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yvesette · 2 days ago

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BUZZCUT. | ── [ j.jh ]

── ⭒ staring .ᐟ ౨ৎ jaehyun x afab!reader

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　　₊　˙　✃ ⋆　 † ⠀๋⠀₊ -

SUMMARY: ── in a bittersweet farewell, the night before your close childhood friend jaehyun leaves for military service you both take a walk along the han river as well as navigate your complicated feelings for each other.

GENRE: friends to lovers, SMUT (18+, mdni), angst, fluff, idol!jaehyun CW/TAGS: dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv sex, spanking, hair pulling, reader is refered to as a girl, praising, bigdick!jaehyun WORDS | 6.8k A/N | this is in honor of jaehyun's enlistment - enjoy !!

‪　゛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓈒 ◌ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

── the night is cool against your skin, a gentle breeze wrapping around you as you walk down the narrow streets, winding your way toward the river. your steps are deliberate, even though your heart thunders against your chest. you’re thinking too much, and you know it, letting each thought flicker and fold over the last like waves, endless and unknowable, churning somewhere deep inside you.

it’s been a long time, you think. a long time since you first saw him, all easy smiles and casual charm. a long time since you first felt that jolt of something you didn’t yet have a name for but that, in hindsight, you recognize as love. you’ve never told him, not once—not in all these years of close calls and almosts, of lingering touches and moments that you always held on to longer than you should have.

you inhale deeply, trying to slow the pace of your thoughts, but each step closer only winds you tighter. the han river glimmers faintly in the distance, a line of silver beneath the night sky. and there, by the water’s edge, is jaehyun. he’s leaning against the railing, looking out at the river, his face partially shadowed but somehow softer, framed by the quiet of the night. the sight of him, so familiar yet distant, almost pulls you to a stop.

there’s something about him tonight—a weight you hadn’t noticed before. it’s as if he, too, is looking to hold on to everything here, everything he’s about to leave behind. and yet, he doesn’t turn to look at you until you’re almost right next to him, his gaze steady as he catches your eye.

“you made it,” he says, that soft, reassuring warmth in his voice. his smile, though, is smaller than usual, like there’s something unsaid between you both, lingering just below the surface.

“i made it,” you answer, and you try to keep your tone light, but it comes out quiet, touched by an edge you didn’t mean to reveal. you’ve imagined this moment—this last chance to see him—over and over in your head, each version of it different. and yet, standing here now, everything you thought you might say seems to slip through your fingers.

he watches you carefully, that subtle intensity in his gaze, as if he’s trying to memorize the way you look, standing there in the glow of the distant city lights.

he clears his throat, breaking the silence as you both start walking along the path that follows the river's edge. “how’ve you been?” he asks, giving you a sidelong glance. it’s a simple question, and yet the softness of his tone makes it feel like he’s asking for something more, like he’s trying to make up for all the times he’s missed out on in the last few months.

you smile, shrugging lightly. “same old, same old. work, school—nothing too exciting. but you, mr. idol, you’ve been busy.” jaehyun chuckles, the sound low and warm, as he brushes his hair back with one hand. “yeah, i guess that’s one way to put it.” he looks down at his shoes for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “we were doing concerts. that’s why i’ve been, you know… hard to reach.”

you nod, already knowing. his life has been moving at a different pace—one that has taken him across oceans, into arenas filled with fans chanting his name. it’s a reality you’ve grown used to, but still, there’s a tiny ache whenever you remember how separate his world can sometimes feel from yours. but tonight, it’s as if none of that matters. tonight, he’s here, and there’s only the two of you.

“still can’t believe that’s real,” you say, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “remember when you wouldn’t even sing in front of me?”

jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “i was terrible back then. don’t lie to me.”

“no, i’m serious!” you grin, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “all those late nights, trying to get you to sing while we were ‘studying’ for exams. it was tragic—”

“oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad,” he interrupts, nudging you back with a smile that’s both embarrassed and pleased. “you’re making me sound hopeless.”

“hopeless? maybe a little,” you tease, watching his face light up in a way that feels achingly familiar, like something you want to freeze in time. “but i guess you’ve come a long way, huh?”

he nods, a soft hum in his voice. “feels like forever ago, though. remember the first time we stayed out all night? trying to find that coffee shop you swore was ‘just around the corner’?”

you laugh, covering your mouth at the memory. “and we got so lost! i was ready to give up, but you…” you trail off, looking at him with that same warmth, thinking of the way he had insisted on keeping on, even when you both had practically wandered into the outskirts of the city.

“i wasn’t about to let you down,” he finishes, a hint of pride in his voice.

the two of you continue walking, memories spilling out as naturally as the river flowing beside you. nights spent at convenience stores with cheap ramyeon and cola; that one time he convinced you to go to karaoke and made up for years of not singing; all the secrets you whispered between laughter and yawns, half-asleep in the early morning light.

and yet, despite the familiarity, tonight is different. the laughter dies down quicker, and each memory feels like a bittersweet treasure, something you’re both afraid to hold too tightly for fear it will slip away. you’re acutely aware of every step, every glance, every brush of his shoulder against yours. it’s all slipping through your fingers, each second a reminder that you’re both on the brink of a sort-of goodbye.

the quiet stretches out between you as you walk, and though his hand rests loosely in his pocket, jaehyun’s other hand rises to press his fingertips to his mouth, lost in thought. his gaze wanders out over the river, his usual warmth dimming, replaced by something heavier. it lingers in the air around him, that tension, that uncertainty—like the night itself is waiting to exhale.

“honestly… i don’t know what to expect.” his voice is lower now, almost a whisper that the wind could easily snatch away. “everyone says you just get through it. that it’s over before you know it. but…” he trails off, his words floating into the dark like something fragile and fleeting. “it’s strange, thinking that life just… pauses. for two years.”

you walk a few more paces, silent, each step a reminder of time slipping by too fast. you look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hold onto the image: the faint furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw, that expression he wears when he’s trying to seem brave but doesn’t quite manage it. and your own heart twists at the sight of him—of jaehyun, here with you, with all the things you’ve never said pressing against your chest. but you push it down, that ache, until it’s tucked somewhere deep inside you. instead, you reach out, letting your hand rest on his arm, feeling the warmth of him under your fingertips.

“you’ll be okay yuno,” you say quietly, feeling the words reverberate through you, anchoring you to this moment. “you’ve always found a way to be.”

he looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s seeing something for the first time. there’s a hint of disbelief in his eyes, almost as if he wants to question what you’ve just said, even using his real name - to pick it apart. but he doesn’t. he just nods, a faint, grateful smile tracing his lips.

“sometimes i think you believe in me more than i do,” he murmurs. “like you’ve always known something i haven’t.”

you want to say something to that, to answer, to reach through all these walls of silence that have built up between you over the years, but you don’t. instead, you only look back at him, holding your smile steady, letting the quiet carry all the things you can’t say.

after a moment, you find a bench tucked away at the edge of the path, overlooking the river’s glimmering surface. the world around you fades into the background, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in this fragile stillness. as you sit, jaehyun turns toward you, his fingers brushing against yours before he takes your hand fully, squeezing it gently.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he admits, his voice steady but low, a hint of vulnerability hidden beneath the surface.

your heart races at the contact, warmth spreading through you like a soft glow. you’re on the verge of confessing everything—the weight of your feelings that you’ve kept hidden, the love that has thrived in the silence between you. but you hold back, unwilling to add any more emotional weight to a goodbye that’s already too heavy. instead, you meet his gaze, trying to capture this moment, every detail of him etched in your mind—his soft features, the way his eyes reflect the shimmering river, the gentle press of his hand against yours.

jaehyun clears his throat, breaking the quiet between you. “it’s getting cold,” he says, his voice soft, almost reluctant. “i’ll walk you home.”

you nod, and without another word, you both stand, falling into step beside each other. the silence between you now is thick, layered with the things neither of you have said, and each step you take feels heavier, like the night itself is pressing down, reminding you that this is the last time—for a good while—that you’ll have him beside you like this.

the streets are emptier now, just the distant glow of streetlights casting long shadows as you walk side by side. you can feel the tension building, each step drawing you closer to the inevitable. your hand brushes his once, and though neither of you speaks, there’s a quiet comfort in that brief, familiar contact. when you finally reach your apartment, you stop, and jaehyun does too. he stands there, looking at you with an expression you can’t quite read—something mingling with the sadness in his eyes, a softness, a question, maybe. and he hesitates, his hand hovering just beside yours as if he wants to reach for you, as if he’s searching for something in your face that he’s not sure he’ll find.

jaehyun’s gaze flickers, lingering on you as if he’s committing every detail to memory. he rubs the back of his neck, breaking eye contact for a second before looking back at you.

“so…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of all the unspoken words between you. “guess this is it, huh?” you force a smile, nodding even though it feels like your chest is tightening. “yeah. tomorrow.”

he bites his lip, his eyes searching yours, like he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to make this moment last longer. “it’s just… i don’t know. doesn’t feel real yet.”

you swallow, the words caught in your throat. “it doesn’t,” you reply softly, your voice barely steady. “we’ll still call and text all the time…and if you want we can hang out every other weekend or something.”

jaehyun’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, sad smile. “you’ve been there for everything,” he says, his voice quiet, almost as if he’s admitting a secret. “since we were kids. it’s hard to think of… going through something without you around.”

your heart races at his words, and you force yourself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct tells you to look away, to hide what you’re feeling. “i’ll still be here,” you say, and the promise feels fragile, yet unbreakable, hanging in the space between you.

he lets out a small breath, his hand lifting as if on instinct, brushing your cheek, his fingers barely grazing your skin. “i know you will.” his voice catches, and for a moment, you see something raw in his eyes—a tenderness that feels almost too much to bear.

you stand there, suspended in the silence that follows, the weight of everything unsaid filling the space between you. and before you can second-guess yourself, before you can think of all the reasons not to, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his. his hand slips around to the back of your neck, gentle but firm, as if grounding you both in this moment, and he kisses you back, slow and unhurried, like he, too, is trying to capture everything he feels in this one breath, this one touch. the kiss starts softly, a gentle brush of lips that feels almost tentative, as if you’re both testing the waters of this new territory. but as the world around you fades, that initial hesitation melts away. the warmth of his hand cradling your neck sends a shiver down your spine, igniting something deep within you that has long been simmering beneath the surface.

jaehyun's lips are sweet, tinged with the warmth of honey and a hint of smoky undertones from the cigarette he smoked earlier. his lips move against yours with increasing urgency, a mix of longing and a bittersweet awareness that time is slipping away. you lean into him, feeling the solid weight of him against you, and it’s as if every memory, every unspoken word, pours into that moment—every shared glance, every moment of laughter—colliding in time.

jaehyun deepens the kiss, tilting his head slightly, and you feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, igniting a fire that spreads through you. it’s a heady mix of sweetness and heat, and you find yourself responding instinctively, matching his intensity, losing yourself in the sensation of him.

your heart races as you feel his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him as if he fears letting go. the world around you blurs, the distant sounds of the city fading into a dull hum, leaving only the two of you, caught in this fragile moment that feels both infinite and fleeting.

breathless, you pull away just enough to rest your forehead against his, the warmth of his skin lingering. your eyes meet, and in that charged silence, a shared understanding pulses between you—fragile yet undeniable. with a shaky breath, you fumble for your keys, the metal cool against your palm as you unlock the door, hands trembling. jaehyun steps in behind you, his presence a comforting weight, solid and unwavering in the dim light.

the moment the door closes, he's there, pulling you close again. his lips find yours in the dim light of your apartment, urgent and needy. you melt into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he walks you backwards toward the couch. the familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, a heady mix of leather and lillies that makes your head spin. your legs hit the edge of the couch, and jaehyun gently lowers you onto the soft cushions. he follows, his body a comforting weight above you as he settles on top of you.

“god, i’ll miss this,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw. then, without another word, he kisses down your neck, his lips trailing warmth that ignites every nerve in your body. you gasp softly, feeling the heat radiate from him, his touch igniting a fire deep within you.

“jaehyun…” you breathe, your voice a mixture of longing and urgency. “i wanna remember this.”

his kisses trail back to your lips, deepening as he pours everything he feels into the moment, as if to make sure you both carry it with you, etched into your hearts. “are you sure?” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, “that you want this.”

you nod, your eyes locked with his. "i promise," you whisper back, “i’ve thought about this for so long.”

jaehyun’s eyes soften, a blend of tenderness and desire flickering within their depths. he shifts slightly, fingers finding the hem of his shirt, and you hold your breath as he pulls it over his head, revealing the smooth contours of his chest and abs. the dim light from the street outside casts shadows that accentuate every curve, transforming him into a living, breathing sculpture.

without thinking, your hands reach out, tracing the lines of his torso as if drawn by an invisible thread. his skin is warm beneath your fingertips, a tangible warmth that makes your heart race. you marvel at the firmness of his abdomen, the subtle ridges etched from countless hours of dance practice and grueling workouts.

a soft hitch escapes jaehyun’s breath at your touch, his gaze darkening with desire as he watches you explore. hesitantly, you reach for the hem of your sweater. jaehyun's eyes follow your movements as you slowly pull it up and over your head, revealing the delicate lace of your bra underneath. the cool air of the apartment raises goosebumps on your skin.

jaehyun's gaze is reverent as he takes in the sight of you. his fingertips ghost along your collarbone, tracing a feather-light path down to the swell of your breasts. you shiver at his touch.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, his hands hovering at the clasp of your bra, the question hanging in the air like a fragile promise. you nod, unable to find your voice, the weight of his gaze anchoring you as he leans closer, a whisper of breath brushing against your skin.

with gentle fingers, jaehyun unhooks your bra, his touch reverent as he slides the straps down your shoulders. the fabric falls away, revealing your breasts to his gaze. his eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you, vulnerable yet unafraid beneath him.

"so fucking pretty," he murmurs, voice husky with emotion. he lowers his head, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your neck. his lips trail downward, leaving a path of warmth across your collarbone. when he reaches your breast, he pauses, his breath hot against your skin. then his mouth closes around your nipple, drawing a gasp from your lips.

his tongue swirls patterns as he sucks gently, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. one hand cups your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. you arch into him, a gasp escaping your lips. one of his hands kneads your other breast as he lavishes attention on the first. the dual sensations make your head spin. jaehyun releases your tit with a soft pop, his eyes meeting yours as he begins to trail kisses down your body. his lips brush against your sternum, then trace a path down the center of your abdomen. each touch is feather-light yet charged, sending shivers cascading through you.

he takes his time, mapping the landscape of your skin with worshipful attention. his tongue dips into the hollow of your navel, eliciting a soft gasp. you feel the curve of his smile against your skin as he continues lower, his teeth lightly scraping your sensitive flesh.

jaehyun's fingers trace along the waistband of your skirt, his touch light as a whisper. he looks up at you, eyes dark with desire but still seeking permission. "can i take this off?" he asks softly, his voice low and loving.

you nod, breath catching in your throat as he slowly unzips your skirt. he slides it down your legs, his hands caressing your thighs as he goes. the cool air raises goosebumps on your newly exposed skin.

jaehyun's gaze travels over you reverently, taking in every curve and dip of your body. his fingers ghost along the lace edge of your panties, barely touching. "you're so beautiful," he murmurs, “let me take care of you baby.”

he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, just above your knee. then another, slightly higher. his lips trail a path of fire up your limbs and when he reaches the edge of your panties, he pauses, looking up at you with dark, desire-filled eyes. "god, you're so wet," he murmurs, his voice low and cursing. "fucking soaked, all for me.."

his fingers trace along the damp lace, barely ghosting over your most sensitive areas. even that faint touch sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you. you squirm slightly, desperate for more contact and whimper.

"such pretty noises," he purrs. "i wonder how you'll sound when i really touch you."

"please," you whimper, not even caring how needy you sound.

a slow smile spreads across jaehyun's face. "please what?" he asks, his tone commanding. "tell me what you want, baby."

"touch me," you gasp. "please, i need you to touch me."

your breath catches as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. with agonizing slowness, he slides them down your legs, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. the fabric clings to your damp skin as he peels it away, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze.

jaehyun's eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail. his hands caress your thigh, “perfect fucking pussy, better than i ever imagined..” he praises, before his tongue finally makes contact with your folds, you gasp at the sensation. he starts with long, slow licks, savoring your taste as he explores every inch. his hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he works.

jaehyun's tongue swirls around your clit before sucking gently, sending waves of pleasure through you. he alternates between broad strokes and focused attention, building your arousal steadily higher. you thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him where you need him most.

jaehyun holds your trembling thighs firmly apart, his strong hands steady and warm against your skin. his touch is gentle yet insistent, opening you up to his hungry gaze. jaehyun's tongue delves deeper, parting your folds and exploring every sensitive ridge and valley. he hums softly against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your core. his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, anchoring you as pleasure builds within you.

you feel the heat of his breath against your most intimate places as he works, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your clit. each pass sends sparks of sensation coursing through you. your hips begin to rock involuntarily, seeking more friction.

"such a good girl," jaehyun murmurs against you, his voice low and husky. "i love how you taste."

he slides one finger inside you, curling it upwards as his tongue continues to lavish attention on your clit. the dual sensations make you gasp, your back arching off the couch and you curse.

jaehyun slides one hand up your body to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. the added stimulation heightens every sensation, making you gasp and writhe beneath him. your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as your hips begin to move of their own accord.

you arch your back, grinding against his mouth as the tension mounts. soft whimpers and gasps fall from your lips, growing more desperate as you climb higher. jaehyun redoubles his efforts, sucking your clit between his lips as he slides another finger inside you. the dual stimulation has you seeing stars. his fingers curl, finding that perfect spot inside you as his tongue lashes your clit. you cry out, your hips bucking against his face as the first waves of orgasm crash over you. jaehyun doesn’t stop, only slows his efforts as you come down from your high. after you catch your breath, he moves his head from your thighs and moves up over you to kiss you.

jaehyun's lips meet yours in a deep, sensual kiss that is almost like a thank-you from you. you taste yourself on his tongue - tangy and sweet with a hint of musk. as he presses his body closer, you feel the hard length of his cock through his sweatpants, hot and insistent against your thigh. the thin fabric does little to conceal his arousal. the heat of him sears into your skin, igniting a fresh wave of desire low in your belly. your hands roam over the planes of his back, tracing the lean muscles there. his skin is fever-warm, and you pull back from kissing him to look down at the print of him through his pants. you make eye contact, and there’s a question hanging in the air along with the heavy breathing of you both.

you break the beat of silence, “i want to,” you say, giving him the permission that he needed.

jaehyun pulls away slightly, his eyes still locked on yours, the heat of the moment lingering in the air. with a quick, decisive movement, he gets up from the couch, the dim light casting soft shadows over his form.

“condom?” he asks.

“it’s in my bedside table,” you reply, watching him as he nods and strides toward the bedroom.

as he disappears from view, the atmosphere shifts. you stare up at the ceiling, feeling the room spin slightly, an unexpected loneliness settling in without his presence. the faint sounds of the city outside filter in, but they feel distant and hollow compared to the warmth he brought just moments before.

a part of you aches for him, for that connection you’ve both been dancing around for so long. time stretches as you wait, heart pounding in your chest, your thoughts swirling with anticipation and uncertainty.

finally, he returns, the confident smile back on his lips, and in his hand is the small foil wrapper. the moment he steps into the light, the heaviness in the air dissipates, replaced by a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. you sit up as he slips down his sweatpants and boxers.

as jaehyun's sweatpants fall away, your breath catches in your throat. his cock springs free, thick and hard, jutting proudly from a nest of dark curls. your eyes widen, taking in the impressive sight before you. he's long - longer than you expected - and girthy, the shaft curved slightly upward. the head is flushed a deep pink, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. the sight of him, fully aroused and wanting you, sends a fresh wave of heat through your core.

you swallow hard, a mix of desire and nervousness fluttering in your stomach as he gives it a few pumps, wrapping his veiny hands around his length and then slipping the condom on.

you lay back against the arm of the couch, heart pounding as jaehyun moves over you. his eyes are dark with desire as he positions himself between your spread legs. you feel exposed yet safe under his gaze.

jaehyun braces one hand beside your head, using the other to guide his cock to your entrance. the latex-covered tip brushes against your sensitive folds, making you gasp. he runs it up and down your slit, coating himself in your wetness. when he reaches your clit, he circles it slowly, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through you.

jaehyun's eyes lock with yours, his gaze intense and full of longing. the air between you is charged, buzzed with anticipation. he runs the tip of his cock along your folds once more, coating himself in your slick heat.

"god, you're so wet for me," he murmurs, his voice rough. "such a good fucking girl, all ready to take my cock.”

his praise sends a shiver down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. your breath catches in your throat as he begins to push forward, stretching you slowly inch by delicious inch. you gasp at the fullness, your body adjusting to accommodate his impressive girth. he moves with careful control, giving you time to adjust. when he's fully sheathed inside you, he pauses, letting you adjust to his size. his breath is ragged against your neck, his body trembling slightly with the effort of holding still. his breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "that's it, baby," he praises, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "take me in. you're doing so well."

you whimper softly, rocking your hips to encourage him to move. jaehyun takes the hint, slowly withdrawing before thrusting back in. he sets a steady rhythm, each stroke long and deep.

"fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice low and husky in your ear. "such a perfect little pussy, taking my cock just right."

jaehyun's thrusts become faster and more urgent, his hips snapping against yours with each movement. your bodies move together in a perfect rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"yuno," you moan, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as he pounds into you, “feels so good, oh my god.” he leans down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he continues to move inside you.

jaehyun's thrusts grow more powerful, driving deep into your core with each movement. the couch creaks softly beneath you as he picks up the pace. you feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the delicious friction sending waves of pleasure through your body.

his hands grip your hips tightly, angling you to hit that perfect spot inside. you cry out as he brushes against it, sparks of sensation radiating outward. jaehyun groans in response, the sound low and primal.

you can feel the tension building in your lower belly, a coiling heat that threatens to consume you. jaehyun must sense it too, because he redoubles his efforts. his hips snap against yours forcefully, driving into you with renewed vigor.

just as you're teetering on the edge, jaehyun slows his movements, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in torturously slowly. you whimper at the change of pace, your body aching for more. he repeats the motion several times, drawing out each thrust until you're writhing beneath him.

"please," you gasp, "i need more."

jaehyun kisses you deeply before pulling out completely. "turn around for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice insistent. you listen, adjusting your position until you’re on your hands and knees and he’s behind you.

jaehyun's hands grip your hips firmly as he positions himself behind you. you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you. he runs it along your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.

the anticipation builds as he lines himself up, the tip just barely breaching you. before you can respond, jaehyun snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. you cry out at the sudden fullness, your fingers gripping the couch cushions tightly. he gives you only a moment to adjust before pulling back and slamming in again.

jaehyun sets a punishing pace, his hips pistoning against you. the new angle allows him to hit spots deep inside that make you see stars. jaehyun's hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you from behind, his movements growing more frenzied. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your breathless moans and his low grunts.

"god, you feel so fucking good," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "my perfect baby, s-so fucking tight."

his praise sends shivers down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. you arch your back, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. the new angle allows him to hit even deeper, brushing against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. suddenly, jaehyun's hand comes down on your ass with a sharp crack. the sting blooms across your skin, quickly followed by a wave of heat. you arch your back, changing the angle slightly, and cry out as he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. jaehyun notices your reaction and adjusts his movements to hit that same spot with each thrust.

jaehyun's hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. he grips it firmly, tugging your head back as he continues to thrust into you. the slight pain mingles with pleasure, heightening every sensation. you gasp at the new angle, feeling him even deeper inside you.

"that's it, baby," he growls, his voice low and husky. "take it all for me." his hips snap against yours with renewed vigor, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. the couch creaks beneath you, the sound barely audible over your breathless moans and the slap of skin on skin.

jaehyun's grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back further. “gonna c-come,” you manage to get out. the arch in your spine deepens, changing the angle just enough to hit that perfect spot inside you with every stroke.

“be a good fucking girl and come for me baby,” he says, leaning against your ear. stars explode behind your eyes as waves of pleasure crash over and you scream his name. jaehyun's grunts become more urgent as he continues to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. he can feel you clenching tightly around him, milking him for all he's worth. with a loud groan, he follows you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he empties himself inside you.

jaehyun carefully pulls out, both of you wincing slightly at the loss of contact. he sits up, running a hand through his tousled hair as he catches his breath. the dim light from the street outside casts a soft glow on his skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat on his chest.

with a quiet grunt, he stands and makes his way to the small trash can beside the couch. you watch the play of muscles in his back and legs as he moves, admiring the lean strength of his body. he removes the condom and ties it off before tossing it in the bin.

jaehyun turns back to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. his hair is a mess, sticking up in wild tufts where you ran your fingers through it. he ruffles it absently, making it even more chaotic. you run a hand through his hair and scowl playfully when you feel how sweaty he is.

"gross," you tease, wiping your hand on his shirt. "you're all sticky."

jaehyun's smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "you weren't complaining a few minutes ago," he quips, his voice low, “and say goodbye to my hair - i’m shaving it tomorrow.”

you feel a blush creep up your neck, remembering the heated moments that led to his current disheveled state, and then a sadness rushes over you - that he’s leaving tomorrow. jaehyun notices your reaction and chuckles softly, pulling you closer. his arms wrap around your waist, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he grabs a blanket from the other side of the couch and places it over you both.

"what's on your mind, beautiful?" he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. you hesitate, not wanting to ruin the moment with your woeful thoughts.

"it's nothing," you reply, forcing a smile. but jaehyun knows you too well. his fingers gently tilt your chin up, brown eyes searching yours.

"tell me," he insists softly.

you sigh, your defenses crumbling under his gaze. "i just… i can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow. it feels too soon."

his expression shifts, the teasing glimmer fading as he brushes a thumb across your cheek. "yeah, i get it. it’s not easy."

"but what if things change?" you murmur, your heart tightening at the thought.

jaehyun raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "change? as in me forgetting you? not a chance. you think i could forget the girl who drove me crazy for all these years?"

you roll your eyes, but there’s a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. "well, you’re going to be busy with training and everything else."

he leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. "busy? sure. but you think i’ll be able to focus when all i can think about is you? not a chance."

your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but tease back. "is that your way of saying you’ll miss me?"

jaehyun chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "it’s my way of saying you better miss me too. because i’m about to confess something."

you lean in, curiosity piqued. "what’s that?"

jaehyun's expression shifts, becoming more serious as he searches your eyes. "i’m in love with you. like, really in love with you. i think about you all the time—when i'm practicing, when i'm on stage, even when i'm just hanging out with the guys. it’s like you're always there in the back of my mind."

your breath catches, the weight of his words settling around you. "but… why didn’t you say anything before?"

he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve come to know well. "i didn’t want to ruin what we have. i thought maybe it was better to keep it as friends. but now? i want to try things with you. i want to see where this goes."

the confession hangs in the air between you, charged with possibility. you can feel your pulse quickening, excitement mingling with uncertainty. "and what if it doesn’t work out? the timing of this is just-"

jaehyun shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "i don’t care about timing. what matters is how i feel, and i can’t let that go without saying something. i want you in my life, no matter how far apart we are."

you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "you make it sound so easy. you do realize i’m not just some object you can claim when you feel like it, right?"

he chuckles, leaning closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "oh, i’m fully aware. that’s why i’m trying to make my move before someone else scoops you up."

you laugh lightly, shaking your head. "good luck with that. i’m pretty sure no one else would bother trying."

"yeah? you think i’m the only one?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you must have a whole line of admirers waiting."

"right, because i’m just so irresistible," you reply, a smirk on your lips. "but let’s be real. you’re the only one who’s actually putting in the work."

jaehyun’s smile fades just a little as he leans back, studying you. "look, i know this isn’t easy. but i don’t want to just be some random fling. i want to be in your life, no matter where we are."

you take a breath, weighing his words. "and if things get complicated? you know they will."

he shrugs, unfazed. "shit’s always complicated. but i’d rather deal with that than let this slip away. you’re worth the trouble."

you meet his gaze, feeling the sincerity behind his words. "okay, i get it. but don’t think i’m going to make this easy for you."

he smirks, the challenge evident in his eyes. "i wouldn’t want it any other way."

the morning light filters in through the window, casting a soft glow on the cluttered room, and you find yourself perched on a stool, an electric razor in your hand, staring at jaehyun’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. he sits in a chair, a towel draped around his shoulders, looking slightly apprehensive but oddly amused by the situation.

“are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice that doesn’t quite mask the tension beneath. you grip the razor tighter, suddenly aware of how little you know about haircuts.

“i kinda have to,” jaehyun replies, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone, “no long hair.”

you nod and take a deep breath, bringing the razor closer. with a gentle buzz, the razor hums to life, and you press it against his scalp. the sound is oddly satisfying, a gentle roar that fills the small space, and you watch as a tuft of hair falls away, landing softly on the towel draped around his shoulders.

“oh my god!” you squeal, barely able to contain your dumbfoundedness. you can’t help but laugh at the sight of jaehyun’s shocked expression, a blend of surprise and amusement. you can’t stop the laughter bubbling up as you buzz away the rest of his hair, the once dark locks falling in tufts around him. each pass of the razor reveals more of his scalp, and soon he’s left with a clean, smooth surface that glints in the morning light.

jaehyun tilts his head, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “so, how do i look? sexy?”

the question hangs in the air, and without thinking, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips sending a rush of warmth through you. his surprise melts into a smile, and you pull away slightly, a grin still playing on your lips as you meet his gaze.

　　　˳ 　　౨౿　　⁺　　༄　　　༝　　 end.

copywrite @yvesette 2024

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heechwe · 2 days ago

Text

the start of time | 𝐩𝐣𝐬

୨୧ pairing: park (jay) jongseong x reader ୨୧ word count: 8.6k ୨୧ genre: angst, semi-fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: friends to strangers to lovers, childhood friends, miscommunication, pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex, TRIGGERS FOR DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND PARENTAL ABUSE IN THE LATTER HALF OF FIC. ୨୧ synopsis: You've lost your creative spark for the first time since moving away from Jeju Island, leaving behind your best friend in the process without an explanation. But when a work assignment sends you back to your hometown, truths come to light and perhaps lost love can come back with a little time and effort. ➸ bless @pars-ley for following this fic to the very beginning and being one of the best betas ever! this story is for you, ley, and thank you ♡ 💿Listen to the story's playlist here!

Over the thin railing that separates Jay from the cliffs below, the waves crash violently together. The weather mirrors the feelings circulating through his veins. The ripples of the seabed meeting the sand make him long for what his life could be instead of its current state. The wind whips his trenchcoat in angry thrashes against his back. His hands grip the lighthouse’s iron bars to keep his body steady. The upcoming storm was forecast last night to be one of the biggest downpours of the summer.

As the second in command of the lighthouse keeper, his father, it’s standard practice to be prepared for what’s to come. As the sea continues its visceral reaction to the weather, Jay thinks about her and what her life has become since she’s left. Is she happy? Is Seoul everything she dreamed of? Was running from Jeju without saying goodbye worth it? Or is she closer than he believes, her heart’s desire turning out to be not far from the fishing town they grew up in?

His father calls for him inside, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. Probably for the better, anyway. Thinking about those chapters of his life, the book separated cleanly and harshly with a before and after, does him no good. So, like he should, he runs inside to do the next task that keeps one of the last lighthouses in Jeju working properly. Even if his heart has to be sacrificed in the process.

The subject of your next photograph takes no interest in the lens standing three feet away. Her tail wiggles rapidly as she inspects the bush in front of her with her perky, wet nose. You giggle quietly behind your camera, trying not to disturb her inspection of the roses.

Rule #1 of photography, according to your department head Sunghoon, is to make yourself nonexistent. To get the perfect shot, conceal yourself as much as possible. It’s taken many practice sessions since your first magazine catalog, the original photos coming out less than perfect. Thankfully, you’re now lead photographer thanks to Sunghoon’s tutelage and tips. After five years, you feel like you’re on stable ground.

It reminds you of Jay, the sudden memory of him being the focus of your lens many times before a punch to the gut. Your oldest friend in the world probably wonders what the reason was for your sudden departure. You couldn’t even leave him a letter to provide some semblance of an explanation, one that he definitely deserved more than anyone else.

If only you had a reason that made sense or could salvage the bond you once shared. You know now it’s been eaten away by silence, so what could be said anyhow to repair it?

Your guilt gnaws at your empty stomach the entire way back to the headquarters of Otherworldly, the magazine you interned at and subsequently were hired to take pictures for. You greet the rest of your team when you make your way upstairs.

”Finally found some inspiration?” Sunwoo asks. Your friend tries to balance a pencil on the top of his nose.

”I’m working on it. In the meantime, I got the copies you wanted.” You give him the folder that holds your pictures for the month’s spread.

”Barely made the deadline this time, kid.” Sunghoon tuts his head at you.

“Leave her be,” Chaewon chides him, thwacking her notebook on the back of his head. It’s nice to know the writer’s room has your back when the boys decide to tease, especially in the form of Chaewon. She may be a stern leader, but she also happens to have a soft spot for you, the only female photographer.

You hear your boss, Kim Taehyung, call your name and ask you to come to his office. Your body bristles at the command, but Chaewon pats you on the shoulder. “Probably just a timesheet thing.”

Tip-toeing into Taehyung’s office, you smile at his back. Your boss is focused on a box of files on the windowsill, the outline of his button up shirt highlighted by the sun. “Please sit,” he says.

You do as he asks, putting your hands on your knees to pinch the skin, an old habit you couldn't kick. You tuck your hands under your legs to stop when Taehyung turns to you. He presses his glasses higher to the bridge of his nose, a soft smile emerging on his lips. “I wanted to say your photos from the last column were very impressive.”

”Oh!” You respond instinctively. Expecting reprimands that turned out to be compliments, you mentally take a deep breath of relief. “Thank you, sir.”

"Also," he says, "I was wondering how you’d feel being sent out on an assignment. Well, you and Sunwoo, actually. Sunghoon was discussing a location-focused piece, and he recommended you for it since you may need a change of scenery for some fresh inspiration.”

You nod your head immediately. “Of course!”

Taehyung claps his hands together, clearly pleased. “Perfect. I’ve already booked you two for the next flight to Aewol in two days. It’ll probably be easy to find a place to stay, right?”

The pit in your stomach that faded immediately widens into a chasm. The sound of your hometown’s name on Taehyung’s lips could have been a figment of your imagination. A sick joke your guilt materialized to punish you further. But as you look longer at your boss, his glee transforming into hesitant confusion, you know the reality is far worse.

”The location piece is for Jeju,” you say, the realization on your lips hitting your ears like a cannon.

”Is that an issue? I can always send Jungwon with Sunwoo instead."

”No sir! Not a problem at all.” The words tumble out before you can stop them.

Jungwon, the little prick, wouldn’t get in the way of your success if you could help it. It’s bad enough that he reminds you of your creative block whenever he gets the chance. No way would he steal a cover piece from you. Particularly the one Sunghoon recommended you for and your boss expected you to complete without problems.

Despite the implications creating intense dread in every fiber of your being.

”Perfect. Get some sleep for the flight! I’ll send the piece details in an email first thing tomorrow morning.”

You walk back to your desk in a daze, unsure what to say when Sunghoon, Sunwoo, and Chaewon ask about the meeting. All your thoughts can center on is Jay, his smiling face continuously playing in your mind’s eye.

“This town is cute! A bit barren, but cute,” Sunwoo says as he exits the car parked in front of your childhood home. Your mother’s rose bushes stand tall near the mailbox, the only color in the dry grasslands surrounding your house. Aewol pales in comparison to the colors of Seoul, the city’s vibrant hues suddenly replaced with sepia tones. The only color that seems to shine through the landscape is the sea a five-minute walk away.

”Say that again, Woo, and your face won’t look so cute.” You roll your eyes and grab your luggage from the trunk.

Two weeks, only two weeks, you can survive two weeks. Your mantra on the flight to Jeju Island has been giving you some relief at the thought of going back home in half a decade. Standing in front of the brick and mortar that encapsulates your old house, you find the words to be extremely hollow.

With her uncanny senses, your mother is already out the door and greeting you and Sunwoo with hugs and kisses on the cheeks. How she could tell the two of you were barely out of the car without spying out the window, you’re unsure.

Sunwoo melts under your mother’s attention, his gummy smile and polite aura on full display. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

”Ah, my prayers were answered. Glad to see my daughter returned with a boyfriend!”

Yours and Sunwoo’s eyes grow to saucers. Your tongues are erupting with explanations at an absurdly fast speed. “No, Mom,” you shush her as Sunwoo’s blush creeps across his neck. “Woo’s my coworker. He’s here with me on an assignment.”

”Oh! Apologies.” She laughs behind one hand and pats Sunwoo on the back with the other. “Doesn’t mean one day you can’t be more than coworkers! That’s how your father and I met, remember?”

You give her a close-lipped smile and nod, the muscles in your jaw tightening.

You hadn’t thought about your father or your parents’ relationship once since you had flown out to the mainland. Admittedly, your life was all the better for it.

Feeling the air of his presence surrounding yours again twists the veins in your neck to tense knots. The ends of your hair prickle in anticipation. You make it to the front of your doorstep, wondering where he is and why he didn’t barge outside to greet you.

Like she can read your mind, your mother says, “I forgot to call and tell you, honey. Your father had an accident at the factory a month ago.” You see a tear in the corner of her eye, but you don’t address it. “So…he’s been bedridden for the past few months now.”

Sunwoo expresses his deepest sympathies. Unbeknownst to him, they deserve to go to the next beggar before him.

Like any other child, you should worry about your father’s sudden health change with a heavy heart and a frazzled mind. You should feel guilty for being away for so long, wondering how to make up for the lost time.

But you feel nothing. Not an ounce of what you should feel.

Even when you sit by your parents’ bed, his eyes lazily gazing out the window while your mother tells him in a loving voice that you’re home, your emotions are devoid of anything negative or positive. Sunwoo smiles and greets him politely. Your father says nothing. The seizure that overtook him stole his ability to enunciate coherent words.

Some moments later, when it’s just the two of you in the room together, you itch to leave. It should be a pleasure to see him. But you’re unsure to see it any other way but objectively: he’s just a body in a bed, doing nothing every day.

You hear your mother shouting in the living room. Her voice is at an abnormally high pitch to exemplify her happiness. You forgot she could achieve such a decibel when she wanted to.

”You won’t believe who’s here, Seongie!”

Seongie.

The childhood nickname Jay was blessed with by his parents, and the name stuck like a second skin. Now, it bounces off your ears and exacerbates your already conflicting emotions. Your body goes into overdrive from the sudden overstimulation, at ease from knowing Jay is close by but petrified you're seeing him after so long.

You fix your hair and take tentative steps out of your parents' room and into the hallway, hearing your mother call your name to beckon you to welcome your old friend.

When you see him, his frame filling the doorway of your childhood house, you’re transported back in time. You see yourself and Jay on a day when he could barely stand at half the wall height. You were etching pencil markings into the doorframe, the wood concealing the handwriting perfectly when the door was fully closed. A time when there were no worries or anxieties placed on you, the two of you against the world.

Looking over his face now, you realize the years have not shown physically. He still has the same angled jaw and smooth cheeks. His bottom lip remains puffy, especially when he pouts. The only thing that has changed with time is his eyes, most likely from the image before him, one he hasn’t seen in so long.

He has every right to be confused. One second, you stopped being a staple in his life. Now, you’re back in it without a warning.

You can’t deny your heart clenching. The muscle seizes when he looks over your figure, his jaw ticking when he finally meets your eyes with his own.

”You’re back,” he says finally. His first words to you in five years hold an air of uncertainty, laced with unspoken pain. He’s unsure what to do with his body, his arms pressed to his sides and his hands stuffed tightly into his pockets.

Knowing you’re the cause of it makes you want to run to Seoul all over again with your tail between your legs, hoping you can forget the misery you’ve caused. How can one apology hold enough weight to make up for what you did to one of the only people you’ve ever loved?

Sunwoo, aware of the sudden tension flooding the room, holds out a hand to your best friend. “Hi, I’m Sunwoo.”

Jay breaks eye contact with you to take Sunwoo’s palm, shaking it with a gentle but present grip. Jay gestures to your mom when he discusses yours and Sunwoo’s job at the magazine. “She’s very proud of her daughter, you know."

”Of course!” Your mother exclaims. “‘S not everyday that your child becomes some hip photographer.”

Jay inhales a heavy breath and looks down at his watch. “I have to go back to the lighthouse, but—“

”I thought your dad still ran that thing,” you cut Jay off. Aewol’s lighthouse was one of the last on the island, and the last love Jay’s father had left after his wife passed away twelve years ago. You expected it to stay in the family, but not in this way. Not when Jay has so many dreams to fulfill. Or, at least, you hope so.

Jay releases a humorless laugh, eyes falling at the corners. “Pop’s getting old. Can’t do it forever.”

He hugs your mother and gives a soft wave to Sunwoo. You feel the pit in your chest from a few days ago re-erupt when Jay looks in your direction before he departs. All you’re left with is the grim line of his mouth to haunt you for the rest of your afternoon.

The shutter of your camera makes Jay turn his head to you with a shy grin, his hair blowing in all directions from the wind. Your spot on the cliffside overlooking the sea is close enough to the lighthouse for you to see Jay’s father going in and out of the structure with supplies shipped from the mainland. Jay only runs over when his father calls for him to help, but his father hasn’t bothered to in the last hour or so.

In the downtime, the two of you have been alternating between science homework and enjoying the cool, cloudy weather. You’ve taken a number of shots of the water’s current and weeds surrounding your picnic blanket, but the majority of them were of your best friend. He pretends he’s going to smack your lens away, but he never does.

“Are you done taking candid shots of me?” Jay asks, his pencil scratching against his notebook.

“Depends. Maybe once you tell me what you’re writing,” you tease. “Because it’s definitely not a chemical equation.”

Jay chuckles and puts his notebook between the two of you. The words are jumbled in front of you until you recognize them as a recipe. “I was testing out this version of hoedeopbap last night, but I used white fish instead of salmon. It turned out really good, even Jaeyun liked it.”

You rest your head on your hand, sprawling out on the blanket to look at Jay. He always appears so animated when discussing food. You wonder when he’ll take the initiative and do something with his passion.

“What?” He asks when he catches you staring.

You grin and turn your eyes away. “You’re just a dork for food, is all.”

“Says the nerd with her camera always around her neck.”

You click your tongue at him. “I consider myself an opportunist. How else will I get good shots if I don’t have my baby with me?” You rub your camera’s body lovingly, and Jay releases a hearty laugh.

The booming sound of your father’s voice calling your name makes your entire body flinch. You swear his figure is as tall as the lighthouse as he comes towards your picnic blanket, stopping short when he sees Jay next to you.

“It’s almost dinner time. Let’s go home.” Your father says the words with a false ease; they hide his warning to follow him back to your house. Your anxiety rumbles low in your stomach, but you play it off like it’s nothing as you pack up your stuff.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jay says, his eyes hopeful for the next morning. As it is your routine for him to bike with you to school, you’re also counting the minutes until you see him again.

“See you tomorrow,” you say, your eyes soft but your stomach wrapped in knots. When you’re out of sight, and your father wraps his hand around your upper arm on your way to the car, you calculate the next seconds until you’re away from him and back in the safety of your best friend’s presence.

You and Sunwoo have been around the town square of Aewol all morning and afternoon. The crisp hour of 4 PM hits you sharply with the sound of cows and other livestock sounding off somewhere nearby. The pictures you’ve both taken of the local townspeople, random animals passing through the pale greenery, and subtle landscape have been average at best. They don’t hit you with awe or fuel any further inspiration. It’s the same cycle you’ve repeated for the past three months, trying to strike some sort of match of creativity only to come up empty.

“Let’s be honest,” Sunwoo says, looking over his own camera’s reel. “These kinda blow.”

“You don’t say?” You kick a free cobblestone off the road in front of you, lips downturned.

“The assignment is ‘Hidden Treasures’ right? Maybe we’re just looking in the wrong place.”

“Where do you think we’ll find something like that here?”

“You’re a local,” Sunwoo says in his defense. “Where did you go all the time in this backwater town?”

The beginning of your sarcastic remark dies on your lips the second you see Jay walking out of the laundromat with Heeseung, one of your old high school friends. He looks the same as Jay, still youthful but showing maturity around the edges.

Jay catches your eyes as they continue walking, his face contorting in surprise but unsure how to address it. Heeseung is the one to run towards you and pick you up in a tight hug, practically squeezing the remaining energy out of you.

“Holy shit, Jong wasn’t lying! You’re really back!” Heeseung laughs, his eyes becoming crescent moons from his happiness. You match his reaction, genuinely glad to see another familiar face.

You introduce Sunwoo to Heeseung, and Sunwoo exchanges pleasantries with Jay. Jay remains tense, the two of you conflicted about how to bridge the awkwardness that lingers.

Heeseung, like Sunwoo, is a great detective, sniffing out tension and immediately directing the conversation to your cameras. “So, Jong was saying you’re here for an assignment?”

“Yes!” Sunwoo says before you can. “We’re trying to find hidden treasures, actually. Our boss’s words, not mine.” Heeseung laughs at Sunwoo and then flicks his fingers.

“Jong could show you guys the inside of the lighthouse! Or even the view from that damn balcony would be a treasure in its own right. You can practically see the whole town from up there. Right, Jong?”

Jay rolls his eyes and rolls the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows. “Yeah, that would be fine.”

“Perfect! We were dying here without any good material. No offense to you small town folk,” Sunwoo apologizes, but neither of your old friends mind. They welcome Sunwoo’s city perspective with laughter and an open hand, just like they always have with newcomers.

On your walk to the lighthouse, Heeseung and Sunwoo taking the lead, you’re left to walk alongside Jay. The tension is a tad looser than it was before, but it still pervades the space between you both.

Finally, Jay says, “I can’t believe you’re actually home, y’know.” He says the sentence more like a question, his voice unable to mask the traces of hurt that linger.

It makes your heart rip, but you avoid the workings inside your chest to keep the conversation light. "It took a long time, didn't it?”

”Yeah. It’s like you dropped off the planet.” Jay’s voice turns a degree lighter. He smiles, the crack in his solid facade giving you a way back in.

“I basically did. All I had was my camera and some clothes in my bag.”

Jay's eyes widen, startled by the thought. “You’ve never traveled light once in your entire life.”

”I know! I barely had time to grab the necessities.”

His eyes are filled with humor. “And by that, you mean…”

“Obviously my Pokémon collection, for starters. I had to start from scratch,” you joke. “Good thing I saved all of the old cards under my bed.”

”Even the one of Charmander that I dropped in Jaeyun’s homemade soju?”

You nod, laughing. “It still smells like watermelon.”

”Bullshit!”

You both fall into an easy rhythm of witty banter and taunting, recalling old memories and brushing shoulders in a mocking fashion.

By the time you’re taking photographs on the highest floor of the lighthouse, the tension has dissipated by a large portion. Your relationship with Jay may not be completely back to where it was before, but the first lighthearted smile he throws in your direction proves it’s a start.

And a start is just enough to make your heart feel a million pounds lighter.

“So Jongseong is flailing this card around, not realizing that the bowl of my signature soju punch is right there behind him…” Jake tells the story of the Charmander card with animated expressions. Heeseung and Jay roll their eyes, but Sunwoo laughs the entire time, his buzz bumping his energy to a level you had never seen before.

The bonfire Jake and Heeseung set up a walk away from the lighthouse is big enough for all five of you to sit comfortably around it. It seemed to be the only way your old friends could hang out together at this point in their adult lives. The bar that still stood in town filled with too many old people to feel like an acceptable hangout location.

“And he completely dropped not only her precious Pokémon card, but his whole fist into the punch bowl! I had to make a whole new batch without my parents knowing about it!” Jake laughs incredulously.

The memory still holds a level of insanity for him, clearly—not just at the situation but the level of teasing that you and Jay would devolve to when you were in your own little world together. You couldn’t help that you wanted to take your card from Jay’s hands, even if that meant soaking him in alcohol to get him to give it up.

You lift your beer to your lips, blushing. Jay sits beside you and notices the humor in your expression, smiling to himself too. You didn’t expect to reach this level of closeness again so soon. Who knew it would take a work project to find your way back to each other? With the week coming to a close and a good catalog of photos under your belt thanks to him, you could say the glass was looking half full.

“You guys got any more stories? This shit’s hilarious!” Sunwoo says, still laughing.

“Loads, man,” Jake responds.

“He’s got the best memory of all of us. Probably remembers all of our first naps in elementary,” Heeseung adds.

“How about we focus on the present, please? Otherwise we’ll be here until the sun comes up, Dee and Dum,” Jay says, pointing to the prime suspects with their all-knowing smirks.

“What else is there to say, Jay? Jake and I have been toiling on the dredging boats. You keep guarding that white tower and saying no to your uncle every time he asks you to work at his restaurant. Same old, same old.”

You turn your head to stare at Jay, perplexed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

It’s always been Jay’s dream to make something of himself with his recipes. Bookmarks, sticky notes, anything with free space held an ingredient here or a step for a recipe there. It was like it was second nature, as were photographs for you.

How could he deny himself from what he wanted?

“I already have responsibilities here. I can’t drive up and down the highway to Park & Co. every day.”

“Start small, idiot.” You chide him, half-serious in your pestering. “Who said you couldn't do both? You can be a good son and still have your own dream.”

“Careful,” Jake says to you. “He might listen to you.”

“You’re the only one who gets through that cold heart of his,” Heeseung teases.

Jay gives the older boys a stern look, and they back off immediately.

On the walk back to your house, Jay’s jacket nestled around your shoulders, you grill him further on the prospect of him cooking seriously. “You should do it.”

Jay shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “And what’ll happen to the lighthouse? My dad will go back every morning on his cane and keep it working himself? No way.”

“Come on, who says you can’t do both?” You flaunt your arms in the air, emphasizing your point. “It’s not like it rains every day here.”

He looks at you with humored eyes, their shape becoming extremely thin when he smiles. “You’re even more stubborn as an adult, you know?

You poke your tongue out at him. “I could say the same about you, Seongie.”

The rain soaks your clothes when you run through Jay’s door. You shake off the droplets in your hair, most of the strands needing to be wrung out in your fist. Jay gets you a towel to dry off with, laughing at your current state of affairs.

”Don’t make fun of me. Be glad I still came, asshole,” you warn, warming yourself with the dryness of the cotton towel.

Jay raises his hands in mercy. “I told you to come earlier! Forecasts are no joke.”

”Sometimes they’re wrong,” you say.

”Ninety-five percent of the time, they’re not. Trust the lighthouse keeper next time, maybe? I’ve been watching those skies for three years. I know if and when the weathermen are full of shit.”

You roll your eyes and shuck your shoes off, “Whatever. Any chance you have a spare pair of warm socks for me? I may get frostbite.”

”One, that involves snow,” Jay says as he walks into his small bedroom, leaving you alone for a second before coming out with what you requested. “And two, promise to bring them back. I only have so many pairs before I have to go to the city for more.”

”Scout’s honor,” you promise. You switch out your soaked socks for Jay’s, the feeling of the fabric making you immediately warmer. It could also be the fireplace that Jay put kindling in before you got there, but it’s mostly the socks. “Thank you. I feel better already.”

“I’d offer you a set of clothes too, but I’m moving a lot of my stuff from my dad’s.”

“It’s not that far away, though. You really want to live in this tiny shack?”

Jay laughs and returns to his food on the stove. “Do you think I could bring a girl home living with him? I love him, but I’m getting too old to be his roommate.”

You smile and press your arms into the kitchen counter, but you know it’s false. The thought of Jay being with someone else sprouts a gargantuan knot of jealousy in your stomach. He’s never belonged to you, not by any means. Not only that, but your illogical departure gives you no right to claim him now. And yet…

“Hey, where’d you go?” He waves a dish towel in front of your face, a smile on his lips.

“Sorry, just lost in thought,” you play off your prying thoughts.

“Obviously.” He sticks his tongue out at you and continues to stir the concoction on the stove.

“What are you making anyway?”

“Seaweed soup. I haven’t been able to make you any since…the last birthday we spent together.”

Your body warms deep down to the soles of your feet at this surprise. “My birthday was three months ago.”

He chuckles and turns his head to you, smirking. “Consider it a belated birthday gift then.” He carries on stirring, but continues talking. “Besides, you always liked my soup compared to your mom’s. Too watery, if I remember right.”

You blush and step away from the counter. “Let’s not talk about her or her food.”

Jay’s face turns puzzled. “You’ve always been so bristly when we talk about your family. Your mom is one of the sweetest ladies in town."

“You don’t get it. You didn’t grow up with her.”

“Hey, at least you have both parents around.”

You slam your hand down on another laminate countertop, growing more frustrated the longer the topic is broached. “Jongseong, please drop it.”

“Why are you getting so upset?” He asks, puzzled and growing alarmingly quiet at your outburst.

“Because you don’t get it! And you never will, okay? So let it go!”

The kitchen suddenly feels too suffocating, the memories of the past and your argument melding together in a way that makes any hunger that you had become a full stomach stuffed with nothing but anger and fear. You run out of the house and back into the rain, knowing if you say anything more, your secrets will fall around you like pellets soaking your skin.

The lanterns fill the sky like a thousand stars, close enough for you to touch before they’re whisked away into the dark clouds above you. Even for your small town, every adult and child knows the end of summer festival is a time to make the last set of wishes and affirmations before autumn comes. If Jay’s father yearned for an easy season, he would buy a lantern to release on a night light tonight, as would your friends’ families who hoped for good health and fortune.

You smile when you manage to catch one, holding on tight despite knowing it’s against tradition. Once one is meant to float away, it was considered rude to stop it from continuing on its path upward.

Jay chuckles and grabs it from you, matching your pout in jest. “Next year, I’ll buy you your own, alright? Don’t be greedy!”

You roll your eyes and watch the lantern rise up and away from your spot on the beach. It shimmers in an amber glow until it slips away into the black sky overhead.

You turn to him, eyes lit up not just from the lantern flames. “Did you wish for anything this year?”

Jay shrugs. “I can’t really wish for anything ‘cause I didn’t get—“

“Don’t give me that! It’s symbolic, anyway. Just tell me,” you whine.

Jay only side-eyes you, a smirk playing on his lips.

You attempt to throw a bundle of sand in his direction, but he sees your upcoming attack the second you raise your arm. He takes your wrist in his hand, the clump disintegrating between your fingers. The two of you laugh as you try to wiggle free from his grasp.

You’re both a tangle of limbs until he finally pins you down on the ground. He hovers above you, panting hard. “I win,” Jay replies, his breathing ragged but eyes still sparkling from a successful takedown.

“You wish.”

In the flicker of lantern lights and midnight stars overhead, Jay can’t help himself from leaning down closer until there’s barely a breath between your lips. He lets every doubt that has lingered over the past fourteen years dissipate and surrenders to the moment, feeling the softness of your mouth as he kisses you.

You could be glowing as bright as the lights still being sent off into the sky. You feel like you are, anyway.

He doesn’t go faster or push you further, the simplicity of the act making you sparkle from within with every ebb and flow of your conjoined lips. The crackle of a firework is what makes the two of you come up for air, unaware of how much time has passed.

You let the moment hang between you the entire walk home. He holds your hand, squeezing it every now and then, the action more valuable than any words he could say right now. He holds himself back from giving you another kiss to say goodnight, knowing there’s always tomorrow.

Minutes after you make it inside, the scene in front of you turns whatever joy was left from Jay’s presence into acid.

“Can you not do anything right around here? I ask for the simplest things and even that’s too much.” Your father points to the food in his hands with an air of disgust directed at your mother.

He spits his vitriol in her face, the pattern commonplace. The behavior is nothing new, but his eyes show something worse than normal brewing beneath the surface.

“I can fix it,” your mother assures him, trying to take the bowl from him. “I’ll throw out the old batch and—“

“So now you think wasting food is the better choice? Are you stupid?”

The two of them are unaware of your presence, but even if they were, you doubt that would change the downward spiral they were heading towards.

She tries to walk away from him like she always has, diffusing the situation in the only way she knows how, but he drops the bowl on the counter and takes her by the arm.

“You’re not leaving,” he warns. The next moments pass in a blur, each one that plays out making you hover outside of your body, looking down in disbelief. Your mother’s temple hits the wood with a terrible thud. The next second, your body is pressed against your father’s to pull him away, begging, “Daddy, please stop!”

His upper arm has enough force to jam into your chest and knock you onto the kitchen tile below. Pain reverberates up your tailbone from hitting the floor in a violent bang.

Your mother comes from the daze of her assault to cover your body with her own. It’s a pointless defense, your father’s feet slamming hard on the floor as he walks away and into the bedroom without looking back once.

She apologizes profusely, holding your head in her hands as tears stream down her face without an endpoint. You can barely form a tear yourself, still unsure the past ten minutes happened at all. An hour ago, you had your first kiss, and now…

“Your aunt lives on a coast off the mainland. I can’t let you stay here anymore, my love.”

That moment is when you feel the water form in your eyes. You couldn’t leave now, not with so much left uncertain.

“Promise me you’ll leave this place. Don’t think about this night again and find something better, please.”

That entire night, the waves knocking into each other with the same force as you had encountered hours ago, you feel your heart shatter into a multitude of pieces, each fragment tinier and more painful than the last. The thought of Jay waking up to see you in the morning only to find you erased from his life, robs any chance of you sleeping on the boat ride to Wando.

He’ll try to call and text, for sure. But what could be said that would explain the last twenty four hours without breaking your promise to your mother? How could you live with sharing such intimate details of your household, even with someone as sacred to you as Jay is?

How could you make him believe it wasn’t his fault that you fled without revealing your most vulnerable and harsh reality? After coming so close to the future you always dreamed of with him, what would he think? What would he do?

So, like any coward does, you let the phone ring until your battery dies, not bothering to charge it again until you make it to your aunt’s. You tell yourself he’ll move on and life will be better with you safe and out of the picture. Every beat of your breaking heart may call you a liar, but you’ll learn to twist it into the truth one day.

The next afternoon, sun slowly setting to meet the waves below, you walk towards the lighthouse with the courage your younger self didn’t have the night you ran away. Your heart tosses around in your mouth when you take the first step through the threshold, but now is the last time you fear the truth. If you couldn’t explain the circumstances back then, the least you could do was explain them now.

You take the trek up the steps to the top floor of the lighthouse, every step heavier than the last. Jay stands inside the lantern room cleaning the large bulb at the center of the space. He immediately tenses when you walk through the open door, but he says nothing. He only holds the same somber expression he had the first day you arrived back in Aewol. Only now, so much more rests behind his face that you cannot decipher.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. The words release something you believed couldn’t be separated from your being. Your guilt remains present, but the apology provides a long-held breath of fresh air.

He looks up to meet your gaze, eyebrows furrowing just a touch. The setting sun casts amber shadows across his face, making his confusion breathtaking. Clearly, he’s unsure what exactly you’re apologizing for.

The next words already taste like lead in your mouth, but you can’t hold the weight of them for another second.

Speaking them out loud is what will set you free.

“The night I left, my dad pushed my mom into a cabinet,” you confess. The eight words you just uttered create a well of tears in your eyes, but you keep your voice level and solid. “He had always been…harsh before, not just with her, but that was the first night I ever saw him hurt her with his hands instead of his words.

“I tried to stop it from getting worse, and I fell down—no,” you take a breath, “h-he threw—he threw me down on the floor.” You feel foolish for trying to minimize his actions, knowing there’s no reason to protect him anymore. You lower your head, ashamed. “That was when my mom called my aunt in Wando. She begged me not to say anything, so I kept it a secret. You’re the first person I’ve ever told about it… and about how much of an asshole my father really is.”

You can’t help the way your words crumble on your tongue or the low whimper that erupts from your lips. You had accepted in silence the harsh reality of your father being a violent and cruel human being, but speaking the words aloud is another beast entirely.

You go cold, your figure limp until you feel Jay’s gentle fingers under your chin. They pull your face up to meet his, catching his glassy and red eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

You sniffle. “What would you have done? We were seventeen—“

“Fuck that,” Jay seethes, his face a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I would’ve killed him then, just like I want to right now.”

You laugh and take his fingers in yours. “I made a promise.” You lock onto his gaze harder, trying to convey every ounce of regret you still feel. “I thought about calling you every day. I’d pick up the phone and didn’t know how to come up with the right words, especially after…”

Jay laughs, passing over the curve of your cheek with his thumb. It’s the rhythmic pattern of his touch that makes you come down from such heightened emotions. It’s always been his superpower, grounding you like this. “If I had known I wouldn’t see you again, I would’ve kissed you until the sun came up.”

You blush, your body flushing with heat. “Nothing’s stopping you now, Jongseong. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He steps forward, the shy boy you grew to love appearing in front of you. The last time you were this close, you both were unsure about most things in life, but not about how much you meant to him, and vice versa.

Now, the feelings he had put on hold for so long take hold of him, his heart a kaleidoscope of pent-up sensations when he finally presses his lips to yours. His mouth is ravenous, his tongue finding yours as his arms clutches onto your body with fervor.

You’re encased in him, all the lost time suddenly found in the spaces of his mouth on yours, your hands on his body, and the moans that leave your mouth. He undoes the buttons of your cardigan with quick ease, taking it off of your shoulders and somewhere in the room you don’t care to remember. You help him pull the sweater over his head to kiss the column of his throat and top of his chest, making him shudder.

You both pause to hurry down to the drawing room below, not wanting to continue on the iron floor next to the bright bulb of the lighthouse. Yes, the cot off to the side of the room is not incredibly comfortable, but you care little about its lack of comfort when Jay lays you down on your back and smothers your body in kisses. He makes a map of your skin until he meets the apex of your thighs, your body highly strung by the time he kisses the center of your legs.

You clutch his hair with both hands and hold tight in the midst of his ministrations, his whispered words of affirmation and the figure-eight patterns of his tongue saying just enough to push you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

He lifts his head from your body to crawl over you, his heart in his mouth as he says the words that have always been in his mind and heart from the second he saw you. “I love you.”

You’re unsure if it’s normal to cry at such a confession or in the midst of your current situation, but regardless, there are no tears of fear or pain. They’re ones that fill the silence between you with what he already knows to be true. But you say the words he needs to hear anyway. “I love you, too, Seongie.”

This is what it feels like to be at home. His body against yours, him sliding so easily inside of you without a word needed for the immense amounts of pleasure that already exists. It could be a handful of minutes or a span of time that carries over into the next morning. All that matters is his lips on your own and his hips meeting yours with every thrust.

And in between every movement, he has to remind you how much he loves you. His words and feelings are already embossed into your heart, but it’s nice to hear the breathless cadence of his voice. “I love you so much,” he groans, his end close with the sudden stutters of his body.

You fall off the cliffside together, your bodies in sync in the best possible way as your eyes see the stars from the very first night you kissed in the back of your eyelids. And when he has his hands in your hair, his touch lulling you to sleep, you wonder why it took you this long to come back to the one person who has always been the safest space in your world.

The two of you stay nestled in the thin blanket, Jay’s body your source of warmth in the small drawing room of the lighthouse. The cot barely holds your bodies, but with you both squeezing together and not wanting to let go, you make it work.

Jay takes stray hairs from your face to tuck behind your ears. “I can’t believe you didn’t know how bad my crush was until the festival.”

You giggle into his chest. “I wasn’t paying attention to boys back then! How would I have known?” You hold his gaze, suddenly vulnerable.

He chuckles. “I think I was pretty obvious.”

“To everyone but me, I guess,” you joke. “Besides, I think I always knew I’d end up with you, strangely.”

“That’s not strange, not at all.” He kisses you tenderly, nipping your lips until you laugh into his mouth. “Perfect. At least to me.”

“Same,” you agree. “I’ve never felt more at home than when I’m with you.”

Jay responds by holding you tighter between his arms. He kisses the top of your head before whispering, “So where do we go from here?”

The answer is simple, but that doesn’t make it any easier to face.

Jay looks deeply into your eyes and senses the words you cannot say, and the strength of his stare and his arms as your protective walls from all the harm that still exists in this world gives you the power to confront what you need to.

That afternoon, leaving Jay in the lighthouse with your heart fully in his possession, you know you have to face the demons that wait for you in your childhood home. If you are to have a future together, the first thing you have to do is make peace with the past.

A handwritten note on the fridge tells you your mother went out for groceries, giving you the perfect excuse to release the words that would end your terror once and for all.

You enter your parents’ room to see your father, unmoved from the spot you saw him in on the first day you were back home. Your mother pleaded for you to check in every now and then now that you were back, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not until now.

You move the chair by his bedside out to sit down. When you finally face him again, you take note of the details you were too blinded by indifference to notice before. You observe the wrinkles on his forehead, the sunken divots under his eyes, the age lines surrounding his mouth, the frailness of his body.

The weight he’s lost since his accident makes all his features stand out more. All that he’s lost, but has also always been, is on full display now: this husk of a man without the venomous words and bravado to hide behind is truly nothing to be scared of anymore.

“You’re so much smaller than I realized.” You say it with a breath of relief, any fear or anger that was left behind for him in your soul replaced with pity. You can walk away without regrets or words you wish you could’ve said, because you know now it’s a waste of your peace. Maybe one day, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive, even. Not today, but someday.

You walk away with no grievances left, back in the direction of the lighthouse with a new purpose and ready to take the path you were always meant to. Back to the home you’ve always had resting inside of the one you love.

Jay stands with his back facing you, staring off into the expanse of sea in front of him. His shoulders ease as you step closer.

“You’re back,” he says with saccharine happiness. He takes your hand in his and presses your fingers to his lips.

“I am,” you respond. You kiss him with your whole soul, incredibly in love and unafraid of what will come next.

“Babe! The new issue is here!”

You open your eyes to the sound of Jay’s words. You could barely doze off when he was so excited to grab the mail this morning. It was only delivered a few minutes ago, but of course he has to check for the newest spread of Otherworldly in your mailbox. To his happiness and your shy pride, your name’s plastered in almost every section of the photography credits.

Convincing your boss to let you work for the magazine from your hometown turned out to be easier than expected. With his happiness from your newfound inspiration, it seemed like you could take pictures of algae for all he cared and it would be a hit in the magazine’s eyes.

You weren’t the only one who could take credit, though. Jay’s name was also included in some of the photos, his insight into Aewol’s cuisine and new sous chef position at Park & Co providing more than enough influence for your photography. The lighthouse would always be his priority (aside from you), but his second love of food could not be kept at bay any longer.

He opens the magazine to the first page that features your photos, the centerfold being of Jay’s original recipe for hoedeopbap. “It looks even better in print,” Jay says, his face three shades brighter staring at the meal.

You giggle and wrap your arms around his middle, peeking your head out from the side of his shoulder to look at the pages. “It’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Some of the best you’ve ever done.” He turns in your hold to press your chest to his, kissing your forehead in the process. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Actually, getting lucky is how we got this.” You take his hand and rest it on the curve of your stomach, fifteen weeks peaking out from under the midriff of your tank top.

He laughs and presses his lips to your cheek. “I love you.”

To your surprise, peace was easier to find than you had expected. Confronting what you ran away from all those years ago feels like a distant memory, the pain of the past a part of another reality. There are no monsters that creep in the shadows or secrets to keep locked behind closed doors.

All that remains is the ease that comes from a life filled with nothing but love and happiness, as weightless and freeing as a lantern floating through the sky.

“I love you too, Park Jongseong.”

@junekissed (thank for beta-ing also june!! ilysm) @yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

#kvanity #svnet #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong smut #enha smut #jongseong smut #enha fic #enha fics #enhypen fics #enhypen fic #park jongseong fic #park jongseong fics #enha x reader #park jongseong scenarios

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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 3 days ago

Text

Reunion

Masterlist

Pairing: Dick Grayson x (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, future angst, toxic, you cant fix him, smut, grad school, halloween, Dick is the reader's friend's ex's best friend, reunion, oral, penetration, praise, heartbreak, heartbroken reader,

The last time you'd been at a party like this was in freshman year. Now, in your twenties and in grad school, you were surprised to be at a Halloween house party - on Greek row, no less.

What was the harm? You were dressed in a Men in Black costume with your best friend, Jo, which made you look like a duo rather than a lone target for the inevitable creeps. Plus, you knew a bunch of people here, so it could actually turn out to be a fun night. In your black leather skirt and white button-up, you had chosen an outfit that was both fun and flattering. The fitted blazer - which you borrowed from your sister - accentuated your figure well. Your outfit had been recognized on the walk over by people calling out, "Men in Black!" From across the street.

As you stood with Jo on the front porch while people amoked around you and music blasted from inside, you were waiting for the host to reply with the text containing the entry code. Suddenly, Jo called out, "Dicky!" before being pulled into a hug by someone. You looked up just as “Dicky” turned toward you, and in a heartbeat, you found yourself pulled into an unexpectedly warm embrace. Lean muscles pressed against you through the thin fabric of a black button-up, undone just enough to reveal a glimpse of toned chest.

A low, teasing voice laughed in your ear, “Bet you don’t remember me.”

Your voice was small as you murmured, “No…” but then you caught sight of his face - and your heart skipped. Athletic build, sharp jawline, flawless blue eyes, and a smile that could probably melt glass. Oh, you remembered him.

“It’s Robert’s friend,” Jo grinned at you, helpfully filling in the details.

Right. Robert’s friend, Dicky. Dick Grayson. The eldest Wayne brother. That Dick Grayson.

In your periphery, you caught eyes of party goers following your exchange. A mix of intrigue and excitement shown in them. A few people nudged each other, whispering, but Dick didn't seem to notice. Holding himself with indifference, as if used to it.

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Three years ago.

You’d just finished celebrating a friend’s 20th birthday, and as the night wound down, the pub your friend group frequented started emptying as people were heading out for the night. Your group gathered their coats and stumbled into the crisp night air, chattering and laughing.

Your friend, along with her boyfriend, Robert, stopped you at the door. “Hey, girl, you got a ride?”

“I’ll catch the bus,” you reassured them, gesturing at the stop down the block.

“Don’t take the bus,” a new voice interjected. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh-” You turned toward Dick as he flashed his keys. The sound of his Subaru unlocking accompanied his offer. “You don’t have to.”

“C’mon, you don’t live that far from me anyway.”

And that’s how you ended up in a car with him.

You’d asked, just to be sure, “You didn’t drink, right?” caught for a moment by the way his eyes turned to catch your gaze. You tried to keep your cool, but your blush gave you away. You blamed the booze.

A glint sparked in his eye. “What, you don’t trust me?”

Your fingers fidgeted nervously. “If you drank… then, no.”

He smirked, showing perfect teeth. “I can be dangerous when I’m sober, too.” With a mischievous look, he sped up just slightly, the engine roaring. “Do you trust me?”

Your breath hitched, but this time, not with fear - with excitement. You tried to tell yourself, 'Pull your dumbass head out', especially since he had a girlfriend. Or... a friend he was making out with. Who didnt leave with him...

Still, your body didn't listen, as the thrill of his speeding up made you grip the seat belt tighter.

“Maybe you shouldn’t…” you whispered.

“I think I should.” His grin widened, and the car sped up even more.

You couldn’t help laughing to yourself. There was something irresistibly reckless about him, and he obviously knew it worked in his favor. Something that made your pulse race. Your backward, illogical pulse.

You hadn’t noticed your thighs pressing together. But he had.

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You blinked, bringing yourself back to the party, back to the present. You smiled up at him. “Yeah, I remember you.”

“Good." He grinned, slipping his hands casually into his pockets. Those blue eyes, with their signature teasing glint, roamed over you as if he were taking mental notes and enjoying every reaction you made. "Men in black?"

"Y/n's idea!" Jo grinned at him. "Costume took us all of five minutes to put together... something like that, right?" He turned to you for confirmation.

"Yeah," you said absentmindedly.

"And what are you?" Jo turned back to Dick. A dark angel?"

You took in his outfit. Black button up, undone at the top, black feather wings on the back, and a black halo held by a headband around his head.

"Lucifer," Dick corrected.

"Ah, nice!" Jo gave a slow clap.

Dick smiled a cocky smile, and then his gaze shifted to yours. "It's good to see you."

There was a new air about him. He was taller, his frame still lean but solid with muscle. He looked every bit the man you once knew, now more rugged. Hed changed, but so had you. Back then, you’d been easily impressed by boys. Now, after a serious relationship resulting in awful hearbreak followed by a handful of flings, you knew the game better. Experience had a way of tempering those old thrills.

“Nice to see you too,” you said, trying to play it cool, though a flicker of heat crossed your cheeks.

“Waiting on your friend?” Dick asked, noticing you glancing at your phone.

“Yeah,” you muttered, a little annoyed. “My friend Penelope’s one of the hosts, but she’s not answering my texts.”

He didn’t hesitate, stepping away and speaking briefly to the guy at the door. A moment later, he came back. “Give him the cover, and you’re in.”

“Thanks.” You smiled up at him, grateful.

“Anytime.”

Before you could say more, a voice cooed from the side, “Oh, Lucifer…” A girl in a Hogwarts costume sauntered over, pressing herself against Dick's side with her hands running up his torso. “Come corrupt me.”

You offered a polite, close lipped smile as she gave you a once-over. Yep. This was the Dick you remembered. Never alone. Always surrounded by admirers.

“See you inside?” he asked, eyes already on her, a grin on his face.

“Yeah,” you nodded, hurrying past them.

Inside, the party was in full swing. The house was packed, music thumping, and you wove through the crowd, recognizing friends and catching up with the occasional shouting match over the blaring speakers. Finally, a hand grabbed your shoulder, and you turned to see Penelope in an American Psycho costume with the plastic raincoat covered in blood. “Girl, you made it!”

“Yep!” You hugged her, laughing. “Cool party! How’s it going?”

“Chaos,” she rolled her eyes. “People have been sneaking in without RSVPs, and we’ve been chasing them out all night-"

Suddenly a ring came from her phone and she brought it up to read the screen, then offered you an apologetic look. "Someone just broke the fridge door, I gotta go-"

You waved off her apology, pulling her toward the dance floor. “Let someone else deal with it. Lets enjoy your party, bitch!”

She gave up fighting and pocketed her phone, then began to dance to the music. The two of you fell into the rhythm of the crowd, and as the drinks started kicking in, you let yourself melt into the music, eyes closed, the bass pulsing through you.

A low voice murmured behind you. “Didn’t know you could move like that.”

You turned to see Dick, grinning as he joined you on the floor. “I used to do ballet.”

His brows rose. “How did I never know that?”

You shrugged. “Guess it never came up.”

His hands settled lightly on your waist, pulling you toward him. “Well, I have to say,” a mischievous smirk played on his lips as he leaned in close, his voice soft and warm in your ear. “It did wonders. You’re damn sexy when you dance.”

You felt your cheeks heat. “Where's your girlfriend?”

Dick laughed to himself. There was a thrill in making you flustered, a satisfaction that came from knowing he could draw out that blush. He shook his head, amused. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“What about Miss Gryffindor?” You raised an eyebrow.

He laughed, nodding in realization you meant the girl from earlier. “Ah, yeah. I just met her here. Don’t even know her name.”

“Oh?” You felt the tension ease only slightly, though a quick look around made you oddly self-conscious. The music, the people packed around, the way he was looking at you-all of it made it feel like you two were too close.

Dick caught sight of a phone camera aiming his way, likely hoping for a candid. He turned slightly, hiding your face without you noticing and giving them a polite but distant nod. He was used to this game.

There were too many people here, he dicided. He leaned close to your ear. “Wanna go somewhere a little quieter?”

Your brow quirked, your rational side already on alert. Of course. Dick Grayson might look like a dream, but he was still a guy. “And do what?”

He smiled, something mischievous glinting in his eyes. “And have some fun." He grinned, undeterred by your unimpressed expression.

Part of you longed to lean into the proposition. But another part screamed at to be cautious, to remember that opening your heart again could lead to more pain. You had decided a while ago that, at least for now, you weren't ready to commit your time and energy into a relationship. "Look, I appreciate the offer. But I'm not really looking to get tied up in something -"

"I'm not offering to get you tied up in something." He smirked. "I'm offering we fuck. Just one night. Between two grown ups who know what they want."

You blinked, and suddenly, the proposal became appealing. One night? No strings attached and, more importantly, no heartbreak? And as far as guys at this party went, you could do a lot worse than Dick Grayson.

"No strings attached?" You looked up at him

"You have my word." He make a show of putting his hand on his heart.

Fuck it, You thought. Let him show you what everyone was gushing about. Timidly, you nodded up at him. "I'll just tell my friends know where I'm going."

"Let them wonder." He waves off, careless. Truth be told, you realize you don't really know how to deal with your friends' reactions to you leaving the party with a him. Instead, you pull your phone out and send your group chat a quick text.

Ditching. Going home with someone )) see y'all tomorrow.

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"You still drive the same Subaru?" You said, making yourself comfortable on his leather seat. He even had the same seashell decoration on his rearview mirror. Your hand rose to touch it.

"You remember Morticia?" Dick asked from behind the wheel, turning the engine on.

You couldn't help the snort that ripped out of your mouth. "Right, Morticia. I forgot."

"Yeah, how could I trade off my baby? She's seen me through thick and thin." His fingers tapped at the wheel as he pulled up out of the party.

You nodded, rolling your eyes at how predictable men were. Boys and their toys, or however the saying went. "So, what are you up to? School? Work?"

"Police academy." He flashed you a signature charming smile.

You blinked, and your brows rose in surprise. "Oh wow, just like you wanted."

"I had a plan." His gaze was on the road ahead. His voice took on a serious tone.

"Thats great, Di-" you began to say.

"What about you? How's law school going?"

It was your turn to face the road. "It's... okay."

He hummed. "Doesn't sound like it,"

You huffed. "I dint know. I guess I idealized it too much. Turns out studying the law has a lot to do with getting away with crime rather than preventing it."

He didn't respond at first and you turned to see him grasp at the wheel, knuckles white. "Yeah... Tell me about it."

You swallowed, wondering what his reaction was about. "Is it like that at the academy, too?"

"There's corruption everywhere in this city." He said with a tone of disappointment. "And anyone can be bought."

You were surprised at this new side of him which you've never seen before.

You cleared your throat, then, in an attempt to lift the mood, said. "Well, here's to hoping idealistic dreamers manage to stay on the good guy's side. Hmm?"

He grinned at tyat, blue eyes still studying the road. "I like the sound of that."

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Dick still lived in the same apartment building you once visited two years ago. He pulled into the familiar parking lot and shifted into the park. As you walked into the unit of his medium-sized livingroom, taking in the humble decor, comfortable furniture, matte colored wallpaper. What stood out the most was the sheer mess of books tossed and scattered around the place. You remembered Dick to be pretty messy. You didn't remember him being so studious.

You walked over to his coffee table and picked up an open book, flipping it to read the cover.

Forensic Pathology Throughout the 21st Century by-

You nearly dropped the book when you felt his lips on the back of your neck. Dick's frame was so much bigger compared to yours, his arms easily framed you from the back as you felt his body heat on your back. You sighed softly as his lips trailed down your neck, his hand coming up to brush your hair aside.

"Wanna know something?" He whispered in your ear, the warmth of his cooler scented breath tickling your sensitive skin.

"Yeah," your voice was just above a whisper.

"I had a bit of a crush on you when we first met." His voice lowered with the confession.

You smiled a melancholy smile to yourself. You had trouble believing that. In your experience, guys always said what they knew would get them into bed. "Really?"

He turned you to face him. His eyes studying you with amusement. "You don't believe me."

You grimaced at being caught. "You realize that I'm already at your place, right? You don't need to say anything to get in my pants."

He made a show of looking down at your outfit. "You're not wearing pant-"

"Dick," You smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

He caught your wrist and lowered his face to meet your eye to eye. "We were at Richmond's pub. You, me, Robert, Laura, and I think... yeah, a couple more people. Your friend came over to visit you from another state, and you invited her to join."

Your eyes switched between his as he spoke, remembering exactly that night you talked about.

"And we all had a bit to drink. And everyone was talking so fucking much. And laughing. And shouting. There wasn't a moments peace that night. Except," he said, cupping your chin. "Except for your corner of the table."

You raised a brow, prompting him to continue.

"You just sat there." He went on. "Quietly, and observed. But every time someone said something , you gazed at them as if it was the most interesting thing on earth. There was wonder in your eyes that I just..."

"You just...?"

He shrugged, then lowered his lips and met yours in a heated kiss. You sighed into the kiss, and he deepened it, his tongue swiping past yours. You stood this close for a long time. When you pulled apart, Dick looked like he physically yearned for more. "I just wanted to kiss you so. Damned. Bad."

Your breath sped up by that time, catching up on the breath you'd lost to the kiss, your mouth dropped slightly in astonishment. "You still remember that?"

He nodded, pulling you back into the kiss. As you leaned into him, he unbuttoned your blazer, followed by your blouse, then loosened your tie, trailing kisses down your collar and breasts until he reached the hem of your skirt, asking. "Take a step back for me,"

"Okay," you nodded, obeying until your back hit the wall of his living room.

The scenario was so random. You never thought you'd end up liek this tonight. Backed up against the wall of Dick Grayson's apartment, clothes disheveled, strands of hair falling on your face as the eldest son of gothams, the wealthiest dynasty kneeling at your feet. You'd be amazed, but in truth, you were still processing what he told you earlier. He remembered a very specific moment. That even you didn't think of as significant. And yet... it had meant something to him. You suddenly felt your heart warm.

You risked a glance down, seeing him lift up your skirt, pulling down your panties.

His blue eyes focused on yours as his tongue slipped past his lips, and he leaned closer, swiping it through your folds. Unable to handle the intensity of the view, you bit your lip, wanting to shift your gaze away, but... you couldn't. It was like his gaze physically locked yours in. His lips wrapped around your core, tongue quickly finding your clit with enthusiastic licks.

"Oh," your hand shot to cover your mouth as your head rolled back against the wall. Shaking fingers combed the black locks of his hair as you moaned his name, begging for more.

His hands wrapped around the back of your thighs, and he pulled them further apart, opening you up for better access. His tongue dipped into you, licking that sensitive nerve inside, making your back arch against the wall.

"Please," you keened as your core began to spread a warm, exciting sensation, making your body shake against him. "Please, please, please,"

Your knees buckled, nearly giving out. He stood up, catching you around your waist, pressing your foreheads together. "Hey," he gasped, grinning at you.

"H-hi" you panted against him.

"Not quitting on me, are you?" He winked at you.

You laughed. "No."

"Brilliant," he smiled, pulling you into a kiss that was eagerly returned.

You don't remember exactly how, but you were picked up one moment and then lowered onto his bed the next. This was a part of his room you were seeing for the first time, but you barely gave a fuck to look around as you were too busy getting up off the bed, surprising a stripping Dick.

He eyed you questioningly until you brought your hands up to where he was in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt and replacing his. Carefully you discarded his shirt, kissing your way down his impressively chiseled chest and torso. You were surprised to see a mapping of scars and marks along his skin, but refrained from asking. The less you two knew about each other, the better. You kissed your way down, reveling in the sounds he released as you did, and the way his hand came up to cradle your head.

At last, you reached the top of his jeans, sitting comfortably on his narrow waist. You undid his belt and lowered the layer of pants and underwear until his hardness was in front of you. You tried to hold back your wide-eyed reaction, but holy... Dick's Dick was big. We'll, it was bigger than any you've ever seen. All three.

"Like what you see?" He asked above you with a knowing smile.

You realized you were staring, then you looked up at him and nodded eagerly before taking him in your mouth. You watched his brow furrow in pleasure as he gasped, hand still cradling your head. He drawled, "Oh baby, yes. Just like that. Good girl."

You moaned around him at the praise, eager for more. Licking and sucking, you thought to yourself, this was the most eager you've ever been to give someone a blow job, not sure why - I guess the right ones just have that effect.

"Baby," He moaned. "If you want me to fuck you, you should stop."

Reluctantly you pulled away, watching his face, studying his expressions. You got up slowly on wobbly legs and fell back onto the soft, cushion of the bed, backing up to give him room.

Dick tisksed, shaking his head. You wondered what that was about, but then he grabbed you by your ankle and pulled you towards himself. It barely took any effort for him to do that. Your breath hitched, more so when you two were now met torso to torso as he leaned over you, lining himself up. He grabbed one of the pillows on his bed head, lifted you by the small of your back, and placed the pillow under it. Then, he rolled on the condom. You were surprised, usually having to do both those actions yourself.

When he thrust into you, the two of you gasped in unison. His pupils were wide as he gazed down at you before drawing you against him. You clung onto him as he trusted into you again and again. "Ah, ah, Dick-"

"So tight." He bit his lip. "God, baby. You're so perfect."

"Dick, I'm - oh," you stuttered. "Please, more, please,"

He sped up his rhythm, brushing your sensitive spot with each thrust, moaning as he did. "So, fucking tight. Feels so good, baby."

"Yeah," you gazed up at him with those glassy eyes, and Dick felt like he won. He hadn't lied when he said he wanted to kiss you. We'll. He did lie. In truth, he wanted to do so much more. But having you beneath him, moaning his name, and gazing up at him like he was all that mattered made something spark within him. Something powerful. Possessive. He wanted every guy who you've ever been with to see you this way. His. For all intents and purposes, in this perfect moment, you were his.

Dick pressed his hand to your lower belly, feeling himself slide in and out of you. The action resulted in a sweet pressure inside you, building up and making you write under him.

God, did he know what he was doing. It was refreshing. Truly.

Your nails scratched down his back to grasp as his hips needing him closer, as close as possible. Your orgasm hit like a wave, making you cry out as your whole body shuddered.

Your shaking hands cradled his face. He shuddered and leaned into your touch, making each eager thrust count.

"Come for me," you wispered, eyes pleading. "I wanna see you come."

Oh god, yes. He grunted, pressing against you. He would do anything, everything. All you had to do was ask in that breathy, cute voice. Please.

As if obeying an order, his orgasm shot through his entire body. Your arms snaked around him, pulling him down to you for a kiss, and he lowered himself to indulge you.

You were so sweet, so vulnerable in his arms. So different from the composed, confident girl he'd remembered. He held you as close as he possibly could, nearly crushing you. But you didn't mind. Welcoming his warm embrace.

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You had class early the next day, a weekend course that was unfortunately mandatory. So you dressed quickly, hoping not to wake him. Thoggh, you realized you failed when you heard stirring from the bed just as you picked up your discarded shoes. You turned to see him blinking away sleep. He looked cute with his hair still messy, bare torso and arms covered by a messily draped bed sheet.

And you enjoyed waking up in his embrace too. His arm resting as a pillow under your head as you slept on your side, as his other arm was draped around your waist.

"Going somewhere?" His voice was a low rasp, rough with sleep.

You managed a small, apologetic smile. "I’ve got a nine a.m. lecture every Saturday."

Dick’s gaze narrowed slightly, the hint of a frown on his lips. "It’s six."

"I know," you murmured, glancing down at your clothes—a crumpled, half-worn version of last night’s outfit. "But I’ve got to go home first. I can’t exactly show up like this."

He pushed himself up, revealing the full view of him in the early light, looking both effortless and undeniably inviting. "I’ll drive you."

"You don’t have to," you said, shaking your head quickly. "I already called an Uber-"

"Cancel it."

"It’s...already here," you replied, lifting your phone. "ETA one minute."

A flicker of something - was that disappointment? - crossed his blue eyes, but he only shrugged. "Alright."

The silence that followed felt heavy, pressing against you as you avoided his gaze. "Thank you for yesterday," you said finally, your voice quieter. "It was... fun."

His lips twisted into a teasing smirk. "You know, you could’ve woken me up for another round."

You let out a soft, half-sarcastic laugh. "You looked peaceful. I didn’t want to ruin that."

He snorted, leaning back, the look in his eyes lingering as he watched you slip on your shoes.

"See you around," you murmured, already halfway out of the bedroom, the words feeling less like a promise and more like a polite exit.

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Twice in one week. You hesitated the moment you stepped into the bar with your fellow interns, their laughter and voices fading as they moved toward a round table further in.

You knew better than this. You were an adult, and when you’d agreed to that night with him, you both understood it was just that - one night. But try as you might, logic hadn’t stopped your body from betraying you. Your breath hitched, and an ache tightened in your chest as your gaze fell on a too-familiar face.

There he was, leaning casually against the wall, lips pressed to someone else’s in a way that was both effortless and intimate. His hands traced her back with the same warmth you’d felt only nights ago.

And suddenly, that story he told you about the pub became just that, a story. Just like any other man had told you to get in your pants. A means to an end. You mentally admonished yourself, disbelief at falling for yet another one.

You swallowed hard, feeling the sting of something you couldn't quite name. You’d told yourself it didn’t mean anything. But here, watching him so easily entwined with someone else, you couldn't help but feel discarded. Hurt.

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#smut #batman #batboys #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing imagine #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #dick grayson imagine #dc comics

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stormz369 · 20 hours ago

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☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 24

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: little bit of trauma talk, but otherwise a light chapter!

wc: 2.1k

Chapter Selection

Damian handed me a large manilla envelope as he came through my door. “Father said to give this to you.”

I frowned, opening it. The first page was an employment agreement. For ‘services to the Wayne family' I was being offered a salary of $120,000 a year for the duration of my education, and a signing bonus of an additional $10,000 up front. Under that was a paper with the name and number of a friend of Bruce's on the board at Gotham University's medical program, and a scribbled note that he was expecting my call. And under that was a pile of pamphlets and booklets on the medical program at GU, with specific details and classes highlighted.

“... Well, he's nothing if not thorough.” I shrugged, setting everything aside and pulling out the ingredients to start on dinner.

“What is all that?” Damian grabbed a snack from the fridge.

“Just some paperwork; I’m thinking about going back to school.”

He nodded, getting set up at the table to work on his homework. “... Father also mentioned you're going to be the primary contact at my school?”

I nodded; “is that ok with you?”

Damian looked over at me. “... Yes, that’s fine. … Do I bring you the papers they send home then?”

“Yeah, I can take anything they send home.”

He nodded, pulled out a flier for spring semester PTA sign-ups. I took it, reading it over. “Looks like PTA meets on the first Monday of every month during last period. Maybe we can make a day of it!”

“... Do what?” He frowned.

“I'll come for the PTA meeting, and then Jason could pick the both of us up, and we'll get dinner before we take you home.”

“... You're joining the PTA?”

“Yes, I am.” I smiled brightly.

Damian frowned, eying me suspiciously. “... Why?”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

He watched me for a minute; “... You just … want to spend an hour a month with the parents and teachers at my school?”

“Let’s just say I’ve learned not to trust those people to treat their students right. I want to make sure they remember who they’re dealing with.”

“... Alright.” He nodded once, going back to his work.

I prepared dinner, humming softly to myself. Eventually, Jason knocked on the door, and I went to let him in. He smiled softly, kissing my forehead, and took a seat at the table. “... Babe, what's this?”

I looked over, he was looking through the paperwork Damian had brought. “Ah, I was gonna talk to you about that tonight. … I'm thinking about going back to school.”

“... Medical school? … And what's this about ‘services rendered to the Wayne family'? What services?” He frowned, looking up at me. I popped dinner in the oven and went to the table.

“... Should we go into my room to talk?” I looked over at Damian, who was staring at us.

“... Ok?...” He frowned a bit and I offered Jason my hand. He took it, following me to my room.

We sat on my bed, Jason still holding the paperwork. He looked through them, a confused frown on his face; “... What's going on?”

“... You said you were more comfortable than usual when I took the blood sample. Right?” He nodded slowly; “well, that night I was thinking about it … about your scars. … Bruce said you don't let anyone treat you unless you’re brought in unconscious?”

Jason nodded again, frowning deeply. “... I … I have a hard time trusting strangers with medical equipment … and I don’t like going to the Batcave for treatment either … they’re … they know what they’re doing, but … I don’t like the look on their faces when they have to treat me … makes me feel … ill.”

I nodded. “Well, I know some of your scars bother you, … and they wouldn't be so prominent if you were able to get proper treatment when you get wounded. So, I was thinking I could get the training to be able to do that for you, if you think you’d be comfortable enough for that?”

He blinked a bit, frowning. “... You … you want to get trained to- … why?”

I gently squeezed his hand, stroking his knuckles with my thumb. “Because you need someone you feel safe getting medical treatment from. You deserve to feel safe. And if I can help you with that, I will. … I don’t want you bleeding out in an alley somewhere, or trying to dig a bullet out of your own shoulder, or who knows what else, you know? … I love you, Jason, I want to help you.”

He frowned, squeezing my hand tightly. “... I … I don't know what to say…”

“You don't have to say anything right now. We don't have to decide this today, it's just something to think about.”

“... What about the ‘services rendered' part?”

“Well, if I get this training, I'll be able to act as an emergency clinic for the others too.”

“Oh. So, Bruce is going to pay you to be our medic?”

“Basically. That way I'll never be at the diner when you guys need care. I'm also joining the family's Thursday afternoon training sessions.”

Jason nodded slowly, pulling me into a tight hug. He sniffled softly, mumbling; “... I … I didn't want to pull you into this world…”

“If you’re in this world, I’m in this world.” I cupped his cheek gently, kissing his forehead. “I want to be able to protect myself, and I want to be able to help you, and Damian, and the others. I will not be dead weight, and I will not watch you suffer needlessly.”

“You wouldn't need to be able to defend yourself if it weren't for me…”

“It's Gotham, my love. Self-defense classes are probably the most popular type of extra-curricular activity in the entire city for every age group.” I stroked his hair, holding him close.

“... I guess … but I hate that you're in extra danger because of me…”

“I think it balances out; I'm also extra secure because of you. Who'd be stupid enough to knowingly fuck with Red Hood's girl?” I smirked a bit, running my hands through his hair.

He frowned, holding me closer. “... Only the worst of them.”

“And they'd fuck with anyone for any reason anyway. So it doesn't matter.” I cupped his cheek, rubbing the tips of our noses together. “I'm happiest and safest with you, and we'll deal with the consequences together.”

“... I wish things were different. … I wish loving me didn't come with consequences…”

I sighed softly; “well, we could always leave Gotham. Start over somewhere else…”

“... Can't do that…”

“I know you can't. So, we'll just have to play the cards we've been dealt, right?”

He sighed softly and nodded, kissing my shoulder. “... Not gonna let anyone hurt you, baby. Promise.”

“I know you won't.” I hugged him tightly. “I know you wanna take care of me. And I wanna take care of you too.”

He nodded slowly, wrapping his arms tighter around my waist. “... Ok. … Th- thank you, baby… thank you…” I nodded, hugging him tightly. He sighed softly, kissing my jaw softly. “... Wait a minute, how much is Bruce offering you? …”

He picked up the paperwork, frowning deeply. “Oh hell no. Don't sign anything yet, I’m gonna renegotiate this for you.”

I giggled, kissing his neck. “It’s more than I make now.”

“It’s insulting. $120,000 for an on-call doctor? Is he trying to piss me off? No, if he’s gonna pay for this, he’s gonna pay you a fair fucking wage!”

“Well, I’m probably not going to get a full doctorate; I only need to know enough to take care of your day-to-day medical care. More like … a field medic. He's also funding my education, is going to pay for any supplies I need, and has the connections to get me into the medical program with no questions asked. I think it's fair.”

Jason groaned, pulling me closer. “... I get to renegotiate after you're done with school.”

“Deal.”

Mrs. Webster frowned deeply as I took a seat in the auditorium at Damian's school. She slowly approached, holding a clipboard. “... What are you doing here?”

I smiled brightly; “this is where PTA sign ups are happening, isn't it?”

“You're not a parent.”

“Ah, no. But I am one of Damian's adults, and Bruce has made me the primary contact for school related concerns, so I thought I might as well get involved. I'm very … passionate about Damian's education, after all. As I'm sure you remember.” I smirked, watching her nose wrinkle. Eventually, she thrust the clipboard into my hands, and I signed up, providing an email address and phone number.

“... You won't be able to bully the PTA into doing things your way. I hope you know that.” She frowned.

“Fortunately I have no intentions to bully anyone. I do have a habit of calling out any bigotry I run across, but that shouldn't be a problem anymore. Right, Mrs. Webster?”

She very nearly growled as she stormed away. A few of the moms that were mulling around stared at me, but that quickly stopped when I waved to them. I thought I’d be left to my own devices, but soon enough, an older couple made their way over, sitting near me.

They introduced themselves, shaking my hand; “Which one is yours, dear?”

“Damian Wayne.” I smiled softly.

The woman blinked a bit. “You're Damian Wayne's mother? … Oh, forgive me, but I thought …”

“No, no! I'm a big sister.” I chuckled softly. “I don't even know who or where his mother is, I'm kind of a new addition to the family.”

“I see. Well, it will be nice for him to have someone getting involved. Our Sarah is in many of the same art classes as Damian, and it's always so sad to see him on his own at the after school events.”

I nodded. “That's exactly why I'm here. He was so pleased when I offered to come to the art show last semester, I want to see him happy like that more often.”

“Oh, that was quite the event! Did you hear? We didn't see it, but apparently someone threatened Mrs. Webster!” The woman cackled softly. “Such an unpleasant woman…”

“I wouldn't say I threatened her, just made her aware of certain facts. Including the fact that I am one of Damian's adults now, and she isn't going to get away with spewing passive aggressive microaggressions towards him while I'm around.”

The man chuckled; “that was you? She's been in a tizzy ever since!”

I smirked a bit; “What kind of tizzy?”

“Just insufferable. Our Sarah says she's been more harsh than ever in class.”

“I'm so sorry. I wasn't trying to make things worse for anyone…” I frowned deeply.

“Oh, you aren't responsible for her behavior, dearie. She's always been a rude one…” the woman gently patted my hand.

“Sarah has her troubles. You know, mental health stuff. All the kids seem to nowadays…”

“And Mrs. Webster, well … she doesn't ‘abide by that nonsense’.” She scoffed.

“And of course there was the instance with the lesbians.” Her husband frowned slightly.

“The lesbians?” I frowned deeply.

“This sweet little girl with lesbian parents last year. Mrs. Webster met her mothers at a parent-teacher conference and apparently started treating the girl … well, different. … They moved over the summer, I do hope they're doing better now…”

I frowned deeply, watching Mrs. Webster on the other side of the room. “Hm… so she's not just racist, she's ableist and homophobic too. Gross….”

“She's never said anything overt about anything, nothing worth bringing up with the administration. But she's a … vexing woman.” the woman sighed.

“Well, … maybe individually they're not big things worth mentioning, but together they make up a big pile of nasty. … Do you know anyone else who has ‘small’ problems with Mrs. Webster?”

“Oh, maybe a few people… it's really not worth bringing up though.” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Yes, it is. We should bring the numerous ‘little things' to the administration. Establishing the pattern of behavior will be important to getting justice if they know about anything bigger. And no matter what comes of it, it's important that the kids see that their adults will stand up for them.” I frowned.

“Well … I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to talk to the other parents at least …” The husband frowned, looking to his wife. She nodded slowly.

“We’ll talk to the other parents.”

I nodded; “here, let me give you my phone number. Feel free to share that with any parents who have a problem with Mrs. Webster; I have no problem being the squeaky wheel with the admin.”

They nodded, putting my number in their phones. Mrs. Webster and a few other teachers started the meeting a few minutes later, and I sat back to observe.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec

#fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #first person pov #wayne family adventures #no y/n #chubby reader #multi chapter fic

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gideonisms · 3 days ago

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Does a podcast ever release a take you disagree with so strongly it makes you question everything you heard on it up to that point

#this is so niche and only interesting to other people who spend 10 hours a day listening to podcasts so i'm putting it in the tags #but s1ep3 of invisibilia about the blind guy who learned to echolocate so well he could ride a bike was fucking wild #the take was like. okay okay backing up a bit we all agree disability is socially constructed in some ways right?#ie people treat blind people in certain ways that reinforce an inability to function in society get jobs etc #they have certain expectations of people who are blind that can be limiting. right. so we all agree on that #but that was not the end of the take! the take was that because disability is socially constructed the solution is #to expect the same level of independence from blind people as you do from seeing people #and that also was not the end of the take because the way this man tried to accomplish that was forcing blind children to climb trees #this guy had achieved a high level of independence but in the process of learning to echolocate had knocked out multiple teeth #he was like 'the biggest barrier to blind people's ability to function in society is their parents' love for them'#because parents prevent blind children from exploring getting close to roads etc #and anyway i think that although parents may infantilize blind children more than necessary there is a strong financial incentive to #make sure they do not get hit by a car or break a bone #the solution of just getting blind people to act exactly like seeing people also seems odd #what's wrong with requiring help from others? why have we decided independence is the only way to function in society?#should all disabled people just be willing to injure themselves in order to get as close as possible to independence #in order to hold down a job which we have decided is the only way to earn the right to live #is there only one correct way to live a life?#it truly baffled me. i was sorting that mail going 👀👀🤔#anyway. this has been your podcast take of the day

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always-just-red · 4 hours ago

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Hi!

Can I request a fic where the reader starts realizing they have feelings for Sylus and gets so nervous around him that they can’t resonate anymore?

And Sylus thinks that the reader is scared/disgusted by him again so the reader is forced to confess their feelings to not create a bigger misunderstanding

Thanks!

- 🌻

The moment I got this request I was like HELLO— sunflower anon, you just get me 😌 Anyway! Am back from my break and I hope everyone’s ready for some Vulnerable Sylus™️, because I have got him hot to go!!!

A Gentle Touch

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You really can’t let Sylus into your head this time— he’s living there rent-free already.

Genre: Angst + Fluff (& some Luke and Kieran shenanigans because they were not feeling the angst)

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, injury detail, mentions of possible trauma, humour, some intimacy at the end 😘, Luke and Kieran are having the time of their lives

| Word count: 3.2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

If you asked, Sylus would tell you.

You catch glimpses: dark, sharp flickers of something monstrous, maybe even infernal. Blood, everywhere— thick in your mouth and your nose. All over your hands. You feel it, too: a yearning, so intense, and you couldn’t say whom it belongs to. Then there’s death. Searing white. Bottomless black. In the middle of all of it— crimson eyes like dying stars.

Every time you resonate, it envelops you, is laid out bare before you: a nightmare you’re caught in the centre of but forced to watch from outside. An other, a spectator. It’s a show, just for you, but it isn’t quite ready yet; someone’s still rehearsing their lines.

If you asked, Sylus would let you see it. It’s a power you have over him, a constant, self-sacrificial: you want it? It’s yours. So you don’t ask. You never ask. Like words mumbled in a haze of wine or sleep, you let him hold onto it. His hands are open, yes, but you don’t have to take.

Besides, you have your own, world-changing little secret, and he’s going to see it too.

He’s slumped in front of you, blood sheeting down from two bullet wounds just below his shoulder. He catches his breath— one, two— before he peeks over this desk you’ve overturned for cover. You should be peeking over as well: should be counting your enemies, scouting your next move.

Instead, you’re looking at him and holding back. One minute ago you had no idea where he was, how he was, and it’d been eating away at you from the moment you got separated. Now he’s with you— he found you— and the relief is desperate, gushing; it has to escape somehow. It drips: forbidden daydreams, one after the other, like…

How you want to hold his face and urge him to speak so you can just hear his voice.

How you want to press a hand to his heart and feel the beat of it beneath your palm.

How you want to kiss him, want to taste the blood on his split lip, because this is your story, isn’t it? Messy. Violent. Defiant.

He looks at you, that same blood carving a thin line through the pale of his chin. It drops down onto his silk shirt. “What are you thinking about, kitten?” he grins. His best guess: “This is a fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into, hmm?”

It’s a fine mess he got you into. “Yeah.” You make yourself look away from him, glancing over the desk to assess how much worse the situation is getting. The answer? Significantly.

Sylus chuckles, drawing your eyes back as he reloads his gun. “Don’t say I never treat you to anything, sweetie.” He fires a few rounds towards the encroaching danger.

Voices go up across the room. Gunshots ring out, louder. Sylus slinks back down, wincing, holding his shoulder, and his fingers turn red. He deftly undoes the first few buttons on his shirt, peeling it back so he can examine his wounds. His jaw clenches; the punctures aren’t closing over fast enough. It’s too much blood, too quick, and he’ll—

He catches you staring. There’s a sheepish sincerity in the way he smiles, as honest and vulnerable as the holes in his shoulder. He holds out his hand. “Time for an energy storm, don’t you think?”

“No,” you snap. “Save your energy. We might need it later.”

“Oh?” An eyebrow perks up in interest, and it’s just like him to spot a double entendre in the midst of all this chaos.

But you’re staring at his chest through his open shirt and you’re such a hypocrite. “Things might get worse,” you explain.

“Worse?” he repeats as bullets fly over your heads, striking the wall across from you and scattering plaster over the floor. He watches it crumble. “Paint me a picture, kitten— what would worse look like?”

Even Rafayel might struggle with that particular creative prompt.

“Come on,” Sylus insists, using the excuse of your silence to push his hand closer to you. “Now’s not the time to play coy.”

“Sylus, I really don’t—”

He grasps your hand, his fingers locking with yours and squeezing tight. Your heart jumps at the touch. It strangles the protests in your throat and stays there, strung up by anticipation and dread.

You’re feeling so much that it takes you too long to realise nothing is happening.

Sylus’s eyes are fixed on your connected palms. He’s squinting, concentrating, and when that doesn’t work— when your hand is paling in the vice of his— he loosens his grip, his thumb feathering over yours as he mumbles a quick: “forgive me.”

He doesn’t let you go. You can still feel him, all of him, imploring to just let him in.

You don’t, and his eyes meet yours, for a moment— like another bullet has bitten through his flesh. Your mouth drops in fake surprise; you’re always so innocent when you pull a trigger on him.

This time, there’s no wound you can push your hands against in a guilty effort to staunch the bleeding. You have to apologise. Have to stitch it up with every word you’ve been guarding, saving, and it isn’t supposed to be like this. “Sylus, it’s not what you think. I—”

Something metal clatters across the floor behind you, bounces like a failing, stuttering heartbeat, then explodes.

…

“Good news, boss! We figured it out!”

Sylus groans, looking up from a report he’s not really been reading as two figures crash into his room. Not good, he thinks, as Kieran flings himself into the nearest armchair. Whatever this is, it’s not good. Luke settles on its arm.

With a sigh, Sylus removes his reading glasses. They stay, hooked on a finger, as he pushes his hair back like he can feel a headache coming on. His eyes flutter closed, and when they open, the twins are both leaning forward, bristling with excitement.

“Ask us,” Luke whispers in a way that makes Sylus think he might not realise he’s speaking out loud.

Another sigh. “What did you figure out?”

Kieran whips out a tired-looking notepad from behind his back. He clears his throat— “ahem!”— then starts to read: “Reasons why Miss Hunter was not able to resonate with you. Number one...”

“How did you find out about—”

“Sshhhh,” Kieran interrupts, putting a finger to where his lips should be. Sylus’s eyes widen in indignation, and Luke comes to his twin’s rescue, silently indicating Mephisto with a few tips of his head. The crow shrinks down on his perch.

“Number one,” Kieran repeats, matter-of-factly. “Your height.”

“My… height?”

Luke nods solemnly as Kieran continues: “humanityandconquer.com/power-dynamics describes tallness as a ‘natural advantage when trying to dominate a smaller individual.’ You are very tall. Try crouching when you speak to Miss Hunter.” He glances over the top of his notepad. “If you approach her at her level, she’ll know you mean no—”

“Nope. Next,” Sylus dismisses, waving his hand in a fast-forward motion. That headache is coming on.

“Reason two,” Kieran acquiesces, gaze falling, “your eyes.”

“Oh, for gods’ sake—”

“They’re red,” the twin pushes on, “and red means danger. In fiction, red eyes are symony—” he stops, spells it out— “synonymous with the supernatural. Vampires especially. Plus, lots of bad stuff is red.” He’s going off-script. “Blood. Fire. Sunburns.”

“Sunburns are pink,” Luke muses.

“No, like, bad sunburns, y’know?”

“Oh right, yeah.” There’s a shrug of agreement.

Sylus’s will to live is hanging by a thread, and they really don’t have a care in the world, do they? It must be nice. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “for your little investigation. If that’s all, I would—”

“Reason three!” Luke chirps, wiggling the same number of fingers, and Sylus’s head lolls back against the sofa.

“Miss Hunter is struggling to separate this version of you from your first impression,” Kieran says.

Sylus looks up. “What?”

Luke is rubbing his hands together eagerly, like they’ve finally gotten to the good stuff. “Well, you remember how you and Miss Hunter met,” his twin explains.

Words won’t do it justice, apparently, because the man begins to act it out. He reaches to grip Luke by the throat and Luke pretends to choke, fingers clawing at the grasp. Then Kieran stands up— throws Luke down into the chair and pins him there with his foot before snatching up his hand.

“See what I mean?” Kieran asks over his shoulder. “I mean, it must have been pretty traumatic. You kinda tore her away from everything she knew. Forced her to use her power, et cetera, et cetera.”

Sylus has gone quiet. He’s vaguely aware that the twins are moving, saying more, but he can’t hear it. He feels sick. Then he feels something different: someone poking at his arm. A hand is waved in front of his face, but he doesn’t react.

“Oh, we so got it,” Luke whispers conspiratorially behind him.

“Hell yeah we did!” Kieran whispers back.

There’s the sound of them high-fiving, and it spurs Sylus into action. He’s up out of his seat, out of their shadows, and then the door as well— long before they can stop him. He needs to breathe. He needs the cold night air and the quiet, and his strides drive him towards it, but not fast enough.

He’s about to use his Evol. To let himself evaporate so he can be whole again somewhere else, somewhere easier, but then he stops. He’s by an open door, glancing in at a decadent living room, where you’re sprawled over a black leather couch. This isn’t easier. This hurts, and it hurts more as he forces himself to close the distance between you.

You’re still asleep. You’ve been unconscious ever since that grenade went off, and it’s for the best, really; getting out of that place was… messy. Sylus’s shoulder still aches, the blood on his shirt now crusty and dark. Some of it’s his. Some of it’s yours.

He’s not sure why he’s still wearing it.

The twins did a pretty good job of patching you up, but— looking over you— he would have done better. It was his role, after all. His duty to you, or maybe just a reason to get close to you. He couldn’t do it today. Couldn’t touch you, no matter how noble the intention. And a little part of him was glad for the excuse; his hands always shake.

A blanket is half on your legs, half on the floor, and Sylus stoops to collect the edge of it. He draws it over your shoulder, adjusting it around your arms— at rest by your face. He’s close, now, and he…

He can’t help himself. When has he ever been able to help himself? He lifts his hand slowly; he wants to kiss you. Even though your blood is still drying on his shirt and it’s all his fault.

…

Someone’s hand is on your face.

The touch draws you back into consciousness, tender, careful, then suddenly sharp. “Ah,” you hiss. “Sylus?” Always first on your mind and your lips.

“Not even close,” quips the shadow above you.

“Kieran?”

“Bingo.”

You use your hand to block some of the room’s light as you open your eyes— a birdlike silhouette taking shape through the gaps in your fingers. “Where’s Sylus?” you ask, teeth clenching as the twin applies a thin strip of surgical tape to a cut on your cheek. “Is he ok?”

“Sheesh, relax. He’s fine,” Kieran tuts, then seems to reconsider, “well…”

“He’s brooding,” chimes a voice from behind you. “Out on the balcony.” Luke.

You rub at your eyes, still drowsy with sleep. “Why’s he brooding? What did you do?”

“Told him he traumatised you,” they speak in unison.

“What?! Why would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true,” Kieran shrugs. “That’s why you and boss couldn’t, you know…” He twinkles his fingers.

Resonate? Ugh. You slide your feet onto the floor, sitting up straight for a solid second before you bury your face in your hands, omitting a few, pained whines. This is such a mess, and it only got worse while you were asleep. First that stupid grenade, now the twins.

A hand pats at your back. “There, there,” Luke soothes.

You turn to glare at him. His hand retreats.

Forget it; you have to find Sylus.

…

You step out onto the balcony, head full of apologies you’ve had all of a minute to prepare, and it isn’t enough. It felt fitting, in the middle of a shootout— everything was allowed to be frantic and from the heart. Here it’s calm, and if you ruin something— break anything— it’s going to be obvious. There’s no other violence to blame.

Sylus must hear you join him, but he doesn’t turn. He’s leant forwards against the rail, one arm folded upon it, the other outstretched: sporting a glass of liquor that hangs from the tips of his fingers and that he swirls gently, his gaze far away.

The twins really weren’t kidding.

“Hey,” you greet, and it’s sort of pathetic, but you don’t know what else to say.

“Hey,” Sylus returns, “are you—” he looks back at you over his shoulder— “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you smile warmly. “I mean, the twins are giving me a headache, but that’s, like, standard.”

He smiles back: a courtesy. You’ve seen him grin through almost every type of pain imaginable, but this one is new. Think about what Luke and Kieran said. What he must be thinking. “Sylus, I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he stops you, turning his body towards you. “Honestly, I’d… rather you didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he chuckles, masking a deeper hurt as he lifts his glass to his lips. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

You are; you hold his gaze as he takes a deliberately slow sip of his drink. He smirks, surrenders at once and admits: “I’m really not that strong, sweetie. That’s why.”

“What if I want to explain?”

The smirk falters, and his eyes make their own, sad, silent confession. If you want to explain? He’ll let you. He’ll stand here, listening patiently while you call him a thing of nightmares. While you break him, bit by tortuous bit, by reminding him just how frightening he is.

He turns back to the view, shrugs, but none of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Go on, then.”

“Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

“You don’t scare me, you know.”

His hand tightens around his glass. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Pity me,” he grimaces. “I don’t need it. I know what I am. I’d just… forgotten what I was to you.”

Your captor. Your monster. Except that was a lifetime ago and he’s been so many more things to you since then. Tell him. “Sylus…”

“I felt it,” he snaps, because your voice is still so reluctant, and he’s going to save you the trouble. “When we tried to resonate, I felt it— your fear— just as deep as it used to be. I heard that same voice in your head, the one saying you wouldn’t let me in, couldn’t let me in, so don’t tell me I don’t scare you, sweetie.” The term of endearment tastes sour, you can tell. “I know how you feel. I know—”

“I like you, Sylus.”

“…What?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. “I like you,” you say again, and your heart is beating too quickly for eloquence, so you just have simplicity. “You don’t scare me at all, Sy. I care about you. A lot.”

Sylus stares at you, his eyes wide. There’s no confidence. No smile or drawn-out breath of relief. He sets his glass aside on the railing, gaze leaving yours for a moment, and you get the feeling he needs that moment as much as he needed the drink itself.

Then he looks at you again. Asks in a way that makes you ache: “do you mean it?”

Look at him. Your throat stings. “Of course I mean it.”

“Say it again.”

“I mean it, Sylus. I care about—”

His lips are on yours and the rest of your words are lost in his mouth. You, you say with the way you kiss him back, soft and slow, like you’re relishing something that might slip away. You, you insist— your hand finding his face, his hair, as he kisses you deeper, and you, you, you, when he doesn’t stop.

“Is this alright?” he murmurs, his fingers around your chin and his thumb tugging at your bottom lip.

“Mmm,” you confirm, equally breathless.

He laughs as he withdraws a little, still caressing your face like you’re something of a dream. “You’re not making this easy, kitten.”

“Worried you might traumatise me again?”

It's a low blow. He scoffs. “Luke and Kieran said—”

“Luke and Kieran once bought arts-and-crafts feathers for Mephisto because they thought the colours would make him, and I quote: more aerodynamic.” You pinch his ear playfully. “I can’t believe you let them get to you.”

“I know,” he groans, lifting your hand so he can press chaste kisses along the line of your knuckles. “Not my finest moment.” He guides your palm to his cheek— leans into it as he leans into an idea. “They said you hated my eyes,” he pouts.

You can’t help giggling. He frowns. “I mean— aww, no,” you scramble, but you’re still laughing. You can’t stop. “Your eyes are… yeah. So pretty.”

“You had to think about it?”

“There were just too many adjectives, y’know? I was struggling to—”

He kisses you again, saving you: crushing your laughter with his own, lightheaded smile. His hand finds yours as his lips move against you, your fingers interlocking as you resonate— chasing an instinct, a need to be impossibly closer— and you let him see everything. Feel everything.

It’s a mad tangle of opposites. Heaven. Hell. Life. Death. You don’t know what any of it means, but it’s yours and it’s his and it doesn’t scare you half as much as it should. Sylus breaks your kiss. He pushes his forehead against your own with a sigh of contentment, and it doesn’t scare him, either.

Savour each second. Think of some better adjectives, while you still have the time.

He’s going to earn every single one.

…

✨Epilogue✨

Inside, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling windows that separate the room from the balcony, Luke and Kieran stand, looking awfully smug.

“Mission accomplished,” Kieran nods, flipping closed his notepad, aptly titled: 101 Ways To Get Boss Laid! (There are only, currently, fifty-two.)

Luke’s arms are folded. “We’re like, the best wingmen ever.”

Kieran is silent. He repeats carefully: “Wingmen. Wingmen.”

The beaks of the crow masks gradually turn to face one-another. There’s a mutual epiphany, and both twins almost fall over laughing.

#🖋rach is actually writing #🌻 anon #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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yapperblog · 2 days ago

Text

I wanna see you but you're not mine

Tags: suggestive, 18+ only, angst, cheating

RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with it.

You are melting into each others mouths, soft breathless moans filling the dark room, his beard scratches your chin, but you don't care, not when he tastes so good, his hands so tight around your waist. You haven't been together that long, but you think you love him. Know he loves you, because he says it into your ear, pressing his body against yours, making you lay down further on the bed.

You can hear the sounds of the party downstairs. The noise of glass breaking and a second later your friend's voice scolding someone making you both laugh separating for a split second before his lips meet your neck. You feel his hands start to bunch up your skirt around your hips, his rough hands caressing your soft skin.

You don't hear the door open.

"Oh shit" a familiar voice startles you. Your boyfriend separates from you, turning his head towards the noise, his hand moving to cover your exposed thigh.

The door is slightly open, warm light spilling into the room. You catch a glimpse of blond hair, as you look from behind your boyfriend's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." Joost dramatically covers his eyes with a hand, standing in the doorway. "Promise I didn't see anything."

"Hey. What's up." your boyfriend sits up, adjusting his pants, trying to cover up the evident bulge.

"Chris can't figure out the sound system. He was looking for you. I can tell you are busy-" Joost removes the hand that was covering his eyes, looking at you and your boyfriend.

"No, it's okay. I'll go help." your boyfriend replies. He leans in to place a quick kiss on your lips. "They can't do anything without me." you giggle at his words, wiping your lipstick from his lips, fixing his hair at least a little.

"I'll be downstairs." he says to you and gets up, moving past Joost, patting him on the shoulder.

You turn on a nightstand lamp, the soft light making you squint at the contrast.

"Can I come in?" Joost asks hesitating.

"Sure." You smile at him, as you stand up to check your makeup in the mirror. He comes into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Feels like I haven't seen you in forever." he says leaning against the door.

"Does it?" you look at him through the mirror. "We've seen each other last weekend at dinner."

"Yeah, but I mean just the two of us."

"Oh. I guess it has been awhile." you sit back on the bed rummaging through your purse looking for a lipstick to reapply it. "You are so busy now. Big star." you tease him laughing.

He smiles and sits next to you. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." you say softly, looking up at him. His eyes are filled with so much adoration, but there is also something else underneath. His gaze moving down to your lips, before returning to your eyes. This look would have made your heart race a year ago, but you buried those feelings deep enough.

"He doesn't deserve you." he says suddenly.

"What?" you look at him confused, you must have misheard him.

"I can't stand seeing you with him." he shakes his head.

"Joost, you are drunk." you say with a chuckle, even though you don't find this funny at all.

"I am." he says turning to fully face you now. "But I mean it. It makes my insides twist whenever I see him put his hands around you. Holding you close" he closes his eyes, "when it should be me."

You feel like your blood is boiling, he can't be serious right now. You and Joost have been friends for many years, although his personality and similar interests you share made you develop a crush on him not that long after meeting him. You hid your feelings towards him scared of ruining your friendship, not being sure if he feels the same way towards you. Until one day you spilled it all out to him, and everything changed, at least for you.

"What is wrong with you? Why are you doing this? He doesn't deserve you" you repeat his words. "And you do?" he winces at your words. "Remember what you said after that night?"

That night. The night you twisted your ankle falling off a bike and Joost helped you get to your apartment, his hands holding you so firm yet gentle, brushing away any fallen tears. Cooing at your winces when he was wrapping a bandage around your ankle. When he kissed your knee so softly, it made your breath catch. You ended up drinking wine, watching trash TV shows till the moon shone through your window.

"How is your foot?" he asks when a commercial break starts.

"Still hurts, but I'll live." you say turning to him. "You didn't have to stay with me."

"I wanted to." Joost replies, his hand brushing your hair softly away from your face.

You didn't think about it, you leaned in and kissed him.

"I'm sorry. I-" you pulled away, but before you could finish your sentence, he crashed his lips into yours. His lips felt like everything you imagined and better, you couldn't get enough of him, but scared to be too eager. It makes you moan into his mouth when he takes more initiative, you feel his hand on your cheek, coordinating your moves, deepening the kiss. You have to separate for air far too quick. You look at him, both of you breathing heavily, still processing what just happened.

"I wanted to do this for a while." you confess to him.

"You should have." he kisses you again, pushing you to lay down making sure not to put any pressure on your injured leg. Your mind is racing a hundred miles an hour, this is finally happening, it seems so silly now that you were scared to confess your feelings to him. Your train of thoughts is interrupted when you feel him bite your bottom lip, the feeling making you gasp and open your mouth in surprise. He uses the opportunity to introduce his tongue to yours.

He is kissing you so deep, making you feel like he also wanted you all this time, you wrap your hands around his shoulders pulling him even closer. He smiles into the kiss, making your teeth clash, but you continue making out, not being able to separate from each other. He touches you all over in exploration trying to feel you and at the same time pull more of the delicious sounds from you, which taste so good mixed with your wine stained lips on his mouth.

You fall asleep cuddled up together on the couch, your back to his chest, his big hand splayed on your stomach. Feeling like the happiest person in the world, tracing the tattoo on his knuckles, his steady breath on your neck. You don't remember falling asleep, but you can't wait to wake up and see him again.

You wake up alone. Memories of last night flood in, for a second you can't decide if it was a dream or reality. You yawn stretching, and hear footsteps coming from the kitchen.

"Hi." you beam up when you see Joost come into the room, a steaming cup in his hand.

"Hi." when you don't hear the same excitement in his voice and a weak smile on his face, a chill runs down your spine, not in a good way.

"I made you coffee." he says placing the cup on the table in front of you.

"Thank you." you look at him.

He sits down on the side of the couch you both slept in, his hair still messy.

"About last night." he is avoiding your eyes. "I think we should stay friends"

You look at him, not being able to find what to say right now.

"I'm sorry if I led you on." he finally looks at you.

"No, no. I am sorry. It was a mistake." you say your voice uncharacteristically flat, drinking the coffee, which is too bitter, not the way you like it.

"I knew you would understand." he feels like a rock has lifted off his shoulders, meanwhile you can barely breathe trying not to cry, all the color has drained from the room.

He promised this wouldn't ruin your friendship and it didn't. You continued being friends ignoring what happened, even though it took you months to heal and your girl friends wiping your tears away. It took even longer to build your confidence to be able to open up to someone again. Bitter taste still in your mouth.

"I regret it so much, you don't even know." his words are full of pain.

"You are right. I don't know." you want to hurt him with your words, but you give up, you still love him, but not in the same way. You sigh. "There wasn't anyone looking for him, was there?"

"No, Chris actually needed help. But it wasn't that urgent, he would have figured it out on his own." He moves to sit closer to you, putting his hand on your knee.

"Joost..." you lean away from his touch, avoiding his eyes.

"I like you." he leans to try to catch your eyes again. "I like you and I'm sorry it took me so long to realise."

"No." you turn to look at him, your voice raising. "No, you don't get to do this. You know how hard it has been seeing you with different girls all these years?"

"I was so stupid" he sighs and you sit in silence for a few moments. "I was looking for you in every one of them." he turns to look you, his knuckles brush your cheek softly.

"I was right there, Joost." you close your eyes. "You didn't have to look far." Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, you think of everything you could have had together, how different it all could have been, if only he made an effort to see you.

"I am so sorry, liefje." he leans closer to you, his lips a breath away from yours. You don't lean away from him this time.

"Can I kiss you?" his voice is barely above a whisper.

You nod and he closes the distance between you. His lips are soft on yours, his hand warm on your cheek. You kiss him back and hear a sigh of relief from him. It is not rushed like that night, both of you not sure, but he deepens the kiss, his head spinning at the thought that he finally has you. He is holding your jaw so tender lips moving against yours, he wants more, wants himself all over you, but doesn't want to push his luck, doesn't want to scare you away.

He starts to kiss your neck, holding you close to his chest. He can smell your boyfriend's cologne lingering on your skin, he groans while placing open mouth wet kisses along your skin. Gripping your waist, he makes a move to put you on his lap. You let him. He hates that he waited so long to finally do this, that he was scared and blind towards his feelings, but maybe he has a chance now.

"Joost." you try to catch your breath. "Joost, wait." you push at his shoulders. He stops, looking up at you with his big blue eyes. "We shouldn't be doing this." you move from his lap, his hand trailing from your waist to your thigh. You take both of his hands in yours.

He knows what is coming next, his head falling on your shoulder. You brush his hair on the back of his head softly.

"We are better as friends." you tell him. You hear let out a chuckle into your neck.

You pull him to face you, holding his face on each side, "I would have let you do anything you wanted back then, you know." you whisper. He closes his eyes and puts his forehead against yours, the pain of realising what could have been too much to bear. "But that time is long gone."

"Schat..." he can't find the right words, maybe there aren't any. Maybe vocabulary hasn't progressed to fix whatever this situation is.

"I really do love him." you move to sit further away on the bed. You wish it didn't hurt that much to leave him here, but it's better for the both of you.

You find your boyfriend downstairs on a couch, enthusiastically telling a story to your group of friends. You touch his shoulder and sit down next to him, a smile spreading across his face as soon as he sees you. He places a kiss on your lips "There you are."

"Missed me?" you tease him, your face still close to his.

"Yeah. Always." he kisses you again.

"Get a room you two." your friend groans in a joking manner.

"We tried!" your boyfriend says laughing. You fall back into the conversation again.

"Jesus.. Slow down, dude." someone calls out from the kitchen. You turn around to see Joost drinking a second shot. He slams down the glass, and heads towards the balcony, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his back pocket.

"What's up with him?" your boyfriend asks pointing in Joost's direction. You shrug your shoulders.

"I'll go for a smoke too, to check on him." he says. "Wanna join?"

"No, I'm okay." you give him a weak smile and watch him open the balcony door.

After a long while, your boyfriend finally comes back joining you on the couch, smelling like smoke.

"How did it go?" you ask.

"Fine, Joost just kept saying how lucky I am. I should treasure you." he puts an arm around your shoulders, smell of cigarettes enveloping you.

"Well, you should." you laugh, but your heart aches.

It is around 3 am, you feel way too drunk, more than you planned to be today. But time has flown by, you caught up with all your friends at the party, having a drink with each different group, mingling with everyone.

"Should we go home?" you ask your boyfriend.

"Yeah. I am knackered." his head falls dramatically to your shoulder.

As you leave, you see Joost going upstairs, a pretty girl by his side.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein rpf

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day ago

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The Pain of Living 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, chronic pain, blood/violence, perversion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You deal with pain every day, but a new source of pain lands on your front step.

Note: I know I shouldn’t.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Ibuprofen, pedialyte, gauze, and a few extras just to pad out your cupboards. It’s not quite a success considering what you’re headed back to. You drive cautiously, wondering if anyone else can see the horror sewn into your face. No one stops you, no sirens whoop, you’re left to face the strange man in your bed.

You get home and carry in the bags, pausing just inside to catch your breath. The brief trip has you ragged. You feel twice as bad as when you left. That isn’t what matters. The blood on your floor reminds you that there is much worse to deal with.

You bend and take out the large bottle of pills and a bottle of grape electrolytes. Your steps are weighed down by more than your pain. Dread hangs off of you like a wet blanket.

You knock. On your own door. The man doesn’t answer. Your heart pumps. You knock louder, keeping the bottles hugged under your arm.

Still no answer. You twist the handle and push inside. Please, let it be an awful nightmare. Don’t let him be dead.

“Ah, oh god,” you exclaim and spin away from the sight the strange man’s naked back. The vision of his ass as he bends his leg around your duvet is stamped into your mind. Ugh. “Sorry, I--”

“Fuck, I finally fell asleep,” he sneers. “Got the painkillers?” You nod at the hallway. The bed creaks and he huffs. “Well... give it.”

You turn warily. He has the blanket pulled over his lap. His torso is entire naked, a patchwork of stitches, dried blood, and hair. You near the bed and set down the tablets and the electrolytes.

“NSAIDs,” he rattles the bottle. “Anti-inflammatories help with blood clotting. It’ll keep me from bleeding out like Normandy beach.” You wince at his crude allusion. He rolls his eyes, “relax. Think I’m through the worst of it. No major arteries. But damn...” he leans back against the pillows, “I feel like a slapped ass.”

You furrow your brow. The way he talks, his arrogance, it makes it hard to feel bad for him despite his injuries. He tosses back two pills and reaches for the other bottle. He gulps eagerly and pops his wet lips.

“Mm, fuck, exactly what I need. Hey, you got a TV you can move in here? Something to watch?” He asks.

You hesitate.

“You should probably sleep--”

“Thanks, Nurse Ratchet, I’d love to fucking sleep, but I’m restless now you woke me up,” he sneers.

“Um... I have my laptop.”

“Any fucking screen that can keep me from going mad staring at the ceiling.” He insists.

You nod and back out of the room. This is odd. Absurd to the point you question your own sanity. Have you summoned a hallucination out of sheer boredom? Did you snap? Or do you really have the worst luck?

You sniff and go to find your laptop. You don’t use it for more than filing your insurance claims and to get your mailing labels for your work. He can borrow it for a bit. You don’t have any pending orders.

You return to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you as you enter. You hold out the computer.

“Here, um, it’s all yours.”

“You talk to anyone?” He asks.

“Anyone...?”

“When you went out, did you talk to anyone?”

“Not really. I used the self-checkout--”

“Did you tell anyone about me?” He interrupts.

“Erm, no, I...”

“Fuck, you are dull. That’s all I need,” he takes the laptop. “You can piss off.”

You flinch. Wow. That’s not very nice.

You reach for the laptop as he puts it on his lap, “look, if you’re going to be mean, I have better things to do with that--”

He grabs your wrist and easily twists it back. Despite his condition, he’s just as strong as his bulging muscles would suggest. You whimper as your eyes glimmer.

“Ow, let go, please,” you whimper.

He keeps you locked in for another moment before he obliges. You retract and swallow down the agony. What hurt before is now unbearable. You cradle your arm and retreat.

“Close the door, raggedy ann.”

You shut the door. As much to block him out as to appease him. How can someone you helped be so rotten?

You go to the kitchen and sit in a wooden chair at the small table. You rub your wrist and sniffle. It’s easier to be alone and in pain. You don’t like others to see you struggle. The way that man behaves, you don’t want to show any weakness.

You blow out between your lips and look at the door. You’ll need to clean up soon. The rug is garbage but getting rid of a blood-stained carpet won’t be easy. And the bleach might not do much for the floor.

You put your head down on your folded arms. You’ll deal with it eventually. Like everything else. It’s too much. Everything waits on the pain. Your whole life is centered on your aching bones and burning muscles.

You wallow in your self-pity until you have the energy to get up. When you do, you ignore the inevitable and make coffee. As it brews, there’s a holler.

“Hey, sugar stack,” the man calls, “is that coffee I smell?”

You tense, a surge of pain rippling through you. You exhale and collect your strength. You yell back, “yeah.”

“I take mine black. Thanks, baby.”

You close your eyes and grit your teeth. You’re not a mean person. You’re not cruel. You don’t hate people. In fact, you do your best to keep them happy. You don’t want to be a burden. You don’t to be a problem.

Yet this man makes your brain fiery. You’re actually annoyed. Angry even. It isn’t that he’s just rude, he presumptuous. He just assumes that everything belongs to him, and that seems to include your home.

You can guess how he ended up the way he did. He doesn’t exactly inspire kindness.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #drabble #the pain of living #the gray man

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xoxoavenger · 16 hours ago

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I Knew You'd Come Back to Me

pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

summary: And I knew you'd come back to me/You'd come back to me/And you'd come back to me/And you'd come back/And when I felt like I was an old cardigan/Under someone's bed/You put me on and said I was your favorite

word count: 562

warnings: I just realized there's a new season of obx and I haven't seen it at all at all so (not that this was ever cannon accurate but)

cardigan masterlist main masterlist

"Y/N?" Pope asks, sitting up. His heart is racing, knowing JJ is out there. Y/N doesn't look at him, acts like he isn't there, just stares at the door for a couple seconds before opening it back up and launching herself out.

"Oh!" JJ grunts, catching her as he stumbles backward. He lands softly on his back, arms wrapped around her. "I'm sorry," He says into her hair, holding her close.

"I knew you'd come back." She whispers, tears streaming down her face. She buries her face into his neck, and he holds her even closer. They're on the ground still, neither of them making any move to get up.

"I heard you say you wanted to get married." JJ confesses, causing her to finally move back and look him in the eye. "When we were babysitting the Kamps. I heard you before you fell asleep."

"Okay," She says softly, tears still falling. She thinks she knows where this is going, and it makes her want to throw up. She gets up, both of them now sitting on the porch.

"That's why I left." He confesses, and she looks away.

"You could have talked to me." She tells him, moving to stand. He does as well, grabbing her hands.

"I should have, I know." He squeezes one hand and lets it go, and then moves to push her hair out of her face. "It's just, you've seen my home life. I don't have a good example of what marriage is supposed to be. I never have. So when you said that, I didn't know what to do." He looks away as tears start to fall down his own face, and he wipes them quickly.

"If you would have talked to me about it," She says, and he just shakes his head.

"I didn't hook up with that bitch." JJ says, which makes her laugh a little bit.

"I know," Y/N, looks at the ground, letting the tears fall from her face. "I still punched her for it, got arrested." She whispered, and then JJ laughed. They both were quiet for a minute, looking at each other with watery eyes.

"I won't leave again." He tells her, and she can't help but frown. "I won't promise that I'll propose tomorrow, but I won't run off like that." She just nods, because that's really all she needed.

"I love you." She whispers, and he cups her face with one hand, their other hands still holding each other.

"I love you too." He whispers against her lips, and then they're pressing them together.

Their friends had waited until then to run out the door, knocking JJ and Y/N down again. Everyone was talking at the same time over each other in a dogpile, and Y/N was in the middle, laughing for the first time in months.

"When you have kids, can I be the godparent?" Sarah asked over everyone, which sent everyone in a frenzy once more.

"Over my dead body!" Kiara screams, and Y/N laughs again.

"We should have some sort of competition for it!" John B suggests, and JJ just rolls his eyes.

"We are not having kids for a long time, so y'all can come down about it." He tells them as he helps Y/N up. "Now, if you'll excuse us," He winks at Y/N, and Sarah screams.

"No! I didn't miss this!"

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader fluff #obx imagine

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grave-queen-jakrabitt · 2 days ago

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An in depth guide for how to get into professional wrestling (as a fan)

As a long time fan of wrestling I’ve tried to get a few people into wrestling and have found a few problems people usually have with getting into it. I’ll be breaking those down along with terms newbies might need for interacting with the fandom, it can be really intimidating to ask questions if you feel like you should know things by default so I made this

The WWE and AEW aren’t everything: there are so many companies 324 smaller North American and even some Asian companies formed independent wrestling television. You can watch more wrestling than you know what to do with. If you can’t pay the 10$ a month (absolutely no judgement like be hard) the internet is a treasure trove of free wrestling even without the ole yo ho ho. But this leads to another problem

“How will I know what I like?”: You won’t unless you’re gateway was catching wrestling while channel surfing and thinking it looked cool. Try everything once but don’t expect to like everything. Find a few indie matches before looking for anything specific so you can find a little bit of everything, you might like the showmanship, the technical details, weapon based violence, it may change with your mood but if you’re making an effort to get into it you’ll find something just take your time

“Some companies have so much history it’s overwhelming”: unless you are a devoted little lunatic don’t try to watch everything from the start, I did that with progress wrestling and I would watch 10 or so hours of wrestling, I’m still 32 shows behind and they run monthly. Almost any show from any company is a good start but I’d say allow yourself to go back like 3 shows max unless you’re already aware of where you want to start

“Things in wrestling don’t make sense”: that is true but an important thing to understand is wrestling has its own internal logic like any show really, these can vary from company to company but it’s like inertia. You start at “okay so this is happening because it’s wrestling” and you get to a point where you’re choice to suspend disbelief carries itself to “fuck it this might as well happen this is wrestling” that being said

It’s entirely valid to not enjoy something a company does and please don’t just accept something or feel like you have to wait it out. Take a break, keep an eye on it try something new but don’t feel like you have to stay glued to a bed of sand paper. You will not enjoy everything done by a company

Bring a friend and be a friend: having a friend to watch with and help you learn is always good but don’t feel like you have to share their opinion about a person or decision, any good friend will be respectful of that.

rules

A normal wrestling match is usually won by one of 4 ways. pinning your opponent to the mat with their shoulders down for 3 seconds, submission, disqualification or knockout

Other small rules: being outside the ring means any potential victory (often aside from a ko for safety) are invalid, if a limb makes contact with the ring rope during a pinfall submission or hold it’s considered out of bounds and must be broken, if you are outside the ring there is usually a 10 count sometimes 20 if you don’t come back to the ring you get disqualified, ignoring a rope break or using an illegal move like small joint manipulation has a 5 count, don’t hit the ref, fishhook anything, bite, or hit balls. No disqualification matches exist

A tag team match: in its most basic has 2 or more teams of an equal amount, only one member of each team is allowed in the ring at once and the others have to wait on the apron, the other partner can come in when they make contact with their partner in the referees vision. A 5 count is issued for double teaming moves. Sometimes it’s everyone at once in the ring, this is a tornado tag match

Steel cage: they put a cage around the ring and you win by either normal means or depending on the match escaping the cage

lucha de apuestas: if you make any friends with any interest in lucha libre you’ll often hear this term it just means a wager match basically the competitors each put something on the line, their right to mask, their hair, a title, or their career.

Terms

Face/technico: the term used for a good guy, technico is usually reserved for Mexican lucha libre

Heel/rudo: bad guy

Over: if someone is over or getting over they’re ve a fan favorite or in the process of getting there

Heat: negative crowd response

Booking: how the show is being written and how people are being used in that process

Cultural differences in wrestling

You’d be able to find any kind of wrestling in most places if you look hard enough but it’s really interesting how different wrestling styles evolved

America: we have historically had a lot of carnival wrestling. How do you con a bunch of small towns out of money with wrestling? Fix them to be more interesting while still having enough skill to put the everyday challenges away without any suspicion. This became the rough and tumble 70s southern brawl style but until the 90s it really just boiled down to “be able to fuck people up so you don’t have to”

Japan: this is a tricky situation because there are really 3 main styles of Japanese pro wrestling. Strong style focuses on a lot of striking a resilience along with strong fundamental holds, kings road style was also very resilience based but had a more defined match structure and had a focus on throws like suplex’s and head drops. Most modern Japanese wrestling is a kind of blend of those, then you’ve got the younger brother and hardest for me to talk about bati bati. I’m admittedly not that well versed in its history but from my understanding it’s like if MMA and pro wrestling had a baby that didn’t suck. There are better resources than me to learn from.

Mexico: the origin of the highly acrobatic lucha libre actually has to do with a lot of old Mexican rings being modified boxing ring, the gymnastics of lucha are in service of minimizing bad landings. But there are 2 other important aspects to lucha, Your mask/pride and your family. In lucha your mask is your identity and your legacy, it’s essentially sacred. Losing it is often how careers end, if you’re not a mask wearing wrestler pride is the substitute. But the pride of your family is just as important as often times it’s a multi generational commitment.

Europe/the UK: I’m not slapping these together out of disrespect they’re just extremely similar historically. For a while British wrestling greatly resembled its American counterpart but too many bad actors ruined it for everyone and pro wrestling was briefly banned until being revived with a unified and more strict ruleset with world of sport in the 70s that 80s, taking more after catch as catch can. Where as it’s European brother found it’s stride in long grueling tournaments as a test of skill, a tradition still carried on mostly in Germany with WXWs 16 karat tournament, progress’s super strong style 16, and even the wwe uk title tournament

#pro wrestling #indy wrestling #reblog this #long post #for new people #new fans

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snzunii · 1 day ago

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goodnight n go ( ran h. ) — part two.

it's really bad that you get along so well.

tags. romance, angst, betrayal, hurt/comfort, established relationship, explicit sexual content, bonten!ran, detective!reader, canon-typical violence, crimes and criminals, drugs, smoking, drinking, illegal activities, EIGHTEEN PLUS ONLY.

“Baby. Wake up.” you stirred in your sleep, trying to pull the blanket over your head just so you couldn't hear your boyfriend, whispering in your ear to get the fuck up. “YN.”

“Leave me alone, Ran.” you mumbled, getting anything that you could reach just to cover your face but he’s one step ahead of you, there's nothing left for you to cover your head with. “Fuck.”

You heard him laugh, you felt the bed sink as he sat beside you. “Breakfast’s ready. Come on.”

But you didn't want to stand up. You just want to stay in bed and rot with him. Is that so bad? You haven't had the chance to see and be with each other this long, is it so bad to have one day for the two of you?

It isn't, right?

“Can we just stay in? We don't have to go to work today, right?”

You weren't that serious—okay, maybe you are. But you didn't think that Ran would lay down beside you and go along with what shenanigans you wanted to do today, “Okay.”

“What, okay?”

“Let’s stay in today.”

“Really? Aren't you like, needed for work because, I don't know, your boss is a pain in the ass?” you asked him with a wide smile, you looked at him and you saw his pretty eyes looking at you—you suddenly felt conscious, you just woke up, you haven't even brushed your teeth yet.

But he’s still looking at you like you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Yeah. But that’s a problem for tomorrow.” he smirked, leaning in to kiss you but you pulled away and that made him frown, “What?”

You covered your mouth with your hand, “Bad breath.” you said with a muffled voice.

“The fuck I care, kiss me.” he says and pulls your hand away, you giggled and let him press his lips gently into yours—he bites your lip, and you close your eyes, draping your arm over his neck, pulling him close to you.

You both pulled away, gasping for air. “Yeah, you should brush your teeth.”

“Ran!”

“Kidding.”

You rolled your eyes at him and he just laughed at you, “You’re such a brat.”

“But you love me.” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Hmm. You’re going to sleep again?” you feel his arm slipping under your head, making it your pillow, “Don't you wanna eat first?”

“Too sleepy.” you murmured, “Wake me up in five minutes, ‘kay?”

You didn't hear him answer but it’s not long until you hear him say your name again.

“YN.”

You open your eyes, and there you are in front of him—with a gun in his hand. How the fuck did you get here?

“Ran.”

Ran held your wrist, pulling you away from the watching eyes. He knows they're not going to do anything—and they know that Ran’s not going to let you go that easily.

Even though you’re his girlfriend, Ran is in too deep in this shit—yeah, they think he’s stupid for having a detective girlfriend—but they know he wouldn't turn that easily, maybe.

You compromised their location, you found them. You could’ve called for back up the moment you saw the guy that you arrested back then, but all that you were thinking of was Ran. You could just easily point your gun to any of them but you didn't do any of that.

They know you wouldn't do that to Ran. They don't know you that much, but the look in your eyes was enough for them to know that you wouldn't just give him up—even if it’s the right thing to do.

You didn't pull away or protest—you didn't push him away, there were no arguments as he pulled you into the other room, with no other people, just the two of you. “YN—”

Instead of you speaking, your palms met his face over and over. “Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you—”

“Stop.” he says, holding both your wrists. “Stop, YN.”

“Why the fuck would you do this to me? How could you?” your voice was small and shaky, your tears falling continuously, “Why the fuck would you keep something like this from me? You know how hard I worked, you know all of it, then you…?”

You look at him, and you see that he’s Ran… but he’s different. He’s like a stranger, a stranger with a familiar face. A stranger that you touch, you hold, you confide in—that you know—a stranger you love.

Ran couldn't find the words that he wanted to say. He hid this from you because he was selfish—he wanted to keep you, he wanted to be close to you.

If he could live this double life forever just to keep you, then he probably would.

He was different when he was with you, but that doesn't change the fact that he’s a horrible person who’s done a lot of horrible things, right? That’s how you see him now. “I wanted to protect you—”

“Protect me?” you laughed bitterly, “You really think that you keeping all of this from is protecting me? No, you're lying to me! Deceiving me, you were there every night! Listening to me struggle and you’re one of them?! Why, Ran? Why—”

“Because!” he slammed his hand on the table, “Because I fucking love you! I know it’s bullshit, I’m a fucking horrible person! How the fuck am I capable of love? But I do! I do love you and it’s so frustrating hiding all of this from you!”

You ignored what he said. Because if you did choose to acknowledge all that, you would’ve easily run into his arms—turn your back on your morals and just go with him wherever.

You’re too stupid and heartbroken to think straight that all you wanted to do was to touch him. You wanted him to hold you in his arms and tell you all the things he’s said before, that he’s there… that you’ve got nothing to worry about as long as you’re with him.

You can feel your chest closing in on you, it’s like you’re being suffocated to death that you needed to get out. “I need to leave.”

“You can't do that.” he said, holding your wrist when you were about to walk out the door. You tried to swat his hand away but he kept his hold on you, well, you really can't leave this place—it’s not that easy.

And maybe, he was afraid that if he let you leave—if he let you walk out that door, you’d be gone forever.

From him… from his life.

“Let me go!” you yelled, trying to wriggle out of his touch, but he pulled you into the couch, “The fuck—”

“I can't let you do that!” he shouted back, “Do you think you could just walk out of here? Do you think they wouldn't fucking kill you the moment you step out of this building?”

“Okay.” you said quietly, almost a whisper but enough for him to hear you, “Can you just please… let go of my hand.”

Ran sat in front of you, on his knees. “YN. Listen to me.”

“What?” your voice cracks, your tears still falling at the side of your eyes, you try to look at him, but every time you do, you feel like sobbing—so you look away.

“I love you.” he whispered, “I love you.”

That was all he could say because that is the truth. The only thing in his life that he didn't lie about to you.

You finally look at him, he smiles at you like he didn't do anything wrong—like with just one smile from him, everything will be okay.

And it’s not. Nothing’s ever going to make this okay.

“I love you, YN.” he cups your cheek and you don't pull away, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. His touch was familiar, it was comforting—just how it was before. “Please, don't leave. Just stay, hm? Stay.”

You have never seen him so… desperate, that he might just die if you didn't give in. But he had to try, if losing his dignity was the only way for you to stay then he would.

But it was a big thing. It’s a big selfish thing to overlook all the things that he had done, and you don't know if you could live with yourself with all of this.

But, it’s Ran. How could you do this to him? How could you leave him?

It’s Ran, for fuck’s sake. It’s Ran, you love him. You’d do everything for him. You’d jump off a cliff for him.

It’s him, you were going to build a family with him. He was there for you, the only one there when you were basically empty. When you had nothing, he was the only one there. So… how?

How could you even think about this?

It’s Ran.

There’s no question about that.

Fuck, YN. Think.

Think.

“YN—” you cut him off by pressing your lips into him, you drape your arm over his neck to pull him close.

You tug on his tie and deepens the kiss because fuck it. You both pull away to breathe, he presses his forehead against yours, you close your eyes and just try to feel him.

Just try to forget all the things that were happening.

His lips find yours again, but this time he was kissing you so hungrily, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip as if he was craving you for a very long time, your fingers unbuttoning his suit—you feel the cushion on your back as he towers over you.

His kisses travel down your neck, his hands unbuttoning—no, more like ripping your blouse, favorite blouse, open and pulling your pants down—ridding you of your clothes, you bite back a moan when his hands squeeze the swell of your clothed tits.

“Let me hear you.” he groaned, you can feel the vibrations on your skin, it’s as if you feel the nerve impulses all throughout your body. “Fuck, please.”

“Please, baby.” here you are legs sprawled open, under him but he’s the one pleading you, was he always this desperate for you?

His hands sets your panties aside, his fingers finding your swollen clit, drawing circles, trying to get just one fucking noise from you.

Finally, you gasp, your fingers gripping his hair as he pushes his fingers in and out of your cunt. Fuck, yes he was always this desperate.

Always so desperate to make you moan his name, always desperate to see your finger-fucked out face—he’s the only one who could make you like this, what makes you think that he would ever let go of you?

Why would he ever let go of you when you're so beautiful and helpless under him? Getting fucked ruthlessly, your legs hanging on his shoulder as he pump his cock in and out of your pussy?

“R-Ran, fuck! Please, slow down—ah!” you were a fucking mess, sobbing—mumbling all the right words that should come out of your mouth when he’s hitting all the right, sensitive spot inside you.

But it seems so hard to hear all your pleas when his hips slams into you like this, both your skin slapping, your wet pussy squelching when his dick slams inside you—it was too good, too good for him to stop, too fucking good to listen to you plead him to slow down, not when he can feel your cunt sucking him in.

You weren't sure anymore where you are, all you could see was your boyfriend’s face, fucking the life out of you.

Every grunt he was making passes through your ears and travels throughout your body. It was too much, you were exhausted—too exhausted to be in the right mind. Too tired to think if this is even right, if you should be even getting fucked right now.

You were already mumbling incoherent words when he switch your positions out, you were all on fours holding on the cushion while he fucks you raw from the back, he leans forward, squeezes your tits and pushes you against his chest.

“...too much, baby, slow down.” you whimpered, if only you could see the look on his face, “Ran, baby, please.”

“Tell me you’re mine.” he grunts, his voice hoarse—his breath was warm against your skin, “You're not going to leave, are you? ‘S too good, right?”

“‘m not, baby.” you gasp, your stomach churning as you feel his thrusts slow down, so agonizingly slow that you feel like he’s fucking with you, “‘m not going to leave. I love you.”

“Fuck!” he slammed his cock deeper, holding both your hips as he fucks you harder and harder, “Fuck, fuck—say that again. Say you fucking love me.”

“I love you,” you breathlessly say, “I fucking love you.”

…

You were just there sitting in silence—you, only wearing his coat, hands intertwined as you lean your head on his shoulder.

No one was speaking, you were bathing in the solace of just being there—together. It’s as if nothing happened, it’s as if you’re not going to make a big decision that’s going to affect your lives together.

Ran was the first one to speak, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” you answer mindlessly.

“You said,” he paused, “You’re not going to leave, did you mean it?”

You don't answer him because you don't know. You have no idea if you mean it or not, all you know is you just wanted to stay here for a moment and not think about anything.

He squeezes your hand, his thumb caressing your skin, he holds on to you tight as if he’s going to lose you and holding on to you was the only way for you not to slip away.

“He’s my brother. The one with the long hair, similar color to mine.”

“I figured.” you whispered, “He looks a lot like you.”

“Yeah?” you hummed. “I guess.”

“Are we going to stay here forever?” you asked, “I’m hungry. I was going to cook dinner but…”

“You, cooking?” you heard him chuckle, “You sure about that?”

You immediately looked at him with a glare, “Excuse me?”

Your gaze softened when you saw that annoying smile on his face, just like that, it’s like everything was normal. It’s like you were on the bubble again, just the two of you—him teasing you, you being a brat but succumbs to him, and smiles back at him anyway.

But then you remember all the things that he lied about, all the things that you found out and all the things that you are about to find out.

“I love you.” he says. “I love you so much that I don't know what I’m going to do if I lose you… am I? Losing you?”

“I don't know,” your voice was small, almost silent just like the room that surrounds you, “Would you let me go? Would you let yourself lose me?”

The silence settled once again. He looks into your eyes, and if you looked closely you could almost see the vulnerability inside.

He’s Ran Haitani, he’s feared by some people. Even you figured that out. But when it comes to you, he’s not afraid to look stupid—he’s not afraid to beg you not to leave him.

You leaned your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you felt the ache in your chest. If it’s only that simple, if only you could say yes that easily.

You took a shaky breath as you felt your tears once again, “How do we do this, Ran? How do I love you like this?”

Ran doesn't know either. How could you love him when he’s this? But he’s too selfish to let you go, he’s too caught up in this mess that he holds on to you because you’re the only thing in his life that makes sense.

“Do you want to leave?”

“Leave?”

“We’ll leave. We’ll run away, me and you.”

Hearing him say those words just added to the pain you were feeling. He’s ready to risk it all for you. But this is wrong. “Why are you making it so hard for me to love you?”

Leaving isn't the solution, because one way or another, they're going to find you and that would probably end with the two of you dying. But if that’s what it takes to keep you, then he would gladly leave.

You can see the pain in his eyes, in those eyes that hold so much adoration for you. He pulls you in, your head leaning on his chest. You close your eyes as you listen to his heart beat, it was once again comforting, but it shouldn't be. It shouldn't.

“Then just let me love you enough for the both of us, hm?”

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