#Washing Machine Dealer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

osamucide · 7 months ago

Text

BITCHBOY ⊹

ALL I WANT IN THIS WHOLE WIDE WORLD IS TO BE YOUR BITCHBOY . . . ft. Osamu Dazai

wc: ~6.8k

cw: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. icky pervy stoner roommate!Dazai <333 also pathetic wet cat mess of a man Dazai, afab+gn!reader, established roommate relationship, no established romantic relationship, implied bi!Dazai if you squint, referenced whore!Dazai, weed smoking+intox/noncon (reader says "stop" once and he does not stop), dubcon (becomes 'consenual' but Dazai's coercive+they're high), noncon elements can be interpreted (esp at the end) to be roleplay with prior consent! dirty talk, shotgunning, fingering, squirting, kissing, penetration, creampie, insulting nicknames (Dazai receiving), biting, this is depraved and I will answer for it on judgement day

reid: he’s all i think about.

tags: @kalsplace

You’re grumbling under your breath when you’re about to cross the threshold to your apartment because, as if the rest of your day hadn’t been annoying enough, your stupid key decides to give you extra trouble—as of late, it’s not working unless you jam it in the lock at a very specific angle and jiggle violently until just before you’re sure the knob will fall off, all whilst cursing your landlord’s neglect of the crummy old building like some enchantment or spell that ties the whole rage-inducing, access-granting ritual together.

Couldn’t your good-for-nothing roommate hear you struggling with it?

“Hey, sorry,” he chirps too brightly for the evening hour, floating out of his room as you shut the door behind you with a sigh—ever the mind reader. You forego your eye-roll this time; you’re convinced that one of these days they’ll get stuck in your skull what with how much you do it. You hear Dazai sauntering toward you as you’re shrugging your jacket off, hanging it up, tossing your bag on the table. “Was busy.”

You’re ready to turn and scowl at him, but when you face him, he’s waggling the little pipe in your face—the green one with blue flecks in the glass, undoubtedly what he was busy with while you broke into your own home—and you won’t admit that you already feel your irritation start to melt away when it slides from his fingertips to yours. You clutch it, latch onto the mouthpiece, and watch as the brunette flicks the flame out and lights you up.

You exhale gratefully, take one more pull, and hand the glowing bowl back for him to catch the remainder of before he lights it again. “Thank you," you croak before short cough leaves you. “Was real close to bitching you out for not leaving the door unlocked.”

Dazai blows his smoke directly back in your face with a small grin. “Redeemed by my weed once again.”

You chuckle and wave it away, making a point of sliding by him and toward your room to change. You need to unwind a second before dealing with him for the rest of the night. “‘S’all that ever redeems you. Crack a window, will ya?”

It’s really not a bad arrangement to have a live-in pot dealer—that’s basically what Dazai is and has been as long as you’ve roomed with him. Sure, he's also a pain in your ass; the man can hardly cook, you had to show him how to use the washing machine in the common area when you first moved in, and only a bit ago, after almost half a year of sharing a living space, have you convinced him to keep his mess of discarded socks and food packaging contained within his bedroom. It took a lot of harsh reprimanding about how you're not his parent and he's not your teenage son for you to realize it'd be a little of his own medicine to get him to start taking you seriously. Leaving your empty takeout box on the coffee table right where he liked to eat his, tossing your sweatshirt over his spot on the couch and refusing to move it for days—he took the message, albeit smugly, after that, and hasn't given you trouble since.

Even despite being a pain in the ass, though, especially now that he at least cleans up after himself, you have to admit you don't hate his presence in your home and in your life. You chalk it up to how infuriatingly charming he can be—you know he's a detective, and he's certainly got talents for sniffing out your emotions, solving your day-to-day problems, and smooth-talking, but all of that falls under being nosy and weird when he tries to guilt you into praising him for it. If he was any less annoying, you'd maybe even admit to yourself that he's kind of attractive; only physically, of course, which you've known since the day you met him, but any other way he might be—retaining a heavy air of mystery in spite of how bubbly he is, occasionally inviting you out drinking (mostly so you can drag him home once he overdoes it), smoking you up without asking for money—is just so overshadowed by what a fucking weirdo he is. You can’t separate it.

He certainly keeps you on your toes.

That’s really the worst thing about him. You know you’ll exit your room to grab your leftovers from the fridge and he’ll be pestering you to watch some movie with him—probably one of his cringy rom-coms (the fact that he watches and unironically enjoys them serving only marginally to make him a little more of an interesting character) during which he'll sling his feet across your lap or curl up into you so he can pinch your side once or twice just for your reaction, leaving you red in the face and mildly irritated while he giggles condescendingly at you. But as you always do, you think as you sigh and lift the hem of your sweater to curl it over and off, you’ll concede.

Your head’s caught in your sleep shirt when you hear your door creak open.

“Um, privacy?” you half-yelp—something you’re still figuring your way around with him. You jump out of line of the door as you poke your head through the neckline to shoot him that glare you saved from moments earlier.

Dazai just snickers, eyes wide and innocent. You're naked from the waist down. “Could’ve locked it.”

“As if that would stop you,” you snap back, stretching the hem over your thighs and ass as you skitter awkwardly back over to the edge of your bed where a pair of comfy shorts lay. “Get out!”

“Will you hurry up and put your pants on? I got My Big Fat Greek Wedding locked and loaded.”

“Yes, yes, just get out.”

He’s still snickering when he disappears behind the door. He doesn’t shut it all the way, and you mutter freak beneath your breath, secretly hoping he hears you.

You tug your shorts on and meander back out as the intro rolls, set on your leftover homemade tonkatsu; as you settle cross-legged with your plate on the couch, Dazai reaches over and plucks a piece of cabbage off it.

You side eye him as you chew. He’s already occupying himself with packing another bowl—he must've finished the first one himself. You'd half-expect him to reach for one of the prerolls he keeps in the coffee table drawer so as not to have to go to the trouble again, but he does.

“You eat yet?” you ask carefully.

He shakes his head as he uses the butt of the lighter to press it down. Of course not. Even weed doesn’t make him eat. You’ve expressed concern over his eating habits before, but he always dismisses you with a hum and that smug smile.

You make a point of tearing the remainder of your cutlet in half with your utensils. When he reaches out to pass you the pipe, you reach back, chopsticks pinching a hefty piece of pork.

Dazai raises his eyebrows at you.

You raise yours in reply, as if to say, take it, or I’m not smoking anymore with you.

So he does, reluctance veiled thinly by amusement. You know him well enough by now; or, you think you do, at least. As he chews, he balances the chopsticks back on your plate and turns to you with the lighter, curling his own legs beneath himself.

Only satisfied when he swallows, you set your plate aside, face him, and press the pipe to your lips again, looking to him. To his pretty brown eyes that search you owlishly, that you swear sparkle with a little more vigor after even the smallest bit of sustenance enters his system. Maybe you should just leave him to starve, but then where would you get your weed? You’re an idiot, you’d say if you weren’t waiting on his flame.

But before he can light it for you, he pulls the lighter away, and you chase it with a soft hey—he’s grinning at you again, like a devil, like always.

“You always do that, you know?” he asks.

“Do what?” you mumble impatiently against the piece.

He gives in and dips the flame down into the bowl; you inhale deep, flower crackling softly as you do, and he only answers when the smoke’s halfway down your throat.

“Look up at me all cute like that every time I light it for you.” Those brown eyes bore into yours and you become aware all too quick of the fact that you do—you do indeed peer up at him through your lashes; your eyes water as smoke burns your throat and you blink away, trying not to cough out your hit at how he’s gazing at you, but he doesn’t stop there.

He would never stop there.

“Makes me think bad things.”

So you cough out your hit anyway.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask, choked, face red from more than just the sting of the weed. You busy yourself with pulling another hit while it’s still lit.

“Mhm,” he agrees. “Lots of ‘em.”

Your head swims now—you’ve built up a decent tolerance from living with him, but forgetting to breathe at his words and zeroing the huge puff you take next surely doesn’t help. You cough again, and nothing leaves your lungs this time as you debate whether to take his challenge.

Another thing you’ve learned about Dazai—he loves to fluster people. If living with him wasn't enough proof, you’ve seen him do it millions of times to pretty bartenders, or on the off-chance his partner from work joins you drinking; off-chance, truly, because Kunikida already has to put up with Dazai all day at the office, and anything more than what’s required of him might be better off called torture rather than fun. And beyond loving it, Dazai demonstrates it like a long-honed skill—the exploitation of people’s humiliation, the monopolization on people’s most sensitive spots. He had previous work in it, he’s said, but you can’t imagine what job could possibly entail all that. You think he just doesn’t know when to shut his mouth—no, he’s smart enough to know when to; he just doesn’t like to. He’s what most people would refer to as an asshole.

And yet, you find yourself torn between feeling disgusted and entertained by him all the same. Although you often find yourself the victim of his little mind games, you’re not above jabbing back at him. What does that make you, you wonder? The question briefly crosses your mind, but you shake it off as, in your buzz, you swat away the bait; decidedly, you’d rather watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding in peace, finish your tonkatsu, and then go to bed tonight.

“You’re gross.” The scoff you let out sounds more like a chuckle.

Dazai tilts his head, flicking the lighter for you again; he sparks the bowl as he watches you, as if in exceptional contemplation, and you make a point not to do it again—you inhale and gaze straight down at the flame.

“You don’t wanna hear what it makes me think about?” he asks cutely, unwilling to let you get away just yet.

You ignore the slight flush undoubtedly on your own face as you slip the bowl back to him; doubly so, you try not to watch the way his lips wrap around the mouthpiece.

But right now, you can’t seem to help that your bleary-eyed attention is on him. Just as he exhales, you remember you haven’t replied.

You’re not quick enough. He doesn’t take your silence as an invitation; it’s an opportunity. You see it in his smirk, just a second too late.

“Makes me think about how pretty you’d be looking up at me like that from your knees.”

He’s good at his games—he invents them, after all. But you’d be damned if he thought you wouldn’t shut him down when you weren’t in the mood.

“Yeah, no, don’t particularly wanna hear about it, thanks.”

This might be a new low, even for him, you think. Who the fuck just says shit like that?

When you think about it a second longer, though, he really hasn’t brought anyone home to fuck obnoxiously (a boundary you were quick to set with him) in at least a couple weeks, so maybe he’s just pent up. Either way, his comment makes you wrinkle your nose, furrow your brow—hopefully negating the pink inevitably tinting your cheeks. Fucking weirdo.

“N’ now you’re blushing all cute, too,” he observes; you scoff again, more pointedly this time. “Thinkin’ about it?”

As if, you want to say, but the words get stuck against the roof of your dry mouth, so you conjure up some of your spit, swallow it down, and hope he doesn’t notice—but it’s Dazai; he will—that your high's settling onto your shoulders swiftly. He’s pointing the bowl back at you, and as you grab it robotically, you’re still trying to speak—a sure sign you should both shut up and keep your places on opposite ends of the couch and watch the movie and finish the tonkatsu, but instead you just balk. No matter what you do, you play right into his hands—that’s how it happens all too often, and you certainly won’t learn now or anytime when his weed’s coursing up to your brain and back down to your thumping heart. Dazai lights your next hit for you, laughing like it’s all some big joke, and maybe it is—maybe you’ll blow your smoke in his face this time and pick up your tonkatsu and shut up and just watch the damn movie.

As if you’d ever be so lucky with his antics.

You’re shaking your head in near-awe when you pass it back to him once more.

“I mean, we basically kiss through this thing all the time,” he says like it’s relevant, waving the pipe about. “I don’t think it’d be so weird if we fucked. Or if you sucked me off, at least.”

“It—it would totally be weird, Osamu,” and when you speak his name so lightly, blinking at trying to muster up your own laughter as a defense mechanism, his sight flickers up to yours. “That doesn’t even—I’m not sucking your dick.”

“Shame,” he purrs. “‘Cause I know how pretty you’d look. Your lips all wet and pouted against my t—”

“Oh, my god, shut up.” Now you laugh, out of pure disbelief at how far he’s taking it. He pokes at the tail end of what’s left in the bowl and chuckles, too, seemingly ready to let it go now that he has you laughing. "You're horrible."

The more you let him talk about it, the more you entertain him, maybe you can let it peter out.

“What about me? Do I look pretty when I do it?” he asks, batting his lashes as he pulls another hit off the pipe.

“Sure, yeah, whatever,” you let your laughter idle as he doesn't tear his gaze away from you. He looks pretty. Whatever. You cross your arms as you feel the familiar tingle of your high behind your eyes.

“Would I look pretty on my knees?” he prods.

You could slap him—if nothing else, just to make his face burn half as much as you know yours is. When he sets the bowl and lighter aside and goes back to observing you, eyes low-lidded and red, chin rested on his hands, propped up by his elbows on his crossed legs, you have half a mind to shrink away from him—but you keep cool, even if the way you're at eye level with his searing stare feels a little too intimate.

You mirror his position. “Hmm, I don't know.” You steal his thoughtful tilt, too, and tack on, “Maybe if you were begging like a little bitch.”

You're prepared for him to laugh tauntingly again and then let this die where it stands because he got a reaction out of you, right? That’s always what he’s looking for, so it’s about time he goes back to his corner of the couch where you'll bully him into a few more bites of tonkatsu.

But he stays locked onto you, quietly.

And then he's shifting forward off the couch and down to the ground.

“Osamu—”

“Uh-uh,” he chides you softly, crawling to situate himself directly in front of your figure. Looking up at you all cute. “I’m gonna be the one begging, remember?”

Your disbelief swirls with refusal as he paws at the hem of your shorts as if to say, turn, please, and fuck—what can you do other than turn red as a rose as he grabs your ankles, unfurls your legs, and props his chin on the cushion between your thighs? You feel alarmingly higher, blearier when his fingers creep up beneath the fabric, slowly, looking at you as if for reassurance.

“We're not—you can quit fooling around, seriously.” You want to laugh again but it comes out deadpan, strict; you feel heavier with each landing of his fingertips against your skin, and he just keeps looking up at you. Cute. Pretty. Taking it too far.

“I want to,” he mumbles, retracting his hands only for them to find your hips, your waistband. “Come on. ‘Wanted you so bad for so long. I know you want me, too,” he speaks your name slyly, quietly, and it prompts your breath to quicken a little; he traces circles into your hipbones with his thumbs, toys with the elastic at your waist, snapping it softly, and you squirm. “Please?”

For so long? you think. How long?

“I—I'm not high enough for this, Osamu,” you try to joke, but he just twists around to the coffee table drawer for one of those prerolls and his lighter.

“I can get you higher,” he offers—tone still much too innocent, motives still haphazardly veiled by what a big jokester he is, and he sticks the joint between his lips and lights it.

Before you can coherently protest, he rises, supporting himself on your thigh with one hand and removing the joint from his mouth full of smoke; when he leans into you, you catch his wrist to keep him from ashing on the back of the couch, grab his face in a half-attempt to stop him in his tracks—but ultimately, when his mouth meets yours, you open for him.

The plume of smoke he shotguns into your mouth is thick; you breathe it in. His palm like a brand against your thigh.

And he doesn’t stop.

“Osamu,” you whine against his lips, still mushing his face away and hating how your dry throat roughens your voice. He just kisses you, kisses you, and your fingers find the pulse point in his wrist—he’s a decent kisser, you think, at the very least. You have half a mind to let your fingers slide to the mess of brown hair beyond the apples of his sharp cheekbones, and—

You backtrack in your mind. You’re actually probably too high for this.

You have to detest the way it feels so heavenly when he squeezes the fat of your thigh, dodges your lips, and works steadily in a line from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, all tongue and teeth in his pursuit. You have to detest it. Fucking weirdo, you repeat in your mind. The joint burns between his fingers. You snatch it from his grasp and pull your head back, raising your feet to kick him weakly in the abdomen, and he relents—your toes feel asleep when they hit the carpet again, and you hoard the joint between your fuzzy fingers when he reaches for it back.

“Osamu,” you say again, stern, eyes wide. The weed. You're high. You're both high, and this is weird. He’s just your weirdo roommate and you got home wanting to end your stressful day without complicating anything else in your life today.

So why, when he looks at you like you’re a caged animal that’s just as afraid of him and he is of you and works the joint from your fingers to take another drag, do you let him cup your face and exhale more smoke down your throat?

Why do you chase his lips when he blissfully, needily, sinks to his knees once again and starts to traverse beneath your shorts?

With the right focus of mind, like staring at your hand when you’re spinning and convincing yourself that the world around you is actually moving and you’re staying still, you can almost pretend he’s a stranger—some sexy, enchanting stranger that you met on the train home after your shit day, meant to relate to you with docile nods and hums as you air your grievances about work or school or whatever, meant to kiss it off you like it’s just a little bit of dirt.

Getting out of your shorts is like getting out of second skin. You're taking another hit, unwise or not, because it's back in your hand and you don't know what else to do; you watch him in your haze with a mix of anticipation and distrust, but right now, anticipation is winning by a small margin. You’re high, you tell yourself—twitching already, in that way that has nothing to do with desire but rather just means you've smoked a little too much too quickly, and the idea that Dazai might still fake you out and send you to bed feeling half-hot and bothered, half-violated, with no pants on and a near-empty stomach bobs around in your inhibited brain—again, you expect him to laugh, say you’re fried, clap you on the shoulder and tell you it's a joke but he doesn’t, he cranes for a hit from the joint and you hold it to his lips shakily and he touches you on the exhale, the pads of two of his fingers nestling carefully between your folds over your underwear and when he brushes your clit it’s—

Fuck, it’s electric.

“Osamu, stop,” you say, hoarse and abrupt, grabbing his wrist. "I'm—"

“What?” he asks, teasing lilt to his tone. Beneath your hand his thumb comes up to replace his fingers, to loop circles around you, and you're shuddering, back bowing, and he's grinning at you wickedly.

“I—I'm high,” you admit, voice feeling thick, soupy as it leaves your throat.

“So? Me too.” He blinks at you, slow like a cat, in a way that you're pretty sure he's still mocking the way you apparently always flutter your gaze at him when he lights you up. “‘S the best way to do it.”

“Yeah, but—”

He doesn't interrupt you with but what?

And yet, you still don't finish your sentence.

You glance down to where he’s rubbing you gently, where you hold him at bay—where you could yank his arm and twist it uncomfortably if you really did want him to stop but the longer he circles over the fabric that’s growing increasingly, alarmingly wetter, the more you melt away from yourself and you think, fuck, he really is gorgeous as he’s resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh.

“Scoot forward f’me, please?” he almost whines; his voice changes, stricter when he says, “And stop letting that burn. Smoke it.”

And you comply, shuffling your hips forward and placing the filter between your teeth.

Dazai looks up at you. All cute. Heavy-lidded, red-eyed. Hungry.

And you look back, apprehension sparking but then fading with each drove of smoke you inhale. Heavy-lidded, red-eyed. All cute.

“Let me taste you, please,” he almost whispers. You almost find yourself a little endeared by his pointed pleases.

“This is fucking absurd,” you croak, but your resolve is leaving you. He’s a little blurry. “You’re such a sicko.”

His smile widens against the word. Sicko. Almost like he’s pleased to hear it leave your mouth. “Surprised it took you this long to figure out, baby.”

His touch is impatient and restless and crawling as your underwear goes, too—and you don’t appreciate how good it felt when his thumb was on your clit until it’s back again and you’re slipping the joint out of your mouth to let you jaw fall slack; you tangle a hand up in that messy hair that is much softer than you could’ve imagined and all but yank him back toward your cunt.

“Please,” you echo him, finally. “It felt so good—do it again.”

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages you in your whimpering, fingers prodding at your hole and tongue landing a feather-light lick to your wetness. “I know you want it.”

The sounds are lewd. Disgusting, really—fitting for how he’s acting. Dazai swirls his tongue in circles around your clit as he works his middle and ring fingers into you; cracked gasps leave you at the intrusion, and you can’t keep your eyes open when he curls them upward ever so slightly as he makes out with your clit. If you were sober you’d, of course, be embarrassed at how you’re already gushing for him, but all your mushy brain can think about right now is the sparks bolting to your otherwise-numb fingers and toes with each suction of his pretty pink lips against you—isn’t this wrong? Shouldn’t you feel weird? Yeah, probably—but you’re forgetting why, and you’re forgetting to care.

He hums against you and it sends a shockwave throughout your already-vibrating body; the moan you release into the air is like song, even to yourself. Is he really good at this, you wonder, or is it the weed?

Oh right, the weed. The weed, the weed, the weed.

You pull his mouth off you, almost dropping the joint that’s not much of a joint anymore—only the filter remains.

“I don’t think this is—”

Fuck, you keep going back and forth. You keep breaching the surface just for him to tug you beneath the water again and convince you the drowning feels nice. And it does, for a few seconds—until it starts burning your lungs to a crisp again, at which point you tear away from him kick up, and in the moments you spend sucking in air you don’t get how he stays beneath for so long, like it’s nothing, how he doesn’t stop—he doesn’t stop, his fingers still curling inside of you, and you’re going under again to the sound of his voice.

You feel suffocated. More delirious by the second. It’s nice.

“You already told me it feels good,” he mumbles against you, lapping at you, and you’re letting up on his hair, letting him become a weight again where you should float.

And the lack of oxygen must be getting to your brain because, even though you still don’t think you want to drown, you cease your kicking. For the last time.

“Osamu,” you cry. It sounds like a moan. It might be.

“I know, I’m such a sicko.” There’s no remorse in his words; there can’t be, not when he’s still curling up into your g-spot in just the way that makes you croon his name again—undoubtedly a moan this time—but when he comes into focus again, he looks so apologetic. “You can say it again, baby. It’s okay.”

“S—sicko,” you mutter disapprovingly, but rolling your hips all the same.

He smiles. Soft, kind, apologetic.

You’re scared to move. You know if you do, you’ll both be able to see the wet stain collecting beneath you on the cushion. You feel it.

So you barrage him with more.

“You—you’re a fucking pervert. You’re disgusting.” You feel wetness on your face, too. You deduce that it’s from how perfect his fingers feel inside you, goading that warm slick out of you and into his palm, onto the couch; regardless, you don't stop berating him, your tone harshly contrasting your wriggling hips. “You disgust me.”

“I think you like it.” He presses up, hard, and you gush, gasping. A short, clear spurt narrowly misses his face; he leans back down to lick it off, off the cushion, off your thighs, off your crying cunt. “I think you like how nasty I am.”

“Disgusting,” you whisper. “Disgusting. You're disgusting.” It’s a little chant you hold onto as he rises again to kiss you, messily—a means to replace his lips with his wet fingers, shoving them past your lips and against your tongue where you lap at them instinctually, like you’ve been waiting for it. It’s so wrong to be tasting yourself on his fingers, but your eyes roll back anyway, just to lurch forward as his hand retracts and you find him grinning once more as he slips his sweatpants and boxers down in one swipe. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” Dazai mocks, giggling. “You just tasted how fucking wet you are.”

“Osamu,” you whine as he kicks his garments aside; you begin to draw your feet up, your knees to your chin, but his hands, stronger than you anticipate, pry you open and flip you to your back and he grins, biting into his bottom lip all the while. Why, you wonder, when the dim living room light glints off his teeth as he situates himself between your legs and leans down to cage you in between his arms, do your hips hitch toward his? Why are you so adamant to deny him?

“You gonna say it again? C’mon, I love hearing my name,” he breathes, ducking down to lick across your jawline. “But I love when you call me those words. Say it again. Tell me how nasty I am.”

“You’re the worst,” you groan, but it sounds comical, even to your own ears, because you’re scratching at his shoulders in a way that draws him closer to you rather than further away.

“More, baby,” Dazai hums into your neck, reaching down to swirl his tip against your wetness. When you feel him, you jump.

It feels good. It feels even better than his thumb and you don’t know if you’re still on your way up but you feel higher and higher by the second and the instinct to push him off is slipping further beyond your grasp. When he pulls back to watch your mouth fall open as he rubs himself into you, you almost let the word pretty slip past your lips—he looks so pretty, tongue flicking, eyes dark, and you catch yourself with your lower lip between your teeth, reflecting the desperation he conceals in everything but his words.

Pretty isn’t what he wants right now, though—and suddenly you feel compelled to give him what he wants, if only it means he’ll keep touching you like this.

“S’fucking nasty—degenerate fucking freak—” you eek out; you don’t know much longer you can tiptoe the line between repulsion and sheer need, but you’re tilting further and further with each circle of his dick and you can tell he’s getting off on the way you’re lurching into him now, running toward his touch instead of away from it.

You think you need him to fuck you, now, or you’ll cry.

“Osamu, please,” you continue, sounding on the verge of tears now—where you should’ve been before, when you genuinely wanted him off you, yes. You wanted him off of you before. Didn’t you? There was a time, a mere few minutes ago, when his fingers in your skin and his animalistic gaze were revolting. Right?

“What’re you beggin’ me for?” Dazai asks like he doesn’t know. He knows. He knows what you don’t want to admit to yourself and he’s going to dangle it over your head, he’s going to rub it in your face, he’s going to make you answer through your hazy high that he never should’ve come onto you through to begin with, and you’re going to give him what he wants—you always give him what he wants, even if you don’t mean to, even if you don’t want to, but now you think you want to. You want to, because it feels so good, and he’s slowing down, he’s stopping and when he takes his hand away to swipe his thumb across your chin, pull your lip from between your teeth and work your mouth open with his fingers again, the loss almost hurts. You want it. You want to.

It’s going to hurt even more to say it, but you want it. And before you can even get it out, before the words even hit what little air is between your lips and his, Dazai looks thrilled at what you say next.

“Please, fuck me,” you whisper.

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely—” He reaches back down, but the smugness doesn’t waver; his tip catches on your entrance—emitting a lewd squelch that should make you cringe but instead prompts your lip to fly between your teeth again—and you hook your tingling feet behind his back, legs astride his waist as you're pushing his bangs from his face all in one motion. “I guess I’ll fuck you, pretty baby.”

"Yes," the dreaded word falls from your lips when he finally works his way into you, past that tight ring of muscle, to nestle snugly inside you until the head of his cock kisses your cervix.

The noise you draw from him—something between a sigh and a moan—is heavenly. His nose nuzzles the trail he licked across your jaw before and you find your hands linked behind his neck, urging him down, onto you, into you—and when he recoils his hips to thrust back in again, quick and short, you keen against him, pathetically, in a way your past self—the one from four or five touches ago—would hate you for.

You should hate how gross this is. How gross he is for this.

But you don't, and you're not going to torture yourself with asking why anymore.

The friction inside you doesn't feel comparable to anything; for the first time in a second, you feel grateful for the weed pulsing through you. You let your eyes roll back and flutter shut without consequence.

Dazai moves against you like water. Water you're content to drown in this time; his touch doesn't crawl anymore as much as it seems to soothe and as he picks up his pace, brings a hand to your cheek to wake you back up, pull you back above the surface.

"You sound s'fuckin cute," he sighs; those eyes, predatory before, are now just brown and melty, honey-colored backgrounded with red fog, not so searching as much as they seem attentive, not making you feel so uncomfortably vulnerable as they do softly seen. He thinks you sound cute. You giggle through the unrivaled pleasure, giggling through your own moans which hit your ears and do sound cute—sound especially cute woven through his.

"Y'sound... so," you start, "so fucking—unh, Osamu, don't stop!"

He chuckles now, low and breathy, and you push his hair back from his face again; his eyes roll back when you do it, and you just do it over, over, over, drawing clipped groans out of him, stealing the words from his throat as he steals yours and you tug, you tug on his hair and the moan he lets out, broken between thrusts, is so raw and laced with need that you moan in reply, clenching around him because, fuck, he sounds so cute, too. "Wanted this for so long, baby. Pussy feels s—so much fuckin' better than I could've imagined."

"How long?" you finally poke back—you want to know. You want to know how long he's been holed up in the mess of his room, jerking off to the thought of his cute little roommate finally falling between his fingers—you want to know how bad he's wanted this, and if getting you high out of your mind just to get it was worth it. You focus your voice to ask him. "How long you wanted this, 'Samu?"

"So long—since—" he gasps, fucking into you harder, faster, deeper; you tug his hair again, exposing his neck, and yank him down to sink your teeth into his neck. You need the reprieve as he starts hammering against the deepest parts of you, eliciting wet smack! after smack! from between your writhing bodies. You jostle beneath him as he finds his breath; "Since I fuckin' met you. Always wanted you."

"Yeah?" You mean it to be a teasing little rhetorical question but it comes out more like encouragement amidst the bliss radiating from your cunt throughout your whole body, but you find it in you to continue— "You been—you been thinkin' of me under you like this? Like the sicko you are?"

Unbelievably faster and harder. You choke on a scream; Dazai's grunting above you, and it hits you that those names really do spur him on. You're far from offending him—you're bringing him closer and closer to filling you up with each and every insult and jab you throw his way and if you were any less cockdrunk you'd be hurling even more barbs at him about how that makes him so much worse, so much more gross but it just spurs you on, too, right now—and you realize, when he looks at you with those fucking eyes again how bad you want him, how bad you've wanted him, too, for so long; you couldn't—wouldn't admit it because he's just your weirdo roommate but really, maybe that's what you love about him. You certainly love the way he makes your toes curl when he reaches down to play with your clit again. You cry out against him.

"Osamu, fuck!"

"Say it again," he begs you, pretty brown eyes glassy as they fall shut, as the tip of his nose touches yours. "Say it again, please, baby."

You know what he wants.

"F—fucking pervert," you huff, doing everything you can to hold onto the rope that's uncoiling rapidly inside you, coming further and further undone with each slam of his hips into your ass. "Ah—you're disgusting. Disgusting."

You fall back on your mantra and it has his thumb moving faster, harder, just like his thrusts, just like his voice, even if it sounds unconvincing through the shockwaves of pleasure; you feel it, the unraveling, it's washing up on you so quickly, so much quicker than it should be at the hands of your weirdo roommate.

"Don't stop," he pleads like he's not the one fucking you to orgasm; you see white, you feel as light as air—god, has cumming always felt like this? Shouldn't you hate it? Shouldn't you hate that it might never feel like this again?

You do, you do—you hate weed and you hate sex and you hate your weirdo roommate Osamu Dazai for coaxing the most mind-blowing climax you've ever felt out of you, but you don't hate any of those things, not really; you hate that it's never felt like this before, and that it can again if only you can push your pride down for a few more moments and call him a—

"Freak—gonna—gonna cum in me?" you goad, breathless, lucky for speech as he fucks you through the otherworldly high, as you clamp down on him and screw your eyes shut until you can keep going. "Gonna fill me up like the nasty motherfucker you are?"

"Ngh—yeah, yeah, yeah...!"

Dazai, in all his depraved beauty, fucks his fat load into you mercilessly; you twitch, shake beneath him, driving strained sobs from his chest and talking him through with soft yeahs, want y'r cum, filthy fucking sicko freak, you disgust me. He loves it. He falls apart, and you tug on his hair once more as he slows, as he spills out of you, as he looks at you with so much adoration in his eyes.

"You—" Dazai's breathless, heaving. "You're amazing."

You giggle again, wiggling a bit and trapping him further close to you, fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. Soft. You don't feel any less high; just blissed out. "You're cute."

"Knew you thought so," he sighs, lopsided smile coming back; you don't know where in the pleasure he'd lost it, but its return has you tilting your chin up to kiss him once more. Soft. Gentle, sweet, no tongue; not gross, not hungry, just sweet. Satisfied.

"But you're still weird," you tease against his lips. Sly.

When Dazai pulls back, the hunger in those eyes sparks again.

"Want me to show you how weird I can get?" he threatens.

"I dare you," you taunt back.

And he grins, fully and wickedly, once more; you can count on it. He'll show you, alright.

#i want to first thank italics. id be nowhere without italics #dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #nnnsfw.ᐟ #mdni #with love—reid

1K notes · View notes

ldolbybts · 3 months ago

Text

Forbidden - Part 2

Pairing ➜ Dealer!yoongi x Female Reader Warnings ➜ 18+, sex, male receiving oral, little bit of angst Summary ➜ You never meant to lock eyes with the beautiful stranger at Namjoon’s house party, you also didn’t mean to completely fall for him. Word Count ➜ 7.7K

Part 1

The next morning you woke up with a killer headache and a dry mouth. You turned to your right and saw a passed-out Taehyung lying next to you.

Your eyes widened as you quickly tried to recall last night’s events.

After your phone call with Yoongi, you had quickly stripped Jin’s sheets and replaced them with a fresh pair, looking for a washing machine you threw them in, hoping no questions would be asked. It was a strange challenge to complete when drunk but luckily nobody had seen you and you had got it done relatively quick.

You had then went back downstairs and partied. Hard.

You remembered at about 5am you were too tired and Jin had announced you could sleep in any of the bedrooms, Taehyung had followed you to talk but you both had just ended up passing out.

You smiled, remembering Taehyung had been concerned with no ulterior motives, you two were just talking complete nonsense however for about an hour before you both had just fallen asleep.

You reached out to the bedside table, where you had left your phone and checked the time.

10AM it had read, only 4ish hours of sleep? Why the hell were you awake?

You saw you had a message from Yoongi, but you were pretty sure you needed a few more hours of sleep if you wanted to text back anything that made actual sense.

You did however make the valiant effort of plugging your phone into a charger before passing out again.

When you woke up again you didn’t know how much time had passed.

You reached out for you phone again to see it read 1PM, Taehyung was still miracuously passed out beside you.

You took a minute to examine his features, how the fuck did anyone deserve to be that beautiful? Especially after a night of partying? Jackass, you thought before sticking an elbow into his side.

“Tae,” you called out in a singsong tone. “Tae wake up.”

You earned a small groan from him and knew you were getting somewhere.

“Taeeeeeeee,” You called again.

You rolled over onto him, straddling his hips and leaning into him.

“Tae wake up!”

Semi awake - you knew this because he has consciously grabbed your hips to keep you in place – he groaned again, probably unaware of who you even were.

“Wake up you loser!” You said, cupping his cheeks and shaking his head side to side a little.

“M’awake.” He replied, his grip on your hips tightening when he finally realised who you were.

He smiled, his eyes still closed.

“Hm, I always have dreams of waking up with you on top of me like this.” He murmured.

“Never thought it would happen though.” He said as he slowly opened his eyes.

You were 100% sure you’ve probably never looked worse, but Taehyung only smiled wider when he saw your face.

“I was just trying to wake you up…” You trailed off, suddenly very aware of how your crotch was literally sitting on his.

You rolled off him, leaving him to fully wake up, pulling your phone off the charger.

You remembered the message from Yoongi, unlocking your phone.

A smile crossed your face as you remembered the events from last night. You felt giddy and a little ashamed at what you had actually done last night, but the giddy feeling overwhelmed you and you pushed away the hangover blues that were threatening to loom.

9:39AM

Yoongi: hey, text me when ur awake

You grinned even harder, typing your reply.

1:13PM

You: hey sorry my lazy ass is only awake now, i stayed in Jin’s, let me call you when im home and showered T_T

“God you must have it bad.” Taehyung said from beside you.

You glared at him “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied.

“Well if how hard your smiling at your phone is anything to go by, you must clearly have it bad for somebody.” He said.

You rolled your eyes at him.

“I’m going back to my dorm.” You said, standing up, feeling a little dizzy.

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you.” He said, winking.

You mimicked gagging as you threw your shoes on and fled Jin’s house.

As you stepped out of the warmth of the shower and wrapped a towel around your hair, you threw on a long t-shirt and got settled into your bed.

You pulled out your phone and opened up your recents, hitting Yoongi’s name, you watched it as it began ringing.

You became a little nervous, your mind thinking back to everything that had went on last night.

You put the phone up to ear listening to the sounds as you closed your eyes letting out a heavy sigh of exhaustion.

They sprung back open as soon as you heard the “Hello?” from the other side of the line.

“Hey.” Was all you could manage, your anxiety sky rocketing.

“Hey,” Yoongi replied. “So how bad is your hangover?” He asked.

You laughed and scoffed. “Leave me alone! I am currently dying and in serious need of unhealthy food.”

“Maybe I can help with that?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, like you were going to tell him no.

“What do you mean?” You asked, a smile on your face.

“I can pick up anything you want, bring it to you. We can talk.” He said.

“Oh yes please that sounds amazing!” You said, glee overwhelming you.

“Okay text me what you want and your address.”

And with that the conversation ended, you quickly jumped up to dry your hair and put on a pair of shorts.

When there was a knock on the door you leaped up, heart about to beat right through your chest.

You opened it up with a smile and Yoongi smiled back holding up food in one hand. You grabbed his hand and pulled him in.

Your dorm room was small so you didn’t really have any other choice but to sit down on your bed and pat the space beside you.

“Here is the chicken strips your majesty ordered.” He said, sitting beside you.

“Thank you so much, you have no idea how hungry I am.” You opened up the bag getting stuck in like some depraved animal.

“I didn’t know you lived in a dorm,” He said, gazing around your room.

“Yeah,” you said, munching on fries, you swallowed and began again. “I’m in my 3rd year.”

“Wow, I don’t know…I pictured you to live in some ridiculous mansion like the rest of them do.” He said with a shrug of the shoulders.

“No, believe it or not I am in no way rich, far from it actually, I met them because my mom used to clean Namjoon’s house actually, she used to bring me along. That’s how we all met.”

You weren’t ashamed that you had significantly less money that your friends, far from it actually, your mom was a single mother who did her best for you, still was.

“Oh really? That’s actually quite surprising.” Yoongi said, his eyes skimming over your face, meeting your eyes.

“I’m not ashamed! Those rich dicks help me a lot actually, they’ve definitely made sure I didn’t I go hungry or anything, they treat me well, I’m super thankful.” You said, taking another bite of your food, it was going down a treat.

“Thank you for the food, I have some money in my coat pocket-“ You made a move to stand.

“Please, it’s on me.” Yoongi said, putting a hand on your arm to stop you getting up.

You laughed. “I probably just made it sound like I’m some sort of charity case.”

Yoongi shook his head, “Not at all, I just wanted to do something nice.”

You looked up at him again, his dark hair was falling in his eyes a little.

“Listen,” he began “About last night, I hope you don’t regret it.” He said, he wasn’t looking at you anymore.

You put the rest of your food to the side, wanting to move closer to him.

“Of course I don’t.” You reaasured him. “Do you?” You asked.

Now Yoongi looked at you once again, “No.”

“See? We both don’t regret anything. I’m glad.” You said, resting a hand on his thigh.

“I want to talk though,” He started, his eyes focused on where your hand was. “I know it’s no secret. What my job is.”

It was your turn to listen to his story and you did, you nodded, letting him continue.

“I know what I said to you the first night we met, and I won’t lie I still feel like that a little, I’m a first class scumbag right? I mean what else kind of person deals drugs.”

He said, scoffing at himself.

He kept going, he clearly wanted to get everything out on the table.

“I never wanted this, my dad’s side of the family are all like this, my mom ran off, I guess she was afraid of him, but she didn’t take me with her. I grew up with this and I never wanted to do his dirty work for him. I tried to fight him on it but what can I do? He wouldn’t let me leave. I know I’m a bad person, I try so hard not to be, I only sell to people I can trust, no addicts, no one underage, just mainly rich kids who want to party ya know? I know that doesn’t make it any better…”

You could tell he was struggling to get this out, but it needed to be done.

“My dad’s a hardass, he doesn’t even do any of the dirty work, just sits on his throne all day, keeping his hands clean. He threw me into this, his own son, said he wanted me to get a taste of what it was like out there.”

You were listening intently, afraid to speak. Him saying this made it all so real.

You knew what he was doing was wrong, but the fact that he was basically being forced to do it made your heart ache, he didn’t ask to be born into that life and running away from home when your father was that kind of man…it wasn’t an option either you guessed.

“I’m not making excuses, really I’m not, I just. I like you a lot and there is no way I can take this any further without you knowing all this. I understand if you don’t want to see me again.” He said.

You looked at him, he was still looking down unable to meet your eyes, was he really that ashamed?

A part of you wanted to tell him you didn’t want to see him again, to not let yourself get into this sort of situation, but something about him was so damn infatuating, you wanted to keep seeing him, get to know him, his hobbies, his hopes and dreams.

It had been a while since he spoke and you realised you hadn’t replied to him.

“Look I get it, I’ll just go.” And as he made a move to stand you hastily grabbed at his wrist.

“No please don’t go Yoongi. Please. This was just a lot to process, I’m sorry. But I definitely don’t want you to walk away.” You said giving him a - what you hoped looked - reassuring smile.

Yoongi smiled back but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I know it’s a lot, that’s why I don’t date or get involved with girl’s at all for that matter. But then I saw you at Namjoon’s party…I couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, I’ve never felt like that before after seeing someone for the first time.”

Your heart swelled.

“I thought the same about you, I mean I tried to flirt from the damn bathroom.” You said, laughing a little.

“I know,” Yoongi replied, laughing a little too as he recalled the memory. “I said that cheesy line aswell, I felt like a damn moron for that.”

You laughed harder. “Don’t worry, I liked it.”

“You were drunk!”

“I wasn’t that drunk…well actually…” You trailed off as you recalled.

You both were laughing hard now.

You couldn’t believe how natural this all felt, being like this with him.

And that’s how the rest of your afternoon with him went, just talking about anything and everything, you were getting to know each other and it felt amazing.

So when he announced he had to go you had pouted and he gave you a quick kiss on said pout and promised to call you.

You were sitting with Jungkook in your local coffee shop, both stressing about assignments, but avoiding them like the idiots you were.

“This has got to be the worst week of my life, I feel like I’ve been hungover for about 5 days and this essay is due in in 2 days, how do they expect me to write five thousand words whilst trying to party? I go to college to party, not to work.” Jungkook was moaning, you weren’t really listening to him, you rolled your eyes.

“Jungkook you’re gonna flunk out if you don’t start doing some work.” You said sighing.

“They can’t flunk me,” he began with a cocky smirk, “When your dad’s on the board there are some perks, for example, doing the bare minimum and getting away with it.”

You scoffed at him, hitting his shoulder.

“And where is that attitude going to take you in life? Hmm?” You were tired of dealing with his rich boy antics.

“I don’t know, hopefully surrounded by some good pussy and parties 24/7.”

You were pretty sure if you rolled your eyes any harder they were going to fall out of your head.

“Well, unlike you, I have to actually put some effort in, I’m going to the library, it’s due on Monday.” As you got up Jungkook stood with you.

“I’ll walk you over.” He offered and you didn’t decline.

As you walked across the grass, Jungkook had his hands in his pockets.

“So does that mean you’re not going to the party tomorrow?” He asked.

You shook your head a firm no, that was the last thing on earth you needed to be doing.

“Awh no fun, I hate it when you’re not there.” He said and you gave him the side-eye.

“What are you talking about? We barely speak at parties your always too busy trying to get laid by the first brunette that walks through the door.” You stated.

“Oh come on! Not fair. Me and you know how to have a good time, you’re the only person I can count on to get as fucked up as me.” He said, smiling at you.

You hit his shoulder again. “Why are you so proud? Us embarrassing ourselves isn’t cute.”

“It is so.” He retorted.

You just shook your head, walking in silence until you were back on campus.

“Hey look… isn’t that Min Yoongi?” Jungkook asked, nodding his head in the direction he was in.

You shot your head up immediately, Jungkook was right, Yoongi was there. Standing in front of what you could only assume was his car, it was sleek, black and look like it cost more than a house.

You looked away, turning to Jungkook. “How do you know who he is?”

“A lot of people on campus know who he is, he’s infamous, you know he used to go here? He dropped out, turned into… ya know…a drug dealer.” Jungkook said lowering his voice.

“He refuses to sell to me. I’m pretty sure he’s Jin’s dealers though, I see him around sometimes.”

You widened your eyes in surprise, smacking Jungkook on the shoulder for what had to be the 15th time today.

“Ouch! What did I do now?” He said, faking hurt.

“You tried to buy from him? What are you, some sort of idiot?” You scolded.

“He’s a cool guy ______, I’ve heard the rumours about him selling to only a select few, but I thought I’d chance my arm anyway, see if he was down, he most definitely was not.” Jungkook said, laughing at the obviously funny memory.

“Jesus Christ Jungkook, you really are shameless.” You stated, distracted.

Yoongi had spotted you, he wasn’t making it obvious but he stole a few looks your way.

“Is he…looking at you ______?” Jungkook said, suddenly aware of the situation.

You immediately turned bright red.

“Oh my god, he is!” Jungkook half shouted.

“Jungkook oh my god, shut up!” You said back at him, suddenly irritated at his childishness, if anyone were to find out about you and Yoongi – well let’s just say Jungkook would’ve been dead last on your list.

“I can’t believe this…wait, how do you even know him?” He asked, he stopped walking and suddenly turned to you, going into full blown interrogation mode.

“I don’t! Well not really, I just talked to him at Namjoon’s party once, I didn’t even know who he was.” You said, it technically wasn’t a lie, you just couldn’t let Jungkook know it had went so much further than that.

“Jesus…” Jungkook breathed out, he was clearly in deep thought.

“Please stop making it sound like such a bad thing Jungkook, it isn’t that deep!”

“He’s a fucking dealer _____, do you know how dangerous that makes him!” He shot back, clearly worried for you, it would be almost endearing if you hadn’t felt such a strong need to defend Yoongi.

“You know he doesn’t even want that life? His dad forced him into it, he didn’t have a choice in the matter…” You trailed off, hoping Jungkook would be reasonable.

“How well do you know him, really? I’m sure that makes it seem like it’s all okay _____, but it doesn’t.” He wasn’t budging on his opinion.

You wanted to fight him on this, but honestly…how could you?

“You didn’t...get with him…did you?” Jungkook asked, seeing how worked up you were getting up over the situation.

“Jungkook, I swear to god, if you don’t stay out of my business, we won’t be friends anymore.” You shoved him out of your way and stormed on, you heard him call your name but you ignored him.

As you were walking it suddenly hit you, Yoongi had just witnessed your whole confrontation, he hadn’t been close enough to hear but anybody with two eyes could clearly see you and Jungkook had been arguing.

You didn’t look over at Yoongi, you put your head down and powerwalked all the way to your dorm.

As you closed your door you threw your bag on the floor in anger. Who the fuck did Jungkook think he was? He wasn’t in charge of your life you were a big girl.

You began shedding clothes, suddenly feeling too hot, you were getting far too worked up, ready to burst into tears.

Your phone was buzzing incessantly in your back pocket and you finally took it out, looking to see who it was;

Notifications:

JK: iMessage(s) (8)

Yoongi: iMessage(s) (2)

You sighed and threw your phone on the bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to read any of them, your head was hurting and you just wanted to crawl into your bed.

So you did.

It was only 2pm, but a nap couldn’t hurt, your problems would still be there when you woke up, but you could avoid them for a few hours.

When you woke up, it was due to the sound of your phone vibrating once again, you didn’t know how long it had been doing that exactly, but the fact it had been seeping into your dream, you figured it had been a while.

You picked it up from beside you and squinted at the bright light in your face.

Incoming call: JK

You hastily declined the call and when you did you saw the notifications on your home screen.

Notifications:

JK: iMessage(s) (14)

Missed calls (6)

Yoongi: iMessage(s) (5)

Missed Calls (1)

You groaned at the time, you’d been asleep for about 2 hours, but Jungkook obviously had a lot to say to you, you knew he had been saying everything to you out of his love for you, that he didn’t mean to be mean or hurtful. Heck you knew what kind of situation you were in and damn you and Yoongi had beat that horse to death the first time he had came over to your dorm, you were taking it slow, unaware of where you two wanted to take this, but you both knew how badly you’d wanted to keep seeing each other.

You took a deep breath and unlocked your phone, staring at the messages Jungkook had left first.

2:07PM

JK: _____ I’m sorry about how that went down, we need to talk

JK: Please don’t ignore me, i know i annoyed you

JK: i know i didnt even take the time to really hear you out

JK: You know how much i care about you

JK: How could i stand by and let you just do something like that?

JK: Wht kind of friend would that make me?

JK: please please don’t shut me out

JK: i love you sooo much don’t be mad at me :(

3:13PM

JK: i promise i wont say anything to anyone

JK: i do think you should tell Jin though

3:56PM

JK: _____ please pick up the phone

JK: im going fucking crazy sitting here

JK: i just need to know you don’t hate me :(

JK: ik im being a stalker here, but just one word to reassure me you’ll talk to me again is all I need :( ur my best friend ,,,

You sighed heavily as you scrolled through his texts, he was obviously annoyed at himself and clearly demented at the thought you may never speak to him again, he'd always had a flare for the dramatic.

You put your anger aside to type one quick reply.

4:04PM

You: I don’t hate you, I just don’t know how to talk about this with you yet, give me time.

He typed a reply right away.

JK: okay !! i understand im so glad you replied

You really needed to set things straight with Jungkook but you knew you both needed to speak to each other in person, you would in due time.

As you took another heavy sigh you clicked over to yours and Yoongi’s text conversation.

2:04PM

Yoongi: Hey is everything okay with you and your friend (jungkook I think, im not sure…)

Yoongi: I wanted to come say hi but things look a little heated, do you wnt me to come over?

3:45PM

Yoongi: im sure youre busy I don’t want to be that person who worries over not getting a reply, but I really do hope ur ok…

Yoongi: ive tried calling u sorry if that’s annoying lol, let me know ur okay?

Yoongi obviously didn’t realise your argument with Jungkook had been over him, so how could he know you couldn’t even tell him what you two had been arguing about, you didn’t want to lie to him he clearly seemed to care, but you thought the truth would be more damaging than good as you began to type back.

4:07PM

You: hey im sorry! Ur not annoying i just accidentally fell asleep, sorry if i left you to worry about me although it is very cute tho,,,, me and jungkook were just talking about one of my close girlfriends, he said he something about wanting to fuck her and i got angry…it’s the norm with me and him, nothing to worry abt :)

You read over what you typed about 5 times, hoping it was believable, you pressed send.

You lay in your bed waiting for ten minutes before you got a reply.

4:19PM

Yoongi: it didn’t look like nothing, my offer to come and see u still stands ya know… im still about campus

You heart felt heavy. You thought about how much you wanted to see him, and you knew that even though Jungkook was right he was also so very wrong.

4:21PM

You: yeah i would actually really like that…you remember where i am don’t u?

After about 10 minutes you heard a knock on your door and you bounce up from your bed, you probably look a hot mess but you don’t care.

You pulled open the door and were practically beaming at him.

“Hi.” You said.

“Hi yourself.” He replied as he walked in, you took a step back still watching him as he closed the door behind him.

You were still awe of how effortlessy beautiful he was, the dainty silver chain around his neck, his hair was getting a little too long but the way it was falling into his eyes made him even more beautiful.

“What is it?” He asked a small laugh escaping him, clearly confused by your staring.

“Nothing really…I just think you’re cute.” Your eyes widened after you finished speaking, that sounded a whole lot better in your head.

Yoongi let out an amused scoff.

“You think I’m cute?” He retorted.

He took a step towards you and you felt your heart rate began to go a lot faster.

“Well…I d-,” He was getting closer. “I don’t know – it just slipped out.” You said.

“It just slipped out?” He repeated.

You had never felt more flustered in your life and it only got worse as he finally got close enough to rest his hands on your hips and pull you close to him.

“Do you…wanna watch a movie or something?” You asked, god he really was fucking you up.

“No.” Was all Yoongi said before he leaned in and kissed you.

You welcomed his kiss immediately, leaning into his touch and wrapping your hands around his neck, teasing the ends of his hair with the tips of your fingers.

You slowly began incoporating your tongue into the kiss and let out a pleased moan when Yoongi began lightly sucking on it.

“You make the prettiest noises…” He said breathily between your kisses.

“Hmmm.” Was all you responded.

“Even better hearing them in person rather than over the phone.” He stated.

You froze a little feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the memory of Yoongi talking you through your orgasm over the phone.

“I must’ve jerked off to the memory of that about a million times, god it was so fucking hot,” You were staring wide eyes at him, you could feel the familiar heat growing between your legs.

“R-really?” Was all you could mutter as Yoongi began kissing your neck his hands reaching round to grab at your ass.

“Are you kidding me? Of course, you sounded amazing baby, did so well for me.”

Fuck.

You could feel yourself getting more flustered by the second, all you could think to do was to kiss him again.

As you both grew more heated you let Yoongi guide over to your bed and your stomach was doing flips in anticipation.

You let him lie down and crawled over ontop of him stradding his hips.

You pulled off your top leaving you in your bra and Yoongi just stared at your chest.

His hand reaching up he moved round to unhook your bra.

You shuddered at his touch and slender fingers getting to work and when he finally let your bra slide off your shoulders his hands reached up to palm at your breasts and you let out a small moan when he teased your nipple with his fingers.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmmured.

You could feel him under you, hard and heavy.

You began grinding down allowing you both to have some friction.

“Fuck, I think I could come like this.” You moaned, grinding down on him harder.

Yoongi was smirking, “Yeah why don’t you try?” He challenged.

You smiled back at him, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, you went to town.

“Fuck, I can feel how big you are Yoongi.”

You swore you felt his cock twitch at that.

“Want you so bad, so fucking bad.” You were talking yourself up now, getting yourself more and more worked up, you were so close.

“Yeah? Show me how bad you want me baby, fucking use me.” Yoongi said while he continued to tease your nipples, he sat up slightly, using his mouth to suck one into his mouth.

“Fuck!” Was all you managed before you came undone, riding yourself on Yoongi through your orgasm.

“You really weren’t lying.” Was all Yoongi could manage before you began moving your body down his.

You pulled his jeans down, revealing the outline of him through his boxers, your mouth watering.

You palmed over him, “You really are big, fuck.” You whispered, almost to yourself.

“You want to suck my dick baby?” He offered.

You nodded like a crazy woman, you wanted him so bad and him asking you something like that only spurred you on.

You pulled his briefs down letting his cock spring free.

“Jesus.” Was all you could say.

Yoongi laughed, clearly amused at your reaction to his dick.

“I mean it’s no Jesus but I appreciate the compliment.” He said.

You laughed, hard. You couldn’t believe you had his dick in your hand and he was making you laugh like an idiot.

“Okay stop or I won’t be able to do a damn thing.” You stated trying to get your breath back.

“Hm okay sorry I’ll stop.”

You just smiled as you lowered your head taking him slowly into your mouth.

You wrapped your hand around what you couldn’t put in your mouth, beginning to really get to work.

You heard Yoongi’s breath hitch and let out a small groan at your actions and mentally congratulated yourself.

“Fuck you’re good at that.” He said breathless.

“Hmmm.” You moaned around him.

“Ah fuck baby please.” He said an encouraging hand on your head willing you to take more of him in your mouth.

So you did just that, you took more of him, he hit the back of your throat and as you tried to suppress your gag reflex Yoongi clearly appreciated what you were doing.

He moans. And oh god it is such a sexy noise you want to just start touching yourself then and there, you were insatiable.

After a few more minutes your jaw was beginning to ache but you never faltered wanting to finish the job, it’s Yoongi who stops you.

“Babe stop, I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna be inside you.” He stated and you felt yourself suddenly become nervous, looking up at him you could see his fucked out expression and it only turned you on more, you pushed your nerves to the side; you trusted him, and you’d wanted him this way from the moment you set your eyes on him.

“Do you have a condom?” Yoongi asked as you sat up to remove your skirt and underwear.

You turned to him to see him taking his shirt off, only to pause when you remembered you couldn’t even remember the last time you purchased condoms.

“Shit…No actually, I don’t.” You said.

Yoongi looked at you laughing a little in disbelief.

“No it’s okay, I’m clean and I’m on the pill!” You said as you straddled him, you weren’t going to let this ruin your first time with Yoongi.

“I’m clean too, to be honest it’s actually been a while-“

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” You interrupted him, “you still want to do this then?”

You saw his cock twitch at your teasing and you laughed a little only to gasp in shock as he grabbed you by the hips and all of a sudden you were underneath him.

“Of course I want to do this.” He said into your ear.

“Then do it, fuck me Yoongi, please.” You could hear the neediness in your voice but you didn’t care.

Yoongi buried his head into the crook of you neck and let out a groan of frustration before pulling away and looking at you, he gave you a small kiss before muttering something that sounded something like ‘what are you doing to me?’

Yoongi lined up at your entrance and you were so wet the tip slid in with ease.

You let out a small whine as the initial feeling, you couldn’t believe this was finally happening.

“Baby jesus chirst…you are so wet…so tight…fuck you feel amazing.” He said.

You merely nodded in agreement, you didn’t trust yourself to speak, he was all in the way in you now and you had to bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Please…move…Yoongi.” You managed.

And with that Yoongi started thrusting into you, hard.

You were moaning loudly completely lost in the pleasure.

“Baby you sound so pretty, keep moaning like that, you want me to fuck you harder?” he asked.

He was breathing heavily but when you gave him a small yes he complied, fucking into you at an unbelievable pace, you body started moving a little up the bed but Yoongi grabbed you by the hips to keep you in place.

“Yoongi just like that oh my god just like that.” You moaned.

Yoongi reached his hand down to rub at your clit and you jerked at the bolt of pleasure, it was almost too much. Almost.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you like this…” Yoongi murmured, “underneath me moaning like this.”

You smiled “Really? Did you get off to the thought of this a lot?” You asked teasingly.

“Fuck more than I care to admit.” He breathed out.

You lifted your arms to wrap them around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

He was hitting you deeper now and his relentless attack on your clit was only causing you to reach your end quicker, you put your face in the crook of him neck and let out a loud whine.

“Baby are you close already?”

Yoongi had slowed now but he was rubbing your clit faster and you could feel you orgasm about to wash over you.

“Yes – fuck – I’m gonna come.” You said.

Yoongi was panting heavy, picking up his pace again, he could feel you clenching around him and you knew he was just as close as you.

“Come for me please baby.” And with a few final strokes of your clit your orgasm hit you like a train.

You were lost in yourself, lost in your orgasm you took a moment to come back down to earth you put your hands on Yoongi’s shoulders and wrapped your legs around his waist encouraging him to come.

“Baby please come, please fill me up.” You said in your fucked out moan.

And he did, spilling inside you the feeling of him filling you up was so blissful you moaned again.

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi whispered you almost didn’t hear him, but the way he said those words just confirmed he had enjoyed himself just as much as you had.

When he pulled out of you you were both still breathing heavy the both of you so fucked out you couldn’t even speak yet, Yoongi rolled over to lay beside you.

After a minute of silence Yoongi finally spoke.

“That was-“

“Amazing.” You finished.

Yoongi laughed, leaning over to kiss you, a small affectionate peck that left you smiling like an idiot.

“Let me get you a cloth.” Yoongi offered, getting off the bed he pulled back on his underwear and walked into your small en-suite.

You could feel Yoongi’s cum seeping out of you and as gross as it was it only caused you to smile knowing what had just happened.

“Here.” Yoongi said, as he walked back out handing you the cloth, it was hot and you appreciated the fact he had taken the time to do that for you, it was sweet.

“Thank you.” You said sitting up to clean yourself.

You climbed off your bed aswell, throwing on Yoongi’s shirt to cover yourself up.

“Looks good on you.” Yoongi said.

You scoffed, “I’m gonna shower I’m sure I look like a mess…give me a minute?”

“Yeah no problem –” Yoongi was muttering as he reached for his phone to check it, after a second he was bouncing up.

“Actually I’m sorry I have to go – god I really don’t want to be that guy that just leaves right after…” He trailed off, his eyes wondering over your body until you realised he was looking at his own shirt on your body.

You nodded trying not to show your upset at the events that were unfolding in front of you.

You hastily reached for your dressing gown to cover up your naked form as you pulled his shirt up over your head.

“______ please don’t get quiet on me like that, you do know I care about you and I would not be leaving unless this wasn’t an emergency, right?” He said as he pulled on his shoes and stood up.

He made his way back over to you and took both your hands in his, encouraging you to look up at him.

“I’m sorry, I really am, please don’t be upset, please tell me you understand.”

It took everything in you to nod and give him a small smile.

“I’m fine Yoongi, go, I understand.” You lied.

He took another 10 seconds to further examine your face to make sure you weren’t upset, you were definitely giving him a convincing enough expression.

He gave you a small nod before grabbing his keys and phone giving you a small peck on the lips and leaving out the door.

You let out a huge sigh, you felt tired again.

You woke up the next morning and let out a frustrated groan as you remembered yesterdays events.

After Yoongi had left you stood there for a minute before you let the shame wash over you, you felt like you had just been used for a quick fuck, you wanted to believe Yoongi wasn’t like that but it was hard not to when he was already out the door even as his cum was still inside you.

You had showered for a long time, trying to rid yourself of the negative thoughts that were overwhelming you.

Yoongi wasn’t like that, he had shared himself with you, told you details of his private life and in turn had listened to your story as well, but was this a regular occurrence with him?

Was the time that you were able to spend together going to be far and few between?

You decided the best thing for you was to simply distract yourself, so as you sat on your bed you opened up your laptop to get started on the assignment you had due, you decided to switch off your phone, you knew if you didn’t you would be checking it every 5 minutes waiting on a text from a certain someone.

A few hours passed as you really began getting into your work you figured you’d be able to get it finished by tomorrow, but a sharp knock on your door made you jump out of your skin.

“_____ , open up please.” You heard a muffled voice come from behind the door.

It was Jungkook.

You took a deep breath, you hadn’t been mentally ready to see him for a while, but here he was.

You stood up off your bed, walk to the door you hesitantly opened it just a crack as you peered out to him.

He looked good as usual, black jeans, black cap and that damn black leather jacket. He immediately looked at you as you poked your head through the gap in the door.

“What do you want Jungkook?” You asked, you really weren’t in the mood to get lectured right now.

“What am I, some stranger? Let me in and we can talk.” He said moving closer to the door.

“Jungkook – I’m really not in the mood right now.” You said.

He pushed the door open anyway his strength no match for you.

“What are you deaf now?! I don’t wanna talk Jungkook.” You stood back from him as he closed the door behind him, he really did look huge in your small dorm room.

“Please just let us talk this out, you know I hate fighting with you, the other guys… I will freeze their asses out when they’re mad at me I don’t care…but with you.” Jungkook looked at you with those bigs eyes and you let out a huge sigh, you had a soft spot for him.

“Okay, let’s talk.” You said with a heavy heart, you weren’t ready for the dose of reality Jungkook was going to hit you with.

He took a seat on your bed, your dorm room didn’t even have a desk so everything had to happen on your bed, you cringed a little when you realised you hadn’t even washed your sheets since you and Yoongi had had sex on them.

You took a seat beside him folding your legs up underneath yourself.

“You wanna tell me how this happened?” Jungkook said, you got the vibes he wanted everything out on the table.

“I wasn’t lying yesterday. I met him at Namjoon’s house party the other week. He was there because you all cried in Jin’s face about getting coke.” You said, you were definitely on the defence.

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows a little, you know he could tell you were going to be snarky about this but he had the patience of a god when it came to you, lord knows you could be difficult.

“Okay…” Jungkook began slowly, “So you two just…what?”

You rolled your eyes. “Jungkook, I saw him at Namjoon’s party I flirted with him even after I found out who he was, I saw him at Jin’s again and he kissed me…he actually was here yesterday…” You didn’t know what else to say, how did you tell your best friend you were fucking a drug dealer, it wasn’t exactly something you just said, but you knew Jungkook was smart enough to already know what you were saying.

“What?! You mean you two have already…” He didn’t need to finish his sentence, he trailed off looking like he was deep in thought. “Aren’t you moving a little to fast here _____? I mean if you only met him at Namjoon’s party then –" You took second to blink at Jungkook before hitting his shoulder.

“Excuse me?! You fuck the first girl you see at any any party within an hour of meeting her and you’re going to lecture me about whoring it out?!” You weren't really that angry more, just in shock that Jungkook had actually said something like that to you.

Jungkook laughed a little at your reaction “I didn’t mean it that way, I’m sorry I guess it’s just because of who he is…you have to know this is a bad idea right?” He was looking at you a lot more serious now.

You nodded solemly, “I know Jungkook, fuck believe me, we both know.”

“But…let me guess, he’s not entirely what I’m picturing? Cause I know damn well you wouldn’t let get this worked up over someone if you didn’t like them a lot.” He said, resting a comforting hand on your knee.

Sometimes you forgot how attentive Jungkook was, a lot of your relationship was joking around with each other, so when shit got serious you were reminded of the fact that he actually cared about you a lot and that he actually knew you pretty well.

“Yeah, it’s new but…I like him a lot, although I’m not even sure if the feelings are one hundred percent reciprocated. Maybe it’s just self deprecation thinking that… I don’t know it’s been so long since I’ve wanted to see someone more than once. I forgot how hard this shit is.” You scoffed out a laugh, you were pretty sure you sounded stupid but you weren’t sure how to talk about this.

“Please, are you kidding me? If the feelings aren’t reciprocated then he is a total dumbass because any guy would be so lucky to have you.” Jungkook said.

You didn’t know where to look, Jungkook speaking like this to you felt foreign.

“I know that was cheesy,” Jungkook laughed a little. “But it’s true, I mean look at Taehyung, he embarrasses himself all the time trying to get you to go out with him.”

You rolled your eyes.

“All Taehyung wants is a quick fuck.” You deadpanned.

Jungkook scoffed “Are you kidding me? I’m pretty sure Tae’s been in love with you from the moment he set his eyes on you, remember when he gave you his favourite toy to play with and we all were in shock cause it was the first time we’d seen him share anything.”

You laughed at the memory, but Jungkook had no idea what he was talking about, Taehyung only saw you as a friend and possibly another notch on his belt.

“Listen, what I’m trying to say is _____ at the end of the day this is your choice obviously but please be careful, please, I can look out for you but I don’t think I stand a chance against a drug lord’s crew if it came down to that.”

You looked at him in shock. “Jungkook don’t say shit like that oh my god! Nothing like that would happen!”

You shivered at the thought for a second, thinking about how you only saw Yoongi and not his world, it probably was a dangerous as Jungkook was imagining.

Jungkook put his hands up in defence. “I’m sorry okay, I’m just going to be worrying like crazy from now on, you know that right? Let me be the overbearing overprotective friend please.”

You let out a heavy sigh chosing to not say anything for a moment as you got lost in your own head.

“______, I respect your choices always. But please be careful.”

You nodded, “Thank you Jungkook, and you know I will.”

“Listen I gotta go, but I’ll text you okay?” Jungkook said as he stood up.

You stood up with him following him to the door.

He leaned in and gave you a hug, it was warm and you felt safe in his arms for the short moment they were around you. You really did have great friends you thought. With a quick goodbye Jungkook left you alone with your thoughts.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fanfction #min yoongi x reader #my writing

160 notes · View notes

keeryhours · 5 months ago

Text

the needle and the damage done - chapter three

Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie goes to rehab.

Warnings:

Angst, withdrawal, rehab, mention of drugs

Word Count: 3.3k

Eddie had a rough night. He didn’t sleep, spending the night tossing and turning, sweating, running to the bathroom to throw up all night long.

He thought about leaving. He thought about running to his dealer’s and getting high again and putting himself out of his misery. But the thought of having to face you after begging for help then getting high - again - kept him there.

You were right there with him, holding his hair as he got sick, cooling him down with a cold wash cloth. Neither of you slept. He clung to you like a scared child, crying through the pain and begging you to make it stop. You were powerless, crying for your husband as you could do nothing but watch him suffer through the night.

You were making phone calls bright and early, calling all the best rehabs in California to try to get Eddie a spot. You lucked out with the Passages Treatment Center in Malibu, California, where they said they could get him in for detox treatment immediately.

You brought the girls to Gareth and Roz, before rushing home to help Eddie pack a bag and get him into the car. You brought his guitar along just in case. It was a nearly hour long drive there, your heart breaking as Eddie writhed in pain in the passenger seat, having to pull over multiple times for him to be sick.

When you arrived at the rehab center, you were shocked at how fancy the place was. It looked like a mansion, complete with a beautiful pool and garden outside. You carried Eddie’s bag and helped him walk to the front door, where a well-dressed woman and a nurse greeted you both.

“Edward Munson?” She asked, a clipboard in hand that she quickly looked over.

“Eddie,” Eddie corrected her, “but yes.”

She smiled. “Well welcome, Eddie. You can come with us to this room to do the medical evaluation. Your wife can come with you, if you want.”

Eddie clutched your hand tightly, telling you he wanted you with him. You wouldn’t have it any other way, following them to the small room with your standard medical equipment. They had Eddie sit in a seat next to a vitals machine, you taking the seat next to him.

Poor Eddie looked like hell. He never let go of your hand with his left one, his black wedding band cool against your skin in contrast to his sweaty hand. You fiddled with his ring nervously as the well-dressed woman sat behind the desk, the nurse moving to grab the blood pressure cuff.

“So,” she began, as the nurse wrapped the cuff around Eddie’s right arm. “I want to welcome you to Passages, first and foremost. We hope to offer you a comfortable experience, a treatment plan that will set you up for success when you return home. My name is Dr. Roberts. Have you ever been in a program like this?”

“Uh, no,” Eddie said, his awkwardness and fear evident in his voice. “I’ve never…been to rehab before.”

“Well, we’re different from many rehabs in that we take a holistic approach here. We offer the usual counseling and one on one psychiatry sessions, but we also offer massage therapy, acupuncture, yoga and meditation, music therapy, art therapy, and treatment with natural medicines,” she explains. Eddie’s face lit up at the mention of music therapy, which she caught. “Ah, a musician?”

“Yes, my whole life,” Eddie says quickly, the blood pressure cuff inflating on his arm. “I, uh, have a band. Had a band. Corroded Coffin.”

Dr. Roberts smiled. “Ah yes, my son is a fan.”

Eddie laughed lightly. “Really? Maybe I can sign something for him.”

That made her smile even bigger. “I’m sure he would love that.” She opened the file in front of her, flipping the sheets until she found the form she was looking for. “What was his blood pressure?” She asked the nurse.

“122 over 76,” she said. “Slightly elevated.”

Dr. Roberts wrote that down as the nurse put the thermometer in Eddie’s mouth. When it beeped, she said, “100.” She wrote this down as well.

“Eddie, what is your drug of choice?”

“Uh,” Eddie said, shooting you a guilty look. “Heroin, mostly. And cocaine. Oxy, Speed.”

Your stomach hurt as you listened to him speak, but the doctor wrote this information down without judgement. “Meth?”

“Um…a few times. Not really.”

He squeezed your hand harder in his, as if willing you not to leave him. Like he was scared the truth of his addiction would scare you away. You understood the concern, because you felt like you were about to be sick, but you weren’t leaving his side. Your hand lightly rubbed over your belly in a soothing gesture.

“Tell me about your family, Eddie,” she said, a friendly smile on her face as she slid her glasses higher on her nose. “I see you have a lovely wife. Any kids?”

Eddie smiled, looking peaceful for the first time since last night. “Three. Well, soon to be four,” he says, letting go of your hand briefly to place it along with yours on your belly. “We have three girls, 10, 6, and 3. Evie, Rhiannon, and Ivy. Not sure what this one will be yet.” He gently rubs affectionate circles on your stomach.

The doctor smiled at him, writing more notes on her paper. “It sounds like you have a beautiful life you’d like to get back to. I’m sure you want to be healthy for your girls.”

Eddie’s eyes had already been watering, his nose running from the withdrawal, but a tear escaped down his cheek at her words. “Yeah. I do.”

“Good. We hope to help you achieve that here,” she said. “Now, I’m going to go down a list of opiate withdrawal symptoms, and you let me know if you’re experiencing them, okay?”

Eddie nodded, and she began going down the list. Insomnia? Yes. Sweating? Obviously a yes. Watery eyes and running nose? Yes and yes. Pain? Fuck yes. Nausea and vomiting? Big yes.

“It sounds like you’re experiencing severe acute withdrawal,” she said seriously. “We can help you get through this stage with a medication called Suboxone. It affects the same area of your brian as heroin does, without the…feelings that heroin provides. So it eases you through the symptoms and cravings without actually making you feel high.”

Eddie nodded again. That sounded great - to not have to suffer like this anymore without going back to heroin? It sounded perfect. “Yeah, that…that sounds good.”

“Have you ever been in a substance abuse treatment program before?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental health condition?” She continued.

“No, not that I know of.”

“History of substance abuse in your family?”

“Um…my dad,” he said. “But he wasn’t really around at all.”

She marked that down. “Any legal trouble? Criminal or arrest history?”

Eddie looked down awkwardly at that question. “Uh, I’ve been arrested a few times. Disorderly conduct, public intoxication, possession.”

“Possession of what?”

“Weed. Cocaine.”

She began writing again. “Are these ongoing legal troubles or are they closed?”

“They’re settled.”

“Alright, good,” she said. “Now…how has your addiction impacted your life and your family?”

Eddie sighed. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, and it was as if you could feel his shame from where you sat. “It’s a disaster. My marriage is dying because of me. Because I can’t stop, or even just keep it out of the house. I haven’t seen my kids in what feels like forever. I miss them, but they’re scared of me. All they’ve seen of me for months is me high off my ass - sorry for the language - and it freaks them out. I don’t blame them. I remember being scared of my dad, too.” He sniffled, and you weren’t sure if it was from the runny nose or if he was really crying. “My band broke up because of me. I ruined the dreams of all my friends because I was selfish. My friends, who have been with me since middle school, are now sick of me. Sick of taking care of me, sick of putting up with me, sick of me fucking everything up.”

Dr. Roberts wrote all of this down on her papers, the look on her face one of sympathy. “I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all this. But here we hope to help you repair those relationships. We offer marriage counseling, as well as counseling with any other friends or family whose relationships you feel you need to work on.”

Eddie nodded. That sounded good to the both of you. You reached for Eddie’s hand again and squeezed it in your own.

Dr. Roberts went on about the amenities they offered, how Eddie would have a private suite and was welcome to bring his guitar to work on music while he was there. They would be starting with detox treatment right away, prescribing the Suboxone to help him through the life-threatening withdrawal symptoms.

Then, it was time to say goodbye. Eddie embraced you tightly, burying his face in your neck as you held him back just as tightly, brushing your fingers through his hair soothingly.

“I love you,” you told him, tears welling in your eyes. “I’m so proud of you. I think this is going to be really good for us.”

“I love you too,” he said, clinging to you even tighter. “I’m going to get better for you and the girls and this baby. I promise.” He lifted his head to place a kiss on your cheek.

“I know you will.” You laid your head on his chest, imagining just for a moment that things were normal. Finally Eddie pulled back, reluctantly leaving the embrace. He squeezed your hands and gave you a small smile before picking up his bag and guitar case and turning to follow the doctor into the facility.

You were crying as you left, heartbroken to be leaving Eddie behind but grateful for the help he would hopefully be getting. You walked back out to the car, taking the time to pull yourself together in the driver’s seat before heading home to pick up the girls and get back to life as usual, without Eddie.

Rehab wasn’t so bad. Once detox was over, Eddie spent most of his days writing music, playing around with his guitar in between sessions with his care team. It was a soothing environment, and he found he didn’t mind it. The only thing he hated was being away from you and his girls. He called every day, talking to you for as long as possible then letting the girls pass the phone back and forth.

Eddie practically had three albums worth of songs written by the time he’d been there for three weeks. Now it was time for the first family visit, and he was nervous.

He looked at himself in the mirror, combing through his curls and making himself look as nice for you as possible. He wore his favorite black jeans, ripped, but that was his usual style. He wore his favorite Metallica tee. He examined his face in the mirror - he looked a lot healthier than the last time you’d seen him. He had gained weight, his dark eye circles gone. He didn’t look like a junkie anymore.

Eddie followed the male nurse - Jake? - down the hall and to the nice room set up for visits. It was bright and sunny, a large window on one wall. It was furnished with a large couch and a few chairs, as well as a large TV on the wall. Eddie stood with his hands in his pockets, beyond nervous for this visit.

He only waited a few minutes before the door opened, and his face immediately brightened as he saw you. You looked absolutely radiant, a sight for sore eyes for sure. You broke out into a huge grin as you saw him, running into his arms. He wrapped his strong arms around you, lifting you off the ground as he laughed, feeling total joy. He sat you down, then immediately pulled you into a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck as his arms slid around your waist, and he held you tightly after you shared a lingering kiss. When he pulled back, you both looked over each other, taking in the other’s appearance.

“You look great,” you said, tears in your eyes as you saw your husband looking like your husband again. He looked healthy, happy. It made your heart beat hard in your chest just like it did when you first fell in love. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Eddie looked you over, immediately noticing the small bump showing through your shirt. He placed his hand on it softly. “How far along now?”

“9 weeks,” you smiled. “But fourth pregnancy and all, I popped early.”

Eddie laughed lightly, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I can’t wait to find out if it’s a boy or a girl.” He rubbed his hand over your belly. “I’m hoping for a boy this time. But I’ll be happy either way. You know I love my girls.”

You giggled, your hand laying over his. “It would be exciting to have a boy. But you know the girls want another sister.”

“Yeah, I bet. Evie wants another doll to dress up,” he laughed. “Where are my girls?”

“Roz has them,” you said. “I figured I would come in and say hi first. Are you…ready to see them?” You looked nervous, like you were scared for him to see the girls. Or rather, scared for the girls to see him.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve been dying to see them,” he smiled gently. He stroked a hand through your hair, looking at you like he was memorizing every feature. “I want to see them.”

You pulled your phone out, sending a quick text to Roz. Moments later there was a knock at the door, before it opened and the three girls shuffled in. They looked scared, Evie in the middle clutching both Rhiannon and Ivy’s hands. They walked behind you, Rhiannon and Ivy hiding behind their big sister.

“Daddy…?” Evie said cautiously, and Eddie’s heart broke into a million pieces.

Oh god, he thought, my kids really are scared of me.

“Hey, baby girls,” he said, crouching down. “I’ve missed you.”

Evie eyed him warily, looking up to you for guidance. You nodded. “You can give daddy a hug. It’s okay.”

Eddie held his arms out as Evie slowly shuffled forward, her sisters staying behind you. Finally, she collapsed into his arms, tears flowing as he held her.

“I missed you so much, daddy,” she cried into his chest. “Are you still sick?”

Eddie looked up at you, his expression utterly broken. He stroked her hair as he held her tightly. “I’m getting better, baby. For you and your sisters and your momma.”

You gently nudged Rhiannon and Ivy in Eddie’s direction. “Go see daddy, girls. It’s okay.”

The two younger Munsons walked over, joining Evie in Eddie’s embrace. “We miss you,” Rhiannon said, her voice small and sad, completely unlike her. Eddie felt physical pain in his chest, like his despair and shame were so strong the pain was tangible.

He placed a kiss on each of their heads. “Well, I’m here now. I’m getting better. And I’ll be home soon.”

“When?” Rhiannon asked. “We want you home now,” she pouted. “Momma doesn’t play with us as good as you do.”

“Hey!” You protested, pretending to be offended. “I’m lots of fun!”

“She always picks boring old movies,” Rhiannon whispered to Eddie, making him smile. “You let us watch the scary stuff.”

“Yeah, and she says she can’t play on the floor or throw us in the pool, ‘cause of the baby in her belly, she says,” Evie added.

Eddie laughed. “Be kind to your momma. She does her best for you three. And growing a baby is hard work.”

“Where do babies come from anyway?” Rhiannon asked, her brows furrowed. “Sam from school said-“

“Okay!” Eddie said, trying to hide his laughter. “Let’s have this conversation another time, yeah?”

The girls warmed up quickly. They talked Eddie’s ear off, telling him all about school and what they’d been doing at home. Ivy clung to him like she never wanted to leave him, and you dreaded having to say goodbye. After a while Eddie brought his guitar out and played some of the new songs he’d been working on.

When visiting hours were over, the same nurse came back, letting you all know it was time. Eddie hugged each girl for as long as he could, and Ivy cried as you had to pull her away from him. Roz came back and took the girls so you could say goodbye in private.

“How much longer do they think you’ll be here?” You asked him, finger twirling one of his curls as he held you around your waist.

“At least another four weeks,” he said, his face scrunching up in disapproval. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, a sad smile on your face. “I just miss you so much. It’s lonely at home without you. Our bed feels so empty. And it’s…tiring, running after the girls when I already have no energy.”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he told you. He placed a kiss on your lips. “I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you too,” you told him. You kissed him one more time and then you had to go, holding onto his hand until you couldn’t anymore. Eddie watched you leave, his chest aching.

The nurse, Jake, began walking him back to his room. They walked in silence for a while, before Jake spoke up.

“I’m a big fan of Corroded Coffin,” he said finally. “You guys rock.”

Eddie smiled. “Thanks, man.”

When they reached Eddie’s door, Jake placed a hand on his arm. Eddie turned to him, confused. Jake leaned in closer, looking around to see if anyone was nearby.

“Hey, I can get you stuff in here. Pills, H, whatever you want. No one will find out.”

Eddie looked at him wide eyed. He was just now getting his life back, had just had an amazing visit with his wife and kids. He wasn’t about to throw all that away again. “Uh, no thanks, man. I’m good.”

“Well, just call me if you change your mind.” He slid a piece of paper with his personal cell phone number on it into Eddie’s hand. “The offer stands.”

Eddie watched Jake walk away. He looked down at the number in his hand as he walked into his room. He balled the paper up and went to throw it away - but something stopped him. Something told him to keep it. He sat on his bed and stared at the number. He wasn’t going to call it. But something held it there in his hands.

He couldn’t get rid of it.

The next week, Eddie headed back into his room after his meeting with his psychiatrist. He had wanted to go home soon, but his team was now saying they wanted to keep him for another six weeks. It was bullshit. Eddie was pissed.

He slammed the door to his room, rattling the framed art on the wall. He sat on his bed, head in his hands as he cried. He just wanted to get home, back to his life. As fancy and luxurious as the place was, it was hard. And it was hard staying sober. Especially when he had too much time to think.

Eddie picked up the phone. There was only one person he wanted to call. He listened to the phone ring, his stomach in knots as he willed for an answer.

Finally, a “Hello?” came from the other end.

Eddie took a deep breath. “…Jake?”

tag list

@kellsck @birdysaturne @emxxblog @iheartgrayson @ali-r3n @kthomps914 @mewchiili @browneyes528 @avobabe87 @themorriganisamonster @costellation-hunter @micheledawn1975 @wildflowerwattpad0217 @punkrockmlchael @avenjames-anderson @toomuchbucky @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @stylesxmunson @foreveranexpatsposts @losingmygrasponreality

253 notes · View notes

inklore · 1 year ago

Text

if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.

fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!

i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!

★ — ONE WORD.

overboard

runaway

repercussions

sledgehammer

stargazing

symmetry

deathless

honey

retrograde

stitches

gravity

helpline

hollow

suffer

pushing

warrant

want

wonder

emotions

nonchalant

lavender

daydream

nosebleed

jigsaw

static

float

limbs

hologram

careless

lush

rotting

phonograph

hypnotic

splinters

magnetic

wasted

lithium

dealer

she

candles

sabotage

secrets

better

crescendo

deny

phenomenon

nights

guilty

move

criminal

blue

rise

thirsty

strangers

clockwork

closer

hectic

change

somebody

misery

sour

lowkey

peaches

she

nervous

sympathy

scars

disappear

melody

gemini

cruel

persona

supernatural

nectar

obsessed

casual

tryant

dare

honestly

yummy

out

paradise

nuts

groin

heaven

lost

stardust

tangerine

monolith

lunch

pov

perfume

dealer

tough

arson

★ — TWO WORDS.

hush hush

night away

heart stop

stone heart

waiting for

black rose

sad kids

spine breaker

look here

autumn leaves

for you

spring day

love maze

bad decisions

take two

wild flower

blue side

rainy days

face off

slow dancing

polar night

like crazy

club heaven

deeper water

romantic devil

hold me

angel eyes

picture you

after midnight

twilight zone

drain me

sorry sorry

pretty please

how sweet

bubble gum

empty box

love therapy

play me

red velvet

cherry bullet

midnight guest

cherry wish

code words

ghost walk

bad intentions

atlas hands

broken crown

crystallized words

filthy pride

fresh eyes

heavy feet

hungry ghosts

imaginary paintings

neon jungle

perfect storm

slow hands

stop signs

sad farewells

untranslated stars

after hours

bad liar

bonfire heart

bruised lips

cherry bomb

damaged goods

dead end

fire away

gunpowder hourglass

lonely together

lost language

old moons

one dance

paper knees

sleepy eyes

stolen dance

vice city

artificial heart

cry baby

daylight fading

dream awake

empty bottle

exit wounds

ghost orchards

moving stones

paper walls

oceans away

playing fiction

something wild

wild thoughts

everybody’s fool

eyes closed

storms incarnate

writing tragedies

stereo driver

soul searching

party’s over

backseat driving

fearful heart

backwards directions

nosebleed seats

high hopes

lovers rock

wet dream

selfish soul

washed away

rose rogue

midnight sun

teenage fantasy

wandering romance

sure thing

wildest dreams

rock candy

losing momentum

ruin you

heart holiday

sink her

cut splinters

hot mess

frozen devotion

little star

blind faith

favorite crime

romantic homicide

those eyes

play pretend

plot line

pretty poison

intimidate you

pretty face

strawberry kisses

lovers rock

worlds apart

desperate/separate ways

those eyes

the blonde

loving machine

spill blood

someone’s someone

★ — THREE WORDS.

got my number

happy without me

not over you

crazy for you

back to you

flame of love

just one day

let me know

hold me tight

make it right

closer than this

love me again

still with you

out of love

never let go

love in space

ready to bleed

bleed for love

between the bars

can’t be still

cold morning mist

in cold blood

matter of time

piece by piece

ship to wreck

taut with love

waste a moment

can’t see straight

down and out

in a blackout

just like fire

notes on tenderness

across the room

fire with fire

going half-mad

loving to ruins

rust to gold

send my love

talking in code

cradling a dream

cut to black

dear to me

run me dry

dancing with demons

kiss and tell

if you care

the cry out

steal this night

just for now

heart on fire

hold my head

nobody but you

simple and plain

a familiar sound

fool for you

drown your memory

falling into you

just like heaven

warm like beaches

love that stings

rotting in places

moves on you

save your tears

a single tear

light my cigarette

long nights, daydreams

boys like you

love me forever

hands on me

like a phonograph

taking over me

dug so deep

touch the ground

heart shaped box

where’s my love

tears of gold

lover of mine

love me wrong

kiss or kill

exes and why’s

love is easy

stupid in love

easy to love

lost with you

glimpse of us

keep you safe

death with dignity

just like heaven

heart of glass

baby i’m yours

pull my strings

★ — FOUR+ WORDS.

love me a little

happy without me

you can't hold my heart

wishing on a star

give it to me

around the world in a day

waste it on me

this mess is yours

feeling like i do

on a war path

blood on the surface

corner of the sky

do the divine love

drinking the corinthian sun

everything is laced in (add word)

lost in the moment

in the nick of time

mouth like a pomegranate

the bones you’re made of

when the mania speaks

all desire & no thought

blue in the face

collapsing and relapsing

middle of the night

sail to the sun

lay down your arms

falling into the sky

take me where your heart is

she’s like the bad weather

kill for your love

the cigarette and the smoker

the match and the fuse

saint, i’m a sinner

when the sky comes falling

pretty little hand in mine

even when the sun don’t shine

staring at the sun / sunset

tangled up with you all night

paper airplanes flying

maybe i’m a fool

tastes like rock candy

blood in a lemon

(a) heart ready to die

fate is losing its patience

at least we feel alive

death for your secrets

someone’s gonna ruin you

dancing in a crowded room

smell you on my clothes

always taste like you

leave me wanting more

hunger for (insert here)

swim before you drown

put your hands on me

drink my (these) tears and cry

i’d sleep all day just to dream of you

so high we never stood a chance

i’d break down anytime for you

maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true

i only breathe so that i breathe with you

a worn out cassette

lips on my cold neck

talking in my sleep

make me feel like someone else

locked inside your heart

hooked on her flesh

it’s bloody and raw

the angel of small death

just a couple sinners

smiles cover your heart

charmer and the snake

stuck on your thumb

if i killed someone for you

dancing with your ghost

i miss you, i’m sorry

woman of the hour

shut up and look pretty

queen of the night

devil in a dress

the thought of you

to be your lover

falling over you

just like a movie

love on the line

#also no one has to give me credit like pls steal these and use them lol #fic titles #fic help #fic resources #story help #fic reference #tips and tricks #story titles #titles #if there’s double words or titles on here ignore that i’m too lazy to read through everything lol

521 notes · View notes

thedensworld · 11 months ago

Text

Case 143 | K.Mg

Pairing: Detective!Mingyu x reader

Genre: action, romance, ex Au

Summary: Mingyu and Y/n are exes. One day, they have to work a case together and it makes the situation uncomfortable for both teams. Besides for the rookie, Hansol.

Breathless and with his heart pounding against his ribcage, Mingyu pushed himself to keep running. Every inhale felt like fire in his lungs, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him going. The urgency of catching Kim Jiheon, the elusive drug dealer he had been tracking for weeks, was consuming him.

His legs threatened to give out beneath him, protesting each step he took, but the thought of letting Jiheon slip through his fingers was unbearable. Alone and racing against time, Mingyu cursed under his breath as he sprinted towards the harbor. His team, blissfully unaware of the unfolding situation, was probably enjoying their dinner, oblivious to his urgent call for backup.

Frantically, he dialed the rookie of his team, Hansol, hoping beyond hope that his message had been received. Mingyu needed everyone at the harbor, and he needed them there now. The distance seemed endless, each stride feeling like an eternity as he fought against exhaustion and desperation.

As Mingyu finally reached the harbor, his eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of his team. But there was nothing. Doubt crept into his mind. Had Hansol even relayed his message? Was he truly alone in this race against time?

Despite the doubt gnawing at him, Mingyu clenched his jaw, refusing to give up. With determination burning in his eyes, he squared his shoulders and prepared to face whatever lay ahead. Kim Jiheon would not escape him, not this time.

Fortunately for Mingyu, his years of dedicated workouts and cardio had honed his body into a well-oiled machine, allowing him to chase down Kim Jiheon with impressive speed and agility. Even as fatigue threatened to overwhelm him, he pushed himself harder, driven by sheer determination to apprehend his elusive target.

It was a testament to Mingyu's resourcefulness that he had managed to uncover Jiheon's plans to ship out tonight. Yet, despite his strategic prowess, a pang of frustration surged through him as he realized his own clumsiness had led to him misplacing his gun at the worst possible moment. Shooting Jiheon's leg would have simplified matters, but fate seemed to have other plans.

The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the night air, sending Mingyu's heart racing as Jiheon crumpled to the ground, his leg now wounded and useless. Relief flooded through Mingyu as he spotted the familiar figure holding the pistol, their timely intervention saving the day.

With a steadying breath, Mingyu hurried to Jiheon's side, his movements deliberate as he secured the handcuffs around the criminal's wrists. A mixture of triumph and exhaustion washed over him as he delivered a sharp slap near Jiheon's gunshot wound, a small act of retribution for the chase that had left him soaked with sweat.

As a car and a bike approached, Mingyu watched with a mixture of relief and anticipation as the people inside sprang into action, swiftly attending to the fallen Jiheon. "Nice shot, captain!" one of them exclaimed, praising the biker who had delivered the decisive blow. Mingyu's eyes met hers as she removed her helmet, her intense gaze locking onto him.

There was a palpable tension in the air as she approached Mingyu, her scowl evident even from a distance. Despite the exchange of the gun between them, her anger seemed to simmer just beneath the surface, casting a shadow over the otherwise triumphant moment.

Effortlessly catching the gun she tossed to him, Mingyu couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered between them. Even as he rose to his feet, his body still thrumming with adrenaline, her continued displeasure weighed heavily on him.

As their eyes met once more, Mingyu couldn't help but protest, "Don't look at me like that." He rose from his brief respite, his voice tinged with defiance.

She rolled her eyes in response, her frustration evident. "Like what? Like looking at an idiot? Yeah! I am looking at an idiot who dropped his gun while running. Why are you even here? It's my case!"

Mingyu coughed, feeling the weight of her words like a punch to the gut. "It's related to my department, so it's natural for me to investigate it as well."

She shook her head, her tone firm. "It's one hundred percent on the Narcotic Department. Violence and Crime have zero relevance to this case. Also, your team doesn't have an investigation permission letter. So whatever you're doing right now, it's not under the office regulations," she explained, her words cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Good you're not dead," she muttered under her breath before swiftly donning her helmet.

Mingyu's heart sank at her dismissive words, but he refused to let his pride get the better of him. "Can I join you?" he asked, stepping forward.

She turned to face him, her expression unreadable as she removed her helmet. "Where's your car? How could you even get here in the first place?" she questioned, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Mingyu hesitated for a moment, feeling a pang of embarrassment at his lack of preparedness. But as he met her gaze, determination flickered in his eyes. "I found a way," he muttered, his resolve unwavering despite the obstacles in his path.

Mingyu didn't waste time with words. Instead, he reached for the helmet in her hand and the key, determination shining in his eyes. "Let's go," he said, motioning for her to join him on the back seat.

"Riding without a helmet is illegal, Kim Mingyu. We're police officers," she reminded him firmly.

A smirk played at the corners of Mingyu's lips as he tilted his head, meeting her gaze with a sense of camaraderie. "Well said, Ji Y/n. We're police officers."

Mingyu stood at the front of his team, his expression stern as he addressed each member in turn. With their heads bowed and hands folded behind their backs, they listened intently to his lecture, knowing they had failed their leader.

For seven minutes, Mingyu recounted the events of that fateful night, emphasizing the gravity of the situation had he been left to face danger alone. His voice carried a mixture of disappointment and frustration, each word punctuated by the weight of missed opportunities and the consequences of their negligence.

Hansol, the rookie whose distraction had led to Mingyu's solitary struggle, felt the weight of guilt settle heavy in his chest. The memory of the grandmother he had helped with directions now felt like a betrayal, a selfish act that had left his team leader vulnerable and alone in the line of duty.

As Mingyu concluded his lecture, his gaze swept over his team, the disappointment in his eyes unmistakable. Yet, beneath the reprimand, there was a glimmer of determination—a resolve to ensure that such a lapse in communication would never happen again.

Mingyu's commanding presence filled the room as he addressed his team, his eyes sweeping over each member with a sense of authority. "I want you to summarize an essay about how important teamwork is in our field and the role of the leader," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without hesitation, Lee Seokmin, Seo Myungho, Boo Seungkwan, Lee Chan, and Choi Hansol snapped to attention, offering a crisp salute as a promise to fulfill their leader's directive.

As Mingyu's gaze lingered on Hansol, a sense of disappointment flickered in his eyes. "And Hansol," he added, his voice firm. "Face me after doing 20 laps of a run."

With a nod of acknowledgment, Mingyu dismissed his team, the air thick with the unspoken promise of accountability and unity in the face of adversity. They had learned a valuable lesson, one that would shape their future actions and reinforce the bonds of trust and solidarity among them. Mingyu turned on his heel and made his exit, leaving the room buzzing with a newfound sense of purpose and determination. Each member of the team knew that they had a responsibility to uphold, not only to their leader but to each other as well.

A shout erupted from Seungkwan, his voice echoing through the room, "I'm relieved that I'm not the rookie anymore, but I feel bad for Hansol." His frustration was palpable as he reached for the book sitting untouched on the bookcase for what seemed like ages—a self-improvement book on leadership and teamwork bought by their team leader, Kim Mingyu.

Lee Chan flopped onto the couch, exhaustion evident in every line of his body. He leaned back, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. "Then do his assignment instead," he mumbled, the remnants of their beef dinner lulling him into a sleepy stupor.

Seungkwan's fingers traced the embossed title of the book, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. Relief mingled with guilt as he thought of Hansol, burdened with the weight of being the rookie. Mingyu's gesture was well-intentioned, but it only served to highlight the disparities within their team. As he flipped through the pages, Seungkwan couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at him.

Myungho gently tapped Hansol's shoulder, offering reassurance in his touch. "It's not totally your fault, Hansol. That case isn't officially ours, so even if we're losing it, it wouldn't be our responsibility," he explained calmly to the younger member.

Hansol's brow furrowed in surprise, his eyes betraying his confusion. "But didn't we work hard on that case? Is it really okay to just let it go like that?" he questioned, his voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and concern.

Myungho nodded understandingly, his expression empathetic. "We assumed there might be a gang involved in Park Jiheon's case. But his capture definitely isn't in our hands," he clarified, his tone gentle yet firm as he tried to alleviate Hansol's worries.

Hansol sighed, a weight seeming to lift from his shoulders as he processed Myungho's words.

Seokmin chimed in, his voice carrying a sense of solidarity as he echoed Myungho's sentiments. "Don't worry about Mingyu, he just wasn't in the mood," he reassured, his tone soothing as he tried to ease any lingering concerns.

Chan's hands met in a soft clap of realization, his eyes widening with understanding. "Right? He's never scolded us that much before. I was really worried when he called. But then, when I saw him arriving on bike earlier..." Chan trailed off, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I knew," he concluded, his voice filled with certainty.

Seungkwan chuckled, his laughter ringing out in the room. "I saw them too. Kim Mingyu, our team leader..." he began, a hint of amusement evident in his tone as he recalled the sight of Mingyu's unexpected mode of transportation.

Sensing that the conversation was veering off track, Myungho interjected, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. "Let's finish our assignment before midnight," he urged, directing everyone's attention back to the task at hand. With a determined stride, he made his way to his desk, ready to dive into the work.

Seokmin reached out to Hansol, his offer of assistance laced with genuine concern. "Hansol," he called out, his tone gentle yet firm. "You can start your run. I'll take care of your assignment." The weight lifted from Hansol's shoulders as he breathed a sigh of relief, gratitude evident in his expression. He offered a quick word of thanks to Seokmin before hurrying out into the backyard, his mind already racing ahead to the looming encounter with their team leader.

As Hansol disappeared from view, the air seemed to crackle with anticipation. Each member of the team understood the importance of their roles, the weight of their responsibilities hanging heavy in the air. With determination etched on their faces, they set to work, united in their mission to meet the deadline and prove their worth as a team.

"I've read your report on the potential Cubic involvement in Park Jiheon's case, and I truly appreciate your astuteness in uncovering this," Chief Park acknowledged, his tone conveying a mix of admiration and seriousness. "However, I can't simply assign this case to your department without the Narcotics Department's involvement, especially considering it's already under their investigation," he explained, his words carrying a weight of deliberation and careful consideration.

As Chief Park's gaze shifted to Choi Seungcheol, the Head of the Violence and Crime Department, the room fell silent, all eyes turning to await his response. Superintendent Choi's expression remained composed, his mind already racing through the implications of Chief Park's words. With a thoughtful nod, he prepared to offer his insight, knowing that the decision ahead would shape the course of their investigation and the fate of their team.

Seungcheol's gaze shifted to Mingyu, his words carrying a sense of reassurance. "There are cases that require the expertise of special teams from different departments, sir. It's quite common in our line of work. If involving our team will expedite the process, then we should proceed," he stated confidently, his tone firm yet respectful as he laid out their rationale.

Chief Park nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging Seungcheol's explanation. "Alright, I'll speak with Superintendent Yoon about this matter and keep you both informed," he confirmed, his expression reflecting a blend of contemplation and gratitude. "Thank you so much for your input," he added, appreciating the insight offered by his dedicated team members. As the conversation drew to a close, the room buzzed with a sense of anticipation, each member silently hoping for a favorable outcome.

Mingyu and Seungcheol strode out of the Chief's office in unison, the weight of the conversation lingering heavily between them. Frustration etched lines on Mingyu's usually cheerful face, his hand harshly rubbing at his forehead in a futile attempt to erase the tension. Seungcheol, observant as ever, couldn't ignore the sudden shift in his junior's demeanor.

"What's wrong?" Seungcheol asked, his own irritation growing as he tried to decipher what had dimmed the usually bright spirit of his junior.

Mingyu shrugged, attempting to downplay the turmoil brewing within him. "It's alright," he muttered, though the strain in his voice betrayed his attempt at composure.

Seungcheol scoffed, unable to contain his sarcasm. "Yeah, everyone can tell you're alright," he quipped, hoping to coax out the truth behind Mingyu's facade.

The jest halted Mingyu in his tracks, his gaze snapping towards Seungcheol with a mixture of surprise and irritation. "Really?" Mingyu's brow furrowed, his frustration momentarily eclipsed by confusion before realization dawned upon him. "That's not funny, sunbae," he retorted, the tension between them palpable as they stood locked in a silent battle of emotions.

Seungcheol motioned for Mingyu to halt in front of a cooler, offering him a soft drink. Mingyu nodded gratefully, sinking onto the nearby bench as Seungcheol handed him a can of coke.

"Are you going to be alright working with Y/n?" Seungcheol asked directly, his concern palpable in the air. Mingyu shot him a sidelong glance, his mood evident in the gesture.

"What? I'm just worried, okay? You both are my juniors and used to be under my team." Seungcheol explained.

"I know," Mingyu mumbled, his head dropping as he stared at his shoes. He sighed heavily. "It's been messing with my head. I can't seem to stop thinking about her."

Mingyu looked up at Seungcheol, his expression a mix of frustration and self-doubt. "Even last night, I lashed out at my team for not capturing Park Jiheon. We worked tirelessly on the case, even though it wasn't our responsibility. It was... selfish."

"I feel like such an idiot, sunbae," Mingyu confessed.

Seungcheol paused, considering his words carefully before responding. "Professionally? Yes, you made mistakes. But we can't ignore matters of the heart, Mingyu. We're police officers, yes, but we're also human. We feel things deeply. Sometimes, our emotions cloud our judgment."

Mingyu chuckled weakly. "It's surreal to hear reassurance from you, Seungcheol sunbae. I remember when you used to chew me out back in my rookie days."

Seungcheol scoffed, folding his arms. "Rookies are always in for a rough ride," he said with a wry smile, pointing a finger skyward.

"If working with Y/n is going to worsen things for you, then maybe you should assign the case to another member. I hear Myungho is a great profiler," Seungcheol suggested.

Mingyu nodded slowly. "I'll think about it."

As they stood in the quiet of the break room, the weight of Mingyu's dilemma hung heavy in the air, each man lost in his own thoughts.

"From today, the two of your teams will work together on the case given. Don't get distracted; Cubic might be more than we've known." The chief's words echoed in the room as the teams filed out.

Seungkwan and Chan exchanged subtle signals, while Seokmin and Myungho struggled to maintain their composure. Hansol, the only one oblivious to the tension, glanced at his leader, silently asking, "What's going on, sunbae?"

"Let's arrange a meeting tonight. My team will share everything we've found related to Cubic," you announced, stopping abruptly to address Mingyu.

Mingyu nodded and motioned for his team to proceed ahead. "Let's have a talk," he suggested, prompting you to instruct your team to head out first.

"We're talking," you said firmly once everyone had left. Mingyu rolled his eyes at your sudden display of petulance.

With a sigh, Mingyu began, "Let's not make everyone uncomfortable."

Your frown deepened. "I haven't done anything."

Mingyu hesitated, biting his lip before continuing, "I mean—"

"The way you speak makes everyone nervous," he clarified.

You shrugged nonchalantly. "That's just how I communicate. I thought you knew that."

"However," you added, your tone becoming more serious, "I'm sorry, but you can't tell me what to do unless it's about the case. You're not my boyfriend."

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Kim Mingyu standing there, frustration evident on his face as he watched you go.

Mingyu, you, and Wonwoo entered the academy at the same time and were assigned to the same team upon graduation ten years ago. Working under intense pressure with Seungcheol as the team leader, the three of you quickly became inseparable. Mingyu and Wonwoo were always there to help you maintain your composure, making sure you didn't impulsively shoot anyone you caught, given your renowned marksmanship.

Mingyu, the athletic and brain one, carried the team with his impressive deductive skills, which had caught Seungcheol's eye during your rookie days. He had an uncanny ability to piece together the most obscure clues, turning chaos into coherent narratives that led to countless breakthroughs in your cases. His strategic thinking and physical prowess made him the backbone of the team.

Wonwoo, on the other hand, was a jack-of-all-trades and thrived on challenges. He was always willing to take the biggest risks, whether it was infiltrating dangerous territories or going undercover in high-stakes operations. His versatility and daring nature complemented Mingyu's methodical approach, creating a dynamic and effective duo.

For Seungcheol, having the three of you on the same team was a stroke of fortune. Your combined skills and unwavering loyalty to each other made the team formidable. Seungcheol knew he could rely on you to handle the toughest cases, confident that you would always have each other's backs, no matter the danger.

Wonwoo vividly remembered the day Mingyu panickedly ran down the hospital aisle after hearing you were injured during a mission to intercept a gang transaction. The two of them stood helplessly by your hospital bed, staring at your weak form with a broken leg and arm.

From that day forward, Mingyu and Wonwoo promised never to leave your side. You made the same promise to them.

"You two are dating?" Wonwoo asked, watching as you and Mingyu nodded excitedly like puppies.

"Finally." A sigh of relief escaped from Wonwoo's mouth.

Surprised by his reaction, you asked, "You knew?"

Wonwoo scoffed, "You were the only one who didn't realize how smitten Mingyu has been with you all these years."

You turned to Mingyu, who was blushing furiously at Wonwoo's words, his cheeks tinged a deep shade of red.

"Anyway, let's get some meat tonight. I'll pay," Mingyu declared, trying to shift the focus away from his embarrassment.

Just then, another figure stirred, startling the three of you. Seungcheol, who had been dozing at his desk, rubbed his eyes and stretched.

"Am I invited?" he asked, his voice slightly groggy.

The mood lightened as you all began discussing the evening's plans, the camaraderie and affection between you all evident. Despite the pressures and dangers of your work, moments like this reminded you why you were a team—why you were a family.

It's been a few weeks since you and Mingyu started working together on the case. The atmosphere was not as uncomfortable as it used to be, but everyone could still sense the underlying tension between the two leaders. Although you and Mingyu didn't feel that way, the rest of the team couldn't help but walk on thin ice around you.

The investigation had already uncovered Cubic's involvement in the narcotic industry and the powerful figures behind them. Mingyu and you had serious discussions from time to time, meticulously arranging every detail of the operation. The years of the close relationship you once had before it broke three years ago were now a distant memory, masked by the professionalism you both maintained.

Despite the professionalism, there were moments when the past seemed to seep through the cracks. A shared glance, an unspoken understanding—remnants of what once was. These moments, though fleeting, didn't go unnoticed by the team.

During one of the sessions, as you pored over maps and files, you couldn't help but recall the days when teamwork came effortlessly between you and Mingyu. Back then, your synergy was unmatched, a force that propelled your team to solve the most challenging cases.

Now, as you both focused on taking down Cubic, the stakes were higher than ever. The complexity of the case demanded absolute focus and collaboration. You admired Mingyu's analytical skills, his ability to connect dots that seemed unrelated, and his unwavering dedication to the mission. It reminded you of why you had once fallen for him.

Mingyu, on the other hand, found himself occasionally lost in thought, reminiscing about the times when your relationship wasn't just professional. He admired your courage and precision, your knack for getting to the heart of a matter with unerring accuracy. But he also knew that the past was a closed chapter, and what mattered now was the mission at hand.

As the team continued to unravel the tangled web of Cubic's operations, you and Mingyu found a new rhythm in your collaboration. The hints of rivalry that others perceived were, in truth, a testament to the high standards you both held each other to.

"Sunbae!" Seungkwan burst into the meeting room, his urgency drawing the attention of both you and Mingyu.

"Hansol and Jihoon were captured by Cubic," he announced, breathless.

"What?" you and Mingyu exclaimed simultaneously, immediately moving towards Seungkwan, who held out his phone, showing a picture of Hansol and Jihoon tied up, their faces bruised and bloodied.

"No..." you whispered, covering your mouth in shock.

Mingyu glanced at you, his expression a mix of frustration and concern, before turning to Seungkwan. "Gather everyone immediately," he instructed.

Seungkwan nodded and hurried out of the room.

"I'll inform the superintendents and the chief about this," Mingyu said, already reaching for his phone.

"We need to find them immediately," you told Mingyu, your voice trembling with urgency.

"We will save them. Please, calm down," he reassured you, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly.

As everyone gathered in the meeting room under Seungcheol's direction, they quickly got to work, tracking through CCTV footage, emails, phone numbers, and transmissions to pinpoint Hansol and Jihoon's location.

"How about the ring?" you asked Jun, one of your team members.

"What ring?" Mingyu inquired.

You showed him your ring. "We programmed GPS into our team rings."

Jun shook his head. "It was left in a small alley in Itaewon. Seokmin and Myungho have already checked it out."

You sighed, your foot tapping anxiously on the floor.

"Itaewon?" Mingyu asked, frowning. He recalled Hansol mentioning he was heading to Sadang, Dongjak. "Where was he last before he was captured?" Mingyu asked Jun.

"Dongjak Bridge," Jun replied.

Mingyu rushed to his desk, rifling through papers. "If they were captured at Dongjak Bridge and the GPS was discarded in Itaewon, it means they made a U-turn," he deduced. "Their nearest area from Itaewon would be Gwangjang."

You bit your lip at Mingyu's deduction and immediately instructed Jun to track the CCTV footage around Myeongdong.

Seungcheol received a call from the district station and made eye contact with the two of you. "Alright, we'll be there," he said, hanging up.

"The car that captured them was seen around Gwangjang Market. Jun, find any abandoned buildings there. Mingyu, Y/N, you two drive to Myeongdong,"

Mingyu stood motionless in front of the ICU, his eyes fixed on the doors, while you were crying on the floor after the incident during the mission. A bomb had exploded in the hotel while your team was attempting to catch a serial killer.

You had been trapped in the perpetrator's trap, tied up in a room with a time bomb ticking down. Wonwoo had been trying to save you, but he knew he had to get the bomb away from other people.

"No, don't," you pleaded as Wonwoo prepared to pull the strap of the time bomb.

"You need to get everyone out of this building. I'll take the bomb to a higher floor," Wonwoo instructed, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

You shook your head, desperation in your eyes. "Let's get down together." You grabbed his arm, but he stood firm.

"Save the people and do what I said. We have five minutes," he urged.

You looked at him, tears streaming down your face, before gradually stepping away. You watched as Wonwoo sprinted towards the emergency stairs, determination etched on his face. You then turned and began evacuating everyone, your heart heavy with fear and hope.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu mumbled as you both waited anxiously for news about Wonwoo's condition. Reports had indicated that he was badly injured and would require several surgeries.

You stood up, frustration and sorrow evident on your face. "You left us!"

Mingyu took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping with regret. "I'm very sorry."

In a surge of emotion, you grabbed his collar and shouted, "You saw me in trouble, but you ran off to catch that bastard! You lost sight of your priorities!"

Mingyu nodded, his face reflecting the realization that he had made a grave mistake by abandoning his injured teammates.

"Hey... Stop it," Seungcheol said, his voice heavy with exhaustion and stress. He stepped in and gently pulled you away from Mingyu.

Just then, the doctor emerged from the ICU, calling out Wonwoo's name. The news he delivered was something no one had been prepared for.

You fell to your knees, overwhelmed by the weight of the doctor’s words. Mingyu leaned against the nearest wall, his face hidden in his hands, unable to escape the guilt that consumed him.

Seungcheol, the team leader who had just lost a member, stood nearby, grappling with his own overwhelming sense of failure. He could not shake the feeling that he should have done more, that he had let his team down in their darkest hour. The weight of the day’s events hung heavily over everyone, casting a long and painful shadow on the team.

You and Mingyu immediately ran to the abandoned building where Hansol and Jihoon were being held captive. The rest of the team followed closely, their weapons at the ready. As you neared the building, Mingyu's phone rang. It was a call from Seungcheol. Mingyu signaled for everyone to stop moving when he heard Seungcheol's urgent voice, "Stop everyone. He wants to meet Y/N."

Mingyu's eyes locked onto yours as Seungcheol continued, "Yoo Yongchul wants to meet Y/N only."

Mingyu relayed the message, and you muttered a curse under your breath, "He hated it when I took down his men last week." The pieces clicked into place—this was why Hansol and Jihoon had been captured.

"Tell him that Y/N will be with me," Mingyu instructed Seungcheol before ending the call. He quickly briefed Myungho and Jisoo to lead the team while you and he headed upstairs.

"Be careful," Myungho whispered as he took his position, his eyes filled with concern.

With a nod, you and Mingyu moved cautiously up the stairs, the old wooden steps creaking under your weight. The air was thick with tension, every shadow a potential threat. Your mind raced, strategizing how to handle Yoo Yongchul and secure the safe release of your teammates.

Reaching the designated floor, you saw a dimly lit room at the end of the hallway. Mingyu placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We’ve got this. Just stay focused."

You nodded, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. As you entered the room, the dim light revealed Yoo Yongchul standing in the center, a sinister smile on his face. Hansol and Jihoon were tied up in the corner, their faces bruised and eyes filled with a mixture of relief and fear upon seeing you.

"Here we are. Did you bring my men?" Yoo Yongchul, the leader of Cubic, greeted you with a smile that stood in stark contrast to his grim-faced men, who held weapons aimed at Hansol and Jihoon.

"You let them go, and we'll talk," you replied, your calm tone surprising even Mingyu.

Mingyu's eyes widened as you pulled out your gun, unloaded it, and let the bullets clatter to the floor. You then tossed the gun aside, followed by your knife and handcuffs.

"What are you doing?" Mingyu whispered, alarmed.

Yoo Yongchul motioned for his men to release Hansol and Jihoon. Mingyu immediately moved to their side as they were pushed towards you.

"So, what do you want?" you asked.

"Let's pretend we never sold narcotics," Yoo Yongchul said smoothly. "Detective Kim knows what we've done, right? We just own a few nightclubs and do some debt collecting."

You smiled, a dangerous edge to your expression. "Nightclubs aren't enough, so you got your hands dirty with 'candy' from Russia? How does the money from selling narcotics feel?" Your taunt hit its mark, and Yoo Yongchul's smile vanished. He grabbed a gun from one of his men and aimed it at you.

Mingyu, Hansol, and Jihoon, who got their gun from Mingyu, quickly raised their guns, ready to protect you.

"Thank you for this invitation, Yoo Yongchul," you said, your voice steady.

Sensing your intent to capture him, Yoo Yongchul fired at you and immediately ran. Hansol and Jihoon sprinted after him, but Mingyu stopped when he noticed you were bleeding.

"You didn't wear a vest?" Mingyu exclaimed, shock evident in his voice. He quickly directed everyone to move through his radio, but you motioned for him to join the others in pursuing Yoo Yongchul.

"No, I'm not leaving you here bleeding," he insisted, gently lifting you into his arms and heading downstairs.

"I'm heavy," you whispered weakly, your hand pressed against the wound on your stomach to stem the bleeding.

"Shut up, it's not like I’ve never lifted you before," Mingyu retorted, his tone a mix of frustration and concern.

You winced in pain, the reality of being shot for the first time hitting you hard. Your recklessness in not wearing a bulletproof vest during the mission now seemed like a grave mistake.

"Please, stay awake," Mingyu urged as he descended the stairs, his voice trembling slightly. He could feel your strength waning with each passing moment.

As he carried you, Mingyu's mind raced with thoughts of your shared history and the countless times you had saved each other. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you now. "Just a bit further," he whispered, more to himself than to you, as he pushed through the pain and fear gripping his heart.

With the help of the district station, Yoo Yongchul and his men were successfully captured. Seungcheol saw Mingyu holding you and immediately ran to assist. Quickly getting you to the paramedics, Mingyu watched anxiously as they tended to your wound.

"She didn't wear a vest?" Jihoon, who was also in the same ambulance on the way to the hospital, was shocked to find out his leader was injured.

Hansol, sitting beside Jihoon, looked on in concern as you slowly closed your eyes. "Ma'am, please stay awake. We're on our way to the hospital," the paramedic urged.

Mingyu's hand immediately found yours and squeezed it tightly. "Hey... stay awake... please," he begged, his voice filled with desperation.

"It's hurting," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Mingyu nodded, his face a mask of concern and guilt.

"Mingyu, thank you," you whispered, your voice growing weaker. "Thank you..."

Mingyu shook his head, hating the way you kept thanking him in this dire situation. "Stop it!" he said, his voice breaking.

"I'm so tired," you mumbled, your eyes fluttering. "I miss Wonwoo."

"Sunbae!" Jihoon exclaimed, his voice filled with disapproval and concern, speaking up on behalf of a speechless Mingyu.

Mingyu's heart clenched at your words, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "Stay with me," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "We can't lose you too."

The ambulance sped through the city streets, sirens blaring. The paramedics worked tirelessly to stabilize you, their faces grim with determination. As the hospital came into view, Mingyu's grip on your hand tightened, a silent promise that he would never let you down again.

The ambulance doors flew open, and the medical team rushed you inside. Mingyu followed closely, his eyes never leaving you. "She's going to be okay," he told himself, the words a mantra he desperately needed to believe. "She has to be."

Hansol, Jihoon, Seungkwan, and Myungho sat waiting anxiously in front of the surgery room. Their eyes kept darting to Mingyu, who stood steadfastly by the door, not moving an inch since you were taken in an hour ago.

"I don't know what exactly happened, but I watched him in the ambulance," Hansol said, looking over at Jihoon. "He looked so worried. Like he was afraid something terrible would happen."

"I know... everyone can see he still loves her," Seungkwan sighed.

Hansol frowned. "What do you mean? They were together?"

Jihoon glanced at him. "You didn't know?"

"He's new," Seungkwan informed Jihoon.

"They were together until three years ago, before they were promoted to team leaders. It was Jihoon hyung, Myungho hyung, Mingyu sunbae, y/n sunbae, and I was the maknae. Seungcheol sunbae was the team leader," Seungkwan explained.

"We lost a member during a mission. It was their best friend," Jihoon added somberly. "I don't know all the details, but the rumors about their breakup started after that. However, I always knew that Mingyu sunbae never truly left Y/n sunbae's side."

The group fell silent, the weight of the past and present hanging heavily in the air. The surgical room doors remained closed, and every passing minute felt like an eternity. Mingyu's unwavering presence by the door was a testament to his feelings, a silent promise that he wouldn't lose you, no matter what it took.

"What is wrong with you, actually?" Those were the first words out of your mouth after days of not speaking to him. It was almost midnight when he drove you home after Wonwoo's funeral. Unable to bear the thought of leaving you alone, he stayed.

"What is wrong with you?" you asked again, this time in a whisper.

He knew exactly what you were referring to, but the guilt weighed heavily on him. He couldn't stop hating himself every time he remembered that he was the cause of losing Wonwoo and almost losing you as well.

"You've always been the one to prioritize other. How could you go when you saw me tied up in that room?" you continued, your voice cracking with emotion.

Mingyu held his head down, unable to meet your eyes. Deep down, he knew the reason behind his actions, and it made him hate himself even more. He remembered the frantic moments of trying to find, where the culprit had taken you, with Wonwoo while the rest of the team focused on evacuating the area.

"Did something happen to you?" Your question pierced through his thoughts, bringing tears to his eyes. You were too good for him, he thought. How could an angel like you exist for someone as flawed as him? He was betraying you, for God's sake!

"There are only two spots, Detective Kim," he remembered Chief Hong's insinuation. It was promotion time. Mingyu, Wonwoo, and you had dedicated your lives fully to the work. However, there were only two promotion spots available, and they were likely for him and Wonwoo.

Competently, Wonwoo and he were better detectives. But everyone knew you were fit for a leadership spot. Honestly, none of you didn't deserve the place.

"Detective Jeon definitely has a spot. Honestly, I have high hopes for you, Detective Kim. However, the superintendents have been discussing Detective Ji's performance in leading several cases," Chief Hong had said.

Mingyu’s mind replayed the conversation. The promotion meant everything to him. It wasn’t just about recognition; it was about proving his worth, his dedication. But that ambition had clouded his judgment, leading to choices that he now regretted deeply.

You sighed at his silence, frustration boiling over. "You left me in danger and now you're keeping things from me," you said, your voice trembling with hurt. "I guess seven years wasn't enough for you? For us?"

Mingyu shook his head. "That's not what I meant."

"Then tell me! We lost Wonwoo, for god's sake! How could you stay silent like this, Kim Mingyu?"

Mingyu was startled; it was the first time he'd heard you raise your voice at him. He looked at you, eyes widened in shock. Why was it always about Wonwoo? When was it going to be about him? When would he be prioritized?

"You shouldn't bring up Wonwoo. I'm having a hard time too," Mingyu said, his voice cracking. He stood from the couch, grabbing his black suit from the funeral.

"It's always about him, right?" Mingyu mumbled, his words heavy with bitterness and pain, before he walked out, leaving you alone in the silence of the night.

The echo of his departure hung in the air, leaving you with a hollow ache that felt impossible to fill. The chasm between you and Mingyu seemed wider than ever, and the loss of Wonwoo weighed down on both of you like an unspoken curse.

Mingyu stood somberly at the funeral with his team, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. In this industry, people came and went, and the harsh reality of that truth weighed heavily on his heart. He tapped one of your member, Jisoo's shoulder, silently urging him to stay strong amidst the recent turmoil.

After the funeral concluded, Mingyu found himself heading to your apartment. The familiar path brought a wave of nostalgia. He remembered all the times he had crashed at your place, finding solace and comfort within its walls. Your apartment had always felt more like home to him than his own, mainly because it had you in it.

As he stood outside your door, memories of laughter, shared meals, and late-night conversations flooded his mind. The warmth of your presence, the way you made everything better just by being there—it all came rushing back. With a deep breath, Mingyu stepped inside, hoping to find some semblance of the connection you once shared, even amidst the pain and unresolved issues that now lingered between you.

"Wake up," Mingyu said softly, shaking your shoulder. "I brought you lunch. It's past time for your medicine."

You groaned and stretched like a cat, wincing as the still-healing wound reminded you of its presence. "How's Jisoo?" you asked, feeling guilty for not being able to attend his father's funeral, Regional Chief Hong.

Mingyu prepared the food on your nightstand and handed it to you. "Even though we knew he hated his father, he's still his father. Jisoo's holding up as best as he can."

You sighed, taking the plate from him. "I wish I could've been there for him."

Mingyu sat beside you, watching you carefully. "He understands. We all do. Focus on getting better. That's what matters right now."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. "Thank you, Mingyu. For everything."

He smiled, gently squeezing your hand. "Always."

You shook your head. "I really mean it. Thank you for always being there," you said sincerely.

Mingyu looked at you, stunned by your words. "You knew?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded slowly. "Everyone knows."

Mingyu's face flushed slightly. "I know you weren't that stupid for stepping over regulations, helping with my cases," you mentioned as you took your first spoonful of food.

You frowned slightly. "It doesn't have green onion. You remembered?" you asked, surprised.

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "Of course I remembered."

You chuckled and playfully slapped his arm. "Stop acting like that to women!"

Mingyu raised his hand to pat your head, smiling softly. "Only for you."

You bit your lip, trying to stop yourself from saying something. However, Mingyu noticed it and said, "Just say it."

You sighed and set the food on the nightstand before turning to face him. "You know what happened to Wonwoo is not your fault, right?"

Mingyu shifted uncomfortably on your bed, his eyes wandering. There was a pregnant pause before he finally spoke. "I—I don't know. I—I just can't stop thinking and blaming myself."

You reached out and took his hand, feeling the tension in his grip. "Mingyu, none of us could have predicted what happened. Wonwoo made his choice to save everyone. He was a hero, and you did everything you could."

Mingyu's eyes met yours, filled with anguish. "But I should have been there. I should have done more."

"You were there, and you did everything you could," you insisted, squeezing his hand. "We all did. This job, it comes with risks, and we all knew that. Blaming yourself won't bring him back."

Mingyu sighed deeply, the weight of his guilt still pressing down on him. "I just wish things had been different."

"We all do," you whispered. "But we have to keep moving forward. For Wonwoo, for each other, and for the team."

Mingyu nodded slowly, his eyes still clouded with grief. "I know. It's just hard."

"It is," you agreed. "But we're in this together. We'll get through it, one step at a time."

He looked at you, his expression softening. "Thank you. For everything."

"Always," you replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Now, let's finish this food before it gets cold."

Mingyu managed a small smile, the first hint of light breaking through the darkness. "Okay. No green onions, just for you."

You chuckled, the sound a small but significant step toward healing. "Just for me."

It was nearly 3 a.m. when you and Mingyu decided to step out of the office together after a long night shift. You had just finished your leave and had fully recovered, while Mingyu had been dealing with everything related to Cubic over the past three months. Despite the challenges, things were looking up—especially now that he had you to come home to.

Everyone was thrilled when Mingyu finally revealed that you two were back together. Seungcheol, ever the perceptive leader, was the first to know. His response was typically Seungcheol: "I sensed that would happen." Meanwhile, the rest of the team, who had been watching Mingyu wander around like a lost soul since your separation, were ecstatic. They couldn't stop showering him with playful, embarrassing comments.

"My wish for today is that I won't see you running, on your first day back at work, catching some bastard," Mingyu said, a hint of a smile on his face as he placed an order for the two of you.

You both decided to stop at an old restaurant nearby your place. It was open 24 hours and served home-cooked meals—a usual go-to spot for you, Mingyu, and Wonwoo after night shifts. The owner, recognizing you both, was surprised to see you weren't alone this time.

"I'm so sorry for your friend," she said gently. "Here's a house service."

She handed you a plate of mandu, Wonwoo's favorite appetizer. Mingyu and you smiled gratefully at her before savoring the familiar taste.

"Shit, I didn't expect this atmosphere," Mingyu mumbled, hiding his face in his hands, still chewing on the mandu.

You reached out and touched his arm gently. "I know. It's... different without him."

Mingyu nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "This place... it was our spot."

You sighed, memories flooding back. "Yeah, it was. But I'm glad we came. It feels like he's still here with us, in a way."

Mingyu took a deep breath, lowering his hands to look at you. "I'm really glad you're back. I don't think I could have done this without you."

You smiled softly. "I'm glad to be back too. And we're going to get through this, together."

As the two of you sat there, sharing a meal and memories, the weight of the past few months began to lift. It wasn't easy, but you both knew that as long as you had each other, you could face anything the future held.

Once you two finished, Mingyu, who was facing the window, saw someone running while another followed. He cursed under his breath and lowered his head. You noticed his reaction and tried to look back.

"Promise me you won't get involved," he said, reminding you that your shift was over.

But then you saw Jihoon and Jisoo running in pursuit. You immediately stood up. "I have to go," you said, darting outside to follow your team members.

Mingyu sighed, pulling out his card to pay for the meal. The owner, noticing your sudden absence, approached with a curious look.

"Where's she? Did she leave already?" the owner asked.

Mingyu smiled wearily. "She's got a criminal to chase," he replied playfully before stepping out, scanning the area to find your whereabouts.

As you ran to catch up with Jihoon and Jisoo, the familiar adrenaline surged through your veins. Mingyu followed close behind, unable to ignore the pull of duty despite his earlier promise.

The chase was intense, but with Jihoon and Jisoo leading the way, you quickly caught up to the suspect. Jihoon tackled him to the ground while Jisoo expertly cuffed him. You arrived just in time to help them secure the scene.

"Nice work, team," you said, breathing heavily. Jihoon and Jisoo both gave you grateful nods, their expressions a mix of surprise and relief.

Just then, Mingyu arrived, slightly out of breath. "Nice job, everyone," he said, his tone a bit sharper than usual. Jihoon and Jisoo looked at him, then at you, confused.

"Wait, did Mingyu sunbae just follow you here?" Jihoon asked, raising an eyebrow.

You glanced at Mingyu, who looked slightly offended. "Yeah, we came together," you admitted.

Jisoo's eyes widened. "Together? Like, together-together?"

You nodded, a small smile forming. "Yeah, we're back together."

Jihoon and Jisoo exchanged surprised looks. "And you didn't think to tell us?" Jihoon teased, though there was genuine curiosity in his tone.

Mingyu crossed his arms, clearly still a bit annoyed. "Yeah, why didn't you tell them?" he asked you pointedly.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "I was going to, but there was never a good time. And then, well, this happened."

Jisoo grinned. "Well, it's about time! We've been wondering when you two would finally get back together."

Jihoon chuckled. "Yeah, the whole team has been rooting for you guys."

Mingyu's annoyance softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I guess we could've been more open about it," he admitted.

"Definitely," you agreed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "From now on, no more secrets."

As the night continued, the team settled back into their routine, the camaraderie and shared purpose stronger than ever. You and Mingyu were back together, and despite the challenges ahead, you knew you could face them as long as you had each other.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #densworld🌼#seventeen scenarios #seventeen series #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagine #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu #mingyu au #mingyu fluff #mingyu recs #mingyu imagine

265 notes · View notes