simple joy of being together.

[burgundyskiez]

Burnin’ up - Daryl Dixon

The crisp, late autumn, morning air danced across my face, leaving a frost bitten numbness on my skin. I could no longer feel my fingers, and the sound of my teeth chattering filled my ears. The weekly trek from Hilltop felt like a good job at the time in which I volunteered for it, deciding that the solitude on the journey would be an enjoyable experience that could break up the hustle and bustle of the up and coming settlement. However, as the winter months drew closer, I quickly realised why nobody else jumped so quickly at the opportunity to escape the busyness. My bow slung over my shoulder haphazardly, and my many times reused arrows tucked into a thigh strap I’d made especially to hold them, each took turns clanging and clattering against the sack of supplies, food and filtered water I heaved on my travels. I was surprised I hadn’t drawn more walkers in my direction or towards my destination, that I was close approaching.

Upon my arrival, I whistled once making my presence known as I usually did, yet I still jumped in surprised at the paws that lunged into my back. I chuckled softly, turning to fuss over the furry boy who panted loudly and wagged his tail happily, “Hey Dog. You’re just getting better at sneaking up on me each time, ain’t ya?” I scratched behind his ears and ruffled the fur about his neck, until an amused grunt rang from beside me.

I stood up fully again, turning to smile politely at Daryl, “Hope I didn’t barge in on ya, but I’m sure you expected me at some point soon.” I dropped the sack of supplies on the floor between our feet, pulling the string that tied it loose and grabbing out a bone, waving it around for Dog before throwing it and chuckling as I watched him run after it.

Daryl grunted again as he bent to pick up the sack, throwing it over his shoulder and walking up towards his tent, he spoke as he did so, “Ain’t ever expect Carol to give up on this delivery thing. Tried to talk ‘er outta it many times.” He dropped the sack inside his large tent, before turning to me again. “How’s things up there?” He asked gruffly, holding up a metal cup, silently offering me a drink, and beginning to boil water on the fire that was burning proudly.

I followed him over to the fire, plopping myself down onto a log beside it, opposite where Daryl was crouched, tending to the pot on the fire. I chuckled, “Busy as ever. They wanna make sure everything is just right, you know? Carol and Maggie are working really hard to ensure things run smoothly, s’just nice to get out once in a while.” Daryl nodded as I spoke, moving backwards to sit on the log behind him, waiting for the water to reach a boil.

He looked tired, his under eyes were darkened, his head was held lower, even his posture was more slumped. His physical exhaustion was only half of it though, he was entirely spent emotionally too, having been out looking for any traces of Rick since the incident at the bridge. Each time I visited, I knew he was getting worse, but I also knew that he simply would not give up trying.

I spoke quietly, breaking the silence as I held my frozen hands out above the fire, “He wouldn’t want you exhausting yourself to near death, Daryl.” Tension filled his body instantly, and his face visibly battled against the instant harsh response he wanted to retort with, instead taking a moment before speaking quietly, “I know, but he’s m’brother. I ain’t gonna give up ‘til I know he’s gone. He gave me chances, I’ll give him his in survivin’ if he’s out there.”

I smiled sadly, nodding, knowing he was right, that Rick had given all of us our fair share of chances, we all owed a lot to him. A short moment of silence fell upon us once again, before Daryl dunked both of the metal cups into the boiled water and passed me mine, “ain’t much, but should warm y’up. Yer shiverin’ is making me feel even colder.” He chuckled softly, the faintest smile on his lips as his tired eyes met mine briefly. I chuckled in response and held the hot cup in my gloved hands, sighing happily at the feeling returning through my fingers.

In the first few months since I joined the group, Daryl and I hardly knew each other’s names, let alone spoke, figuring we wouldn’t have much, if anything in common. Despite the close relationship I quickly gained with Carol, who soon filled a mother-figure shaped hole in my heart, Daryl and I had little idea about the others similar family-type of bond with her. It wasn’t until we were teamed up together, tasked with the difficult job of finding Carol after one of her desperate for some kind of escape from the pressure and emotional turmoil run aways, only then did we realise we had a lot more in common than we thought, and that we both bloody loved that wonderful, emotionally exhausted woman. Our joint determination allowed us to find her in just a few days and convince her to return to the group, to us, her family.

A rustle in the bushes startled me, the metal cup in my hand quickly forgotten about as I stood up quickly and tore my bow from my shoulder, snapping up an arrow from my leg strap and aiming my weapon in the direction of the noise. Failing to see any incoming walkers and instead a tail-waggling Dog, Daryl’s laughter shook me out of my fighting response, and then allowed me to feel the burning sensation running across my left leg. “Shit!” I croaked out, my face contorted into a look of pure pain. Daryl’s laughter quickly subsided and he rushed to my side, his face screwed into a look of concern and worry, noticing the metal cup on the floor at my feet, and his eyes finally landing on the boiling hot wet patch covering my left leg.

Daryl immediately crouched at my feet and began sawing through the material of my cargo leg, tearing the rest once he’d made a big enough slash. My leg was red raw, the deep crimson was jeering at us as it waded across my skin, feeling like it was clawing into my bones. I wanted to move, but my body was rigid, dense as a black hole, completely stuck in an inescapable prison.

Suddenly, my feet were off the ground, my body horizontal, legs travelling before me towards the lake, supported by Daryl’s arms. The archer raced into the water, further and further until his waist down was submerged in the soothing frost bitten water, a rush of relief flowed through me. I looked at Daryl for the first time, whose concerned, ice blue orbs met mine. Instinctively, I tightly wrapped my arms around his neck, holding onto him, a silent, brutally vulnerable ‘thank you’ being translated. Slowly, almost uncertainly, his strong arms encapsulated my form, and I allowed my forehead to fall to his shoulder.

The bite of the cold lake sent sudden chills through my body, causing me to pull away from the hug. I looked at Daryl with a small smile before speaking, my teeth chattering comedically, “before I lose any limbs to the cold water, or whatever is swimming in it, I think we should get out.” I chuckle and ruffle Daryl’s hair, before making my way up the bank and back towards the tent, hearing a second pair of heavy footsteps behind me belonging to the hunter.

Daryl rushed ahead and grabbed two blankets from his tent, gesturing for me to sit by the fire again, unfolding one of the blankets and waiting for me to take a seat on the log before draping the blanket around my shoulders. I smiled softly, immediately pulling the blanket tightly around me. As he began to turn towards the opposite log, my voice startled even me, “Sit next to me…” I tried to cover up the embarrassment I felt at the question I’d asked, chuckling softly and silently thanking the heavens above that I was far too cold to blush, “body warmth should heat us up faster, right?”

Daryl froze in place, still for a moment, looking at me with eyes full of surprise. The once certain impossibility of my face flushing red with regret now seemed a lot more likely. I quickly broke eye contact with the man I’d just completely made a fool of myself in front of, suddenly finding my shoes incredibly interesting. Until, a warmth appeared beside me and a larger pair of combat boots joined mine in front of the log, I didn’t dare to lift my head, knowing my face was in fact flushed completely now.

A large, rough hand grasped my chin gently, as if I was porcelain that could crumble under the slightest amount of force. I finally lifted my head, meeting those ice blue eyes once again, that somehow seemed to spread such a warmth throughout me, however when they fell from my eyes down to my lips, I felt all of my breath leave my lungs. My head nodded softly in response without me being able to think beforehand, and he finally closed the space between us.

[serickswrites]

Deflect

Warnings: implied captivity, implied torture, implied restraints, rescue, hospital, referenced temporary character death, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery

"Whumpee, can we talk?" Caretaker said as they stood in Whumpee's hospital room door.

"What's there to talk about? I'm fine," Whumpee said quickly. The truth was they were very much not fine. Everything hurt. They couldn't move very much without being exhausted. And they still had a hard time breathing.

The doctors had reassured them that would fade. That they would feel more themself soon. But still, Whumpee wasn't sure how long that would take. And what the lasting impact would be from what Whumper did besides the scars from various acts and from being tied up with coarse rope for so long.

"Whumpee, you were dead when I found you. Actually dead," Caretaker shouted. "I did CPR for I don't even know how long. I thought...." Caretaker's voice caught.

"That I was really dead," Whumpee supplied for Caretaker. "But I wasn't. You kept my blood pumping long enough for help to arrive. And they get my heart going again. And now I'm ok."

"Whumpee, you died again in surgery. And then you were in a coma for so long. Whumpee, I....I nearly lost you. And you're acting like it is nothing!" Caretaker's eyes flashed with anger. Though they had been crying, Whumpee could see the anger boiling beneath the surface. Caretaker was angry. Not at Whumpee, but for Whumpee.

"What do you want me to say, Caretaker? That I thought I was going to die? That I didn't hold out long enough? That you were going to find what was left of my corpse and I was going to be the reason why you break? No? Or how about how every time I close my eyes I see what Whumper did. I see Whumper every time I close my eyes and I can't escape. I can't escape anything."

Whumpee's chest was heaving and they were sobbing. They had tried to keep this all in. Tried to not feel. Without a word, Caretaker came forward and threw their arms around Whumpee. The two of them held each other as they cried.

Whumpee was alive. Whumpee was safe. They hadn't died. And Caretaker had them now.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon

[seongsangssbitch]

The Amazing Spiderman

pt 2

Synopsis: Yunho is Spiderman the city's savior and superhero who is also a little bit of a loser and is painfully in love with his best friend Mingi. What happens when his father's experiment goes terribly wrong transforming Yunho into a monster he despises?

Pairing: Spiderman! Yunho x Bestfriend! Mingi

Word count: 48k(total) 24k(This part)

Warning: Violence, blood, and angst, detailed rough sex smut, mind control, body control, lots and lots of cursing, daddy issues, mentioned death of a sibling, bones breaking, talk of paralysis.

NOTE: It's a happy ending guys don't worry. Also posted this early cuz I need to study help

@asherthehimbo i need your fully detailed reaction at every line, love you (this is a threat)

Part 1

Yunho ran back home climbing up through his window as he threw his suit aside, the tattered remains of it hitting the floor with a dull thud. His chest heaved as he fought to contain the fury boiling inside him, his voice cracking as he yelled, "We don't kill people! I'm Spider-Man! I don't know what twisted planet you come from, you filthy parasite, but here, we don't kill people!"

The symbiote remained silent, coiling within him, its presence humming with amusement, as if Yunho's outburst was nothing but a childish tantrum. Before he could even catch his breath, his bedroom door flew open, his father's face etched with a mixture of anger and concern.

"What happened?" his father demanded, eyes narrowed.

"Shut up!" Yunho snapped, his hands moving faster than his thoughts as he lunged forward, gripping his father by the collar and pinning him against the wall. His father's eyes widened in shock, but Yunho's grip only tightened, his fingers pressing down as he struggled to contain the symbiote's insatiable urge to hurt.

Can I kill him? Venatus' voice slithered into his mind, a taunting, dark whisper in the depths of his consciousness. The words sent a jolt through Yunho, amplifying his anger and feeding off his exhaustion.

"No. You. Can't!" Yunho hissed, shoving his father away with enough force that he stumbled back, glaring in a mix of fear and disbelief as Yunho slammed the door shut, locking it with trembling hands. He turned back, voice low and dripping with venom, speaking only to the creature inside him. "Listen here, Venatus. I don't care what you think you know, or what you think you can make me do—but I know how to kill you. And if you so much as make me hurt Mingi or force me to do something I can't come back from, I swear I'll throw myself off this balcony. I'll end both of us."

You wouldn't dare, Venatus sneered, a dark, mocking chuckle echoing in his mind, as though it found the mere suggestion laughable.

Yunho swallowed, stepping out onto the balcony, the cold air prickling against his skin. He glanced over the edge, his heart pounding as he looked down at the empty street below. "Try me," he whispered, his voice firm despite the tremor in his chest. He climbed onto the railing, arms spread for balance as he stared into the abyss below. His pulse quickened, each beat reminding him just how close he was to the edge.

You can't be serious...

"Test me one more time," he said, his voice steady as steel. "And you'll find out."

The symbiote's presence was silent, the amusement drained away, replaced by an edge of something Yunho hadn't felt from it before. Fear.

Yunho felt the icy rush of air against his skin as he plummeted downward, refusing to summon the symbiote's tendrils, refusing to let it take control. For a fleeting moment, there was only the void and his resolve to defy the creature inside him.

But just as the ground below seemed terrifyingly close, his fall stopped with a sudden jolt. His hand was caught in a fierce, desperate grip. Yunho looked up in shock, his heart racing as he saw Mingi leaning precariously out from the balcony above, fingers clenched around Yunho's wrist with everything he had.

"Mingi!" Yunho's voice cracked with disbelief and fear as he felt Mingi's hand tighten. Sweat glistened on Mingi's brow, his arm muscles trembling with strain. He was stretched almost fully over the ledge, his body teetering on the edge as he struggled to hold onto Yunho's weight.

"I... I can't pull us both back, Yunho," Mingi stammered, his voice strained as he gritted his teeth, his own weight beginning to slip further. "But If I... if I let go, we're both going down."

A sickening realization washed over Yunho: if he didn't act fast, Mingi would fall right along with him. Every instinct screamed at him to do something, anything, to save the person he loved most. Mingi's terrified eyes locked onto his, filled with unwavering trust.

Then, in his mind, the symbiote's voice cut through the panic, its tone stripped of its usual playfulness. Okay, deal here, spidey boy, it said, an edge of genuine urgency in its voice. I help save your boyfriend, and you don't kill us. Agreed?

Yunho barely registered the words before he mentally relented. He didn't care about anything else right now but saving Mingi. He felt the tendrils of the symbiote extend from his own arm, snaking around Mingi's torso and pulling them both back from the edge.

Once they were safely on the floor, Yunho pulled Mingi close, clutching him with a desperation he hadn't felt before. He looked down, noticing the symbiote's tendrils retracting, as if satisfied that it had kept its end of the bargain. In that moment, Yunho sensed something different—a strange, tentative understanding. For once, the symbiote wasn't an enemy—it was something more complex, something that was learning, maybe even beginning to understand why Yunho cared so much.

Thank you... thank you... Yunho muttered inwardly, hoping Venatus could feel his gratitude. The symbiote remained silent, but Yunho sensed something in its stillness—a quiet acceptance.

"What were you... why would you do that, Yunho?" Mingi's voice broke through the silence, barely above a whisper, raw and trembling with pain. The worry etched in Mingi's gaze struck deeper than Yunho had anticipated, making him swallow hard, the weight of guilt pressing down on him.

"I was... I was trying to handle something on my own," Yunho murmured, looking down at the floor, his voice thick with regret. "And I got in over my head."

Mingi exhaled slowly, a pained understanding in his expression. He reached out, his hand settling on Yunho's shoulder with a steadiness that grounded him. "You don't have to handle things alone, Yuyu," Mingi said softly. "Whatever's going on... I'll be here. I'll help you. But don't ever scare me like that again."

The words struck Yunho to his core, melting the defenses he'd been holding up since Venatus entered his life. Mingi's unwavering support, his faith in him despite the fear and confusion—it was more than Yunho felt he deserved, and it shook something loose within him. He pulled Mingi into his arms, clinging to him like a lifeline, feeling the sting of tears he hadn't realized he was holding back.

In the quiet, as he held Mingi close, Yunho heard Venatus murmur reluctantly, You know... he really is special.

He's mine, Yunho shot back firmly, a protectiveness sparking within him. And to his surprise, he felt the symbiote chuckle—a soft, almost amused sound, lacking its usual menace.

Okay, spidey boy, Venatus replied, settling back within him, almost as if acknowledging the boundary Yunho had just drawn.

They stayed like that for a moment, locked in a quiet embrace, as the weight of Yunho's secret and the reality of what he'd almost done hung between them. He could feel Mingi's heartbeat against his own, steady and calming, grounding him back into the world he nearly tried to leave. For the first time since Venatus had come into his life, he felt like he wasn't facing it all alone.

Eventually, Mingi pulled back, studying Yunho with gentle but searching eyes. "Yunho, I don't know everything that's going on with you," he said quietly, his voice calm and resolute, "but if you're in some kind of trouble—if you're... dealing with things that are bigger than you can handle alone—you need to let me in."

Yunho wiped his eyes and managing a shaky smile. "I'm sorry. I just... things have been... complicated," he said, struggling to find words that wouldn't terrify Mingi but would give him some glimpse of what he'd been going through.

Mingi reached for Yunho's hand, squeezing it with quiet strength. "Then let me help you with that," he said simply. "You don't have to carry it all by yourself."

Yunho glanced away, swallowing the knot in his throat. "I'm not sure how much you can help with this," he admitted. "It's... it's something I can't exactly control."

Mingi tilted his head, studying Yunho with a gentle resolve. "Maybe I don't have to understand everything to be there for you. Just... promise me you'll try to stay safe, alright? No more jumping off balconies."

Yunho's lips twitched in a faint smile, a bittersweet warmth settling over him. "Deal."

As Mingi released his hand, Yunho could feel Venatus stirring in the background, but this time there was no pressure, no intrusion. The symbiote felt more subdued, as though it was observing him, silently absorbing the connection he shared with Mingi. You're serious about him, Venatus remarked, a note of curiosity softening its usual icy tone.

More than you know, Yunho replied firmly. And as he sat alongside Mingi, he felt the symbiote pull back, an unspoken truce settling between them.

That night, as Yunho lay in bed, Venatus's voice drifted into his mind, softer than ever before. We're... partners, right? I help you, you help me?

The symbiote's words struck him as odd, even vulnerable. He hadn't thought of Venatus as anything other than a constant threat in his life—a power trying to bend his will. But now, Yunho felt a strange understanding between them.

Yeah, Yunho replied, surprised by the gentleness in his own voice. But there are limits. I won't let you hurt the people I love.

Fair enough, so what's the deal with your father, he's been looking at you like a prey every time you come infront of him

Yunho tensed, feeling Venatus's curiosity like a light prodding in the back of his mind. The symbiote's question lingered, uncomfortably close to secrets he'd buried deep, even from himself. He hesitated, considering how much to share. But Venatus was part of him now, a presence he couldn't ignore, and maybe... maybe an ally he could start to trust.

"My father..." Yunho started, barely able to meet even his own thoughts head-on. "He's always been a controlling man. But recently, it's been more than that. He—" Yunho took a steadying breath. "He wants to use you. To control us both. He sees me as a tool, something he can manipulate."

There was a pause before Venatus replied, and when it did, Yunho thought he detected a thread of anger woven through its usual curiosity. He thinks he can control me, Venatus murmured, the words edged with resentment.

"He thinks he can control everything," Yunho said bitterly. "Even my life. He never cared about what I wanted. To him, I'm just a means to an end."

Venatus fell silent again, but Yunho sensed something shifting in the symbiote—a kind of solidarity, almost. "You know..." Venatus began slowly, "in my world, we chose our hosts. Not just anyone could bond with us. It had to be someone we respected, someone we trusted to let us thrive. Your father... he would never have been chosen."

Yunho found himself smiling a little at that. It was strange, even surreal, to feel this kind of kinship with Venatus, this creature that had once terrified him. "Maybe... maybe we can be partners, after all," Yunho said, finally allowing himself to imagine that he didn't have to do this alone.

Then it's settled, Venatus replied, sounding almost pleased. No one controls us. Not your father, not anyone.

"You know if i were to allow you to kill one person it would be my father" Yunho said

I can kill your father? Venatus's excitement was almost palpable, a dark eagerness echoing through Yunho's mind that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Easy there," Yunho replied, his voice firm but tinged with a strange kind of humor. "That's not an invitation—more like... a hypothetical."

Hypothetical, Venatus echoed, sounding both disappointed and intrigued. But you're saying he's... a problem.

Yunho paused, looking out his window at the dark, empty street below. His father had always been more than just a problem. He was an oppressive force in Yunho's life, a shadow constantly looming over him, trying to pull the strings. But he wasn't ready to cross that line—not yet, anyway.

"Look, I can handle him," Yunho said. "I just need to keep you under control so things don't... escalate." He hesitated, then added, "And it's not like I'm willing to go to jail over him. That's the last thing I need right now."

You're afraid of the consequences, then, Venatus mused, a note of understanding creeping into its voice. But you'd want him out of your life if you could... permanently.

Yunho clenched his fists, fighting down the truth that surged up with Venatus's words. "Yeah... maybe. But that doesn't mean I'll let you do it."

Understood, Venatus replied, almost purring, as if savoring the idea. But if you change your mind... you know where to find me.

Yunho felt the chill of Venatus's presence settle back into the depths of his mind, almost like a loyal but deadly weapon waiting to be wielded. He smirked slightly, feeling a newfound confidence. He'd made it clear who was calling the shots, and for now, that was enough.

"Besides Mingi would hate me if im a murderer"

Ignore your weak ass boyfriend, Venatus said

Yunho glared at the air in anger "Shut up"

The intensity of his voice made Venatus groan

"Wow i just learned how to punish you," Yunho said and chuckled

Venatus went silent for a beat, and Yunho felt a flicker of surprise echo back from the symbiote. You're bluffing, it finally said, though there was a faint tremor of uncertainty in its tone.

"Oh, am I?" Yunho challenged, a sly smile spreading across his face. "Seems like I've finally got the upper hand on you, Venatus." He paused, letting his voice drop to a whisper. "So unless you want me barking orders every five minutes, maybe you should keep those smart remarks about Mingi to yourself."

The symbiote let out a grumbling sound, an almost petulant sigh echoing in Yunho's mind. Fine, it muttered, the reluctance clear. But I still think you could do better than that clingy human.

Yunho clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to shout, but he held his ground, his grip over his own mind stronger than before. "Mingi is not 'clingy,' and he's more than 'just a human.' He's... well, he's my anchor." His voice softened. "And whether you like it or not, he's here to stay."

Fine, Venatus replied, the defeat in its tone almost amusing. I suppose I'll tolerate him, for now.

Yunho's smile widened, feeling a small, victorious thrill surge through him. He'd come to realize that with Venatus, power wasn't just about brute strength or control—it was about a partnership, a strange and delicate dance of boundaries. "Good. Because we're in this together. But remember... no hurting the people I care about."

The symbiote shifted again, a feeling of resignation passing through him.

Understood, Spidey Boy, it replied, almost affectionately, and for the first time, Yunho thought he heard a hint of something like loyalty in Venatus's voice.

Yunho let out a soft, breathy laugh, amused by the shift in their dynamic. He let himself relax, leaning back into the comfort of his bed as he felt the weight of the day start to lift, if only a little.

"You're a good boy, aren't you?" Yunho murmured, teasing lightly. There was something endearing about this odd, twisted creature now residing in his head. It had pushed him to his limits, twisted his perception of right and wrong, but here it was—shifting, like a child trying to be good, trying to please him.

Venatus's voice took on a purring quality, low and almost content. I am not a dog, Spidey Boy, it replied, but there was a noticeable lack of venom in its tone. The typical growl was replaced with something more... playful. But, I suppose... I do like being appreciated.

Yunho's lips quirked into a mischievous grin as he toyed with the idea. "Aww, you're like a little doggy, aren't you? Just a big, powerful puppy, following orders and protecting its owner," he cooed, his voice light but teasing. He could practically feel Venatus's annoyance simmering beneath the surface, but there was something else there too—reluctant acceptance, maybe.

The symbiote's response was a low growl, but there was no real malice behind it, just a trace of embarrassment. I'm not a puppy, you idiot, it muttered, though Yunho could hear the faintest hint of amusement in the words. I am a force, Spidey Boy. I'm far more than your pet.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Venatus," Yunho replied, his tone light and teasing. "But you can't deny, you're a bit of a softie when it comes to me."

I'll show you what happens when I get soft, Venatus muttered, a dark chuckle in its voice. Don't get too comfortable, Spidey Boy.

Yunho smiled, his mind spinning with the possibilities of where this strange partnership might take him. He knew he couldn't afford to get too attached

"Yeah, yeah," Yunho muttered to himself, settling into the bed with a sigh. "We'll see how long you can keep up this 'loyal' act, Venatus. But for now... let's get some rest."

I'm always watching, Spidey Boy, Venatus's voice echoed in his mind one last time before fading into an almost peaceful silence.

For the first time in days, Yunho allowed himself to simply breathe, his chest rising and falling slowly as he let the tension melt away. He could almost forget about the chaos he was wrapped up in—the mess of his life, his father's threats, the symbiote lurking within him.

But just as the calm started to take over, a soft creak from the door shattered the quiet.

Yunho's head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat. The door swung open, and there stood Mingi, grinning and holding two tubs of ice cream in his hands.

"Your mom let me come in," Mingi said casually, shrugging as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Without waiting for a response, he walked in and sat down next to Yunho on the bed, placing the ice cream between them.

Yunho blinked, his mind racing. Mingi? Here? His eyes widened in surprise, but it quickly melted into a smile, both relieved and grateful for the sudden comfort Mingi's presence brought.

"Wait—how did you even get in here?" Yunho managed to say, his voice still thick with surprise. The last thing he had expected was for Mingi to show up in his room, especially after everything that had just happened. But as Mingi casually dug into the ice cream, not even bothering to answer Yunho's question, Yunho couldn't help but laugh softly.

"I have my ways," Mingi said, still grinning, before scooping a large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. "You look like you need a break. Plus, you were being... kind of a drama queen earlier."

Yunho's lips curled into a small smirk. "Drama queen?" he repeated, his voice light but teasing. "I don't think I was being that bad. I was—"

"About to jump off your balcony," Mingi interrupted, his tone turning serious, though his eyes still held a flicker of concern. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, Yunho. I don't care what's going on, but you can't isolate yourself like this. You don't have to fight everything alone."

Yunho opened his mouth to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to argue, to tell Mingi that he had to do it on his own, that the symbiote was something he couldn't bring anyone into, but instead, he found himself simply looking at Mingi, his heart heavy.

Mingi wasn't just his best friend. He was everything. The person who had stood by his side, who had never once turned away, who had always offered a hand when Yunho was ready to pull away from the world. He was the one person who kept Yunho grounded.

"Mingi," Yunho whispered, his voice low, filled with unspoken gratitude and something deeper. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to drag you into this."

Mingi looked at him, his expression softening. "You don't have to apologize, Yunho. I'm here for you, no matter what. We'll get through this together, okay?"

Yunho nodded, feeling a knot in his chest loosen just a little. "Yeah... together."

As they both dug into the ice cream in silence, the weight of everything still hung between them, but in that moment, with Mingi by his side, Yunho felt a little less alone in the world. There was still the darkness of the symbiote in his mind, but Mingi's presence was a light he couldn't deny, something he could hold onto, no matter what.

As the ice cream containers lay empty between them, a comfortable silence settled over Yunho and Mingi. Mingi leaned back, stretching out lazily, but his eyes never left Yunho. The tension from earlier seemed to dissipate as they shared this quiet, intimate moment. Mingi shifted, subtly moving closer, his warmth just a little too close to Yunho's, and his breath tickled the air around Yunho's ear.

Yunho felt his heartbeat quicken as Mingi gently cupped his face with one hand, his thumb brushing over the smooth skin of Yunho's cheek. Slowly, Mingi leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Yunho's cheek. The touch was light, tender—his lips lingering just long enough to leave a faint warmth on Yunho's skin. Yunho's breath caught in his throat, and his gaze flickered to Mingi's, searching for some hint of what this meant, but Mingi only offered him a smile, soft and reassuring.

Before Yunho could say anything, Mingi kissed his neck, the coolness of his lips contrasting with the heat coursing through Yunho's veins. The action was gentle but possessive, as if marking his territory in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling. Yunho's pulse spiked, the intensity of the moment taking him by surprise, leaving him breathless.

"Min..." Yunho whispered, his voice barely audible as he instinctively tilted his head to give Mingi more access.

But just as Yunho closed his eyes, lost in the sensation, a familiar, mocking voice echoed in the back of his mind, making his skin crawl.

Look like you about to get some tonight, Spidey Boy , Venatus sneered, its words dripping with sarcasm. You gonna let him have you like that? You getting soft on me, huh? He's got you all worked up.

Yunho almost laughed in disbelief.

Shut up, Venatus , he muttered under his breath, trying to focus on Mingi, but the symbiote's voice was unrelenting, a steady stream in the back of his mind.

Mingi pulled back slightly, sensing the shift in Yunho's energy. He frowned, a look of concern crossing his features. "Yunho? What's going on? You look like you've just been distracted by something."

Yunho blinked, his mind racing. His gaze locked with Mingi's, and despite the chaos in his head, he forced a smile, though it was a little strained. "It's nothing. Just... tired, I guess. It's been a long day."

Mingi's expression softened but didn't fully buy it. His hand lingered on Yunho's shoulder, comforting, but not pressing. "You don't have to hide it from me, Yuyu. I'm here, remember?"

Yunho felt a lump form in his throat. He wasn't sure how to explain to Mingi that his mind had become a battleground—not just for his own sanity but for something that he was only just beginning to understand. "I know," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I just... I don't want to be a burden. I don't want this to affect us."

Aw, come on, Spidey Boy. You're not a burden , Venatus cut in, its tone uncharacteristically warm.

Yunho couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. The symbiote, in its own way, had become something of a strange ally, even if it still made his skin crawl sometimes. But right now, it didn't feel like the invasive, menacing force it once was. It was just... Venatus.

"I guess we're both a little messed up, huh?" Yunho chuckled softly, glancing at Mingi, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Mingi's brow furrowed, clearly confused by the strange turn in Yunho's words. He paused, eyeing Yunho with growing concern. "Who are you talking to, Yunho? Seriously, you're freaking me out."

Yunho froze for a second, his mind racing as Venatus's voice lingered in the background, unnervingly loud for anyone but him to hear. It took a beat for him to collect himself before he masked his unease with a smooth, reassuring smile.

"Ignore it, baby," Yunho murmured, his voice low and calming as he leaned forward, brushing his lips gently over Mingi's.

Mingi sighed, his body relaxing under the kiss, though his expression still carried a touch of worry. But he didn't pull away. He never did. Not when it was like this.

[M]

Rough sex skip to the next M if uncomfortable

As their lips met, the voice in Yunho's head stirred once again, more insistent than before.

Your babe's kinda cute, Yunho. It's going to make me hard. Let's fuck him. Please, please, please.

Yunho's stomach twisted in a way he couldn't explain. He pulled away from Mingi just slightly, but kept his hand on the back of Mingi's neck, holding him close. His eyes were soft but firm as he whispered, "Calm down, Venatus."

It was like an annoying, sulking presence inside him, but with every word, Yunho could feel Venatus's hunger becoming more demanding. The symbiote wasn't used to being ignored.

He tried to focus on Mingi, blocking out Venatus's voice as best he could, though it was like a nagging whisper that wouldn't quite fade away. Yunho leaned in once more, pressing a gentle kiss to Mingi's forehead, his heart beating quicker as Mingi's hands found his sides, gently pulling him back into the moment.

Yunho, please... something. I need a release.

The words stirred a heat in Yunho's chest that he didn't want to acknowledge. Venatus was always like this—pressing, demanding, pushing him to give in, to let go of control. But Yunho wasn't going to let the symbiote win. Not tonight. Not with Mingi here, holding him in a way that made everything feel right, like there was something real, something worth fighting for.

Yunho's grip on Mingi's waist tightened just slightly as he pulled away from the kiss, trying to steady his breath. "Calm down," he muttered under his breath, the words meant for both himself and the symbiote. 

Calm down, calm down, calm down.

But Venatus wasn't interested in quieting down. It was hungry, wanting to break through Yunho's restraint, to push him past his limits. Yunho could feel the shift in his mind as the symbiote's desire grew more demanding, wrapping around his thoughts like a chain.

Mingi's voice broke through, soft and full of concern. "Yunho? Are you okay?" He rested his hand on Yunho's chest, feeling the erratic pace of his heartbeat. Mingi's eyes searched his face, a gentle but clear question in his gaze.

Yunho's breath caught in his throat. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said quickly, but even he could hear the unsteadiness in his voice. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't tell Mingi what was happening inside his head. Not when Mingi was looking at him like that—so trusting, so open.

Look at his eyes, Yunho. So beautiful. Do something.

Yunho could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his veins. His pulse quickened. He wanted to pull Mingi closer, feel the warmth of his body, taste him, but there was something else—something dark and restless whispering in his mind, urging him forward.

Mingi's fingers lightly traced along Yunho's jaw, and the touch was so gentle, so tender, that Yunho could hardly breathe. His body reacted to Mingi instinctively, every nerve alight with need. But then the symbiote stirred inside him, making everything feel sharper, more intense.

Do it. Take control.

Yunho swallowed hard, trying to suppress the heat, trying to hold back the wave of desire that surged through him. Mingi was too close, too perfect, his soft lips parted slightly as he waited, his eyes heavy with the same longing that Yunho could feel pulsing through him.

Yunho's hands moved almost of their own accord, sliding up Mingi's back, pulling him closer until their chests were pressed together. He could feel Mingi's heartbeat against his own, the steady thrum that matched his own racing pulse. The space between them seemed to vanish, and the air between them felt thick with something undeniable.

"Yunho..." Mingi whispered, his breath warm against Yunho's ear. His hands found Yunho's chest, pushing gently, as if testing the waters. His lips brushed Yunho's neck, soft and teasing, sending a shiver down Yunho's spine.

Yunho's hands found Mingi's waist, pulling him even closer as his lips met Mingi's in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. He felt Mingi's hands slip into his hair, tugging him closer, deepening the kiss. It was slow at first as if they were both savoring the moment, unsure where it would go but unwilling to stop.

But Yunho's mind was still a battlefield, the symbiote pushing against his thoughts, urging him to take more, to control the situation. The fight to keep himself grounded was harder than ever, the craving inside him intensifying.

Mingi's hands moved down Yunho's chest, his fingertips grazing the fabric of his shirt as if he could feel the tension in Yunho's body. When their lips finally parted, Mingi's eyes were hazy, filled with something Yunho hadn't seen before—raw desire, mixed with trust.

"Yunho... are you sure about this?" Mingi asked, his voice low but steady, his hands still resting on Yunho's chest, as though searching for confirmation.

Yunho's breath hitched at the question. He wasn't sure about anything anymore. But as he looked into Mingi's eyes—so open, so vulnerable—he knew one thing for certain: He couldn't let the symbiote control this. Not now. Not when Mingi needed him to be present, to be real.

He pulled Mingi closer, his lips pressing against his again, this time with more urgency. "I'm sure," Yunho muttered against Mingi's lips, his hands working quickly to remove the barrier of clothing between them, feeling the heat of Mingi's skin against his own.

The sensation of Mingi's body under his hands sent a surge of heat through him. His mind was hazy, every thought clouded with the need to feel more, to lose himself in the moment. The symbiote was still there, still pushing at the edges of his mind, but Yunho drowned it out with the feeling of Mingi's body beneath his, the softness of his skin, the way his lips fit so perfectly against his own.

His body feels so soft against yours, Yunho. Do it. Take his shirt off.

The voice in his mind wasn't as harsh this time. It was almost coaxing, like a familiar temptation. The heat of the moment tugged at him, urging him to follow through on the desire building inside him.

But Yunho's breath stuttered as he pulled away just slightly, his forehead resting against Mingi's as he tried to ground himself. Mingi's breath was quick, matching his own. They were both caught in this raw, vulnerable moment, and Yunho couldn't shake the feeling that if he let go completely if he followed the pull, it wouldn't be just about them. It would be about him, about losing control.

He didn't want to lose control—not now, not with Mingi, who trusted him so completely.

"Mingi..." Yunho whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He wasn't sure if it was the weight of his own desire or the turmoil in his mind, but the words felt heavier than they should. "I—" He stopped, unsure how to express everything crashing inside him.

Mingi's hands slid up his arms, his touch light and tender, as if grounding him. "Yunho," Mingi murmured, his voice a quiet reassurance, "It's okay. We don't have to rush." His lips brushed against Yunho's jaw, soft and reassuring. "I'm here."

Yunho closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He wanted to give in to this, to Mingi, to the undeniable connection between them, but there was a war raging inside him—a war between the love he felt for Mingi and the control the symbiote sought to take over.

His lips found Mingi's again, but this time, the kiss was slower, gentler, as Yunho tried to steady himself, pushing aside the darker urges within him. He let the feeling of Mingi's hands, the warmth of his skin, ground him. He didn't need to give in to everything the symbiote wanted. He had to stay present, for Mingi. For them.

Yunho's hands trembled slightly as they slipped under Mingi's shirt, the fabric pulling taut over his shoulders as Yunho gripped it. The room was thick with tension, every second stretching out into an eternity of anticipation. Venatus's voice was a constant hum in the back of his mind, urging him to take control, to let go and lose himself in the moment.

But Yunho couldn't. Not entirely. Not when Mingi's eyes were locked on his, so full of trust and desire. He wanted to be present for this, to savor every touch, every breath, every word. The symbiote's demands could wait. For now, there was only Mingi.

Mingi's fingers dug into Yunho's biceps, his grip firm but gentle, grounding Yunho in the reality of the moment. "Yunho," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "You don't have to be scared. I'm here."

Yunho swallowed hard, his throat dry. He wasn't scared—not exactly. It was more like a controlled chaos inside him, a storm he was desperately trying to navigate without capsizing. But Mingi's words, the warmth of his body against his own, helped anchor him.

Slowly, deliberately, Yunho lifted the hem of Mingi's shirt, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of Mingi's belly. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through him, making his breath hitch. He pulled the shirt up, revealing more of Mingi's torso, the muscles tensing under Yunho's touch. Mingi's chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart beating fast against Yunho's palm.

"You're beautiful," Yunho whispered, his voice rough with emotion. He meant it—every word. Mingi was perfect in his eyes, a light in the darkness that threatened to consume him.

Mingi's cheeks flushed at the compliment, his gaze dropping to Yunho's lips. "You make me feel..." He trailed off, searching for the right words, but the intensity of the moment left him speechless. Instead, he leaned in, capturing Yunho's lips in a searing kiss that left no room for doubt.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, fueled by the unspoken connection between them. Yunho's hands roamed down Mingi's back, feeling the curve of his spine, the flex of his muscles as he pressed closer. He could feel the heat of Mingi's skin, the way his body responded to every touch, every movement. It was intoxicating.

Venatus stirred within him, its presence a heavy weight in his mind.

Take him, Yunho. Show him who's in charge. Make him yours. 

The symbiote's voice was a seductive whisper, tempting him to give in to the darker desires bubbling beneath the surface.

Yunho broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked into Mingi's eyes. "I want to..." He hesitated, his voice strained, "I want to make you feel good."

Mingi's eyes darkened with lust, his hands sliding down to cup Yunho's ass, pulling him closer. "Then do it," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Show me."

The challenge in Mingi's tone pushed Yunho over the edge. He needed this—needed to assert some semblance of control, to prove to both himself and Venatus that he was still in charge. With a growl, he grabbed Mingi's hips, flipping them so that Mingi was pressed against the bed, his hands pinned above his head.

Mingi gasped, his eyes wide with surprise, but there was no fear in them—only excitement. "Fuck, Yunho," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "Do it."

Yunho didn't need to be told twice. His hands moved swiftly, undoing the button of Mingi's jeans, his fingers working the zipper down with practiced ease. He shoved the denim down Mingi's legs, exposing the boxer shorts that clung to his erection. The sight made Yunho's mouth water, his own cock straining against his pants.

Without hesitation, Yunho pulled down Mingi's boxers, freeing his hard length. Mingi's cock sprang up, bobbing with each quickened breath, and Yunho's hand wrapped around it, giving it a slow, deliberate stroke.

Mingi groaned, his back arching off the bed, his hips bucking into Yunho's hand. "God, Yunho... yes..."

Yunho's grip tightened, his strokes firmer, more insistent. He watched Mingi's face, noting every flicker of pleasure, every shiver that passed through his body. It was intoxicating, knowing he had this kind of power over Mingi—knowing that he could bring him to the edge with just a few simple movements.

Venatus's voice echoed in his mind, a mocking laugh.

You love this, don't you? The power? The control? Admit it.

Yunho gritted his teeth, pushing the symbiote's taunts aside. This wasn't about power. It was about Mingi—about making sure he felt good, about showing him that he was wanted, cherished.

"Look at me," Yunho commanded, his voice rough with strain. "Don't close your eyes."

Mingi obeyed, his gaze locking onto Yunho's, filled with raw, unfiltered desire. "Harder, Yunho," he begged, his voice breaking on the last word. "Please... harder..."

Yunho's grip tightened even more, his strokes faster, more forceful. He could see the tension building in Mingi's body, the way his muscles tensed, the way his breath hitched with each thrust of his hips. It was exhilarating, watching Mingi fall apart beneath his touch.

"That's it," Yunho growled, his voice low and threatening. "Take it princess. Take everything I give you."

Mingi's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. Then, with a final, desperate thrust, he came, his release spilling over Yunho's hand, hot and slick.

Yunho watched him ride out his orgasm, his own body thrumming with the need to follow suit. But he held back, letting the moment stretch out, savoring the sight of Mingi's face, the way his chest heaved with each shuddering breath.

"Good boy," Yunho murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. "You did so well."

Mingi's eyes fluttered open, the haze of lust slowly clearing. "Yunho..." he started, his voice weak, vulnerable.

But before he could say anything more, Yunho leaned down, capturing his lips in a fierce, claiming kiss again. Mingi melted into the kiss, his arms wrapping around Yunho's neck, pulling him closer. There was no resistance, no hesitation—just pure, unadulterated surrender.

Yunho slid his hand down, tracing the curve of Mingi's hip, his fingers finding the tender flesh of his thigh. He squeezed gently, enjoying the way Mingi's body responded to his touch.

"Spread your legs," Yunho commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

Mingi obeyed instantly, parting his thighs and opening himself up to Yunho's exploration. The vulnerability of the gesture made Yunho's heart race, his cock twitching with the need to claim him.

Venatus's voice was a low, approving murmur in the back of his mind.

Yes... take what's yours... mark him...

Yunho ignored the symbiote, focusing instead on the task at hand. He reached for the bedside drawer, pulling out a small bottle of lube. The cool liquid coated his fingers, and he wasted no time in spreading it over Mingi's entrance, slipping one finger inside.

Mingi gasped, his body tightening around Yunho's probing digit. "So... good..." he whispered, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Yunho added a second finger, scissoring them inside Mingi, stretching him open. He watched intently, noting how tightly Mingi clenched around him, the way his body reacted to every movement. It was a heady feeling, knowing he had this kind of control over such a powerful, confident person.

"You ready for me?" Yunho asked, his voice low and rough.

Mingi nodded, his eyes fluttering closed as he bit his lip. "Yes... please..."

Yunho withdrew his fingers, quickly coating his own cock with lube. He positioned himself at Mingi's entrance, pressing the tip against his tight ring of muscle.

"Look at me," Yunho commanded, his voice sharp. "Keep your eyes open."

Mingi obeyed, meeting Yunho's gaze with a mixture of fear and anticipation. The vulnerability in his eyes made something twist deep in Yunho's gut, but he pushed it aside, focused on the task at hand.

With one swift, decisive thrust, Yunho buried himself inside Mingi, filling him completely. Mingi cried out, his nails digging into Yunho's back, his body clenching tight around him.

Yunho paused, savoring the feeling of being enveloped by Mingi's warmth. "Relax," he murmured, his voice soothing despite the roughness of his actions. "Just breathe."

Mingi took a shaky breath, his body slowly loosening around Yunho. "Harder..." he begged, his voice hoarse with need. "Please... harder..."

Mingi cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure that left his voice hoarse. He could feel every inch of Yunho's cock filling him, stretching him wider than he ever imagined possible. The sensation was overwhelming, his body tense with the force of the penetration.

"Fuck, Mingi, you're so tight," Yunho groaned, his hands gripping Mingi's hips tightly as he began to move, slowly withdrawing before thrusting back in. Each stroke was deliberate, designed to maximize the friction between their bodies, to take control and claim Mingi as his own.

Mingi's breath came in ragged gasps, his body shuddering with each thrust. The pain began to fade, replaced by a growing wave of pleasure that pulsed through his core. His cock twitched, hard and desperate for release, but he held back, focusing on the sensation of Yunho inside him, filling him, owning him.

Yunho's movements grew more urgent, his pace increasing as he lost himself in the sensation of Mingi's body tightening around his cock. Venatus's influence was strong, the symbiote reveling in the dominance, urging Yunho to take what he wanted without restraint.

But Yunho fought to maintain control, his mind a battleground between his own desires and the symbiote's insatiable hunger. He needed to stay present, to remember why he was doing this—for Mingi, for them.

His hands moved to Mingi's chest, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he leaned down, capturing Mingi's lips in a bruising kiss. The taste of Mingi was intoxicating, his tongue tangling with Mingi's as they shared the same breath, the same moment of raw connection.

Mingi's moans were muffled against Yunho's mouth, his body arching up to meet each thrust. The sensation was maddening, the friction of Yunho's cock rubbing against his prostate with each powerful stroke. He could feel the pressure building, the imminent climax hovering just out of reach.

"Yunho... I... I'm gonna..." Mingi panted, his voice breaking as he struggled to hold on, to wait for Yunho to join him in the release.

"Let go, Mingi," Yunho growled against his lips, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. "Come for me, baby. Feel how good it is... how good I am..."

The words were enough to push Mingi over the edge. His body stiffened, his cock jerking as he spilled his seed onto his stomach, the orgasm ripping through him with brutal intensity. His walls clamped down on Yunho's cock, milking him with desperate need.

Yunho felt the tightness around his cock, the exquisite pressure as Mingi came undone beneath him. It was too much, the combination of Mingi's release and the symbiote's relentless drive pushing him past the point of no return. He gave one last, powerful thrust, burying himself deep inside Mingi as he roared his own release, spilling his seed deep within Mingi's channel.

The world blurred around them, the room fading into a haze of white-hot pleasure. Yunho collapsed onto Mingi, his weight pressing them both into the mattress as they rode out the aftershocks of their mutual climax.

For a moment, there was silence, the only sound the heavy breathing of two bodies spent and sated. Yunho's forehead rested against Mingi's shoulder, his lips pressed to the warm skin as he fought to catch his breath.

"Yunho..." Mingi whispered, his voice weak but full of emotion. "What... what just happened?"

"Shush" Yunho said and leaned forward again kissing Mingi harder, he didn't know why he left control of it but he could feel Venatus forming over his body.

He held Mingi up with his strong arms, laying his boyfriend on the floor before pulling his waist up, going lower and lower.

Yunho's tongue grew longer and thicker, slithering between Mingi's legs like a serpent. He lapped at Mingi's sensitive spots, driving the younger man wild with pleasure. Mingi moaned loudly, his hips bucking against Yunho's face as he tried to get closer to that magical tongue. Venatus's influence was strong, his symbiote body growing harder and more insistent with each passing moment.

Yunho's cock swelled, growing larger and more menacing as it pulsed with need. He positioned himself at Mingi's entrance again, his eyes locked on Mingi's as he prepared to take what he wanted. Mingi's eyes widened in curiosity as he watched his boyfriend look bigger, but Yunho silenced him with a fierce kiss.

"Trust me, Mingi," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "I'll make you feel things you've never felt before." And with that, Yunho thrust inside Mingi, his cock stretching the younger man's hole wide open again.

Mingi cried out in pain as Yunho softly stroked his hands trying to relax him, his eyes locked on Mingi's as he began to move. Each stroke was brutal, designed to claim Mingi as his own. The pain soon gave way to pleasure, Mingi's body shuddering with each thrust. Yunho's cock was like a living thing, pulsing and throbbing within Mingi's channel.

The symbiote's influence was overwhelming, driving Yunho to take what he wanted without mercy. He fucked Mingi relentlessly, his body a whirlwind of dark energy and raw desire. Mingi's moans grew louder, his body writhing beneath Yunho's.

He was lost in the pleasure, his mind a haze of ecstasy. Yunho's cock swelled even larger, his symbiote body reaching its peak. He whined in pleasure as he came, filling Mingi's channel with his seed. The symbiote's energy surged through Yunho's body, making him feel invincible. He pulled out of Mingi, his cock glistening with their combined fluids. Mingi lay on the floor, his body trembling with pleasure and pain.

[M]

END

Yunho leaned down, kissing him gently.

Something clicked inside Yunho's head as his eyes widened

"Mingi?" His voice was strained, barely above a whisper, as he slowly pulled away, the weight of his actions sinking in. "Fuck, I'm so sorry... I didn't mean..."

Yunho's eyes filled with remorse as he realized the gravity of his actions. He had lost control, allowing Venatus to take over his body and use Mingi in such a brutal way. He knew he had hurt Mingi, both physically and emotionally, and he felt terrible about it.

Mingi's eyes fluttered, his breath still shallow, but his lips curved slightly as if he were struggling to understand why Yunho was so shaken.

"Baby, I'm fine," Mingi said softly, his voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and warmth, still dazed but trying to offer comfort. His hand reached up to touch Yunho's cheek, gently brushing away the tears that had started to fall, though Yunho hadn't even realized they were there.

Yunho flinched at the touch, unable to meet Mingi's eyes. His entire body felt heavy with shame like he didn't deserve to be comforted after what had happened.

"Mingi, I..." He swallowed hard, struggling to put his feelings into words. "I didn't mean for any of this. I... I let Venatus take control. I hurt you. I didn't... I didn't even realize..."

"Who's Venatus?" Mingi asked sitting up straighter as he looked at his boyfriend confused

"Mingi, I..." Yunho stammered, his voice cracking as he fought to steady his emotions. He didn't want to scare Mingi, didn't want to lose him, but there was no way around it. He had to be honest, no matter how terrifying it was.

"Venatus..." Yunho whispered, barely able to say the name. His voice wavered, and his hands clenched in his lap as he forced himself to continue. "Venatus is... a part of me. An alien... symbiote." The words felt strange coming out of his mouth, like something unreal. "Remember when my dad pulled me from your house yesterday? I'll explain it later, but he... he administered something into me, some kind of alien... and now it's inside me. It's in my head. And I can't always control it."

Yunho looked away, not able to meet Mingi's gaze as the guilt washed over him again. He swallowed hard, the words a raw confession. "Sometimes... sometimes it takes control, Mingi. When that happens, I—I lose myself. I hurt people, Mingi. I don't even realize what's happening until it's over and by then... it's too late." His throat constricted as he struggled to choke back the emotion threatening to burst through. "And that's why I—"

His voice cracked, the last word barely leaving his lips as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. He couldn't finish. He didn't want to say it out loud. The thought of Mingi knowing what had happened, knowing the extent of his actions, made him feel like he was falling apart. His chest felt hollow, and his heart thudded painfully against his ribs.

Mingi was silent, staring at him with wide eyes, blinking in confusion as he processed what Yunho had just said. He was trying to understand, but the words seemed too surreal, too unbelievable.

"Wait... you've got a... what? A symbiote?" Mingi repeated, his voice a mixture of disbelief and concern. "And... you didn't tell me about this?"

Yunho closed his eyes, rubbing his face in frustration. "I didn't know how Mingi. I didn't want to tell you like this. I didn't want to hurt you with it. But it's a part of me, okay? Sometimes, I can't control it. It... takes over, and I do things I never meant to." His voice lowered, the weight of the confession hanging in the air between them. "Things I never wanted to happen."

Mingi's eyes softened, but Yunho could still see the confusion in them. He wasn't sure what to say, how to fix this. His words felt hollow as they left his lips, but the shame was unbearable.

But then, as Yunho sat there, frozen in his guilt, a voice slithered into his mind, low and unsettling.

Stop crying, angel boy. I didn't do anything brutal to him. You're thinking of me in the worst ways. I'm not a monster. I only did something Mingi allowed, and you literally let me take control of you willingly. 

Venatus's words slithered through his thoughts, sharp and unsettling, cutting through Yunho's fragile state.

Yunho flinched, his hands curling into fists as his breath hitched. The symbiote's words only made him feel worse like it was twisting the knife in his chest.

"Mingi, I'm so sorry," Yunho repeated, his voice cracking, his eyes filled with a feeling of sorrow he couldn't explain. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I just... I'm scared, Mingi. Scared of what I might do."

But Mingi's hand reached out, gently pulling Yunho's face toward him. He was calm, his voice soft, even though his heart ached from the situation.

"Yunho, look at me," Mingi said, his voice tender but firm. "You didn't hurt me. Not really." His thumb traced over Yunho's cheek as he tried to calm him, his gaze steady but filled with worry. "I... I don't fully understand what you're going through, but I trust you, Yunho. I believe you. And I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen." His voice cracked a little as he added, "But you've got to stop blaming yourself for something that's out of your control."

Yunho shook his head, the weight of Venatus's presence still looming in his mind, making him feel even more broken. "I should have stopped it," Yunho whispered. "I should have been stronger. I shouldn't have let him control me like that. I hurt you, Mingi."

Mingi's gaze softened, his fingers brushing gently across Yunho's face as he sought to comfort him. He could see the turmoil swirling in Yunho's eyes—the raw pain of someone who had lost control, someone who had hurt the one person they loved most.

"You didn't, baby," Mingi said softly, his voice steady and calm as he stroked Yunho's cheek. His words held a reassurance that Yunho desperately needed. "You didn't force me into anything. And you listened, Yunho. I know you did." He paused, looking at Yunho with sincerity in his eyes, trying to ease the weight of the guilt. "If Venatus did take a hold of you, it's not like he's a bad guy. He... he took care of me. He didn't hurt me. He made sure I was okay."

Yunho blinked, taken aback by Mingi's words. He had expected anger, confusion, maybe even a sense of betrayal—but not this. Mingi's ability to see past the situation, to give the benefit of the doubt to something that Yunho found so terrifying, was overwhelming. Yunho could feel the pressure in his chest slowly easing, but there was still a lingering doubt that wouldn't go away.

See this, Yunho? Your boyfriend gets it. I am not a monster, 

Venatus's voice slithered through his mind, cold and unsettling as it broke through the tension.

Yunho flinched at the voice, but his reaction was different this time. The symbiote's words didn't send him spiraling into panic. He could hear them, but he didn't feel the same kind of control that had gripped him before. It was like he could hear it, yet he had more power to push back.

Mingi's eyes flicked up to Yunho's, concern deepening as he noticed the way his boyfriend's expression changed, how his eyes clouded with the battle between his own mind and Venatus's influence. He reached for Yunho's hand, grounding him.

"Yunho?" Mingi's voice was a whisper, soft and gentle. "Don't listen to him." He wasn't talking to the symbiote but to Yunho. "I know you. I know what you're capable of. You're not the same as him. You've always been there for me. And that means more than anything else."

Yunho looked at Mingi, the warmth in his gaze softening the pain in his chest. It was the first time he truly felt like he wasn't alone in this—Mingi wasn't pulling away, he wasn't scared. And that made all the difference.

"Mingi..." Yunho's voice cracked again, but this time it wasn't from guilt. It was a mix of relief and an overwhelming sense of gratitude. "I don't deserve you. I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize anymore," Mingi replied softly, leaning in and pressing his forehead to Yunho's. "I understand now. You're not broken. You're just... struggling. And I'll be here. No matter what. We'll figure it out together."

Yunho closed his eyes, resting his head against Mingi's. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe that everything might actually be okay. The weight of Venatus's influence was still there, still lurking in the shadows of his mind, but with Mingi's steady presence beside him, it felt like he could breathe again. He wasn't alone in this battle.

And as the words lingered in the air between them, Yunho realized something that filled him with hope for the future: Mingi truly saw him, not just the darkness inside him, but the man he was, even in his brokenness.

That was all he needed.

The silence stretched between them, heavy but comfortable, and for a fleeting moment, Yunho thought maybe—just maybe—they would be okay. But then, Venatus's voice broke through the stillness, softer, almost remorseful.

Yunho... I'm sorry, but I didn't hurt Mingi. Not in any way... 

Venatus's words echoed in Yunho's mind, laced with an unexpected sincerity. 

I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I wasn't trying to hurt either of you. I never wanted to push you away.

There was a long pause before the voice continued, quieter, more vulnerable than before. 

I'm supposed to be your ally, Yunho. Fuck, I'm so sorry. I promise I'll never do something like this again. When you allowed me to take control, I thought... I thought you were giving me permission. I never meant to drive you apart. I'm inside you, Yunho. I can't live inside someone who hates me.

Yunho was taken aback by the rawness in Venatus's voice, the hint of desperation laced with regret. For a moment, the symbiote didn't sound like the relentless force that often pushed Yunho to his limits. It sounded like something more... human, for lack of a better word. A strange, vulnerable part of Venatus was emerging that Yunho hadn't expected, and for the first time, Yunho wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it.

He took a deep breath, the weight of the situation pressing on him, but despite everything, despite the chaos and the lingering tension, he couldn't help but chuckle lightly. The sound was small, almost bittersweet, but it was genuine.

"You're adorable, Venatus," Yunho whispered softly, his lips curling into a wry smile, even as his eyes lingered on Mingi. He could feel the symbiote in the back of his mind, still there, still pulsing with energy, but for the first time, he wasn't afraid of it. He wasn't scared of losing himself completely.

Mingi, still sitting close beside him, looked at Yunho with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What's going on in your head, baby?" he asked gently, his voice still tender as he tried to make sense of everything Yunho was going through. He didn't fully understand what was happening, but he could sense that Yunho was fighting, and that was enough for Mingi. He wanted to be there for him, to support him through this.

Yunho closed his eyes for a moment, just letting the warmth of Mingi's presence seep into him. He wasn't alone. Not anymore.

Venatus's presence in his mind didn't feel as suffocating now, and the symbiote's apology, however strange it seemed, was enough to calm some of the storm in his chest.

Maybe we'll make this work, somehow.

The symbiote didn't respond immediately, but Yunho could feel the tension ease. It was as if Venatus had taken a breath, giving him the space to process everything, just like Yunho had.

Yunho turned his attention back to Mingi, his gaze soft, filled with gratitude, and a quiet vulnerability. "I'm sorry for all of this, Mingi. I never wanted to drag you into any of it. But... thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me. On us."

Mingi smiled a soft, warm expression that made Yunho's chest ache with the weight of his feelings. "There's nothing to apologize for, Yunho. I'm here. And if you're symbiote is going to be with us now i suppose there's nothing wrong with getting used to him" Mingi said and shrugged

Your boyfriend just likes rough sex but is too shy to admit it

Shush Venatus, Yunho begged his symbiote to shut up

Mingi leaned forward, his arms wrapping gently around Yunho. He pressed his forehead against Yunho's, his voice soft and sincere as he whispered, "I didn't mind that our first time was quick or had some weird alien making it rough, Yuyu. I had you, and that's all that matters to me."

Yunho's heart tightened at the sincerity in Mingi's words, the weight of everything that had happened between them falling away in that moment. He could feel Mingi's warmth, the way Mingi held him as if he were the most precious thing in the world, and it made Yunho's chest swell with emotion.

Mingi pulled back slightly to meet Yunho's eyes, offering him a small, tender smile. "You don't need to worry, Yuyu," he said softly, his thumb brushing over Yunho's cheek, wiping away a stray tear Yunho didn't realize had fallen. "It's not about how long or perfect it is. It's about us being together. And that's all that matters."

Yunho's breath caught in his throat, the mixture of relief and affection making his chest feel light, as if the weight of everything he'd been carrying had been lifted. He leaned in, resting his forehead against Mingi's, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so lucky to have you, Mingi. I don't deserve you."

Mingi chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Yunho's forehead. "You do deserve me, Yuyu. And I'm not going anywhere."

"So, Spiderman doesn't unfortunately cum spiderwebs, huh?" Mingi teased with a mischievous grin, his voice light and full of laughter as he leaned back against the bed.

Yunho groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Mingi, seriously, stop saying that!" he groaned, clearly embarrassed by his boyfriend's unhinged questions.

Mingi chuckled, reaching out to ruffle Yunho's hair. "Come on, Yuyu. You're a superhero, you've got all those cool powers—why not add one more to the list?" His eyes twinkled with playful mischief, unable to resist making Yunho squirm.

"Dude, not everything needs to be about Spider-Man's webbing ," Yunho muttered, his cheeks flushed from the banter, though there was a smile tugging at his lips.

Mingi grinned even wider, leaning in closer with a teasing glint in his eye. "I'm just saying, it's a missed opportunity. Spidey's gotta be able to multitask, right?"

Yunho couldn't hold back a laugh, rolling his eyes. "You're ridiculous."

Mingi, not missing a beat, gave him a knowing look, his curiosity piqued. "Alright, alright, I get it. But seriously," he said, shifting his weight to sit more comfortably, "since we're on the topic, tell me everything you found out about your dad. What did he do to make you and this symbiote... unite? And did you figure out how you became Spider-Man?"

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching Yunho's face for any hint of answers. "I remember your dad saying something like it was all planned. Why did he make you Spider-Man in the first place?" Mingi's tone was soft but filled with genuine concern, his gaze never leaving Yunho's face as if trying to piece together the fragmented puzzle that was Yunho's life.

Yunho's expression grew more serious, the playful banter slipping away as he remembered the painful, confusing truths about his father and the twisted legacy that had been forced upon him. He sat up straighter, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts swirling as he struggled to find the right words.

"It's a long story," Yunho began, his tone turning somber, far removed from the usual lightness he tried to maintain. "You know about my little sister, right? How she disappeared when we were kids?" He paused, eyes staring ahead, focusing on a spot on the wall as if willing the past to remain distant. "The police... they didn't help us. They didn't care enough to find her until it was too late. By the time they started looking, she was already gone."

Yunho clenched his fists, the memory still raw, still burning inside him. His jaw tightened as he continued, struggling to control the anger that had been festering for so long.

"My father, though... He didn't see it that way. He became obsessed with the idea that the police were worthless. That they couldn't protect us. And so, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He wanted... he needed a hero. Someone who could save people, someone who could fight back against the things that took my sister away. He thought that I could be that hero. That I could be the perfect weapon, molded with the right morals, the right values to stand for what's 'good.'"

Yunho's voice trembled slightly, the weight of the manipulation clear in his words. "He didn't care what it took to make me into what he wanted. All I ever was to him was a tool. And he—he used me. He put me through all these... tests, training, conditioning until I became Spider-Man . The whole thing, it was all part of his plan. I never asked for this. I didn't want to be a hero. But he made me believe that I had no choice. He made me believe it was my destiny."

A dark edge entered his voice as he let the truth spill out. "And then, just when I thought things couldn't get worse, he did something else. Last night... He injected the symbiote into me. I didn't even know it was happening until it was too late. He thought it would make me stronger, faster... more powerful. But it's not just power. It's a curse. A lie. And now I'm stuck with it, stuck with him, stuck with everything he forced on me."

Yunho shook his head, the anger and betrayal evident in every word. "My father isn't just some misguided man trying to help. He's a monster. And I—" Yunho paused, his chest tightening with a mixture of guilt and rage. "I can't keep pretending that he's not. I'm not some hero. I'm not the person he wanted me to be. I never was. And now, I don't know who I am anymore."

He leaned back, his head resting against the wall as he closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself. The air felt heavy around him, and his breathing was slow, deliberate.

"I remember thinking that maybe... maybe if I was good enough, he would finally see me. Maybe if I could just be what he wanted, he'd stop treating me like I'm just some... experiment, some project he could mold into perfection. But it didn't work. And now, it's too late. I'm stuck with this symbiote, stuck with this power, and I don't know how to get rid of it. I don't know how to fix what he's done."

He rubbed his face with both hands, feeling the exhaustion in his bones. There was a vulnerability in him now that he rarely let anyone see, a truth that was harder to face than any villain he'd fought.

"The worst part is... I can't stop being Spider-Man. Not now. Not after everything. I've seen what the city needs, what people need. But every time I put that mask on, it feels like I'm becoming him. I'm becoming something I never wanted to be."

Yunho opened his eyes again, his gaze settling on the person in front of him, the only one he had ever let in on this.

"I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to fight this... this thing that's inside me, that's inside everything I do now. I want to stop, but I don't know how." He let out a shaky breath. "And I don't even know if I'm strong enough to stop myself from becoming the monster my father always saw me as."

There was a silence that followed, thick with the weight of his confession. Yunho's shoulders slumped slightly as if the burden of holding it all in had finally become too much. The rawness of the moment lingered in the air, a silent plea for understanding, for help.

"I don't know what I'm asking for," Yunho admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe... maybe I just needed to say it out loud. To someone who won't see me as the thing my father created. Someone who won't look at me like I'm broken beyond repair."

For a moment, there was only silence, thick with the emotional gravity of Yunho's confession. Then, from deep inside his mind, a calm, soothing voice cut through the stillness, its tone reassuring but firm. "You're not broken, Yunho. I can promise you, I won't turn you into a monster." Venatus's words weren't just comforting—they were a promise, a vow that Yunho had needed to hear more than he realized.

Yunho chuckled softly, a weak smile pulling at his lips despite himself, the sound bittersweet. He appreciated Venatus, even if the symbiote had once terrified him. In a way, it had become the one constant in his life. But as the laughter faded, he couldn't help but notice the change in Mingi's expression. His usual carefree demeanor was gone, replaced with something darker, something more contemplative. The way Mingi's brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line—it was like he was weighing something heavy, something dangerous.

And then, without warning, Mingi spoke.

"What if we... kill your father?" His words were deliberate, heavy with an unsettling finality that made Yunho's heart stop for a split second. Yunho blinked, his brain scrambling to process what Mingi had just suggested.

For a long moment, he was frozen, unable to speak. He had thought about it before, of course. The thought of ending his father's twisted existence had crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit. He'd even considered doing it with Venatus's help, imagining how easy it would be to end the man who had shaped his life into a nightmare. But the idea of actually carrying out the act—of killing the only family he had left—had always felt like crossing a line. It wasn't just about vengeance; it was about what it would do to him. Would it make him the monster his father had always said he would become?

But Mingi—Mingi was offering it like it was a solution. No hesitation, no doubt. It was as if the suggestion had come from somewhere deeper inside of him, a side of Mingi that Yunho had never seen before.

Mingi's eyes locked with Yunho's, his voice growing quieter but no less intense. "I know it sounds... extreme, but maybe it's the only way to stop him from destroying you. From destroying everything you've worked for. You've been carrying his burden for so long, Yunho. Maybe it's time to let go of that weight."

Yunho stared at him, unsure of what to say. There was a rawness in Mingi's voice, a sense of urgency that Yunho had never heard before. His mind raced. Could he really do it? Could he really kill his own father, the man who had created him? But then, that was the point, wasn't it? His father had never seen him as a son—only as a tool, a weapon to be used for his own twisted vision. Wasn't it time for Yunho to break free from that? Wasn't it time to take control of his own destiny?

See, Yunho? I love your boyfriend too, Venatus teased, its voice dripping with a hint of amusement. Aren't you glad you brought him around? He gets it.

Yunho felt his chest tighten, the weight of Venatus's words settling heavily on him. He looked at Mingi, his heart pounding. It wasn't just the symbiote speaking now—Mingi, his best friend, the one person who had always been by his side, was offering him something more than just support. He was offering a way out, a chance to break free of the chains his father had wrapped around him.

For the first time, Yunho felt like maybe there was a way forward. Maybe... maybe Mingi was right.

But then again, could he really go through with it? Would killing his father make him the hero he'd always hoped to be—or would it turn him into the very monster his father had always feared he would become?

The silence stretched on, and Yunho's mind spun with the possibilities. The weight of the decision was overwhelming, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was the moment where everything would change.

Finally, Yunho took a deep breath, steadying himself. "What if... what if I can't live with it afterward?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "What if it makes me worse?"

Mingi didn't flinch. He just stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "Then we face it together. Whatever happens, Yunho, you don't have to do it alone."

Yunho's voice was steady, but there was a trace of doubt lingering beneath the surface. "I would still be Spider-Man... and I'd still have this damn symbiote inside me, Mingi. Killing him won't change any of that. I'd still be stuck in this... this mess." He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration palpable in his every movement. The symbiote—the part of him that he hated yet couldn't get rid of, the constant reminder of his father's manipulation—it wasn't something he could escape by ending his father's life.

Mingi's expression hardened, his usual calmness replaced by something sharper, something driven. He stepped forward, his voice taking on a more urgent tone. 

"Killing him wouldn't just be about you , Yunho. It's about preventing future shit like this. If he's powerful enough to inject aliens into you, to manipulate your life, to create superhumans—imagine the kind of damage he could cause if that power falls into the wrong hands." His gaze darkened, the weight of his words settling like a cold truth between them. 

"Your father... he's not just a threat to you. He's a threat to everyone."

Yunho's chest tightened at the implication. Mingi was right, wasn't he? His father wasn't just some figure from his past. He was still out there, still capable of wreaking havoc. The experiments, the manipulations—Yunho had seen it firsthand, the damage his father could do. If someone more dangerous got their hands on that kind of power, the consequences could be catastrophic.

Mingi's voice dropped lower, filled with conviction. "You've been living under his shadow for so long, Yunho. But now, you have the chance to end it. You don't have to keep carrying that burden. You're not the monster he made you. You're so much more than that."

Yunho stared at Mingi, the weight of the decision pressing on him. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn't feel so alone in this. He didn't have to shoulder the consequences of his past by himself. Mingi was here, standing by his side, willing to face whatever came next with him.

The thought of taking that step—of actually killing his father—still terrified him. But Mingi was right. It wasn't just about his own freedom. It was about stopping a cycle of pain and destruction that had been set in motion long before Yunho even understood what was happening.

Yunho exhaled, his voice quiet but resolute. "I'm not doing it for me... I'm doing it to make sure no one else has to go through what I did."

Mingi nodded, his eyes softening just slightly, but there was still that determination in them. "I'm with you, Yunho. Whatever happens next, we face it together."

"Phew, finally a kill," Venatus said, the words laced with an unsettling sense of satisfaction. The symbiote seemed almost pleased, its energy thrumming within him, feeding off his uncertainty and resolve in equal measure.

Yunho clenched his fists at his sides, the mix of emotions churning in his chest. "It's not just about killing him," he muttered, half to himself and half to Venatus. "It's about stopping everything he started. Ending this... legacy he left behind. I can't let him keep doing this to people."

He felt a surge of energy from Venatus in response, a pulse that was almost too eager, too hungry. But it wasn't just the symbiote. There was something else in Yunho now, something stronger—a sense of purpose. For the first time in a long while, he wasn't just fighting to survive. He was fighting for something bigger than himself.

Mingi's gaze was unwavering as he watched Yunho, sensing the internal battle but understanding the necessity of the decision. He didn't say anything more, but the silent support in his eyes spoke volumes.

Yunho turned to him, his voice steadier now, though still tinged with the weight of what lay ahead. "We do this, Mingi. We end it. We end him ."

Mingi nodded, his jaw set, his hand coming to rest lightly on Yunho's shoulder, a gesture of solidarity. "Together."

"No, not you, I'm doing it myself Mingi"

Mingi's hand froze, his fingers still resting on Yunho's shoulder, and Yunho could feel the tension building between them. He looked over at Mingi, the resolve in his eyes clearer than ever, but something in his expression softened, as though he was trying to read Yunho's silent plea.

"Mingi... I can't drag you into this," Yunho said, his voice low but firm. "You've already done enough for me. This is something I need to do alone. I need to face him on my own terms. I can't keep relying on you for every decision." He took a deep breath, pushing past the weight in his chest. "This is my battle, Mingi. My mess to clean up."

Mingi's lips pressed together in a thin line, his gaze searching Yunho's face for any signs of hesitation. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the city around them, the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

Finally, Mingi exhaled slowly, his eyes softening. "You know I'm not going to let you do it alone, right? If you go, I go. That's what we agreed on, Yunho. We're in this together. No matter what."

Yunho felt a knot twist in his chest, the familiar ache of wanting to protect Mingi from the mess he had created. He swallowed hard, trying to force the words out, but they came out barely above a whisper. "I'm a superhero, Min." It felt almost like an excuse, a fragile barrier between him and the reality of what he was about to do. "I'm supposed to handle this... I can't let you get hurt because of me."

Mingi's gaze was unwavering, the intensity in his eyes sharpening. "That's exactly why you don't get to do this alone." His tone softened, but only slightly, as he stepped closer to Yunho, his presence as solid as ever. "Fine. You're a superhero. But I am your best friend and your boyfriend, Yunho. And you're not going through this without me. So... I will be coming with you. End of discussion."

Yunho opened his mouth to argue but found himself caught in Mingi's gaze. There was no wavering in his expression, no hesitation in his voice—just an undeniable, unbreakable resolve. Mingi wasn't just offering to stand by him. He was demanding to be there, refusing to let Yunho face the darkness of his past alone, even if that meant walking into the heart of danger.

Yunho's chest tightened, the weight of their shared history pressing down on him. Mingi had always been there, through every battle, every mistake, and every moment of doubt. The thought of pushing him away now felt impossible, even if it was what he thought was best.

For a long moment, Yunho just stared at him, the swirling storm inside him settling into something quieter, something that almost felt like peace.

"Fine," Yunho said quietly, the words carrying more weight than he intended. "But I can't protect you if this gets out of hand, Min."

"I'm not asking for protection," Mingi replied, his voice firm with a slight hint of a smile. "I'm asking you to let me stand by your side. No matter what comes next."

And in that moment, Yunho realized there was no way he could push Mingi away. Not now. Not ever. The bond they shared, the one that had survived everything life had thrown at them, was stronger than any fight or danger ahead.

"Together," Yunho murmured as if sealing the promise.

Mingi nodded, his eyes steady, his voice carrying the unspoken promise of what was to come. "Together."

The two stood there for a moment, the weight of the decision settling in the space between them. Yunho could feel the storm inside him, the fear, the anger, and the bitter sense of betrayal, but now, with Mingi by his side, there was a strange sense of clarity, like a distant fog slowly lifting. No more secrets, no more running from the past. They were going to face it head-on, together.

Yunho took a deep breath, his chest tight as he glanced at the clock. His father would be in his lab right now—alone, as always. The thought of walking into that lab, facing the man who had molded him into something he hated, made his skin crawl. But it was the only way forward. He needed to confront him, and end it once and for all.

Mingi's presence beside him grounded him, like a steady anchor in the chaos of his mind. "We do this quickly," Yunho said, his voice low but resolute. "We don't give him a chance to turn this against us. No more lies. No more manipulation."

Mingi met his gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. "You lead, I'll follow."

Yunho nodded the weight of the words heavy in the air. There was no turning back now. They were walking into enemy territory—his father's lab, a place that had once felt like home but now only served as a reminder of everything that had been twisted, warped, and poisoned.

The sound of their footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as they made their way toward the lab. Every step felt heavier than the last as if the ground beneath them was shifting. Yunho's mind raced, replaying every moment of his life leading up to this, every moment his father had controlled him, every time the symbiote had consumed him in ways he didn't understand.

The closer they got to the lab, the more Yunho felt his pulse quicken, the unease building in the pit of his stomach. But this time, it wasn't fear. It was something else. Something darker. A reckoning.

They reached the door to the lab, the cold metal gleaming under the dim light. Yunho paused for a brief moment, his hand hovering just above the door handle. He could hear his father's voice echoing in his memory, the cold, manipulative words, the promises of power and greatness. The lies. The lies he had believed for so long.

But he wasn't that boy anymore.

He took a breath, steadying himself, and turned the handle.

The door opened with a quiet squeak, revealing the lab—sterile, cold, and filled with the hum of machines. His father stood in the center, bent over a table, examining something with intense focus. The moment he heard the door open, he straightened, his expression unreadable.

Yunho's heart pounded in his chest as he stepped inside, Mingi right behind him.

"You're here," his father said, his voice low and calm, like nothing had changed. But Yunho could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes—he knew why they were here.

"I'm here to end this," Yunho said his voice a mix of determination and something deeper—rage. "I'm done being your puppet. Done being the thing you made me into."

His father's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "You've always been too emotional, Yunho. You don't understand. You never have."

Mingi's hand on Yunho's shoulder was a silent reminder that he wasn't alone. Yunho clenched his fists, his jaw set. "I understand enough now. You used me. You used my powers. You put that symbiote inside me, and I've had enough of being your experiment."

The older man stepped forward, his presence commanding, cold, and unnervingly calm. "You think you can stop me? You think you can undo what I've done? It's too late for that, Yunho."

"No," Yunho said, his voice shaking with anger now. "It's not too late. Because I'm not afraid of you anymore." He felt Venatus stir within him, the symbiote reacting to the intensity of the moment, the hunger, the anger. But Yunho controlled it this time, holding it back with the steady presence of Mingi beside him. "It's over. You don't control me anymore."

His father's eyes narrowed, a dark flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. "You really think you can just walk away from this? From me?" He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto Yunho's. "I made you. You owe me everything."

The words hit Yunho like a slap. He had believed them once, let them define him. But now? Now they felt hollow.

"No," Yunho said again, his voice stronger this time, the conviction settling deep in his chest. "You didn't make me. You twisted me, broke me, but you didn't make me."

Mingi's grip tightened on his shoulder, the silent support unwavering as they stood side by side, ready to face whatever came next.

Yunho turned his gaze back to his father, the weight of everything he had become pressing down on him. "And now, it's time for you to face the consequences of what you've done."

There was no turning back now. It was time to end it, to cut the strings once and for all. And this time, Yunho wouldn't be alone.

Yunho's father spoke, his voice dripping with venom, "You think you can defeat me, Yunho? You think you're strong enough to take me down?"

Yunho's grip tightened around the edge of his web-shooter. His fist clenched, ready to strike, the anger and the rage that had been simmering for years finally boiling over. The words his father had drilled into him— the world is broken, Yunho. Only you can fix it. Only you can make things right —echoed in his mind, but they felt hollow now. They didn't matter anymore. None of it mattered.

"You made me this way," Yunho hissed, his voice laced with fury. "You made me into this monster. And now it ends. Right here. Right now."

Without another word, he lunged, his body moving with blinding speed, the symbiote coursing through him, amplifying his strength, his speed, his desire for vengeance. His father was quick too, too quick, and his reflexes matched Yunho's in every way. They collided with an explosive force, the sound of fists connecting with skin echoing through the lab. Yunho's blows were fast and relentless, but his father seemed to anticipate every strike, his own hands snapping out to deflect and counterattack.

The fight felt like it was spiraling out of control, each punch adding fuel to the fire, each clash a reminder of all the years of manipulation, of being molded into someone he didn't recognize. He could feel Venatus urging him forward, pushing him to destroy, to end the pain. And he wanted to. He wanted nothing more than to rip through his father's lies, to take everything he had ever done and turn it to dust.

But as the fight raged on, his father's words echoed in his head, like poison in his bloodstream. "You're nothing but a tool. A weapon. A weapon that will never be enough."

Yunho's next punch connected with his father's chest, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of something—fear?—in his father's eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. His father grabbed Yunho by the collar, lifting him off the ground with terrifying strength. The air in the room crackled with power as he threw Yunho against a nearby console, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his body.

Yunho grunted, his back aching from the impact, but before he could recover, his father was upon him again, driving a fist toward his face. The blow was hard enough to make Yunho's vision blur, but he didn't falter. His muscles screamed, and the symbiote pushed him to go further, to fight harder. He gritted his teeth, pushing back with a force he didn't know he had, and knocked his father back with a brutal punch to the jaw.

But just as Yunho's hand reached for the blade he'd planned to drive into his father's heart, a sudden force slammed into him. His father's other hand came out of nowhere, pushing Mingi against the glass wall with all his strength. The impact was deafening—Mingi's body slamming into the transparent surface with a sickening thud. Yunho's heart dropped in his chest as he saw Mingi's eyes widen in pain.

"No!" Yunho screamed, instinctively reaching for Mingi, but his father was too quick.

Before he could react, his father pushed harder, sending Mingi careening toward the window. Time seemed to slow as Yunho's eyes locked onto Mingi, the realization dawning on him with a gut-wrenching clarity. His father's malicious grin stretched wide, the twisted triumph written across his face.

"Don't!" Yunho shouted, his voice desperate.

But it was too late. Mingi's body hit the glass with brutal force, the window cracking under the pressure. The world seemed to tilt as Mingi fell, his body plummeting through the air, his limbs flailing as he disappeared from Yunho's sight.

Everything in Yunho froze. The symbiote stirred violently inside him, but he could barely feel it. His mind was consumed by the image of Mingi falling, falling like Gwen Stacy in a nightmare. The echo of that sickening crack against the glass replayed over and over in his mind. His heart pounded erratically in his chest, the world around him closing in. The fight with his father no longer mattered. All that mattered was Mingi— Mingi was falling.

"NO!" Yunho roared, abandoning his father for a split second. He turned on his heels, rushing toward the broken window, the panic overtaking him.

Venatus! he screamed internally. Help me!

The symbiote, sensing the urgency of his cry, surged to life within him, thrumming with energy and fury. It surged to the surface, pushing Yunho's body into action, but nothing could clear the fog of panic clouding his mind. His entire focus, his entire being, was fixated on the figure plummeting toward the ground below.

Mingi.

Yunho's fingers shot out instinctively, his webbing shooting from his suit with a wild desperation. But the webbing missed entirely, the angle wrong, the distance too far. It was as though time had slowed, each passing second dragging on in excruciating slowness. His stomach churned with the sickening realization—he had missed. He was too late.

The terror clawed at him, growing, eating him alive. The symbiote pushed, urging him to leap, to act, but it was all Yunho could do to keep his balance as the world seemed to crumble beneath his feet. He couldn't let Mingi fall. Not again. Not after everything they had been through.

"NO!" Yunho shouted, his voice hoarse as his eyes never left Mingi's falling form.

Without thinking, he jumped, pushing himself out of the window with the last shred of strength he had. His heart raced as the wind howled past him, but still, he couldn't reach Mingi. The air was thick with the sound of rushing wind, the distant crash of Mingi's body against the ground, a sound that echoed louder and louder in his mind. It was a nightmare—a cruel, unrelenting nightmare that he couldn't wake up from.

Webbing shot from his wrists, desperately trying to find Mingi, but the webs twisted uselessly in the air, veering too far to the left, too far to the right. They missed Mingi entirely. Yunho's chest tightened, his lungs seizing as the impossibility of the situation sank in. He could see Mingi's terrified eyes, could see the desperation in his boyfriend's frantic, outstretched arms, as he fell further and further. The tears on Mingi's face were clear, glistening in the dim light, as his body twisted midair in a futile attempt to slow his fall.

Mingi was inches from the ground when Yunho's webbing finally caught up, the tendrils snapping around his body, but it was too late. Mingi's scream pierced through the chaos—sharp, guttural, and full of pain—and it was the only thing Yunho could hear. It tore through his heart, echoing in his mind like a death knell, and his stomach lurched in horror as the sickening sound of a crack reverberated through the air.

"No! No, no, no!" Yunho screamed, his voice breaking, his breath caught in his throat. His webbing had caught Mingi's back, but the damage was done. 

*crack*

The sound that would haunt him forever. He couldn't process it. He couldn't breathe.

With a force he didn't know he had left, Yunho swung down in an arc, desperation driving him faster than he'd ever moved. His heart was in his throat, his hands trembling as he reached down. He was almost there, almost close enough to catch him, but the seconds stretched on like hours.

When Yunho's feet finally landed on the concrete, his heart stuttered as his eyes fell on Mingi. His body was sprawled across the ground, motionless, a dark streak of blood marking the concrete beneath him. The world around Yunho blurred, his vision narrowing to the lifeless form before him. His breath hitched painfully in his chest, his pulse erratic and fast as he dropped to his knees beside Mingi's body.

"Mingi," Yunho choked, his voice raw, breaking as his trembling hands reached for Mingi's form. His fingers brushed against Mingi's skin, cold and clammy, and a sickening wave of dread filled him. The blood rushed to his head, and for a brief moment, it felt like he was drowning.

Mingi's body was so still, so unnaturally still, and Yunho's mind raced with horror, panic tearing through him. The weight of failure slammed into him like a freight train. His hands hovered helplessly above Mingi, the tears blurring his vision as he couldn't even bring himself to check for a pulse. The crack, the scream, the fall—it was all too much. He had lost him. He had failed.

"No... no, no, no..." Yunho whispered, his voice breaking with desperation. He felt like he was suffocating under the weight of the fear and the guilt crushing him. He had promised to protect Mingi. He had promised not to let anything happen to him. And yet here they were.

His hands were shaking uncontrollably as they hovered over Mingi's chest, fear and guilt flooding every inch of his body. He couldn't— he couldn't —let this be the end. He couldn't lose the only person who had ever truly stood by him.

He fought to steady his breathing, closing his eyes for a split second. It wasn't over. It couldn't be over.

"Mingi..." Yunho whispered again, quieter this time, as if calling out to him from across some vast distance. He placed his hand over Mingi's chest, pressing lightly at first, but then, with more urgency, desperate to feel the warmth of his heartbeat beneath his palm.

It was then that he felt it. The faintest thrum beneath his fingers. The smallest of pulses, but it was there. Mingi's alive.

Yunho's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he just stared at Mingi's face, relief flooding through him in waves. Mingi wasn't gone. He couldn't be.

Without thinking, Yunho pulled Mingi into his arms, holding him close, as though the simple act of touching him would keep the world from falling apart. His own tears mixed with the bloodstained earth, but he didn't care. He would fight for him. He would fight to keep him alive.

Mingi's eyes fluttered open, weak and disoriented, but the pain was clear on his face. He tried to shift in Yunho's arms, but the movement only made him wince.

"Yuyu... my back hurts," Mingi mumbled, his voice a strained rasp. His breath hitched as he shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but his body betrayed him. The pain was overwhelming, radiating from his back like a fire, every tiny shift making it worse.

Yunho's heart shattered at the sound of Mingi's voice, so raw and vulnerable. His fingers tightened instinctively around Mingi as if he could shield him from the pain, as if his touch could somehow take it away. His mind raced, but there was only one thought that dominated his every move: 

Get help.

Venatus's presence surged suddenly, breaking through Yunho's panic with a jolt of sharp clarity. The symbiote's head emerged from Yunho's body, tendrils stretching out from his skin as the symbiote made its way through the air, seeking the nearby surroundings.

The familiar dark tendrils of Venatus coiled, its glowing eyes scanning the scene, feeding off the fear and tension in the air. Where is the nearest phone? Venatus's voice reverberated inside Yunho's mind. We need to call for help now.

Yunho, still cradling Mingi in his arms, didn't waste a second. His hands moved mechanically as he searched around for something, anything that could be used to call an ambulance. His mind was clouded with a thick fog of worry, but instinct kicked in, driving him forward. His fingers fumbled for his phone, his breath ragged as he finally found it in his pocket. He yanked it out, trembling, and fumbled with the screen.

Why did everything feel so distant? Why did his hands feel like they were moving in slow motion? The weight of the situation crushed him—Mingi was hurt, and Yunho couldn't fix it. Not by himself. Not yet.

But his thoughts were interrupted by Mingi's voice, faint and broken. "Yuyu, I... feel cold."

The words hit Yunho like a punch to the gut, and he felt his chest tighten painfully. The fear that had been gnawing at him, building since the moment Mingi had fallen, suddenly grew. Mingi wasn't just injured. His words were laced with more than just pain—they carried a quiet desperation. A plea for help, a warning that things could be worse than Yunho had realized.

Mingi's body felt heavy in his arms, his breathing shallow and uneven, and Yunho's heart hammered in his chest. He could hear nothing but the frantic beat of his own pulse. His hands were shaking so badly that he could barely keep a grip on his phone.

Come on... come on, he thought desperately, punching in the numbers with trembling fingers. Please, let me get this right.

But the phone slipped from his hands, and Yunho's chest constricted.

Yunho... focus. Venatus's voice rang in his mind, steady and calm. You need to stay calm. I can feel his pain, but you can't afford to panic.

Yunho nodded to himself, taking a deep, shaky breath. He reached for the phone again, fingers curling around it with a newfound determination. He quickly dialed emergency services, his mind spinning with the weight of what was happening, what could happen.

Mingi's quiet groans of pain were the only sounds now, mixing with the distant noise of traffic and the muffled chaos of the city around them. Time felt like it was slipping away, and yet Yunho felt like he was moving in slow motion, unable to fully process what was happening. The terror, the helplessness—it gnawed at him, but he couldn't let himself be swallowed by it. Not while Mingi was still breathing.

As the phone rang, Yunho's mind drifted back to the moment when Mingi had fallen—how his heart had stopped with him, how he had thought he'd lost him. But here he was, still alive, still in his arms.

Hold on, Min. Please, hold on.

Yunho's grip on Mingi tightened, his arms almost instinctively pulling him closer as though he could shield him from the world's cruelty. His eyes were blurry, tears clouding his vision, but he couldn't let go. Mingi was alive, and he wasn't going to lose him—not like this, not after everything they'd been through.

The phone finally picked up, and Yunho's voice broke through the line, desperate and shaking. "Yes, yes, please—my boyfriend, he... he's hurt, he fell—he's bleeding, his back, please, you have to send help—right now!" He gave them the details, but it felt like an eternity before the voice on the other end confirmed they were on their way.

"Help's coming, Min," Yunho whispered to Mingi, his words a promise more to himself than his boyfriend, though he needed Mingi to hear them. He needed Mingi to know he was fighting for him, that he wasn't giving up.

Mingi's eyes fluttered open again, his face pale and contorted in pain, but there was a small, fragile smile on his lips, almost as if he were trying to reassure Yunho, though he could barely speak. "Yuyu... you're... you're not alone, are you?"

Yunho swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill again. He wanted to reassure Mingi, to tell him everything would be okay, but the crushing weight of uncertainty stole his words. "I'm here, Min. Always here. I'm not leaving you."

Mingi's chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, each one seeming to take more effort than the last. His fingers twitched weakly, and Yunho immediately responded, brushing his thumb gently over Mingi's hand, squeezing it, as though by doing so, he could anchor them both in this moment.

A sudden hiss from Venatus broke through Yunho's thoughts. The pain... it's too much for him, Yunho. You have to stay focused. He won't last much longer if you don't do something.

Yunho felt a surge of panic at the symbiote's words. What do I do? His voice was barely a whisper in his mind, but Venatus's response was sharp and clear.

Use me.

Yunho's heart stopped for a beat as he processed the symbiote's suggestion. He'd never used Venatus like this before—not in such a desperate, life-or-death situation. What do you mean?

Merge with me. I can help him. It'll numb his pain, slow down the damage. But you have to trust me, Yunho. You have to do it now.

For a moment, Yunho hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He had been living with the symbiote's presence inside him for so long, but this—this was different. But then he looked down at Mingi, his face pale and his breaths so shallow, and his hesitation dissolved.

"Alright," Yunho muttered to himself, more out of determination than certainty. He closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath as he focused, his body still and tense. I trust you, Venatus. He felt the symbiote stir within him, its tendrils extending, slowly wrapping around his hands, merging with his skin.

As he did, he felt a surge of energy rush through him, and suddenly, it was as if the world around him slowed down. His senses heightened. He could hear Mingi's heartbeat, weak but steady, and the distant sounds of sirens growing nearer. The pain radiating from Mingi's back seemed to pulse in Yunho's own chest, but the symbiote dampened it, numbing the worst of it, letting Mingi rest without feeling the weight of every breath he took.

Yunho held Mingi tighter, feeling the warmth of his body against his, as the symbiote's power hummed through him, connecting him to Mingi in ways he had never felt before. He could feel the strain in Mingi's body, the fractures in his bones, the deep aches from the fall. But he could also feel something else—a pulse of life, faint but persistent.

"You're going to make it," Yunho whispered, his voice a low murmur as he leaned down to press a kiss to Mingi's forehead. "We'll get you through this. I'm not going to let go."

Mingi's lips parted, his voice little more than a soft rasp. "Promise?"

Yunho nodded, his eyes steady, though his heart was still racing. "I promise, Min. We're in this together."

With Venatus's help, the symbiote's healing power started to take effect. Mingi's breathing became more stable, his body more relaxed, and Yunho could feel the weight of his pain begin to lift, just a little. But it wasn't enough. Not yet. They needed to get him to the hospital, needed real doctors to fix him, to make sure he would walk away from this.

He heard the sirens growing louder, the sound of emergency vehicles rapidly approaching. He felt a surge of relief, but even as the paramedics arrived and took over, Yunho refused to let go of Mingi's hand. He stayed right by his side, watching every movement, feeling every breath, unwilling to leave him for even a second.

The paramedics worked quickly, but Yunho didn't move. He didn't care about the chaos around him, the flashing lights, the rushing people. All that mattered was Mingi, and he wouldn't leave him.

As they loaded Mingi onto a stretcher, Yunho followed closely, still holding his hand. He didn't say anything more, words felt unnecessary. There were no promises left to make, no reassurances he could give. But one thing was certain—he wasn't going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

Yunho stood in the sterile, dimly lit hallway, his body tense as the seconds seemed to stretch into eternity. His hands were clenched into fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands as his mind replayed every horrifying moment from the fall. The images were still so vivid—Mingi falling, the desperation in his eyes as he reached out, Yunho's futile attempts to catch him, the sickening crack of Mingi's body hitting the ground.

His breath came in shallow bursts, his heart pounding in his chest, but he couldn't move. He couldn't leave this spot. Not until he knew. Not until he had some answer, some confirmation that Mingi would be okay.

His thoughts were a chaotic mess—memories of their time together flashing before his eyes. The shared laughter, the quiet moments when they didn't need words to understand each other, the promises they'd made to stand by each other no matter what. All of it felt like it could slip away in the blink of an eye if Mingi didn't make it through this.

Time felt like it had frozen, his body still and rigid, every muscle coiled in anticipation. His mind couldn't process the thought of losing Mingi, and yet he feared it with every fiber of his being.

The soft shuffle of footsteps approached, pulling Yunho from his thoughts. His gaze snapped up, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw the doctor walking toward him, his face unreadable, tired, but calm.

The doctor stopped a few feet away, his expression softening as he took in Yunho's tense posture, the desperate look in his eyes. For a brief moment, Yunho saw something almost pitying in the doctor's gaze, and his stomach churned.

"Mr. Jeong," the doctor began, his voice steady but laced with the weight of the news. "He's alive, thankfully." The words hit Yunho like a wave of relief, but it was only a fleeting moment before the doctor continued. "However, he suffered significant trauma to his neck and spinal cord. We've stabilized him for now, but there's a chance he may be temporarily paralyzed."

The words hung in the air like an anchor, pulling Yunho's breath from his lungs. Temporary paralysis. He didn't know what that meant exactly, but it sounded like a lifetime to him. His heart seemed to stop as his mind raced, trying to grasp the gravity of the situation.

"Is there... a chance he'll recover?" Yunho's voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, his throat tight with emotion. His fingers trembled at his sides, his knuckles white from the force with which he was holding onto his composure.

The doctor hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the clipboard in his hands before meeting Yunho's eyes again. "It's difficult to say. Spinal injuries are unpredictable. We've done everything we can for now, but the full extent of the damage won't be clear until we run more tests. For now, all we can do is wait and see."

Yunho's chest felt like it was caving in, the air around him thick and suffocating. He felt numb, disconnected from the world around him, as though everything was happening in slow motion. He wanted to ask more questions, wanted to demand answers, but the weight of the situation kept him silent, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

"What do I... what do I do now?" Yunho finally asked, his voice barely audible, the question hanging in the air as if it were a cry for help. His whole world had been shaken to its core, and he didn't know how to piece it back together. He didn't know how to fix this.

The doctor's expression softened, his gaze filled with understanding. "For now, just stay by his side. Your presence is important to his recovery. And when the time comes, we'll move forward with the necessary treatments. But I can't promise anything, Mr. Jeong. All we can do is hope."

Hope. The word sounded so fragile, so intangible. Yunho nodded stiffly, his head heavy, his hands still trembling at his sides. He felt like he was walking through a fog, his thoughts disjointed, his emotions a whirlpool threatening to drown him.

"Thank you," Yunho murmured, though it felt hollow, inadequate for the weight of what he was hearing. He wanted to say more, wanted to ask the doctor to fix Mingi, to make him whole again, but the words wouldn't come.

The doctor gave him one last sympathetic look before turning to leave, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Yunho stood there, motionless, the silence pressing in on him, the weight of it suffocating. The one thing he had clung to—the one thing he had been fighting for—was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Mingi had always been the strong one, the one who held it all together. And now, it was Yunho's turn to be strong—for Mingi, for both of them. He would be there for him, no matter what, because that's what they did for each other. But even as he whispered to himself that it wasn't over yet, that they still had time, the fear gnawed at him, threatening to swallow him whole.

"I'm sorry, Yunho. I couldn't do much, I could only save him," Venatus's voice echoed within him, its tone tinged with a bitterness that mirrored his own. The words didn't offer comfort; if anything, they only highlighted the crushing helplessness Yunho felt.

Yunho closed his eyes, leaning back against the cold wall of the hallway. The pain in his chest was physical, sharp, as though his own heart had fractured with the weight of Mingi's fall. He had failed. In the one moment he couldn't afford to fail, he had. "Save him," he repeated softly, almost bitterly, his hands trembling at his sides.

He had done everything in his power to protect Mingi, but it wasn't enough. He hadn't been able to stop his father, and he hadn't been able to save Mingi from the consequences of the chaos that had consumed their lives. "I... should have been faster," Yunho muttered, though the words felt hollow. It was the same endless loop of regret—if only he had been faster, stronger, smarter.

Inside him, Venatus was silent, almost solemn, but Yunho could feel the symbiote's presence—its energy was still there, urging him to focus, to act. But Yunho wasn't sure how to. He wasn't sure how to fix this broken moment.

"You did what you could, Yunho," Venatus finally said, its voice softer now, the usual bite gone. "You didn't fail. You saved him, even if it's not the way you wanted."

But it didn't feel like enough. It didn't feel like saving Mingi. "He's still not okay," Yunho whispered, pressing his forehead against the cold wall, feeling the harshness of the moment pressing into him like a suffocating weight.

He could still see it, see Mingi falling in slow motion, see the panic in his eyes, the look of desperation, the way he tried to reach out to him. That split second felt like an eternity, and Yunho couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed Mingi—failed the one person who had always been there, the one person who had stood beside him through everything.

"I know," Venatus responded, its voice full of understanding, as if it too regretted not being able to change the outcome. "But you're not alone in this. You've got me, and we've got him." There was a beat of silence before Venatus added, "Don't let this destroy you, Yunho. Mingi wouldn't want that."

Yunho's chest tightened, the words hitting harder than expected. He could practically feel Mingi's presence in his mind, his quiet strength, the way Mingi had always been the calm in the storm.

Mingi wouldn't want him to give up. Mingi wouldn't want him to let this defeat him.

Yunho's chest tightened at the thought, but there was a flicker of resolve that followed, small but steady. He wiped away the tears that had started to fall again, his emotions too raw to control. Mingi was still alive. He was still here, and Yunho wasn't going to lose him—not like this.

"Let's go visit your princess, Yunho." Venatus's voice cut through the fog of his mind, its tone shifting from its usual sharpness to something more understanding, almost reassuring. It was as if the symbiote itself had sensed the break in Yunho's wall and now was prodding him forward, urging him to face what lay ahead.

Yunho took a deep breath, steadying himself, and stood up from the wall. His legs felt like they might give way beneath him, but the thought of Mingi—Mingi, alive—pushed him forward. He walked down the sterile, cold hallway, each step echoing in the quiet of the hospital. The white fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, casting harsh shadows that did little to ease the tension in his chest.

The ICU doors were just ahead. His heart started to race, his throat constricting. Every part of him wanted to run, to push those doors open and see Mingi, to see him breathing, to see him alive. The thought that he had almost lost him—no, the fact that he had almost lost him—gnawed at him, but he couldn't let that consume him now. Not when Mingi was still fighting.

Yunho pushed the door open.

The room was dim, with only the faintest glow from the monitors and the soft beeping of machines keeping a rhythm in the air. Mingi was lying in the bed, hooked up to an oxygen mask, his body wrapped in thick bandages and back braces to stabilize his spine. His once vibrant eyes were now closed, exhaustion etched on his face, but his chest rose and fell steadily, a small reminder that he was still here, still alive.

The oxygen mask muffled Mingi's words, but Yunho could hear him clearly. The humor in Mingi's voice—despite the pain, despite everything—was unmistakable.

"I had my Gwen Stacy moment... but at least I didn't die like her," Mingi joked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The words were weak, and strained, but there was that familiar teasing lilt to them. Yunho's breath caught in his throat at the sound of Mingi's voice. It was a fragile thing, but it was still there.

Yunho blinked rapidly, trying to stop the wave of emotion that hit him. His vision blurred as more tears spilled down his cheeks, falling silently as he took a tentative step closer to the bed.

He chuckled softly, despite the lump in his throat, and shook his head in disbelief. Mingi always did this. Even in the worst of times, even when the world seemed to be falling apart around them, Mingi found a way to make him smile.

"Shut up, you idiot," Yunho whispered through his laughter, his voice raw and thick with the weight of his emotions. His smile faltered only briefly, his hand reaching out to rest gently on Mingi's arm. He could feel the warmth of Mingi's skin beneath the bandages, the reassuring pulse of life in the otherwise sterile environment.

Mingi's lips twitched upward into the faintest of smiles. Even in this condition, Mingi still had the strength to tease him. That was Mingi, always pushing through, always fighting. Yunho squeezed his hand tighter, as if the simple act of contact could somehow reassure him that everything was going to be okay.

"Idiot," Mingi repeated softly, the sound of his voice sending another wave of relief through Yunho's chest. There it was again—the playful defiance, the warmth, the life in him. Yunho's heart ached with both relief and a deep, unspoken fear of what could have been.

He could hardly believe it. The fall, the cracking sound of Mingi's back, his body hitting the ground—it all felt like a nightmare now, something he could scarcely comprehend. But here Mingi was, still fighting, still breathing. And Yunho wasn't going to waste another second of this, not when he had him back.

Yunho wiped his eyes, his hands trembling as the tears continued to fall, stubbornly refusing to stop. His heart ached as he looked down at Mingi, his breath uneven with the raw emotions flooding through him. "You scared the hell out of me, Min," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on him. He leaned forward, his forehead gently resting against Mingi's, savoring the steady rhythm of his breathing, despite the machines surrounding him, keeping him tethered to life.

Mingi's lips parted, letting out a faint, strained sound of protest, but his eyes remained shut, exhausted from the trauma he'd just endured. Yunho didn't pull away. He didn't care how fragile Mingi looked, or how helpless he felt. All that mattered was that Mingi was alive. Yunho stayed right there, sitting beside him, as if just being near him could prevent the universe from shattering again. He couldn't leave him now. Not after everything. Not after coming so close to losing him.

"I'm not letting you go," Yunho murmured, his voice low but firm, his words carrying a weight of resolve he hadn't had before. He could feel the truth of his words in every fiber of his being. No more hesitation, no more running from the truth or the fear. He had come so dangerously close to losing Mingi, but now that he had him here, still alive, he wasn't going to waste it. "Not this time. Not ever."

The moment felt like it could last forever. Mingi's shallow breaths, his presence—the way his warmth still lingered in the room, even if his body was weak—were the only thing Yunho needed to hold on to right now. He refused to break this bond, to allow anything else to come between them. He had no idea what the future held, or what they might face, but at that moment, all Yunho could promise was to be there for Mingi, to protect him, no matter the cost.

Mingi's background had always been one of duality, shaped by the contrast of his parents' worlds. His mother, a respected judge who had climbed the ranks with her sharp mind and unwavering commitment to justice, had always been a pillar of moral integrity. His father, on the other hand, was a hardened police officer, with a reputation for discipline and respect in his field, but whose cold demeanor masked the darker tendencies that had crept in over the years. They had both been pillars of law and order, but that duality had not only shaped Mingi into a man who could navigate the complexities of right and wrong, it had also given him the courage to stand up for the truth—even when the truth was too terrifying to face.

Now, that very background was about to become crucial. Yunho knew that Mingi's parents, with their collective legal knowledge and experience, were the key to bringing down the man who had tortured him. His own father—Dr. Jeong—had manipulated Yunho in ways no one could have imagined. The man who had claimed to be a protector had turned his own son into a subject of cruel experiments, using him as little more than a pawn in his twisted quest for power.

Yunho had already made the difficult call. While Mingi was in surgery, fighting for his life, Yunho had contacted Mingi's father. He had told him everything—everything he could without revealing the full depth of their secret lives. He explained what had happened to Mingi, how he had been pushed from that building, and how the twisted experiments had nearly cost him his life. Yunho made sure the details were clear, and the evidence indisputable. Mingi's father, with his connection to the law and his deep knowledge of the legal system, was the perfect ally in this fight. It was through his efforts, combined with Mingi's own strength, that they would take down Dr. Jeong once and for all.

Yunho's father, Dr. Jeong, was now in custody at the police station, being questioned on numerous charges: child exploitation, murder, and conducting immoral experiments on Yunho and others and pushing Mingi Yunho's stomach churned at the thought. The man he had once idolized, the man who had raised him, was the very one responsible for the monstrous acts that had put Mingi in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

Yet, in the midst of all this, Yunho couldn't allow them to know everything. The truth about his alter ego, Spider-Man, had to stay hidden. For now, at least. He knew how dangerous it would be if anyone discovered that he was more than just a man, that he was the very superhero who had tried to save the world. He had no choice but to keep that secret buried deep. The world wasn't ready for the truth, and he couldn't risk it getting out—not yet. The stakes were too high.

A few months had passed since that harrowing night, and the once sterile and cold hospital room now felt like a distant memory. Mingi had made an incredible recovery, though the journey wasn't easy. Every day, he'd made slow but steady progress, pushing through the pain and the frustration that came with his therapy sessions. Physiotherapy was grueling, a constant reminder of how far he'd fallen and how much he had to fight to get back to where he was, but with each passing day, Mingi grew stronger. Yunho had never left his side, helping him with his exercises and offering gentle encouragement.

It wasn't just the physical recovery that weighed heavily on Mingi. He had to rebuild his confidence, his trust in his body and his mind. There were moments of doubt when Mingi would get frustrated with himself—when his muscles wouldn't cooperate when his body betrayed him in the most basic ways. But Yunho, ever patient, always reminded him of how far he'd come. "You're strong, Min. We're doing this together. You're not alone," he would say, his words a constant source of comfort and support.

Today was a milestone. Mingi was finally being discharged from the hospital, ready to begin the next chapter of his life—a life filled with hope, albeit with a few scars and limitations. As Yunho wheeled Mingi out of the hospital in a wheelchair, the light outside felt brighter, more hopeful. Mingi, dressed in a comfortable hoodie and sweatpants, looked a little weary but determined. His once-skeletal frame had regained some of its strength, though he still looked fragile, like a delicate flower just beginning to bloom again.

Yunho pushed him gently, his hand resting on the back of the chair. His eyes were focused ahead, but there was an undeniable tenderness in the way he looked at Mingi, as though he could see through the surface and into the heart of the man who had captured his own.

"Ready to go home?" Yunho asked softly, his voice full of love and reassurance.

Mingi smiled faintly, though it was tinged with the vulnerability of someone still finding their way back to themselves. "Home with you, huh?" He glanced up at Yunho, his eyes soft with affection and gratitude. "I think I'm ready. Just don't make me walk too much yet. My legs are still sore."

Yunho chuckled a warm sound that reverberated in Mingi's chest. "No walking just yet. I'm in charge of this wheelchair for now."

They shared a brief laugh, and the moment felt strangely normal, despite everything that had happened. It was a moment of peace, the kind they both needed. Mingi had gone through hell, and Yunho had been there, every step of the way, just as he promised.

As they reached the exit, a soft voice echoed from within Yunho's chest. 

Venatus.

Yunho tensed slightly, but only for a moment, before responding internally. "What is it?"

The progress you two have made is remarkable. I can feel your bond strengthening, Venatus said, its voice smooth and almost soothing. Mingi is doing well. And you, Yunho, you're stronger than you realize. I'm proud of you.

Yunho couldn't help but smile, the pride he felt for Mingi and the symbiote's quiet approval filling him with warmth. "Thanks, Venatus. You've helped me get through this."

I'm always here for you, Venatus replied softly. Both of you.

They reached the car, where Mingi's mother, who had been dutifully caring for him when Yunho wasn't around, was waiting to help get him into the backseat. Yunho could see the quiet tension in her eyes, the weight of her own emotions as she processed everything that had transpired over the past few months. She wasn't entirely at peace with what had happened, and there was still a certain coldness between them, especially since Yunho had become estranged from his own mother. His decision to expose his father's crimes had shattered their family, and his mother had made it clear that she couldn't forgive him for the betrayal.

In truth, Yunho didn't know where he stood with his mother anymore. Her anger had driven him out of their home, and despite the painful ache of being disowned, Yunho didn't regret his actions. His decision to break free from his father's shadow and expose the truth was the only choice he could have made. He couldn't live a lie. But still, the weight of her anger lingered in the back of his mind.

As they drove back to the apartment he now shared with Mingi, Yunho let the silence settle between them. The car was warm, the air tinged with the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Yunho didn't feel like an outcast. There was a sense of belonging here, with Mingi. With Venatus.

"I'll be there for the rehab sessions," Yunho said, breaking the silence. 

"You'll get through this, Min. Slowly but surely, we'll do it together."

Mingi's voice, though quiet, was filled with determination. "I'll get stronger. I'll walk again. Just... give me time." He paused, glancing at Yunho with a tired but hopeful smile. "And keep pushing me, alright? I'm not gonna let you do this alone."

Yunho leaned over and pressed a kiss to Mingi's forehead, his heart swelling with a love that had only deepened over the past few months. "I wouldn't dream of it."

As they pulled into the parking lot of their building, Yunho felt a quiet sense of relief wash over him. They had made it through the storm, and now, together, they would rebuild. With every step Mingi took toward recovery, Yunho would be right there beside him—fighting, healing, and moving forward. No more looking back. No more regrets.

They still had a long way to go. There would be more challenges ahead, and more battles to fight. But for now, as Mingi was wheeled into their apartment, Yunho felt at peace. They had each other. And with that, they could face anything.

Venatus's presence hummed softly within Yunho, a silent companion, and as he watched Mingi settle onto the couch, propped up by pillows, Yunho whispered to the symbiote. "We're not done yet, are we?"

Not by a long shot, Venatus replied, its voice full of quiet promise. But you've already won the hardest part. You have each other.

Yunho nodded, his heart full as he turned back to Mingi. He wasn't sure what the future would hold, but for the first time in a long while, he was ready to face it—with Mingi by his side and the quiet strength of Venatus within him. Together, they would rebuild. Together, they would be unstoppable and that was all that mattered.

Yunho was still Spiderman, saving his city day and night and being a lovely boyfriend when he wasn't busy, he'd use his powers to fight bullies in school, teach children at the skatepark how to ride the skateboard, and whatnot. With Venatus and Mingi by his side, Yunho wouldn't ever dream of ever being lonely.

Venatus was his best friend and Mingi was his boyfriend and he was just.....Jeong Yunho, the Spiderman with an alien inside him, the Spiderman that didn't cum spiderweb, the little loser who fell in love with his best friend. He was

The Amazing Spiderman.

THE END

[hinaaspanda]

wait for me, okay? | s.jh

pairing: brother's best friend! so junghwan x fem reader warnings: swearing, alcohol genre: brother's best friend, uni au, fluff!! and a smidge of angst wc: 9.4k

You couldn't help but baby So Junghwan—your brother's best friend who just happened to be one year your junior—all your life. That was, until Junghwan abruptly stopped talking to you once you began high school. You learned to move on eventually, but all your efforts were put to the test in your second year in university when an all grown up Junghwan enrolls in your school!

a/n: hi!! im back with another fic hehe, this time featuring my treasure bias Junghwan! been meaning to post for awhile but real life is so hjsfhdjgfabsjg yk anyways enjoy!!

2013. 07. 10

“Junghwanie? What’s wrong?”

Jungwhan could barely look up at you. You watched the boy’s shoulders slump over as he sat on the wood surface, feet bleakly swinging in the air. Dirt and grass littered and stained his knees and elbows.

“Some older kids took my soccer ball—they called me a twerp, too.” Tears welled up in Junghwan’s eyes. It made your heart sink. You jumped up to sit beside him as Junghwan sniffled, snot running down his nose. “Jeongwoo’s trying to get it back for me.”

Your eyes narrowed, watching the older boys further down the field. Two of them kicked the ball between them, while a third held your twin brother by the head in a rough noogie. Seeing it all made your blood boil, your fists shake. Your mom told you about bullying before; how you should never do it, and how you should always help others if they’re being bullied. Your fists balled up tighter and tighter. You needed to help Junghwan. 

You glanced down at your tiny fists. What could you do? You couldn’t do anything. You were just a weak kid. 

An idea spurred in your mind. You scooted closer to the boy beside you. Fiddling with the pink, frilly fabric, you slowly slid off the elastic hung snug against your wrist Maybe you couldn’t fight off some scary middle schooler, but you could at least do this. 

“Here,” You hovered the pink scrunchie in front of Junghwan, a small smile lining your lips as you faced him. “You can have this. Maybe this will cheer you up.”

Junghwan’s eyes widened. “Your scrunchie—isn’t this your favourite?”

“I know, but it makes me happy—hopefully it makes you happy, too!” A grin stretched across your face. 

Junghwan gulped, head still hanging low. His face flushed into a deep red as his eyes flit back and forth between you and his feet. The redness spread onto the shell of his ear as he hid his face beneath his dirtied forearm. 

“Thanks, y/n.” Junghwan finally smiled, your chest sinking in relief. 

2024. 08. 20

“Did we leave anything in the car?” Jeongwoo’s exhaustion spilled through his voice as he cradled his neck with both hands. 

“Don’t think so,” Sweat beaded from his temples as Junghwan hunched forward, gently dropping the cardboard box at his feet. He straightened up, using a forearm to wipe his forehead, pushing back his hair in the process. Junghwan turned to you, an awkward smile lining his lips. “Did you see anything, y/n?”

“Nope.” you pursed your lips, fiddling with a loose piece of tape on one of Junghwan’s miscellaneous boxes—a box you sat on as you unloaded Junghwan’s belongings into his new dorm. 

“Thank fuck,” Jeongwoo heaved a very sigh before plopping onto Junghwan’s new bed, treating it like his own.

So Junghwan—your brother’s best friend, and the youngest of you three—was on his way to begin a new chapter in his life; university. And now, Junghwan was moving to an entirely different city in order to attend university; your university, to be exact. 

He was moving away from his best friend, and moving closer to you—a peculiar set up, considering how far you two had drifted within the past few years. 

So Junghwan was a staple in your life during your childhood. It was you, him, and your brother against the world. The three of you didn’t need anyone else as you went on your daytime adventures to the neighbourhood playground; spending your measly allowance on snacks and sweets from the convenience store down the road from your homes; running away from the dreaded reality of chores and homework. 

Even if the boys were closer, it didn’t stop you from cherishing your friendship with Junghwan; You’d always tag along whenever Jeongwoo would visit his house, you'd bring extra snacks to school just for him. He felt the same, always welcoming you with a warm smile. You babied him, spoiled him silly. He was a year your junior, after all—how much he contrasted against your mischievous, prankster brother didn’t help, either. He was the only one of your brother’s friends you genuinely cared for. 

Once you entered highschool, however, the distance between you two only grew. Junghwan talked to you less, reserving all his attention to girls in his class and your own brother. Soon enough, the childhood trio you grew up with began to dissolve, fade away—leaving the infamous duo, and you in its wake. 

You decided to just shrug it off, opting to focus on your own life, your own friendships. Maybe he got tired of you. Maybe it was just a part of growing up.  

Maybe you were just the girl who babied him too much.

Which brings you back to the present, in which you were helping Junghwan move into his university dorm. Not because you were friends, but because you so happened to be the only one in the area. 

“Think I’m gonna head out.” Jeongwoo abruptly huffed out, shaking you back to reality. In one swift movement, Jeongwoo slid his car keys off the wood of the desk and looped them around his finger. Rising up at the foot of Junghwan’s mattress, Jeongwoo spun the clanking metal around before catching it with the rest of his hand. Junghwan followed suit, arms automatically up and out for your twin brother. 

You watched as the boys hugged and said their goodbyes. You couldn’t help but smile at the heartwarming sight. For second, it made you forget about this very very awkward set up. 

“Bye, loser,” Jeongwoo hummed into the crook of your neck as you hugged your brother goodbye. You glanced up, your eyes making contact with Junghwan’s frame. Your eyes trail up, noticing Junghwan’s eyes flit away from what looked like your direction, and his adam’s apple erratically bobbing up and down. You furrow your brows, taking note of the redness spreading over the curve of Junghwan’s ear. 

With a slam of the door, Jeongwoo was gone—and only then did your entire body freeze. 

You and Junghwan stood stagnant in the middle of his cramped dorm room. Awkward silence filled the air—filling your lungs and suffocating your chest. That's what you told yourself, anyway. You totally weren’t finding excuses to not talk to the boy you haven’t talked to in years. Totally. 

Only now have you gotten a proper chance to really look at Junghwan; really capture how much he's changed since you last saw him. This was probably his third growth spurt by now, with the way his figure towered over you. You studied the way his chestnut hair fell gently below his eyes, and how it was parted not at the middle, but slightly to the left. You caught a few glimpses of his broad shoulders—his built frame peeking through his campus sweater. You pinched yourself. Who cares if Junghwan grew up a little?

You cleared your throat. No. No matter how awkward all this was, how rocky your history was; you still needed to be strong, reliable. Junghwan was still your junior, after all. 

“So, you excited?” you wanted to slap yourself. What kind of question was that?

“Yeah,” Junghwan hummed a chuckle, maybe out of pity. You weren’t sure. “A little nervous, though.”

“Why? ‘Cause of classes?” You were just trying to make conversation, but maybe a part of you was concerned. Old habits die hard, anyway. 

Junghwan paused for a few long seconds, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Right. Classes.”

Your eyes furrowed at his weird, hesitant tone, but you brushed those thoughts away. You shine a bogus smile his way—the brighter the smile, the more convincing the lie. “Well, you can always ask for help!”

Junghwan hummed another smile—this time softer, more fragile. More genuine. His eyes never daring to let go of your frame. It made you insanely self aware of your own skin, your own being. You were being read like a book; though you doubt it was much of a page turner. You instinctively shield your torso with your crossed arms.

“It’s good to see you again, y/n.”

You stammered over his words, his very unexpected words. “Oh, uh, you too.”

Another blanket of silence fell on top of you, giving you ample time to reset; to compose yourself from the mess you were becoming. You cleared your throat, eyes darting straight towards the window. Junghwan, meanwhile, tucked both hands in his back pockets, eyes doing all they can to avoid your line of sight, as he sucked in air through his pursed lips. 

“I guess I should head out, too—”

Junghwan pivots to you, hurried. 

“Actually—I do have a favour to ask.”

“He asked you for a campus tour?” Your friend Winnie asked before popping a comically large cheeto in her mouth. Her munches and crunches filled the air of your shared apartment as you sunk into the couch—utterly defeated. 

“And I said yes,” You whined into the fabric of your throw pillow. 

Winnie only giggles, popping another chip and munching happily. “Girl, relax. You’re literally the only person he knows right now. Better to go with you than be lost on the first day.”

You grumble. You hated how level-headed she was. “But everything’s gonna be so awkward. We haven’t talked in years—”

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward,” Winnie shrugs. 

You could only groan. Winnie was right, you were being dramatic. So what if So Junghwan suddenly trudged back into your life, after leaving without a trace. You should be totally normal about this. 

You slap yourself back to reality as you roll your limp body over, finally catching your breath after covering your face with the pillow. You flit your phone open, fiddling with the first arbitrary app you come across. Winnie does the same before her voice peaks up again. 

“So, what about Eunhyeok?”

Your ears barely drown out the looped audio of the internet video plastered on your phone screen as your mind draws to a blank. “...Who?” 

Winnie’s eyebrow cocks to the sky. “Eunhyeok. The guy from social econ last year? Mr. ‘first talking stage in forever?’”

Your eyes widen. Right. Your mind has been so occupied with the new school semester starting and helping Junghwan move cities that you completely forgot about your date next week with Kwon Eunhyeok —a guy you only shared 

one (1) class with before finding him on a dating app last month. You heave a sigh, leaning back on the plush of the couch as more weight has been added to the boulder of burden on your shoulders. 

“Don’t tell me Mr. "Freshman’s’ got you all distracted, now.” Winnie teased, a stupid grin contaminating her face. You roll your eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“My girl’s the main character of a love triangle, ooh!” Winnie pestered, belting a laugh as you groaned in response, making your way towards the kitchen. You swing the fridge door open, letting the cool air refresh you as you reach in to grab a can of soda. Maybe that would alleviate the burning rush of your cheeks. 

Would it stop your erratic heart beat, too? 

“Over here is the campus gym,” Winnie jutted her finger towards the building on her right, large windows showcasing the different gym equipment scattered all over the floor. Her arm then pivoted, pointing straight towards the open bed of grass, basking in the afternoon sun. “This is the field—it’s supposed to be where the teams practice, but really students come here when they wanna skip.” 

You and Junghwan, at opposite ends of Winnie's shoulders, laugh timidly. You knew you had to give Junghwan a tour today, but you also knew you needed some kind of assistance. It was the only way you'd come out of this alive, sanity unharmed. So, you let Winnie take the lead, letting yourself hide in the sidelines. 

“That being said, I better not catch you here!” Winnie jabbed a finger towards Junghwan’s chest, to which he responded by holding up both hands in surrender, eyes flitting back to you for a split second. “Yes, ma'am!”

“Hey, y/n!” a voice closely trailed behind Junghwan’s boom of a voice. The voice was faint, as if it was carried and coddled by the wind. Filtered through the breeze. Nevertheless, you could tell it was coming from the direction of the field. Your head shot up towards the air, your eyes landing on a small huddle of guys at the centre of the grass. The one in the middle rolled a soccer ball between his foot and the grass, while the other two kicked at the grass, hands shoved deep in their pockets. As you walked closer to the field, the man in the middle began to look more and more familiar. It was Kwon Eunhyeok. 

Eunhyeok had a cheeky grin plastered on his face as he waved his hand in a ‘come here' motion. “You wanna play?”

You couldn't help but furrow your brows. You've never told him anything about liking or playing sports—because you definitely didn't. “Um…”

“It's 2v2, but we need one more player. Wanna join?” 

You hugged your shoulders, looking around aimlessly. Though really you were just looking for an apt escape. “I dunno—”

“I'll do it.”

Everyone’s heads snapped towards the timid freshman, who’s voice had finally spoken up after staying quiet for an abnormally long time. One hand lazily in the air while the other fiddled with belt loops in his pants. Silence swiftly fogged over the group as the boys looked at each other. 

“You don't have to,” you tried to butt in. You didn't want to bother him with this, nor did you even want to stay out here any longer.

Besides, the idea of Junghwan and Eunhyeok interacting shot a weird feeling down your stomach.

“I’ll be fine,” Junghwan shot a quick yet soft smile at you, and you gulped; his eye smile suddenly making you feel the need to drink water. Slowly, Junghwan slid off the straps of his backpack and dropped it onto the grassy field, his black zip up hoodie quickly following suit. You unfortunately took note of his newly revealed short sleeves—not too tight, yet not too loose—and, now, you really wished you had some water on you.

When you snap back to reality, the boys make their decision, welcoming the freshman into their group easily. “Alright, man. Let’s play!”

The breeze was cold against your skin. 

You sat dead centre of the vast campus quad, knees tucked in against your chest, your chin hammocked on your knuckles as they clung onto your kneecaps. You weren’t exactly sure why you stayed to watch those boys play soccer. Heaven knows you didn’t enjoy it, and Winnie wasn’t even around anymore. Instead, she was allowed to hide away in the safe haven of her evening class. Lucky.

You glance up, eyes latching onto Junghwan, who was currently locked in the game. His back was hunched over as he clung onto his knees, sweat pooling on his shirt. 

You weren’t exactly sure why you stayed, but something in you told you to stay—and your body obeyed like a puppet to its strings, apparently.

Junghwan doesn’t wait long. A few seconds later, he’s back with the main group, tossing the soccer ball and pushing the tall blades of grass beneath it. Nevertheless, your eyes linger— stupidly so. They linger as his hair flies against the wind, brushing entirely away from his face. They watch Junghwan’s broad shoulders practically shining through his supposedly loose t-shirt, the way his back tensed beneath each and every movement. You watch his muscles flex as he ran to the ball. You gulp. Has he been working out that much since you last talked? 

A huge smile swipes across his face, his eyes lost in the crescent moons of his eye smile. Your heart skips a beat. 

You choke. You didn’t find Junghwan attractive, did you? 

You wonder where that cold breeze went. It would’ve been helpful in calming down your skin—which was currently being lit on fire. 

“HEADS!”

The boom of Eunhyeok’s voice shook you to reality *thank god*. The ball had seemingly lost control, soaring through the air like a deadly shooting star. Everyone else had already run to take cover. their arms enveloping their heads in makeshift helmets. All except one; Junghwan, who was now standing still in the middle of  the field, facing you. Too bad the ball was, in fact, heading in his direction. 

THWACK!

The ball struck head first against Jungwhan’s, well, head. The taut rubber smushed Junghwan’s nose, definitely bruising something. It sent the poor freshmen straight to the ground, blades of dead grass shooting up into the sky upon impact. 

The boys only stood around in shock, only taking a few steps towards Junghwan’s body. You, on the other hand, sprinted towards him. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like second nature. You helped the freshman gently sit up into a sitting position, immediately scanning his face and head for prominent and dangerous injuries. Aside from some scratches and light bruising along his cheeks, there was nothing. You rolled out a sigh of relief. 

“Hi,” Junghwan peeked through his fallen bangs, voice soft and timid.

��Hi,” your lips curled into a smile without realising, your mind suddenly forgetting all your recent qualms of late. “I have a first aid kit at my place, should we stop by?”

Junghwan sucked air through his teeth sharply, eyes crinkling shut as he winced from the pain of the ointment. You felt his large hands cling onto your wrists, desperate for you to stop the torture. However, you could tell Junghwan was still restraining himself from using his full strength on you. 

“Ouch!” Junghwan yelped. Again. 

“How does this hurt more than the ball?” 

Junghwan pauses, cheeks suddenly turning rosy. “It burns, okay!”

You only sigh. “I’m almost done, anyway. Just stay still.”

You bickered back and forth. It was odd. This was the most you talked to So Junghwan in over 3 years—but it all felt natural. You weren’t sure why.

After Junghwan finally decided to comply, you finished the last of ointment application, and sealed each wound with a bandaid. Wiping off the excess with a tissue, you let Junghwan go. 

Except he didn’t. He stayed there, face inches away from yours as you sat on the plush of your bed. Your knees rested against his hip; it was the only way you could balance without the use of your hands. You felt his breath graze against your cheek; short and shallow. It reminded you to breathe. Junghwan gazed up at you, his eyes glistened amidst the ebony skyline shining through your bedroom window—never daring to let your eyes go. 

That familiar odd feeling whirled in your stomach again. 

After clearing your chest, you both bounce away from each other, eyes finally severing their connection. Your feet hung off the edge of the bed while Junghwan rested further back on his outstretched arms. You watched as his hand tensed and relaxed, crinkling the fabric of your bedsheets. 

“There,” you muttered meekly. “You’re all good.”

Junghwan stared blankly, grazing a light finger across his newly patched up wounds. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” you purse your lips. 

Long gone was the laid back, relaxed feeling you had earlier. You stood up from the bed, dragging the bedsheet down slightly before packing up the first aid kit and hiding it away in your closet. 

Even now, you're still the girl that babied him too much. 

Junghwan hung his head low, fiddling with his thumbs before slowly lifting his eyes back up to face you. He hesitated for a bit, lips parted before he remembered to take a breath. A deep breath. 

“You still take care of me, huh? Even after all these years.”

Your eyes grow wide at Junghwan’s words. What was he talking about? Was he referring to all those times back when you were kids? Those moments you swore to forget. Those moments that came hurdling back into your stubborn little brain the moment Junghwan enrolled in your university. 

You purse your lips before uttering softly. “I thought you forgot about that.”

Junghwan softly grins, “How could I?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your heart bouncing beneath your ribs. It makes a nervous leap, getting stuck in your windpipe. What did he mean by that?

“Well, it’s been a while” You kept your eyes on the evening skyline, each apartment light shining like a star in the night. Nevertheless, you watched Junghwan through your peripheral vision. You watched as his eyes finally let go of your frame, his head once again hanging low. 

“It really has,” Junghwans voice didn’t reach past a whisper. 

The room was enveloped in—you guessed it—awkward silence. You’d think you’d build some kind of immunity to it at this point, but that wasn’t the case. You still managed to suffocate. You turn to fully face Junghwan, whose expression turned flat, stoic. He stood up from the bed, bedsheets leaving an imprint of his frame. 

“Maybe we can restart?” He asks

You blink, gulping once more. So Junghwan—the boy you spent your whole childhood with, the boy who disappeared from your life without a trace. The boy you babied too much. So Junghwan wanted a second chance. 

Your mind thought it was crazy. Too bad you never listened to it. 

“Sure.”

“You’re going on a date?” Junghwan asked, sipping on a juice box he insisted he’d pay for as you trudged your way home. Well, your home, to be exact. Junghwan also insisted he’d walk you and Winnie home after all your classes. Seems like Junghwan was taking this second chance thing seriously. 

“Yeah, and guess what?” Winnie chimed in, as preppy as usual—she was always like this when it came to your love life, though there wasn’t much to report. “It’s with that Eunhyeok guy—the one from the field the other day. You remember him?”

Suddenly, Junghwan’s face turns serious, stoic, as his eyes trail the sidewalk. He sipped until bubbles popped inside his straw. “Yeah. I do.”

You were sandwiched between their two figures, quietly sipping your soda. You raise your hand and wave it frantically. “Can we stop talking about it? It’s not a big deal.”

“Tell me you’re at least a little excited about it?” Winnie tilted her head, her bangs falling over her long eyelashes. You bit your lip, glancing over at Junghwan, whose wide eyes suggested he was curious about this, too. 

“Yeah, I—AH!”

Your undone shoelaces saved you the burden of having to lie. The strings scattered across the pavement, landing right in front of the area you were going to take your next steps. The front of your sneaker had clung onto your other shoe’s laces, causing you to trip on your own two feet—like an idiot. You only wince, squeezing your eyes shut to brace for impact before you hit the ground. 

You’d hit the ground. Any day now. 

But you didn’t. Instead, you felt a force envelope your shoulders and back. Your head hung in the air, your eyes meeting a distorted view of the clouds above. You tense your neck, scouring to find this mysterious force that had caught you out of thin air. A part of you wishes you didn’t. 

Nevertheless, you open your eyes to a worried Junghwan. His arms cradled you against his chest, a hand tightly gripping your bicep. He’s got you hanging in thin air, in a way that resembles tango dancers at the end of their performance. His face was inches away from yours, puffs of his air blowing onto your cheeks—your very warm cheeks.  

“You alright?” Junghwan asked, rather hastily. 

Your mind drew to a complete blank before you could respond. “Uh, um—yeah. I’m good.” 

Junghwan heaved a sigh of relief before standing you up straight—lord knows you were too dazed to do it yourself—and loosening his grip around your shoulders. He avoided your gaze, face painted a blaring red as he dipped down to your feet. Junghwan proceeded to loop his fingers around your loose laces, tying them into pretty double knots; safe and sound. 

“Be careful, okay?” Junghwan gazed up at you, his adam's apple bobbing up and down and his eyes shaking. Your heart was quaking in the confines of your rib cage, like a feral beast trying to escape. You weren’t sure if it was from the near fall from your trip, or if it was from your heart being utterly, terribly, stupid. 

The library was, uncharacteristically enough, loud. 

It was the table beside you, lined completely with utter buffoons of freshman. They had the audacity to play a chaotic card game amidst you and other university students who were desperately cramming for their midterms. They didn’t have a shred of remorse, either. Not even bothering to glance around at the students who were currently giving them death stares. The louder they’d holler or slap their hand on the table, the closer you were to seeing red. 

You grumbled in your seat, thumb clicking at your pen profusely as you held it centimetres before your noticeably blank notepad page. 

“Woah okay, don’t kill them, please,” Junghwan’s voice was laced with worry, understandably—you did consider it for a bit. Junghwan sat beside you, his once laid back figure now hunched forward, his big hand clung onto your tensed wrist. The warmth of his skin was enough to calm you down, apparently. Your head pivots back to Junghwan’s direction, your eyes immediately linking up with his. His face glistened under the golden hour sunlight, acting like the spotlight in a theatre with how it only shined on him. You watched his hair burn a bright auburn, his eyes carried in them a swirl of stars. 

You gulped at the sight, completely forgetting about those annoying freshmen. Or anyone else, for that matter. 

“Whatever,” your hand slips from his grasp quickly, though your skin felt a twinge of coldness, loneliness, after the fact. You clear your throat. “How do you deal with them? I think I’d lose my mind.”

Junghwan gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. A finger tapped at the headphone set that hung snug around his neck. “With these. They’re noise cancelling.”

You turn your head to the front, avoiding Junghwan’s gaze after staring at his oddly chiselled jaw for longer than wanted. “Lucky.”

You glanced back at the rowdy table, still stagnant and unmoving from their loud and aggravating presence. Sure they were still ear piercing, but now you could barely hear them over your beating heart, pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears. 

You sensed some rummaging behind you before you turned around, curiosity getting the best of you. Your eyes are met with a sweetly grinning Junghwan as he pulls off his headphones, adjusts their size, and gently slides them on your head. His hand slides off your head, but not before running a finger through your hair. His smile grows wider. “There, now you can focus.”

Your heart skips a beat as your eyes widen. “What—what about you?”

Junghwan ever so softly flicks your nose with his finger. “Quit worrying about me, already. You deserve to study in peace.”

“Oh,” You gulp again, heart still pounding in your chest. “Thanks.”

You did not find So Junghwan attractive. 

You knew it was redundant to say, but you just wanted to make it clear. So Junghwan was just a friend; A friend you had hung out with more than your other friends in your year, by now. You would study together, walk home together—Junghwan insisted the walk back to his dorm didn’t bother him—and even eat out together. You two even developed a new bond over finding new cuisines to try. 

But all that eating out eventually led to near empty wallets, so you suggested an alternative for this afternoon; cooking. It was high time Junghwan learned how to cook for himself, anyway. 

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder as you guided the poor, lost freshman on how to properly cut vegetables. The final boss? The yellow onion. 

“What happens when it stings too much?” Junghwan whined, one eye practically glued shut while the other peeked open ever so slightly. Though, that eye was too busy swelling in tears. You giggle as you watch him. 

“You’re just supposed to deal with it, really.” You only shrug as an ailed sound emits from Junghwan’s mouth. 

Soon enough, all the torture food preparation was complete, and the two of you pivoted to face your apartment's kitchen. You heated a pan on the stove, drizzled on oil, and got to work. Junghwan’s head perched over your shoulder, silently watching. 

Thankfully, your silence wasn’t awkward anymore. It was comfortable, easy. You didn’t think it possible, but you and Junghwan were slowly going back to how things were; going back to being best friends. Sparks popped in your chest at that thought.

“Oh—your date’s tomorrow” Junghwan analysed, eyes flitting back and forth between you and the calendar on the corner of your fridge. “How are you feeling?” 

Though a part of you was thankful for the reminder, you couldn’t help but groan. You were already tired of Winnie’s constant berating concerning the first man to go on a date with you since your failed talking stage in your first year—did Junghwan really have to do the same? “I dunno, haven’t given it much thought.”

“Alright, you player,” Junghwan teased, jabbing your shoulder. Maybe he was spending too much time with Winnie; she could be a bad influence on him. “Just another guy on your roster, huh?”

You roll your eyes to the sky—or, really, the exhaust fan above your stove. “Oh, shut up. Don’t act like you and my brother weren’t with different girls every month back in highschool.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Junghwan scoffed. 

“Don’t play dumb,” you jabbed back as you flung your spatula, unaware of the pieces of vegetables flying in the air. “Just ‘cause we didn’t talk, doesn’t mean I didn’t see things!”

Junghwan lifted his hands in the air, like a criminal caught red handed. “I swear! I didn’t do any of that.”

You turned to face him. “Then who were all those girls you'd hang around with on campus?”

Junghwan scratched the nape of his neck. “They were just friends… I’ve actually never dated, or even kissed a girl before.” 

You gulp. Had your perceptions all been wrong? You were positive the reason why Junghwan stopped talking to you in the first place was to make room for more girls in his life. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Junghwan fiddled with the hem of his apron. “I just never knew how it worked—too lazy to learn.”

You turned off the stove, your brain switching onto a particular idea. It might’ve been sick and twisted, but maybe it was just what you needed. 

“What if I teach you?”

Junghwan’s eyes practically spilt out of their sockets. You didn’t blame him; what you said was crazy. But you had your reasons. You needed to prove that you didn’t find So Junghwan attractive; that you didn’t wanna cross the boundary of best friends with him; that those past moments of your heart slipping up were none other than random flukes—a way for your heart to tell you your love life was too stagnant. 

“You sure?”

You stared up at him, gulping. “I’m no player, but I’ve had my fair share of kisses… maybe we can practise.”

Your words dwindled to the end once you realised how crazy you sounded. Gosh, if you didn’t know any better, you sounded like you were hitting on him. Your stomach churned at the thought. Your cheeks flared up in response. But it didn’t matter, Junghwan was your friend. You were doing this for a reason. For clarity. For closure. 

You did not find So Junghwan attractive. 

Junghwan was almost as red as the tomatoes in your frying pan. “O-okay.”

You were kissing So Junghwan.

Or more accurately, Junghwan was kissing you. 

As you stood in the middle of your living room, basking in the afternoon sunlight, your lips melted into one—easily, you observed. You also observed how soft Junghwan’s touch was. His hand trailed from the shell of your ear after brushing your hair away from your face, to cupping the side of your cheek. The graze of his fingertips sent chills through your skin. His fingers lifted your head ever so slightly, combating your towering height difference. His other hand didn’t even flinch as it stayed at his side; in fear of crossing an unwanted boundary. An odd swirl spun at the pit of your stomach. Your heart tripped and face planted on its two feet. Multiple times.

Wasn’t Junghwan supposed to be bad at this? 

Overwhelmed, you couldn’t muster much movement on your end. All your measly mind could think of was to cling onto his broad shoulders, which were hunched over to reach your frame closer—practically enveloping you. You hated how gentle he was, considering how strong you knew him to be. It was doing weird things to your mind. You clung onto the fabric of his sweater; desperate and confused.  

What was Junghwan doing to you?

After what seems like centuries, your lips finally plop apart. Your figures hesitate to move apart, your breaths both short and shallow—he quite literally took your breath away. Your eyes naturally link with his, a red string of fate hanging in the balance. You really hoped Winnie wasn’t gonna come home anytime soon. A sudden chime of someone’s phone catapulted you back to reality as you jumped away from him. Your eyes avoided his gaze like the plague as your cheeks burned so hot you could cook more of that dish you made earlier. And don’t even get started on your heart beat, your erratic, animalistic heart beat. 

Maybe your little test wasn’t so smart, anymore.

“You–uh,” you stuttered out like an idiot. “You’re pretty good…”

You glance back at Junghwan, who’s red stained cheeks and ears, paired with eyes practically glued to your wooden floor, suggest that he was just as much of a mess as you were. At least there was that. Junghwan clung onto the nape of his neck like a life force. “R-really?”

So Junghwan was the death of you. “Y-yeah. You don’t need my help.”

Awkward silence, your old friend. 

“I–uh,” Junghwan’s voice didn’t reach past a whisper. “I should probably go.”

“Okay,” you replied, grateful for the leeway he was giving your heart. Though, an empty feeling began crawling up your chest, too. You watched as Junghwan scurried out the door, the boom of it shutting barely overpowering the crazy thumps of your heart beat. 

So Junghwan was so cooked. 

He stumbled out of your apartment complex, dazed and confused. His heart clawed profusely at his ribcage, like a feral animal—just itching to jump out and splat on the road. He clenched his chest, lost at a shortness of breath. He thought back to your kiss; your supple lips locked against his. He thought about how you melted into his chest, how your skin felt so warm, it was like he was dreaming. Maybe he didn’t wanna wake up. Scratch that—he wasn’t just thinking about all that. The image was tattooed in his brain, forever. 

He’s done it. He’s officially gone too far. 

Junghwan wasn’t supposed to expose himself so…idiotically. He planned to be more composed, untroubled. Was he just supposed to confess his life long crush on his best friend like a loser? 

You were the love of So Junghwan’s life, the apple of his eye. He’s loved you since you were kids. He loved everything about you; from the way you lit up any room with your smile, to the way you’d always put others before yourself every chance you got. You had him wrapped around your finger; anything you did gave him butterflies. He’s always believed he hit the jackpot the moment he met you.

He also believed he absolutely fumbled that jackpot the moment he distanced himself from you. The more time he spent with you, the more he realised you’d never love him back. You were too busy babying him. In your eyes, Junghwan would never be your equal. So, by the time he entered highschool, he opted to give up. 

Foolishly, he thought he could still keep your friendship as he tried to get over you. Quickly, however, he learnt that it wasn’t possible. Your constant, beautiful presence always sent a punch to his gut, a guilty feeling squeezing at his heart. So he finally decided, it was time to end your friendship, once and for all, even if it meant hurting you in the process. Lord knows it tore his heart into pieces, too.

It also didn’t even work. 

Junghwan didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse that he got accepted into the university you happened to be attending. Sure, maybe he was the fool for applying there in the first place last fall, but still. The one thing he did know was that he’d lose his mind the moment he’d see you again. He knew he’d combust the moment you’d look at him with your beautiful eyes one more time. 

Nevertheless, something in his resolve had switched. His chest puffed out, his heart beat faster. With the years of distancing himself from you behind him, Junghwan was a changed man. And he was going to prove it to you. 

Or he was, until he completely fumbled the bag just now.

Trudging home with heavy shoulders, Junghwan rummaged in his sweater pocket, fingers easily finding what it needed to. He pulls out a pink, frilly scrunchie, grazing the soft fabric between his fingertips. The elastic could barely fit over just two of his large fingers, but that didn’t stop him from taking the scrunchie everywhere he went. 

It was the scrunchie from the day he first fell for you, after all.

“Fuck,” Junghwan huffed.

“Sorry I’m late!” Eunhyeok’s voice peaks in your ears, causing you to look up from your phone. He walks up to you, holding a lazy but apologetic hand up in the air. You glanced back at your phone quickly; the time was 3:58—around 30 minutes past your originally discussed meeting time.  

“No worries! I just got here,” You lied anyway. That was custom for first dates, apparently. 

You were meeting up with Kwon Eunhyeok for your very important, once in a lifetime—according to Winne, anyway—date. It wasn’t that you weren’t excited for today. The idea of going on a date for the first time in what felt like ages did excite you, slightly. You allowed yourself to get dolled up a little, too—dawning your favourite maxi shirt and a bow that completely your half up-half down hair look.  

It’s not like you weren’t excited for this date—there were just other things that stubbornly occupied your mind at the moment. 

You didn’t expect Junghwan’s kiss to stay so vivid in your mind for so long. You allowed yourself maybe 30 minutes to properly freak out about how good he kissed you; how he kissed you in a way that made you gut wrench, your head spin. How he kissed you in a way that makes you rethink everything. You were only allowed 30 minutes for all of that. But when you woke up this morning with So Junghwan running in your mind, you knew you were fucked. 

You thought back to the past month with So Junghwan. The boy you grew up with, your brother’s best friend. The man that, in the past month, showed a completely new side of himself, and it was making you go crazy. 

Were you on a date with the wrong person?

“Where we headed first?” Eunhyeok asked, his gaze locked on something behind you as he shoved both hands down his pockets. You gave him a quizzical look. “I thought you said you’d plan everything? I didn’t give it much thought…”

“Oh—right.” Eunhyeok’s voice grew quiet. He picked at his lips, swiping at his phone screen. “Well, I’ll look up some places, I guess. ” 

You wished you could roll your eyes right now. 

After stopping underneath a well shaded tree to look for nice places in the area, the two of you finally went on your way. While your time was eventful—you visited a variety of places, including the trendy and overpriced coffee shop, the park, and dinner at a place he couldn’t stop talking about—you couldn’t muster up any feeling of excitement. Sure you had fun, but this seemed like nothing more than a simple platonic day out. And judging off of Eunhyeok’s laid back, borderline bored attitude, you could guess he felt the same. 

Besides, you still couldn’t shake Junghwan out of your mind. 

The sky was painted a deep orange as you and Eunhyeok walked to the train station. Ribbons of white and pink scattered across the sky, twinges of blue laced at the corners. It was beautiful. You wished Junghwan was here to see it. 

You and Eunhyeok said your goodbyes as you hopped on your respective trains. You weren’t getting a text back from that guy, you knew it. And yet, that didn’t seem to bother you. 

Junghwan was seeing you today. 

Though, it was gonna be painfully one sided—because he wasn’t going to meet with you, no. Instead, he was joining a very hyper Winnie in stalking your date with that Eunhyeok guy. 

To say Junghwan was sceptical about Winnie’s insane and creepy idea would be a deep understatement. FIrstly—and more prominently—he wasn’t even sure if this was legal, let alone a good thing to do. What if someone saw him? Or worse, what if you saw him? Lord knows he's anything but ready to see you after the kiss that stole his breath. Nevertheless, he tagged along. That Eunhyeok guy rubbed him the wrong way, and it was an excuse to see you in a cute outfit. 

“You sure this is a good idea?” Junghwan whispered, face practically smushed into the decorative bush outside the train station. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” Winnie whisper-shouted back, her whole figure enveloped by the same bush. “I think I see her!”

Junghwan’s heart pounded in his chest, though he wasn’t sure if it was from being caught by the cops, or by you. God, what if you thought he was some weirdo after this? He’d pass away, actually. 

He took note of what you were wearing; the maxi shirt that made you look like a princess, and the hair bow that completed your royal look. It warmed his heart knowing you still liked hair accessories just as you did as a kid. 

Gosh, you looked beautiful.

Junghwan’s eyes latched onto a figure of a dude slowly jogging to you. His words were inaudible, but the view of your smile in response was enough to make Junghwan’s blood boil. What was so funny? Junghwan gulped. He knew he was funnier, there was no doubt about it. You didn’t even need to go on this date in the first place. 

Winnie adjusted her stance, causing a branch from the bush to move. The Eunhyeok guy’s eyes snap towards his direction as Jungwhan freezes like a deer in headlights. Was he fucked?

Eunhyeok’s eyes linger in the air before finally reaching Junghwan’s. Like an idiot, Junghwan stared back. He was fucked. 

Eunhyeok’s eyes finally flit back to you, mumbling something inaudible again before the two of you walk away. Jungwhan and Winnie follow suit, Junghwan’s heart still pounding in his chest. 

—

“So, how's Junghwan?” Jeongwoo’s voice chimed through the phone. You purse your lips. As if you haven’t been thinking about him enough. You clear your throat, gracing your twin brother with a response. “He’s, uh, good.”

There was a pause on Jeongwoo’s line. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, no, it’s all good.” You realise your double usage of the word ‘good’ makes you sound even more suspicious. 

“What, you guys kiss or something?” Jeongwoo teased, his peculiar words sending your heart into full attack mode. Your heart leaped from your chest, your eyes spilling from your sockets. Your mind flits back to the image of Junghwan, his hand snug against your cheek as he stole your heart like a ruthless burglar.

“WHAT? NO!”

“Jesus, calm down,” Jeongwoo whined. “I was only joking, relax!”

You stayed silent. 

“Unless something actually happened?”

No. Nothing happened. Only So Junghwan, who came crawling back to your life after years, turning into a whole new person, and was turning your world upside down. Junghwan didn’t do anything—he just manages to swirl butterflies in your stomach with his handsome smile and chivalrous ways, make your heart skip multiple beats with his cute jokes and even cuter habits, take your breath away as he kissed you like a man who's been starved to near death.

Nothing happened. You just fell in love with your—and your brother’s—best friend. You heave a sigh. It felt freeing—finally admitting to it.

But it didn’t matter. He was still your best friend. You would die before you told him the truth.

“I gotta go, Woo.” Overwhelmed, you suddenly mumble into the phone. You barely hear his confused reaction as you click the phone off, chest sparking with adrenalin you haven’t felt in awhile. You trudge to your bathroom, in desperate need of a splash of water to refresh yourself and your mind. 

You can’t tell Junghwan. No matter what.

In the corner of your eye, however, you see Winnie skip up towards you a bright smile on her face. 

“Hey,” Winnie twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. “Found a couple packs of beer in the pantry. You wanna drink tonight?”

“Sure” You shrug. You definitely needed it after the month you had.

“Great! I’ll invite Junghwan, too!” Winnie cheered before skipping away. 

Great. 

Junghwan didn’t know you were a light-weight. 

But here you were, sprawled out on your living room couch, with a rosy face as multiple (3) beer cans scattered over the floor. Your head barely grazed his thigh, your hair spreading across his lap, each strand following the creases of his jeans. Junghwan couldn’t help but smile; you were the cutest drunk person he's ever seen.

Maybe for tonight, he can forget about fucking up any chance he had of staying your friend.

“Oh god,” Concerned, Winnie hid her mouth behind her hands as she looked over at you. She looks back up at Junghwan. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t think she’d get like that.”

Junghwan waved a lenient hand. “It’s all good.”

“She’s probably still grovelling over Eunhyeok. Poor girl got ghosted.” Winnie muttered. The mention of his name left a bitter taste in Junghwan’s mouth, but at least he was out of the picture. Winnie shot up from the couch, shuffling to the kitchen. “I’ll see if we have anything to fix…that.”

Junghwan pursed his lips, gazing at how your eyelashes swooped beneath your eyelids so beautifully. There’s nothing to fix. Even as a drunk mess—you were still perfect.

Winnie soon disappeared into the pantry, and Junghwan felt some shuffling at the edge of his thigh. He glanced down, watching your figure shift around your area of the couch. You began by slowly turning over, your cheeks squished against the backrest. You then murmured something completely incoherent—like a baby saying their first words. You melted Junghwan’s heart into a lovesick puddle as Junghwan gently brushed the hairs away from your face, taking care of you in any way he knew he could. 

Maybe Junghwan let his guard down too soon. 

You proceeded to messily crawl up a bit, resting your head on Junghwan’s lap. Junghwan’s skin ignited at your touch. He gulped, bullets of sweat running down his forehead. What were you doing? Were you trying to kill him?

You flopped over so that your flushed, rosy face was facing up at him. “Junghwanie.” 

Junghwan blinked. “Yeah?”

“Mmm I think I’m in trouble,” you mumbled some more. Junghwan knew you were just speaking gibberish, but a part of him couldn’t ignore you. 

“I think I’m falling for you.”

Junghwan choked. 

“There’s something about you lately… you’re so caring and sweet—but like more than before. And then we kissed, and it made me more confused. No one’s kissed me like that before…”

You fell asleep before Junghwan could compose himself, your soft snores filling up the living room. He could only scoff. While the walls of your apartment closed in on him, his heart jumped in and out of his chest, and reality as he knew it began to shatter—you were peacefully asleep. 

Junghwan gripped at his chest, which was bubbling up with adrenaline. You liked him back? He had a chance?

“I like you, too,” Junghwan whispered back. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“I’m back!” Winnie chimed in, catapulting Junghwan back to reality. 

No, no, no. This wasn’t good. None of this was good. 

I think I’m falling for you. 

Your words from last night replayed in your mind, as if your raging headache from your hangover wasn’t enough torment already. You were pacing back and forth on your living room floor, fingers picking at your lips and eyes quaking side to side. Your heart was popping out of your chest, sweat beaded from your temples. 

Few sips of alcohol and you were off, ruining life long friendships with a single drunken love confession. How stupid were you to let yourself slip up like that? 

“It’s probably fine, y/n” Winnie watched you from the couch, very worried. “You probably didn’t say anything too bad.”

“No.” you mutter, regrettably “I remember what I said.”

“Well, why don’t you go to him?”  Winnie shrugged. How could she be so nonchalant about this? “Talk it through. Who knows? Maybe he feels the same way?”

You stop in your tracks, holding in a scoff. There was no way. He was your childhood best friend. But Winnie was right about one thing. You needed to clear things up. 

You needed to see Junghwan.

“y/n?” Junghwan’s voice was overwhelming with confusion as you stood in the quad, visibly dishevelled and still in your sleepwear. You were lucky you remembered to put on proper shoes. What’s worse? Junghwan wasn’t alone. He—and by proxy, you—was surrounded by other students, presumably his friends. You forgot he hung out with people aside from you. 

“Can we talk?”

“Uh, sure,” Junghwan stuttered before whisking you away, one hand at the small of your back. His touch made your stomach swirl. The two of you stood along the side of the nearest campus building, his tall frame casting a shadow over you. 

“Oh yeah, almost forgot,” Junghwan’s eyes lit up, brows shooting up to the sky.  Slipping his bag off his shoulders, he pulls out a smaller bag before handing it to you. “Made some food for you. Hopefully it helps with the hangover.”

“Thanks,” you gulp. Only Junghwan would think of something like this—something that would make your heart melt to the ground. Nevertheless, Junghwan remembered you’d have a hangover, which meant he remembered how drunk you were last night. 

“I’m sorry about what I said last night!” You suddenly blurt out, head hanging low. “I wasn’t thinking right, clearly, and—”

“What?” Junghwan’s voice was shaky, worried. “You’re taking it back?”

“You’re one of my best friends, Junghwan. What I said wasn’t right. I don’t want to ruin what we have, especially right after I got you back.” You gulp, your words turning sour and bitter on your tongue. Each sentence broke your heart into pieces. You were placing a wall between you and your chance at happiness, after all. 

“What about what I want?” Junghwan’s voice suddenly grew deep and firm. He slapped a palm onto the brick wall behind you, encasing you in his frame. Chills ran down your spine.“You’re too busy babying me and protecting me, did you forget I get a say in this, too? What if I wanted to take the risk? What if I wanted to make the jump to be with you?

“What are you saying?” you muttered like an idiot. 

Junghwan looks to the side, nervously hiding his face beneath the back of his hand. The shells of his ears grew red. His other hand fell from the wall before reaching into his pants pocket. He pulls out a pink frilly piece of fabric—fabric you recognized instantly. “Last night, the girl of my dreams; the girl that gave me her favourite pink scrunchie, told me she liked me back, and I want nothing more than to take her in my arms right now.” 

Your cheeks flush in heat at his heart fluttering words. Questions ran through your mind like runners in a marathon as your heart beat faster and faster. Junghwan wanted to be with you? You weren’t living in one sided nightmare? Junghwan was willing to risk your friendship for you? Your chest heaved as you clawed at the brick wall behind you—anything for that sense of reality. 

“Did you mean it? What you said last night?” Junghwan’s eyes flit back to you. 

Your heart made one final, courageous leap across your chest. Fuck it. 

“Yeah. I meant it all—I like you, Junghwan. I like you so much.”

The pressure on your shoulders began to float to the sky. This was what it felt like to stop lying to yourself, huh?

Like clockwork, Junghwan pulls you against his chest, his face melting into the crook of your neck. You cling onto his shoulders, grip maybe too tight for your liking. You didn’t want him escaping your grasp anymore. He was gentle, still, but you couldn’t help but notice a sense of urgency in his touch. As if he was waiting all his life for this. “I like you too, y/n.”

You pull away from your embrace, your eyes immediately linking to the sight of his lips. Call yourself selfish, but you needed to kiss the man in front of you. Right now. Judging by the almost ravenous stare from Junghwan’s eyes, it seems he felt the same. 

As if you were starving, you hopelessly clung onto the collar of Junghwan’s shirt, finally linking your lips onto his—genuinely, this time. You move your arms to cling around Junghwan's neck, and his arms loop around your waist. His lips tasted of a weird fruit medley—maybe it's from the gum you gave him last week—but it didn't matter. Sparks still popped against your skin, excitement shocking through your whole body. Junghwan raised a hand snug against the back of your head, protecting you from the brick wall as he leaned in further, deepening your kiss. It made your heart melt into a lovesick puddle beneath your feet. You cling onto the fabric of his collar. Junghwan knew just what to do to take your breath away. 

Slowly, you pull apart, breath shortened, chests heightened, and eyes both full of love. Junghwan keeps his gaze on you, and only you, as he brushes a hair behind your ear. 

“Promise you’ll let me take care of you now?”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. “I promise”

“Gross,” Jeongwoo winces as he studies the decorations on your apartment fridge—specifically, the photo of you and Junghwan, drunkenly asleep and cuddling on the couch. Safe to say, this was the last thing he expected to see on his visit to see his best friend and sister. 

“Shut up—it's cute!” Winnie, the obvious culprit, beams. 

“I tried getting her to take it down, okay,” You argue, fiddling with your boyfriend, Junghwan’s, fingers as his arm rests on your shoulders in a casual side hug. 

“Don’t act so innocent,” Jeongwoo narrows his eyes at the sickeningly sweet couple, jabbing a finger at you and Junghwan. “You guys are too damn clingy.”

Junghwan takes this opportunity to wrap his other arm—as well as one leg—around you. He looked like a big and goofy koala, but that didn't matter to you. “And what about it?” 

You giggle behind Junghwans arm, which was covering practically half of your face. “Yeah!”

“Yuck,” Jeongwoo’s cowers behind his shoulders, and the two of you laugh triumphantly. Your brother and Winnie quickly retire to another part of your apartment, probably to get away from you two. But that didn’t matter. You gave up at Junghwan, his eyes already gazing down at you lovingly. Heat creeped onto your cheeks. 

“Don’t mind them, baby,” Junghwan says with a pout.

You hum in response before Junghwan’s hand pulls you closer by the jaw, linking your lips with his in a sweet kiss. Even now, So Junghwan managed to take your breath away. 

“I know, baby.”

[eshieslovemaze]

what we left behind... | jungkook

summary: nothing lasts forever. everything comes to an end. so does your relationship with him.

pairing: jungkook × reader

genre: angst, hurt-no-comfort

word count: 2.2k+

warnings/includes: arguments, a relationship falling apart, eventual breakup, crying, mentions of depression

❤️‍🩹🍂

jungkook and you have been each other's everything for years. your relationship began to bloom in the late years of high school, and blossomed into something truly beautiful by your mid-twenties. your love story was one that your friends both appreciated and envied — two souls who found their way to one another through events aligned by the universe. but life has a way of changing things, and somewhere along the path, you started to drift apart.

it started subtly. you would come home late from your work, too exhausted with your new responsibilities as a high ranked professional to spend your time together. jungkook, overwhelmed with his own workload, would bury himself in his tasks to avoid the palpitating tension at home that only seemed to grow. conversations that used to flow effortlessly between you two became stilted, awkward, and i dare say, suffocating. the little things you once loved and adored about each other became sources of irritation and arguments.

one night, the tension finally boiled over. you fought about something very trivial —who forgot to buy milk, or who left the lights on, and it had escalated into something much darker and irreversible.

"jungkook, why do you always do this? you just shut down, and i feel like i'm talking to a wall! it's like you don't even want to talk with me anymore!" you snapped, your voice shaking with frustration, mind weighed down and haywire from the turn of events between you two.

jungkook's jaw clenched as he tried to keep his temper in check. "and you think i enjoy this? i can’t even remember the last time we had a conversation that didn’t end in a fight!"

"maybe if you actually listened—" you start, but he doesn't let you finish.

"i do listen! but all i hear is how i'm never good enough for you anymore," his voice rose, sharp and cold like a dagger.

you froze, the weight of his words seeping in like water through a sponge. the anger that had fueled you suddenly turned into something else — pain, guilt, and a deep sadness that you didn’t know how to express. "jungkook, you know... that’s not what i mean. i just—"

"just what, y/n? just wish you were with someone else? someone who didn’t disappoint you all the time? someone who isn't me?" his words seemed to bring out every negative emotion within you, his own chest heaved with each laboured breath, struggling to keep his temper in check.

"that’s not fair!" you cried out, your voice breaking. tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them back, telling yourself it's not the time, refusing to let them fall. "i never said that, i would never say that!"

"you didn’t have to," jungkook's voice was cold, distant. the warmth that once filled his eyes when he looked at you was all gone, replaced by a dull resignation, something that you tried to ignore to not break down. "maybe… maybe we’re just fooling ourselves, thinking we can keep doing this, when we both know we can't." he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

you stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "what are you saying? y-you don't mean it, right?" your nostrils flared, eyes blazing with a mixture of rage, guilt, and most importantly, hurt.

jungkook looked away, unable to meet your gaze. "i don’t know what i’m saying. i just— i don’t know how to fix, or do this," he points his index to you and then himself, "anymore."

the room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your unspoken words pressing down. you felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. "maybe we just need some time, some space," you whispered, though you weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

"yeah," jungkook simply replied, his voice devoid of any emotion as he looked away from your eyes. "maybe."

you didn’t speak again that night, both retreating into your own corners of the house like strangers living under the same roof. as the days turned into weeks, the once-familiar spaces felt increasingly empty. awkwardly polite exchanges, forced smiles, and a palpable tension hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the distance that had grown between you in an unalterable way.

then came the afternoon that would be the turning point of everything. you had suggested that you both go to the café where you had your first date, desparately hoping that a walk down memory lane would rekindle the spark you two have misplaced, and take things back to where they were. jungkook agreed, though he wasn’t really sure if he believed it would help.

the café was just as you remembered from your high school days —warm, cozy, with the same old jukebox in the corner playing soft tunes. you sat at your usual table, the one by the window, but the atmosphere was different now. the once comforting familiarity of the place only highlighted how much had changed between the two of you, igniting the tension instead of bringing back the lost warmth.

both of you forced a small talk, urging yourselves to pretend things were just fine when in all reality, they weren't. The tautness between you was palpable and growing, the uncomfortable silence between your words louder than ever.

you finally broke, your voice trembling as you spoke, "jungkook… do you remember how we used to dream about the future? about us together forever? how we talked about travelling, starting a family, growing old together?" you gulped, supressing the trembling emotions in your throat.

jungkook nodded, his throat tightening, "of course, i do. i remember."

"what happened to us?" your voice finally cracked, your eyes searching his for answers that neither of you had. "when did we stop being… us? when did things change from what they were?"

he looked at you, his own heart aching at the sight of your pain. "i don’t know, really," he admitted, his eyes dimming. "i don’t know when we lost each other. to the point that we let the rough patches take control of everything to the point of no return."

your eyes brimmed with tears, and this time, you couldn’t find it in you to hold them back. "i don’t want to lose you, jungkook. i love you. that... that never changed."

"i love you too, y/n. i know it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, choked with bitter feelings from the situation you both are in. "but maybe… maybe love isn’t enough for us anymore. neither of us are happy..." he weakly trails off.

you felt your heart shatter to dust at his words. you wanted to argue, to deny, to fight for the both of you. but deep down, you knew he was right. you both had been trying to hold on to something that was already gone, lost forever.

you finished your beverages in silence, buying time as both your minds wheeled to weigh the situation. when the twilight pink of the sky darkens with clouds, mirroring your thoughts, you two decide to leave. you two walk to the car, the rain that had started moments ago now falling steadily around you.

you drove back to your shared apartment in silence, neither of you knowing what to say. as you two entered the confinements of your shared home — if it even was a home anymore, you spoke up after finding your voice. "what now, jungkook?"

jungkook glanced at you for a moment before looking away, his chest tight with heavy, bitter feelings. "it's time. we will keep hurting ourselves if this goes on. we need to break up."

you looked up at him, your eyes full of pain, sadness, and regret, "i'll always love you, kook."

"and i'll always love you too, y/n," he replied, his eyes softening with melancholy as he gulped. "but… it’s time to let go."

you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you closed your eyes. you couldn't stop yourself as you leaned in and gave him a final, lingering kiss — a goodbye wrapped in the echo of what you both left behind. he pulled you close, deepening the kiss as you both tasted the saltiness of your tears through the kiss.

as you parted, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a final farewell. your heart ached with every item he placed into his suitcase, each one a piece of your shared life. the rain outside fell in sync with your tears, and you could only stand there, rooted to the spot. he gave you one last, lingering look before walking out the door, out of the world that you both dreamt of growing old in together, leaving it behind forever.

in the next few months, you went through the pits of regret and depression, wheeling your mind to replay every event during your togetherness and calculate what went wrong, when it went all downhill. you cried for days, mourning for what you two left behind. you made yourself a workaholic to stop yourself from spiralling, cooping yourself at your workplace till odd hours to avoid the memories that would rush back when you would step in your once shared home.

but you knew you couldn't grieve forever; you had to move on. slowly, you began having proper meals and taking care of yourself, gradually starting to change the decor of the apartment — as if to bury all the memories. with a heavy heart, you took down all the frames with pictures of two of you, safely placing them in a box and tucking it away in a corner under the bed. it was hard to let go of all those years of memories, but you did it for your own sake, knowing it would have been worse if you two stayed together. when the one-year mark of the break up hit, you believed that you had moved on, no longer caught up in the past. yes, you felt nostalgic at times, but you finally moved on.

you walked into the upscale downtown gallery, eyes sweeping across the room filled with art lovers and collectors. you weren’t here for the art, though; you had arrived tonight to support a friend who was showcasing her paintings for the first time. as you navigated through the crowd while admiring the art pieces on display, your steps faltered, your breath catching in your throat.

there, across the room, was jungkook.

he looked different — slightly older, more polished in a tailored suit, his hair a little longer than you had remembered, his jawline looking slightly angular. your eyes then fell to the woman beside him, laughing at something he said, her hand resting easily on his arm. she looked stunning, so much that a pang of envy shot through you; for now occupying the place you once had.

your heart tightened at the sight. it had been a year since that rainy night, a year since you had gone your separate ways, but seeing him now stirred that all-too-familiar ache in your chest. he looked happy — content in a way you hadn’t seen far too long.

for a moment, you considered turning around, slipping out before he could notice you. but before you could decide, jungkook's eyes caught yours across the room.

at that moment, everything else faded away. the crowd, the noise, the art — all of it blurred into the background as your eyes locked. but the once fiery connection between you was all gone, leaving only a cold, distant recognition in its place.

jungkook's smile slowly dropped, his expression unreadable. you felt a wave of emotions crash over you — nostalgia, regret, a tinge of longing — but most of all, you felt the cold sting of reality. you were no longer the jungkook and you who had shared dreams and whispered secrets in the dark; now you were just two people who had once been in love, but not anymore.

the woman beside jungkook nudged him, drawing his attention back to her. he offered her a small smile and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. a pang of jealousy flared up inside you, but you quickly pushed it down, reminding yourself that you were no longer a part of each other’s lives.

taking a deep breath, you turned away, forcing yourself to walk in the opposite direction. you mingled with the other guests, engaging in polite conversations, but your mind was miles away. the image of jungkook lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t stop replaying the way he had looked at you — like a stranger from a vague memory.

the evening passed in a blur, and as you left the gallery, you couldn’t resist glancing over your shoulder one last time. jungkook was still there, smiling with the woman who now held his attention, his form turned away from you — both literally and figuratively.

as you stepped out into the cool night air, you realized that the chapter of your life with jungkook had truly closed. you had become what you never thought you could — strangers passing by in the night, each on separate paths, separate lives.

with each step away, you finally allowed yourself to let go of the last remnants of what you left behind, embracing the unknown future ahead, no longer haunted by the ghost of your past love.

— copyright: © @eshieslovemaze 0924.

[waevrs]

​ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇ

Pairings: Athlete!Shin Ryujin x Athlete! ShinRyujin

Tags: SMUT, kind of dub-con, rough sex

Summary: You guys have been rivals for ages...what happens when it finally boils over?

The track team's practice had ended, leaving the athletes drenched in sweat and the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the field. Among the runners, there were two fierce competitors whose rivalry had been a burning undercurrent for as long as anyone could remember. You, with your intense determination, stood at one end of the track. Your opponent, Ryujin, a tall and graceful sprinter known for her speed, occupied the other end.

Your rivalry was not just about who could run faster or jump higher; it was something far more complicated. An electrifying, unspoken sexual tension crackled between you two, a tension that had drawn the attention and curiosity of your teammates. You often found yourselves in a strange dance of competition and attraction, neither of you willing to admit the truth.

Today, the competition had been fierce, but you had emerged victorious once again, crossing the finish line with a triumphant grin. Ryujin, her chest heaving and her legs trembling with exhaustion, could barely contain her frustration. She had lost to you too many times, and every defeat stung like a wound to her pride.

After practice, you two rivals found yourselves in the cramped, dimly lit locker room, a silence hanging heavily between you. You took your time changing, relishing in your victory, while Ryujin seethed with anger, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't bear to lose to you again, and this time, her anger boiled over.

With a sudden, explosive outburst, Ryujin slammed her locker shut, making you jump in surprise. "This isn't fair!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with anger and frustration.

You turned to her, a bemused smirk playing on her lips. "What's not fair, Ryujin?" you asked, your tone teasing.

"You always win, even when I train so hard! You must be cheating, somehow."

You laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Are you really that sore about losing? Get over yourself, Ryujin."

Ryujin glared at you, her eyes flashing with anger. "I won't get over it, because you don't deserve to win!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the empty locker room.

"Oh yeah? What makes you think that?"

"You're always flirting with the coach, giving her those sexy smiles and batting your eyelashes. She's probably letting you win, just because you're such a slut!"

Your eyes widened in surprise, and your heart began to race. You had never expected Ryujin to be so direct about her jealousy, and her words ignited a flame of desire within you. You decided to take a bold risk, and you moved closer to her, your eyes locked on hers.

"So what if I am a slut? Are you jealous, Ryujin?" you asked, your voice low and husky.

"I'm not jealous, you're just a cheater!" Ryujin spat back, her cheeks flushing.

You could feel the sexual tension crackling between you, and you knew that you needed to act before the moment slipped away. You took another step towards her, closing the distance between you. "I don't think you're telling the truth," you whispered, your lips just inches from hers. "I think you're jealous because I get to fuck the coach and you don't."

You haven't fucked the coach and you never will but you wanted to see the depths of Ryujin's jealousy.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Ryujin breathed, her voice coming out harsh through her gritted teeth.

You were both fully aware of the sexual tension simmering between you, and it was impossible to deny any longer. Ryujin made the first move though, slamming you hard against the locker. You were caught off guard and gasped as her hands grabbed your hips. "I know what I'm talking about," she hissed, her eyes blazing with lust and jealousy. You struggled against her grip, but her strength was overwhelming.

She pinned you against the locker, her hands digging into your skin. "What do you think you're doing, Ryujin?" you gasped, your heart racing with anticipation.

"You've teased me long enough," Ryujin growled, her voice thick with desire. "It's time for you to learn what happens to sluts like you."

Her words sent a thrill through you, and you knew you were about to experience the most intense pleasure of your life. You didn't resist as she tugged at the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down to expose your soaked pussy.

"Look at you, so wet already," Ryujin sneered, her fingers sliding along your slick folds. "You're such a fucking slut, you'd probably let anyone fuck you."

"Is that what you want, Ryujin?" you taunted, arching your back and pushing your hips against her hand. "Do you want to fuck me?" "Not yet," Ryujin replied, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

You whimpered as she plunged two fingers deep inside you, curling them and hitting the sensitive spot that drove you wild. She was merciless, fucking you with her fingers, her thumb rubbing against your swollen clit. You writhed against her, your body begging for release.

"Beg me," she demanded, her breath hot against your neck.

"Fuck you," you groaned, refusing to give in.

"Beg me or I'll stop."

The threat of being left unsatisfied was too much for you to bear.

"Please," you gasped, your hips bucking against her hand. "Please fuck me, Ryujin."

With a satisfied grin, she pulled her fingers out and shoved you to the floor. You landed hard on your knees, and Ryujin immediately stripped off her clothes. You looked up at her, and she smirked down at you, her hand wrapping around the base of her strap-on.

"Y-You planned this?" You sputtered out incredulously, unable to take your eyes off of the size of her strap-on.

She ignored you, pushing her cock into your mouth. You gasped around her, taking as much of her into your mouth as you could. She was relentless, thrusting into your mouth and throat. Your body tensed as you struggled to take her, your eyes watering. She didn't slow, fucking your mouth until your lips were raw and your throat was aching.

"Now get up," she commanded, pulling out of your mouth. You rose unsteadily to your feet, your knees trembling. You turned to face the locker, your cheek pressed against the cool metal. Ryujin was behind you in an instant, her cock pressing against your entrance. You gasped as she slowly slid into you, your pussy stretching around her.

"F-Fuck," you moaned, your breath fogging up the metal. She began to move, thrusting into you with long, slow strokes. You could feel every inch of her sliding in and out of you, and it was driving you wild. You were completely at her mercy, and she knew it. She fucked you hard and fast, her hips slapping against your ass. Your moans echoed through the locker room, and you knew there was no going back now. Ryujin was going to fuck you senseless, and there was nothing you could do to stop her. Not that you wanted to. The pleasure was building inside you, threatening to explode. You pushed your hips back, desperate for more.

"Ryujin," you moaned, your body trembling. "I'm going to cum." "Not yet," she growled, reaching around and pressing her fingers against your clit. "Cum when I tell you to, slut."

You tried to hold on, but it was impossible. The pleasure was too much, and you came hard, screaming her name. Your body trembled, and your legs gave out. She held you up, fucking you relentlessly through your orgasm.

"Ryujin, please," you gasped, the pleasure bordering on pain. "I can't take anymore."

"I'll tell you when you've had enough," she growled, her voice dripping with lust.

She kept fucking you, her cock slamming into you. You were lost in a haze of pleasure and pain, and you could barely breathe. You were overwhelmed, and you could feel another orgasm building. "Cum again," she ordered, her voice harsh. "Cum for me, slut." You couldn't hold back, and you came again, your pussy clenching around her cock. Your juices came squirting out and all over her strap, thighs, and locker room floor. Your body shook and then went slack in her arms.

Ryujin didn't let up, her hips slamming into you. Your body was limp, and she held you up as she fucked you. Her cock was buried deep inside you, and the feeling of her strap-on dragging against your over-sensitive walls was too much. You could barely stand, your legs trembling.

"Cum again," she hissed, her fingers digging into your hips. "I can't," you gasped, the pleasure too intense. "Do it."

You were helpless to resist, and you squirted again. You screamed her name, your body spasming. Your orgasm was more intense than anything you'd ever felt before, and you could barely think straight. "Ryujin," you cried, your voice hoarse. "Please, I can't take any more." She finally slowed, her cock sliding out of you. Your legs gave out, and she lowered you gently to the ground. You lay there, spent and exhausted, your heart pounding.

"Holy shit," you breathed, unable to believe what had just happened. "Yeah," Ryujin replied, her voice thick with satisfaction. "That was pretty fucking intense."

You slowly sat up, your muscles aching. "How long have you wanted to do that?"

"A long time," Ryujin admitted, a smile playing on her lips.

"Me too," you confessed, your heart swelling with emotion. "But I never thought you felt the same way."

"I do," Ryujin said, leaning down and kissing you softly. You melted into her kiss, and you knew that things had changed between you. The rivalry had turned into something else, something more intimate and real. You didn't care who won anymore, and neither did she.

All you cared about was each other.