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anya-writes-stuff · 2 days ago

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hell and back

Summary: Jaehyun is a force to be reckoned within the police force. Since academy days up to cementing his place as a detective, and poised for being promoted to inspector, he only has one flaw. You.

Word count: 2,203

Pairing: NCT Jaehyun x female!reader

Warning/s: Language (cursing, strong language, mature language), mentions of mature content (mentions of sleeping together), possible triggers for violence, blood, and wounds (bullet wounds mentioned but no graphic depictions); jaehyun might have anger issues here ngl

A/N: The way to get out of being depressed over your country’s elections results is to write a fic inspired by the kdrama you’re currently watching. I’ve been watching Bad And Crazy and I cannot unsee how Jaehyun could definitely play the Ryu Su-yeol. Instead of having an alter ego, Jaehyun is more than capable of channeling his anger all by himself, thank you very much. My first angst plus kinda full on suggestive fic, go easy on me.

Grunts and groans emit from Jaehyun as he goes through documents from his recent cases. He tilts his head from left to right to relieve some of the pressure and stiffness from his hunched posture, and releases another groan when a particular motion signals a loud creaking sound. Enough is enough, he thinks, so he stands and goes to the station’s pantry to get more water.

Detective Jaehyun rose through the ranks pretty quickly since graduating from the police academy. Strategic, smart, charismatic, and blessed with good looks and prominent family background, his only flaw is found in having somewhat gray areas in how he does his job. He doesn’t fall under being dirty cops, but he does have some ways of doing his work that might deem him vague and at times, quite suspicious for a servant of the law. Nonetheless, his methods yield results, bringing pride to his precinct and to the police force as a whole.

Soon to be Inspector Jaehyun practically has it all going for him.

After ruminating his career in a span of the three minute walk to the pantry and the minute and a half it took to refill his tumbler, he barely notices you entering the room in mid-stretch after yawning. When you meet his eyes, you nod to him and wait for him to finish his turn at the water dispenser. He steps away and points to the dispenser with his tumbler.

“Late night?” You ask after placing your mug under the warm water nozzle.

“One of many,” he agrees. “How about you?”

“I don’t really need to stay, but there are some records from this week’s cases that have to be reviewed, so I wanted to finish them.”

“Best to get it out of the way.”

“Yep.” You make a pop at the ‘p’ sound. “Well, I’m gonna get back to those.” You salute loosely with your mug.

“Nice shoes,” he comments. His gaze travels from your shoes back up to your eyes.

“They’re just shoes.” You stand toe to toe with him. “See you around, Jung.” You brush off imaginary lint off his jacket before turning to leave.

Jaehyun hums in reply and follows suit. Your offices are in the same direction, but he lets you get ahead, thinking back on how you two first met at the academy.

It’s a brisk spring morning, bright and early at 0530 hours, ungodly for most but soon to be a norm for the training program and its participants.

“Fall in line, quickly, quickly!” The commanding officer yells as the young cadets arrive at the academy. Rushing to the running track, the cadets fall into two lines, automatically separating the women from the men. “Taller ones up front, both male and female, come on now!”

You excuse your way to the front, standing tall at a modest 5”11, and the jet-black haired guy (just a few inches taller) next to you gives you a not very subtle glare. You meet his stare, tipping your chin up to straighten your posture, and look back to the commanding officer. You fight back a scoff which comes out as a cough.

“Ambitious are we?” He mutters.

“Obnoxious are we?” You fire back.

You never had the best temper, but he must be asking for a death wish, or a punch to some sensitive areas, with the way he addressed you. He smirks and jogs in place as much as the space would allow. You do the same, bumping elbows with him, and he winces at the static that goes through you both due to the fleece material of the uniforms provided.

“Stay out of my way, unless you like to eat dust this early in the morning.” He all but threatens you.

“The only one eating anything here is you, Swallow your pride, man, it’s too early for your peacocking.” You spit out.

A gunshot sounds, kicking off the grueling physical fitness test, along with your stand-off with a fellow cadet.

Just as though fate mocks you, you end up being partnered up with the guy throughout training. Whether as a pair or being lumped with him in groupings, you can’t shake him off, and he uses almost every opportunity to flaunt his looks and his brains, knowing full well both are lethal and crucial to surviving in the academy and the police force. Well, the looks are a bonus, but his brain truly is sharp enough.

He learns your name after you knock him down during sparring on the third day of training, you learn his while assembling and disassembling firearms later that week, and you build a weirdly mutual but amicable dislike for each other. Where he’s shrewd and slightly devious, you are upright and innately righteous. Where you are cautious and rule-abiding, he is resourceful and daring, tiptoeing on reckless at times. The middle way is how you both have strong desires to excel, to uphold the law, and to watch the other’s back.

Come graduation and applying to specific units, he leans towards crime investigation and you towards special enforcement, both under the investigative services division.

“Good luck,” he wishes you after posing for pictures with his parents, who both happened to be retired police officers. “See you around?”

“Good luck, Jung,” you reply, landing a soft punch to his arm laden with flowers and the certificate, “try not to piss off your fellow officers and your future superiors. They might not be as gracious as me.”

“Oh please. You’re not a model employee just yet.” He fires back with his signature deep rolling laugh. “Let’s take a picture first. Might be the first and last time we’ll look this pristine in our uniforms.”

Before you could object, he calls over his mom and asks to get a picture of you two, handing over both of your flowers and certificates to his dad. He throws an arm over you, holding his cap over his chest, and you copy him while keeping both arms to yourself. His mom counts down to one, and you try a neutral expression, but feeling him tilt his head to touch yours makes you turn to him at the last second. His dad makes you take another picture, and this time, you look right at the phone, ignoring the way Jaehyun squeezes your shoulder.

Months after crossing paths at the pantry, Jaehyun stands vigil over your prone form on the station’s makeshift bed, keeping watch as you recover from three stray bullets that lodged into your arm, inner thigh, and one that barely brushed by your left shoulder. The same one he gripped on your graduation day. After checking the dressing on your wounds, he turns sharply when he hears a knock on the door. Turning as little as he could, he opens it a fraction and hums at the person to speak.

“We caught the shooter, Inspector Jung. He’s in the interrogation room.”

“Make sure he’s secured. I’ll be there shortly.” He eyes the officer coldly. “Surveillance off while I’m inside the room. Got it?”

“Sir, protocol won’t allow that.”

“Do I fucking care about fucking protocol when one of our primary officers is barely breathing right now?” He growls. Yanking the door fully open, he towers over the officer, locking eyes with the others a little ways away. “Get the hell away from the interrogation room. Someone get in here, someone I can trust, and replace me for now.” He ducks back to the break room, kneels by your side, and carefully brushes a hand through your hair matted with blood. “I’ll be back. You won’t be proud of what I’m going to do, but I can’t let this garbage of a man get away with this. You better be ready to yell at me when I come back.”

Your eyelids flutter, but he knows it’s not a sign of consciousness, it’s just involuntary due to the painkillers working their magic.

“Jae,” Sicheng, a co-officer the same age as you and Jaehyun, calls softly from the door, “I’m standing in for you. Get to the rat we caught.”

Jaehyun brushes one more errant strand of hair from your face, takes a deep breath, and rises to his full height. With shaking hands and rapid heartbeats, he pats his friend’s arm, turning to him for a second. Sicheng nods, returning the action, and offers a small smile.

Jaehyun stays silent as he heads over to the man unlucky enough to bear the wrath of Jung Jaehyun. Lethal when angry, unstoppable when provoked, and absolutely hell-bent on watching your back. He enters, slips into his feared persona, and begins the fun with, “Welcome to mad city.”

The lock clicks, cameras turned off, and remaining officers steer clear of the area.

Clawing your way back to the land of the living is downright awful. Your whole body is laden down with rocks, your lungs and heart fighting to revive you, and your insides are screaming as the last of the painkillers fade. You cry out as your try to wriggle your fingers, someone shushes you and runs a damp towel over your face and neck, and you obey. Sheer force opens your eyes, adjusting to the light, and you turn the best you can to whoever’s at your bedside.

“Jae.” He hums. “Are you hurt?” He shakes his head once. “Are you angry at me?” One more shake. “I’m sorry. I saw the guy aim at your unit and I just lunged at him.”

You didn’t have to see his face, but the intake of breath speaks volumes, and you can hear him take measured breaths. Without looking, he turns slightly and throws the towel to the small sink near the closets, and finally comes into view.

“Joining a covert op without backup.” He mutters.

“We are working the case together, Jung, did you think I was going to let you and your unit be scapegoats? And wash your mouth, you know I hate your cursing streak.”

He topples the stool when he stands.

“You promised.” You weakly remind him. “You promised you’d keep your cool at work when we got together.”

“I could have lost you!” He thunders. “I could have. I could be sending you off to the morgue now. I could have lost you, do you get that?!”

You raise your uninjured arm to beckon him back. Grasping it like a lifeline, he presses it to his face, focusing on counting your pulse. Pulling him in, you brush a kiss on his nose, nudging it with your own. You track the lack of holsters and his ID. Suspension without pay.

“How many weeks?” You ask.

“Two months.” He replies. “Supervised.”

“Deserved.” You admonish him. “At least you’re not dismissed from the service.” He scoffs.

“I’m not going home to my parents. Dad will gladly kick me back out and mom will smother me.” He side eyes you. “Don’t think they won’t find out.”

“They’d only do so if they know we’re a thing.”

“Mom knew the day you left your shoes in my place”

“Because you’re an idiot who forgot to set his alarm so I could flee.”

“Because I wanted to wake up next to you!”

“We said no mornings after!” You wince when you feel your stitches throb in your thigh. “Shit that hurts.” You look up at him, the stress and worry marring his face, and exhale loudly. “How can you revert to being the poster police officer after rampaging? The hell is that.”

“He fucking deserved it and more.”

“Mouth.”

“Make me.”

You scoff this time. He doesn’t look away. He never does. Not when he first asked you to dinner and you said hell no. Not when he chased away suitors and you told him to go to hell. Not when he stayed over that one night after too many drinks and you kicked him out the morning after swearing that it won’t happen again. Not when you woke up to him tracing “I love you’s” into your skin, turning to him, and he asked you to stay, stay the night, stay as long as you’d allow.

“I’m injured. Meet me halfway.” You bargain, already pulling him in, grasping him like a lifeline.

“Say it.” He pleads.

“I’m not sorry for saving your hot ass.”

“Not that.”

“I’m not sorry for protecting our inspector.”

“Not. That.”

“I love you,” you say softly, afraid to crush him further, “you know I do.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“And I got the bullet wounds to prove it.” His eyes harden and glisten at the same time. “Too soon?”

“Filed under illegal things to use for leverage.”

“You love me.”

Pressing kisses to your knuckles, down your arm, along your neck and jaw, and landing tenderly on your mouth should serve as confirmation. But he always has to have the last word.

“I love you and I love you, angel.”

Jaehyun might be a force to be reckoned with, but his love for you is something never to be tested and threatened, and he’d go great lengths to keep loving you.

Even to hell and back.

#aws works #aws ©️ 2022 #jaehyun fics #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #is flangst a thing #bc fluff and angst #nct fics #nct imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x reader fics #tw blood #tw guns #tw violence #tw possible anger issues #tw swearing #tw language #WOW LOTS OF TWS HUH #tw midly suggestive

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