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xofanfics · 29 days

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Lost For Words - Part V

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Genre: angst, fluff, smut 🥺🤗🥵

Pairing: Reader x Kun // Reader x Taeyong

Word Count: 5.7K

You were awake but didn’t open your eyes. You’d left the curtains open, you realized. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, bracing yourself for the light. Your eyes snapped open as you were met with the image of a naked Taeyong fast asleep in your bed. If you weren’t awake before, you were certainly wide awake now.

You looked around the room in horror as you recalled the events of the previous night. You replayed the night in your mind, as if it were a film, and how you took your clothes off and how Taeyong ended up between your legs and inside you. And you had the audacity to throb at the thought of him, a wave of guilt washing over you.

The vibration coming from the nightstand startled you, bringing you back to your harsh reality. Your hands felt a little shaky as you reached for your phone. Without even having to look, you knew it was Kun. Your heart pounded in your chest as you answered the call, your voice trembling slightly.

"Hey, babe," Kun's voice greeted you, laced with concern. "I didn't hear back from you last night, so I wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?"

You took a deep breath, your mind racing. You were anything but okay. You were confused, in a daze, and filled to the brim with guilt and remorse. The thought of confessing the truth and his disappointment sent a fresh wave of guilt to crash over you.

"I'm just a little hungover," you said, a half truth. "I think I might take a painkiller and go back to sleep for a little while.”

"Oh, okay," Kun replied, his voice laced with understanding. He chuckled. "I told you to make sure you drank some water to avoid a hangover! Anyway, just call me when you wake up, alright? I can bring you something to eat later."

"Okay, I will.”

Your heart was heavy with the weight of your lies as you hung up the phone. Taeyong stirred beside you, rolling onto his side. He was awake now and you weren’t sure how much of the conversation he’d heard.

“Good morning,” he said, so casually, as if this was all normal to him. He leaned on his elbow, propping himself up to smile at you.

“Uh, good morning,” you said, with a weak attempt at a smile. You were becoming hyper aware of the fact that you were naked, pulling the sheets over your bare breasts. “We need to talk about last night…”

“Okay,” he said, sitting up in the bed, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What about last night?”

You took a deep breath, not quite sure what you were going to say. “Last night shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake.”

Taeyong’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I have a boyfriend, Taeyong,” you said, not sure why you had to explain. “We shouldn’t have had sex.”

“You have a boyfriend, sure,” he said, “but you made your choice. We’re both adults.”

His words stung, a sharp reminder of the mess you had created. You hadn't intended to hurt Kun, but your actions had spoken louder than words.

"I know," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "I just... I don't know what I was thinking."

Taeyong sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. "I know, Y/N," he said, his voice soft and laced with understanding. He tilted your head toward his, looking you in your eyes. "But we can't go back now."

His words hung in the air, a reminder of the reality before you. You had crossed a line and there was no turning back. You hesitated, your mind torn between regret and desire. Taeyong leaned in closer, his lips not quite touching yours. You could feel his breath warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Do you really think kissing me that day was a mistake?" he asked, his voice laced with longing. "I made love to you last night, Y/N…You’re telling me that was a mistake? You regret that?"

You stared into his eyes, your own filled with a rather strong cocktail of confusion, regret, and desire. You felt torn between the guilt of your actions and the connection you shared with Taeyong. Words didn’t come.

He wasn’t wrong. Last night, you made a choice - a choice that you would have to live with and figure out how to navigate. And choices had their consequences.

You leaned into his touch and it wasn’t long before his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. You responded, your lips melting against his, your bodies pressing together, silently accepting the onward battle. The weight of your guilt and regret slowly melted away, replaced by these new feelings for Taeyong. In that moment, you were lost in Taeyong’s intoxicating embrace as you found yourself on top of him again, sinking onto his already-hard length.

Taeyong stepped out of your apartment building, the warm afternoon air washing over his face. He could still smell the lingering scent of your perfume on the collar of his shirt, along with the memory of your touch. With each step, he felt his heart ache in his chest. His emotions were all over the place and, after sleeping with you twice, they’d intensified.

You made a choice and he had, too. The two of you made those choices together. He had no regrets. He replayed the events of the last night and this morning in his mind; your sweet moans and your tender touch, your whispers in his ear and his seed dripping from inside you.

A wave of longing washed over him. He craved your presence, your laughter, your touch, not just your body. He wanted more; he wanted to see you whenever he wanted, he wanted to touch you. He wished he could be the one you came home to, the one who you shared your hopes and dreams with and the one who wrapped his arms around you whenever you were upset.

The connection he had with you was so intense, unlike anything he had ever felt before. But Taeyong couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. He knew that your relationship was complicated and he was entangled with you, in a web of lies and hidden desires. The thought of sharing you with another man was a bitter pill to swallow, a jealousy that gnawed at his insides. But he had to keep his composure if he didn’t want to lose you, too.

After all, you weren’t his to have in the first place.

As the hot water rippled down your body, you closed your eyes, trying to wash away the guilt that clung to you like a second skin. The memory of your actions with Taeyong haunted you, each droplet of water a constant reminder of the sins you had committed. You scrubbed your skin hard, as if you could erase the memory of Taeyong's touch. You longed for the cleansing power of water to somehow make you pure again, to wash away the stain of infidelity that marked your conscience.

The weight of guilt remained following a shower. Wrapped tightly in your towel, you moved through your apartment with a sense of urgency, cleaning and airing it out, trying to erase any and every trace of Taeyong's presence. You changed your sheets, replacing them with fresh, clean ones, hoping to remove the lingering scent of his cologne. You sprayed air freshener and opened the window, hoping to remove the smell of sex in the air. Every movement, every action, was fueled by a desperate need to erase the evidence of your wild night.

You took the Plan B that Taeyong went to get for you, chugging the pill down with water, as if that could undo things, as if it was a chance at redemption. The very last thing you needed was to end up pregnant and have no idea if the baby was Kun’s or Taeyong’s. You threw the empty box in the trash and took out the garbage, getting rid of the evidence.

Not long after, the doorbell rang. You opened the door, revealing the man you’d betrayed with a container of soup. He kissed you on your lips on his way inside. “Hey babe. I thought about making you that Chinese soup you like but I was feeling a little lazy so I just bought you some chicken soup.”

You nodded with a weak smile. “Thank you…Were you up late working?”

“Yeah,” he said, placing the bag on the counter. He started sifting through the bags so that you could eat. “I went to sleep around two. What time did you get back?”

“Maybe around 12:30,” you answered, “I fell asleep earlier than I thought. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back.”

He shook his head. “No need to apologize. I know you were fine. Do you want to eat now?”

You nodded. Your energy levels were really low and, Kun being here when you were grinding on Taeyong’s dick a couple of hours ago, didn’t help the situation. As you ate, Kun carried the conversation. He talked about the housewarming last night and how nice Taeyong was and that he could see us getting along. He talked about how work went and how his juniors were slacking. You were only half there, hearing him and trying your best to look engaged.

"Is there anything else on your mind?" he asked gently, his hand reaching out to touch yours reassuringly.

Caught off guard by his question, you hesitated. Of course there was something else on your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about Taeyong or what the two of you did. Of course, you couldn’t tell him any of it. "No, it's just the hangover," you repeated, as if trying to convince yourself of your own lie. “I think the food will help.”

Kun nodded slowly, seemingly accepting your explanation. “Wanna watch a movie? Sounds like the perfect lazy Sunday before we have to go to work tomorrow..”

Work. That was the last place that you wanted to be. You’d have to confront reality somehow and face Taeyong in real life and real-time. Would things be awkward? Would Taeyong treat you differently? You didn’t take him for a man that would put you or his job at risk, but you weren’t sure how this would go. You’d opened up a door that couldn’t be shut so easily.

It was your fault, truth be told. You weren’t perfect but, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to say that being with Taeyong was a mistake. You didn’t have any regrets when it came to him. You just regretted how it all came to be. You wished that this had happened at a time when you were single. Then, things would be okay, and these decisions didn’t have to weigh so heavily on your mind.

“Yeah,” you replied, taking away the empty containers. “Do you wanna pick this time?”

So, you tried to get back into normalcy by watching a movie with the man you were supposed to be in a relationship with.

The next day at work, you found yourself glancing over at Taeyong every so often, a knot of guilt tightening in your stomach with each glance. His presence was a constant reminder of the sins you had committed, a secret that weighed heavily on your conscience.

Taeyong, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by the tension between you. He continued to greet you with his usual warm smile and engaging conversation, even going so far as to brush against your hands in passing moments. You tried to avoid his touch, to maintain a professional distance, but his subtle touches made you question whether or not you were overthinking.

The workday dragged on, each minute dragging on as you sat with your conflicting emotions. You longed for the day to end, to escape your team, along with the weight of your guilt.

Finally, the clock struck five, signaling the end of your workday. As you gathered your belongings and headed out of the office, you picked up your phone to see a text from Taeyong.

Taeyong [5:01PM] : Can you meet me at Hidden Moon Bar?

He sent a link and it was a five minute walk from the office. You texted back, agreeing. Unfortunately, you couldn’t quite ignore Taeyong or pretend that what happened didn’t happen.

You said your goodbyes and left first. As you walked, you wondered how the conversation would go. All you knew was that this couldn’t continue. You had cheated on Kun, yes, but it would be better to stop now before things got out of control. You just needed to stand your ground and not get tempted to go back on what you wanted to say.

You sat down at the bar, deciding that you definitely needed a drink to have this conversation. A moment later, you had a glass of Pinot Noir in your hand. After a few gulps, you felt much better about things.

“Hey Y/N,” said a familiar voice from behind you. So casually, Taeyong took a seat on the barstool next to you. It wasn’t crowded, thankfully, as the happy hour crowds hadn’t made it just yet. “What are you drinking?”

"Hey," you said, your voice laced with a hint of nervousness. “I got Pinot Noir.”

Taeyong called over the bartender to say, “Can I have a glass of Pinot Noir, too?” He took out his wallet, pulling out his credit card. “You can put mine and hers on this card. Thanks!”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

He said, “No problem. Well, anyway, we should talk about what happened, right?”

“Yeah, um, what we're doing, what we did…it's not right. We shouldn't be doing this, Taeyong. We're coworkers, and it's too complicated. I think you should date other people, seriously."

He looked at you, without saying a word. He didn’t say anything for a long time, to the point where you began to feel a little awkward. He sighed and took a sip of the wine the bartender had just placed in front of him. He took a long swig and put the glass down before turning back to you. "Y/N, dating other people isn't going to change how I feel about you. I can't just turn off these emotions. Trust me, I've tried, but it's not that easy."

You sighed, realizing the depth of the situation. "Taeyong, you deserve someone who can really be with you. Someone you don’t have to sneak around with. It's not fair to you."

He leaned back in the chair, studying your face. "You think I want just anyone? I want you, Y/N. And I understand it's complicated…”

You shook your head, feeling the weight of responsibility. "It's not just about us; it's about my boyfriend, our jobs, everything. I can't just throw it all away."

"I get it, Y/N. I do. But I can't deny what I feel. I can't just pretend that we didn’t kiss, that we didn’t have sex, that we’re just nothing.”

You said, "Taeyong, I care about you, but we can't keep going down this path. It's only going to get more complicated."

He leaned a little closer. "What if I don't want to date other people? What if I just want to be with you, even if it's complicated?"

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. "Taeyong, we can’t…"

He sighed, a mixture of frustration and sadness in his expression. "I can't promise that my feelings will just disappear. But if you think it's the right thing to do and that this is what you want, I'll respect your decision."

The office clock ticked down to 5:00 PM, signaling the end of yet another busy week. As people began gathering their belongings and preparing to leave, Kevin turned to the group with a grin. "Hey, is anyone up for dinner tonight?" he asked, shutting his laptop. “I have no plans. Someone please say yes.”

A few heads nodded in agreement, while others declined, letting him know that they already had plans. Attention was on Taeyong now, as he hadn’t responded.

"I can’t. I have a date tonight," Taeyong announced, in a light, casual tone.

While your coworkers laughed and teased, a pang of jealousy coursed through your body. A date? Already?

Hina, turning off her monitor, stood up from her chair. "Is this the first date?"

Taeyong nodded, his smile widening. "Yeah," he answered. "Seolyun gave me a suggestion for a steakhouse so I’m going to take her there. Supposed to be pretty good."

You recalled your recent conversation with Taeyong last week, where you had encouraged him to see other people. That meant that dates were a thing. You felt jealousy and regret, realizing you weren't as prepared for Taeyong to move on as you thought. The suggestion to date others had been a bit easier in theory than in practice. You did your best to hide your emotions, forcing a smile as you joined the others in wishing him a good time.

Kevin, always eager to add to the conversation, chimed in, "So, how did you meet her?"

"Online dating app," Taeyong replied casually. "We were texting for a while and I asked if she had any plans, so I figured why not take her out tonight?"

Seolyun, your curious coworker, couldn't resist the urge to pry. "Can we see a picture?" she asked, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

Taeyong chuckled, "I'll show you if we end up dating," he teased. “I don’t wanna jinx it.”

The thought of Taeyong moving on and potentially having a new girlfriend stirred a mix of emotions within you. While you genuinely wished him the best, you couldn't deny the lingering feelings you still had for him.

As you gathered your things and prepared to leave the office, a wave of uncertainty washed over you. What was going to happen now?

Taeyong found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror, conflicted emotions playing on his face. Tonight was the night of the date he agreed to. He’d be a liar if he said that he wasn’t nervous about it. He adjusted his collar, wondering if he was making the right decision. By going on a date, he was respecting your boundaries, right?

The girl he was about to meet was pretty and she seemed genuinely nice. He didn’t know much about her yet, but he thought that maybe this could work out in his favor. But as he buttoned up his shirt, a nagging thought tugged at the edges of his mind – she wasn't you. And she never would be.

The conversation he had with you had been playing in his mind all week, like a broken record. Taeyong sighed, trying to come to terms with what you’d said. If you wanted him to see other people, he reasoned, it meant you didn't want him. He had to at least try to move on, to forget about the feelings he had for you. Yet, the mere thought of being with someone else made his heart ache.

Glancing at the clock, he realized it was time to leave. He locked eyes with his reflection, trying to give himself a pep talk. It’ll be fun, he thought, trying to reason with himself, an internal battle plaguing his heart. Just one date, he told himself. She seems to be a nice girl. Maybe we’ll hit it off.

There are more girls out there other than Y/N, Taeyong.

All of these thoughts crossed his mind but he wasn’t sure of himself. Maybe this date would be a step towards closure, a way to untangle himself from the feelings he had for you.

As he stepped out into the night, Taeyong couldn't shake the lingering doubt. Deep down, he couldn't escape the haunting question – was he truly ready to move on, or was this just a futile attempt to fill the void left by someone he couldn’t have?

The week had been long, filled with deadlines and endless meetings, so when Kevin suggested grabbing dinner and drinks to unwind, you decided to get on board. Spending time with friends seemed like a much better option than sulking at home and being trapped in wonderings about Taeyong and this mystery woman.

As you all settled into a cozy corner booth, the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation surrounded you. The menu was passed around, each person expressing their preferences and sharing recommendations.

Seolyun scanned the cocktail menu with enthusiasm. "I heard their mojitos are really good. Anyone up for one?”

Hina, sitting beside you, offered a thoughtful smile. "I'm game. Mojitos it is."

“Speaking of mojitos, me and my cousins are planning a trip to Cuba!”

Despite the lively conversation about mojitos and travel, your thoughts drifted to Taeyong yet again. Who was this girl? What did she look like? What was her personality like? Most importantly, would Taeyong like her? Would he like her so much that he ends up in a relationship with her?

Every few minutes, you found yourself reaching for your phone to look at Taeyong’s Instagram profile. You'd refresh the page, hoping to catch a glimpse into his date, hoping to see a photo, a story, anything that would tell you where he was or what he was doing.

“Any travel plans coming up for the summer, Y/N?” asked Kevin, as he put a few pieces of pork belly onto your plate. Now, you were being forced into the conversation. And rightfully so.

“Nah, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere but I’m not going to lie, a beach trip would be amazing. Me and Hina were talking about maybe doing a weekend trip.”

“I haven’t been in years,” said Hina.

“It’ll be nice to get some seafood,” you added.

“Speaking of seafood,” chimed in Seolyun, “should we order squid to grill?”

As the night went on, you were almost filled to the brim with anxiety. No matter how good the food was or how strong your drink was, you could only think of Taeyong. The thought of him enjoying an evening out with a nameless, faceless woman filled your heart with frustration and envy.

Every notification, every vibration, every sound made your heart drop. Everytime you got a notification, you hoped that it was him and you hoped that he was thinking about you as much as you were about him. But it never was, and that hurt more than you thought it would.

As you were on the subway heading home, you realized that you basically only knew Taeyong as a friend. You hardly knew him as a lover, but you wanted to. Was he patient? Was he the type of man to give you random gifts, just because? Would he plan dates without you having to ask? Was he willing to work things out if you had a fight? You wondered what kind of man he’d be like, if you were dating.

A shower wasn’t much help either. Those thoughts didn’t disappear but they shifted to the memories of him being here with you. You thought of how hard he kissed you, how he grabbed your hands and held them down as he thrusted into you in missionary, and how deep inside you he was. It was almost as if Taeyong figured out your body and how to please you in just a night. You throbbed at the thought.

You knew you had no right to feel this upset about it. You had Kun, your loving boyfriend who was on his way right now with a bottle of the Pinot Noir that you loved. And here you were thinking about a man that you couldn’t have.

You’d invited him over before you got in the shower because you felt alone. You wanted what you couldn’t have, so you went with the next best option. It wasn’t that you didn’t love or care about Kun; you did. But Taeyong had shown you excitement that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Kun felt…safe. Taeyong felt dangerous. There was something about the thrill of it all that turned you on a little bit.

As you got out of the shower and wrapped your towel around you, you found yourself picking up your phone again. You clicked on the Instagram app for what was probably the hundredth time tonight and found that Taeyong had finally posted something — a story. You pressed your finger on Taeyong’s icon and found the photo that you’d been waiting for all night long. You held your finger down because ten seconds to view it wouldn’t be enough for you. Taeyong had taken a picture of a perfectly cooked steak, medium rare and glistening just how he liked it. The steak looked amazing, but what really caught your eye was the small bouquet of flowers across the table and the perfectly manicured hand you could see holding a steak knife in the top right corner. And to top it off, he put 5 star emojis with the location of the restaurant tagged.

You felt your eyes become hot with what you could only assume to be tears. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony, a cruel joke. Were you really upset with him when you were the one who told him to see other people? You couldn’t possibly keep up an affair with him. It was wrong and you both deserved better than to drag each other around on strings and making promises you couldn’t keep. You’d uttered those words at the time but you weren’t sure that you actually meant them. And here you were — jealous.

You heard the front door open and close, signaling your boyfriend’s arrival. Before you went out there, you needed to pull yourself together. You took a deep breath. Suddenly, you wished that you hadn’t asked for him to come over. But maybe it made sense now. Instead of being left alone with your thoughts, having company seemed like the better option.

“Babe?” he called from the kitchen.

You wiped your tears with your towel before you went out to greet him. “Hey, babe.”

Of course, he greeted you with a smile that made you feel guilty. As you got closer, he said, “You okay, Y/N? You look like you’ve been crying…”

You said, “I think it’s just my allergies.” A lie, but believable.

As you wiped away what was left of your tears, he said, “Do you need some medicine? I can go get some if you need…”

You shook your head. “I’m okay,” you said, forcing a smile. “I’d love some of that wine though.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, planting a kiss on your lips.

“Yeah,” you said in a low, husky voice. You kissed him back, harder this time. Kun was surprised at your forwardness and pulled you closer to him. You could feel him getting hard and, sneakily, he made your towel fall to the floor.

“I’ll pour some wine,” you said, pulling away from his embrace, and showing off your body. You could see him biting his lips as you reached into the cabinet for your wine glasses. His eyes never left you, even when he was across the room on the couch.

A moment later, you were walking toward him, wine glasses in hand to place on the side table. Then you disappeared into your bedroom and changed into the lingerie set he liked. Little did he know, he followed you and watched you as you changed.

“You look good,” he said, coming up behind you. “Are you horny, babe?”

You turned around to face him, nodding. You were met with your wine glass. You took it from him and took a long swig of the red wine. A little bit dripped down your chin as you pulled the glass away and Kun was quick to wipe it away with his thumb, slowly.

You took another sip and you watched him over the top of your glass. After you put the glass on top of your dresser, Kun pulled you close to him, pressing your body against his. You said, “So are you going to do something about it?”

You bit your lip. “Maybe…” Reaching down for his pants, you pulled them down. He was left in his boxers, his hardness poking through to give you a nice view. You heard a small groan come from his lips as you pulled those off, too, freeing him from the constraints. You ran your fingers back and forth across the head of his penis, teasing him, and watched it jump each time. You got down on your knees and took him in your mouth. You sucked his dick, nice and slow, at first. Then, you picked up the speed, drawing louder moans from your boyfriend. He put his hand on your shoulder and you knew that if you kept going he’d cum before you could get him inside you.

You pushed him back onto the bed, to his surprise, and climbed on top of him. “Take this off,” you said, referring to his shirt. You quickly helped him with the buttons and tossed the shirt to the side. He sat up and latched onto your nipple; he had easy access thanks to the lingerie, which had a small hole designated for them. He licked and nibbled on them. You screwed your eyes shut in pleasure, letting out small moans. Then, he reached down to your slit, running his fingers across it. You could tell that you were wet, partially because of the stimulation and partially because you thought of what it felt like when Taeyong touched you.

He said, “Are you ready?”

You nodded. “Fuck me, Kun.”

With that, he flipped you over onto your back. He slipped in easily and started thrusting into you right away. Your walls gripped at him tightly, making him groan. With each stroke, you could hear how wet your pussy was from that wet, squishy sound. Hearing it must’ve made him excited because he was suddenly fucking you harder, faster; it was hard to catch your breath with the feeling of your body being pounded into the mattress.

He buried his neck into yours as he thrusted in and out of him. From the way his breathing got heavier and heavier, you could tell he was close. The thought got you so excited.

“Ride it, babe,” he said, pulling out.

No words were exchanged. You just sunk down onto him with a squish. He groaned in response and let you take control. You started grinding on his dick, back and forth. Your wetness began soaking his pelvis and his lips parted in pleasure.

“That’s my good girl,” he said. “There you go.”

Hearing his voice made you throb even harder. You started going faster. It wouldn’t be long until you rode yourself into an orgasm. It wasn’t often that you found yourself having vaginal orgasms but today was the day. You could almost taste that delicious feeling building up inside you.

In the moment of your orgasm, you got lost in the movement of your hips. You allowed yourself to forget. You forgot about the guilt and the lies. You lost yourself in the feeling of Kun’s fingers digging into your hips instead.

But even as you came, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder, in the back of your mind, where Taeyong was, who he was with, and if he was thinking of you, even just a little.

But this was safe. Being here with Kun was safe.

Taeyong tossed and turned in bed that night, not able to get much quality sleep. He’d dozed off here and there, but it’d been nothing substantial. You crept into his dreams again and things were perfect. It was as if he was living in an alternate universe, one where you were single and being right or wrong didn’t matter. In the dream, you were his and he was yours. He could almost smell the scent of your perfume, almost feel your lips on his. It was a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

Despite the content of his dreams, he had a good time on the date. Her name was Hyewol. He started the night off in the same way he would’ve wanted to with you, if he had the opportunity. He met up with her, greeting her with a small bouquet of roses. Then they walked to the restaurant together and got to know one another on the way to the restaurant. They told each other the basics: where they were from and where they worked, what schools they went to and what countries they visited, and their favorite things. Then, they enjoyed steak and wine for dinner.

He let her know that he’d like to take her on another date and, luckily for him, she was all for it. Part of him believed that maybe he could date her, that he could move on. But the truth was that she wasn’t you. So far, she was a person he could see himself with, but that wasn’t enough. Their chemistry wasn’t as strong. He could tell just by the way that he was in no hurry to kiss her.

He’d spent the past week on dating apps, hoping that the void he felt in his heart would be filled. He’d swiped through profiles, messaged other women, and he even went on a date tonight. The problem remained and it was that you couldn’t be replaced.

It was a bit dramatic, he supposed, but he felt as though he couldn’t just be friends with you. The two of you had crossed a line and it was too late to turn back now. The damage had already been done, hadn’t it? What if he just pushed forward anyway? No, he thought. He had to respect your boundaries. He couldn’t just tell you no. So he needed to figure out if you were serious about him moving on. But for now, he’d give it some time first. Maybe you’d change your mind and come to him instead.

General Taglist: @to-all-the-stories-i-love @sweetnspicy-noona

Lost for Words Taglist: @ridinjuyeon @soonyoonswoo

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soupydumplingss · 10 months

Text

Sweet Venom.

Warnings: Female!Reader x Any NCT member (according to your imagination), angst!au, non-idol!au, reader is an alcoholic, unhealthy marriage, the male is cheating on her, the member is mentally unstable asf, reader is mentally unstable af in a way too, profanities (not much tho ig?...), reader cries in the end.

Note: Italics in "double inverted commas": ongoing conversation

Italics: reader is thinking

Normal letters: narration

The reader first starts the conversation and the member and reader speak simultaneously.

Prompt: "I can finally be me now. There's no serpent wrapped around my neck choking me. I'm free then."

Walking down the streets of Berlin, it's approximately 8:30 p.m. The bustling streets of the city are still full of life. A heavy backpack slung on one side of your shoulder, the first two buttons of your shirt unbuttoned with your tie hanging loose. Stumbling in your path, drunk, you just want to go home. As you fumble for the keys to your door, you suddenly drop something from your bag. A keychain. Specifically a keychain with initials on it. You kick it away somewhere.

After unlocking the door, you enter your house and lock the door. You kick your shoes somewhere and head to your room. Upon entering your room, a strange hit of nostalgia hits. A cabinet full of trophies, a heavy bunch of medals and certificates adorning the wall. Oh, what a kid I was, you thought. Now look at you, a working machine that runs 24/7 with little to no rest. You look at old pictures of yourself on the cabinet, smiling with your teeth on display. At least it's not fake.

Your younger self would've been proudly looking at you as the rich and successful woman she envisioned you as. But the current you isn't proud at all. Sitting in front of your computer on the topmost floor of your company, always working with a bunch of papers blocking your face, a failed marriage, all the youth evaporated from your face. You've forgotten about yourself, forgotten what happiness is, forgotten priorities. Did you forget your dear husband can still come into the house and see you in your heavily drunken state? Aren't you ashamed of picking another bottle of Hennessy from the cupboard in your kitchen and drinking straight from it?

"Why are you in my house again? To take the remaining of your stuff? If yes, then please be fast and get out."

"Just sign the papers and be out of my sight."

"So much for the man who himself was sleeping with another woman. And for the record, this is my house."

"You never gave time to us. She was there when I needed someone to stay by me, not you."

"So that's a good reason to break the vows you made in church? Remember who works harder."

"And that "who" forgets us. You've changed a lot. I love you very much, but she was just there."

"I think this proves that you were always unfaithful and ungrateful."

"You're moving from the fucking point."

"People who cannot express themselves properly stick to the usage of such crude words." You gulp the alcohol from the bottle.

"Still the woman who spits sweet venom even after being drunk. When will you stop this habit of returning home drunk?"

"It's my money. I can spend it as I want to."

"Baby, I left her. I want us to work out as we used to. I'll move back my stuff in."

Lies. That little stain of lipstick on your collar, a few long strands of the brunette's hair, her favorite perfume lingering on you, your puffy lips with a hint of pink on them, your hair ruffled. How much more lies will you feed me? You reek the smell of sex.

I don't think this will work out. I don't think we will work out."

Tears drop from the eyes of the man in front of you. He falls to his knees and hugs your legs while sobbing hard. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I won't do it again. I love you very much, honey."

You feel disgusted. Same old empty words, all lies. What's the point of this man using his words when it's all fake? I can literally see her in your car outside.

"I'll sign the papers just as you said. Be out of my sight."

You pulled your legs from his grip. As you take the pen from your pocket, you sign the papers and throw them on his face.

"As I said, be out of my range of sight with the remaining of your stuff."

You took off the beautiful diamond ring adorning your hand and threw it on his face. Drinking does help with unsolicited feelings.

He picked up his stuff and the ring while exiting the house. Finally.

A feeling of odd peace hits you. You feel empty. Were we ever meant for each other? Was it worth it? At least we both spared each others' remaining happiness, you thought. You went inside your room. Opening the door of your large bathroom, you fill the bathtub and hop in with your clothes on and the bottle of alcohol in your hand. You let the tap run. You're wet head to toe now. You think about the fight earlier. ""Still the woman who spits sweet venom after being drunk?" You were my sweet venom, the one who seemed as sweet as sugar but turned out to be a serpent." A fresh stream of tears leave your eyes, dripping down your face as you keep chugging the alcohol down your throat.

"I can finally be me now. There's no serpent wrapped around my neck choking me. I'm free then."

Author: help pls im a new writer 😭 i literally wrote this in 2 hours. forgive me if there is any error in the spellings. this story does seem very unclear without any context but somehow, it feels so right like this. I appreciate any support.

The above gif doesn't belong to me. Only the story and writings belong to me. Please do not copy my writings.

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breadcatcreations · 2 years

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Jeno is one of the softest boyfriends EVER! Like when it come to you he would o anything. But he also is going to fuck you into oblivion. Ughhh, Jeno loves you so much. Like he’ll be gentle but not at the same time. Like he’s choke your Intel your gasping for air, fucking you like he’s a dog in heat, spank you, mark you, and like edge you. But also while he’s fucking you, kissing you softly, holding your body close to his, asking if your okay, and ✨praising✨. This man is bound to have the best after care, I swear on my fucking life. He’ll press soft kisses to your face, cuddle you with his dick still in you, whispers little nothings in you ear, and either run a bath or just clean you up with a warm towel. Ughhh I need a sex life 😭😭

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woozten-x · 2 years

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#. 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲 | 𝐊𝐮𝐧

‹𝟹 gif originally posted by dreadwollf

[ ; M.List including other Neos! ]

─ Synopsis: Few days were spent with the rain continuously pouring, but it seems like your producer boyfriend is carried away with his work to find time to relax. After making dinner and packing it for him, you are visiting his studio to hopefully see him.

However, amidst the stress your boyfriend had, thunder had struck with Qian Kun.

─ Pairing: Music Producer!Qian Kun x Gender Neutral Reader (use of They/Them)

─ Genre: One-Shot, Angst with a happy ending ik angst with a happy song bruh, (Some) Humorous moments with Ten and Dejun

─ Disclaimer: THIS IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL! I am not someone who speaks on behalf of Kun’s actual emotions. This is simply my own muse and there is no personal relation with Kun or any of the members mentioned

─ Concepts: established relationship of years, an argument occurs cuz it happens </3, stressed producer!Kun, Ten and Dejun appearing to cheer him up and lighten the mood, Ten mentions about babies/kids but the reader is not exactly assigned/assumed of any gender to carry any, rain...wow rain (the weather not the soloist)

─ Count of Words: 3.8k

─ Inspiration of the work: Rain Day - NCT U (Produced by Kun)

❒ a/n: another story that was supposed to be written and posted for Kun’s release of Rain Day! Which he personally produced himself and im so proud of him for it :(( i had writer’s block on how this story was going to start and end... but it worked out!! wooo!! i hope you all enjoy! i am missing wayv tho and i’ve obviously used this fic as an excuse to write the other members too <3<3

Sitting at his desk with the speakers booming of the music he was currently producing, he nods his head along the melody. Captivated by his own work of music, he was lost in the midst of it all; every aspect of the song caused him to smile only little, seemingly to be satisfied if anyone was to ever walk in his studio and see his current expression. However, the thoughts of harsh criticism struck a chord within him - something did not feel right. Though there was a sense of pride with his personal craft, he felt the need to fix a certain part.

Tilting his head quizzically, the hands tapping along the tempo of the song came to a pause and he reached out to type on the keyboard of his laptop. Leaning forward and repeating the same part of the song, he lets out a loud sigh; was it exhaustion? Annoyance? It was far from positive to say the least, but it wasn’t exactly distinguished. Maybe he is exhausted for the night yet the perfectionism keeps him up at night, eyes straining from the long staring on the screen and his legs slightly cramping from the long hours of sitting.

Sometimes, being a musician comes with a price - the price of neglecting one’s self for the sake of production. For this situation, it was a price being paid for one song. However, for Qian Kun, he adapted to this unhealthy lifestyle; whether he likes it or not, he knew the responsibilities of being an idol is a huge sacrifice. No matter how long he sits with cramping limbs or his stomach begging for an actual meal to fill itself, Kun is always reaching for the highest standard when it comes to music.

He is passionate and hardworking. A man who is grounded to continue working for long hours or even days in the same room - does it ever take a toll on him? No one exactly knows, not even the members of his group even know; regardless, they are busy with their own schedules to always look after Kun.

Kun, the genius and leader of a group, doesn’t need someone to take care of him anyway. As a person, who grew up as an only child, it was plain obvious where his own independence stemmed from; he is an individual not needing someone to care for him - undoubtedly, he is one to not know the difference between need and want. Supposedly, the same habit had grown once he became an idol. Of course, these circumstances are not one to always pull him back from reaching his dreams and pursuing something he loves.

Although he is one with unwavering patience and a strong individual carrying every weighted burden without a complaint, he is the same person with a blue flame of passion resonating in his heart.

Yet there are many times where the strongest fire is easily blown away by the sudden piles of stress.

Kun clenches his jaw, a louder sigh from before escaping him, the heavy exhale not letting his tensed body relax whatsoever. He props up an elbow onto the table, fingers in his hair and interlocking with the stray strands; he tugs on it slightly, muttering criticism to himself as though he is the biggest enemy in this very room. Regardless of how alone he was in this room, he is always living with a certain someone willing to bring him down. At times, this very room he loved had made him hate it also.

Surely, once anyone grows to love it, they grow to hate it also - it is simply how passion affects a person.

Unexpectedly a knock was heard on the door and Kun grimaced, wishing to let out a ‘get away’ at the person on the other side; he was in no mood to deal with anyone at this very moment. Despite his thoughts of wishing to turn the other person away, he croaks out a ‘come in’ with a cracking voice from the many times of him singing this song. He clears his throat, reaching out to the bottle of water sitting by the edge to relieve the dryness he achingly just noticed. The door opens and he turns in his seat to face someone he didn’t expect.

You.

You wore layers and comfortable sweats, the ends of the clothing darkened in color and there were several droplets lingering on the raincoat you wore. “Gosh, it’s pouring out there.” You comment, letting out a sigh of relief once entering the warm studio. Upon seeing your boyfriend, you smile - “Hey love, you are still working?” you gently spoke towards him, eyes observing the male seated stiffly in his chair. Kun lets his eyes trail towards the lunchbox you carried in one hand, and he sinks back in his seat.

To you, Kun is obviously exhausted. His eyes looked lost and empty, a dark tint underneath his eyes and he looked thinner than before. After knowing Kun for many years, even before becoming a trainee and debuting, his mannerisms always revealed his true feelings; but, it was a surprise to you to see Kun not forcing a smile towards you like he usually does. The shoulders of his are heavier than usual, as though every unspoken burden was carried upon them.

“What are you doing here?” he tiredly speaks out, concern instantly reflecting off your expression once hearing his tone. You never saw Kun this drained, you simply cannot recall a moment in the past of knowing - he was always one to act everything was perfectly fine, no matter how dire the situation was. Your boyfriend of years never let his negative emotions surface for anyone to see, he is always the type to do it behind closed doors. At times, you are unsure on how to approach Kun about these problems.

You were always dismissed whenever you confronted him, the occasional saying of ‘I’ll be fine. There is just a lot going on during my schedule.’ and you would never push it. You understood his work and how his mood would shift throughout his career, but you worry - you worry so much, where you wished you could understand him better and have a share of the many burdens he carried. After all, it wasn’t you the only one in the relationship.

Sheepishly you smile, “You weren’t messaging or picking up. I wanted to check up on you…Oh! I made dinner and it’s still warm since I heated it up before getting here.” You replied back with occupied hands to showcase the lunchbox. Your boyfriend held an unreadable expression, his eyes lost once more; seemingly to be distracted and possibly unsure on how to react, unusually so. You waited, however; you waited for his reply or any shift of his mood, hoping your own company is enough to bring solace.

“Is that all?” Kun finally answers back, dullness lacing his words and you suddenly felt intimidated by his hardened expression. Every emotion you noticed before had fallen away from his face, as though he was completely detaching himself with reality itself; was he seriously pushing you away to continue working? You uncomfortably nodded, “I guess? I saw Ten and Dejun on the way here…They told me about you being cooped up in here. I was thinking-”

“Thinking about what? To bother me? I have work to do that I can't set aside.” His harsh words interrupted you, irritation evident and cutting deep into the awkwardness you previously felt. Your grasp tightens around the lunchbox, feeling your own effort being disregarded; you huff, trying to keep your composure, trying to understand his emotions. “I am not here to distract you, Kun. I am your significant other, not a simple distraction for you to regret about.” You steadily say, trying your hardest not to let your voice tremble.

Kun scoffs, “Then why are you here? You are obviously distracting me even when you say otherwise. Why couldn’t you just wait at home, where I can spend time with you much easier?”

“Are you saying that I am only your significant other when you come home? You haven’t come home for two days! How the hell am I going to sit at home without a damn worry, especially when you aren’t picking up your phone?!”

“I can take care of myself, I don’t need you taking care of me!” Kun loudly speaks out in a stern tone, almost as though he was scolding you for caring. Although Kun is not one to raise his voice against you, this day seems more different than usual. Was it the downpour outside causing this to happen? A terrible omen cursing the fortune with the love of your life or were you truly wrong for coming on a short notice - despite it all, you walked up to him with tears welling up in your eyes.

Slamming the lunchbox onto the desk, “Then don’t come home, Kun. You come home once you realize that I am your significant other who will worry...Who will care for you. Do not tell me not to care or worry for you, when I love you so damn much.” You strongly claim, not wanting to escalate the argument any further. It was completely inappropriate, considering this was your boyfriend’s agency building, and you knew anyone could hear the two of you when walking by.

With tears shedding from your eyes, Kun instantly realizes how hurt you were; suddenly, the droplets of rain had escaped from your very eyes. The very same gaze that would stare back at him with love, adoration, acceptance…and devotion - you were always so devoted in loving him, no matter how busy he was; how could he leave you like this?

“Y/N-” he speaks out, but you were rushing out the door without sparing another glance or chance for him to apologize and fix it. Before his fingertips, you slipped away and walked out the studio with the door slamming behind you, the emptiness lingering on his fingers; he helplessly backs away, dropping down onto his chair with the same hand curling into a fist. “I am an idiot…” he mutters out, leaning back against his chair and throwing his head back in frustration.

He had no malice in the words he previously said nor did he have any intention in hurting you; though it was normal for the two of you to argue sometimes, he knew this issue is larger than previous fights. He completely discredited you for being his lover - his lover who’s been there since day one.

The lover who stayed by his side, whether he was miles away or even arms reach; you were the sun splitting between the dark clouds of a storm for him. Every time you accompany him, he is smiling and forgetting every responsibility he held before - why was this time different? He turned towards the unfinished song on his laptop, glaring at the screen.

Without a doubt, his passion for being a musician had made him at fault.

A knock was heard on the door once again and Kun sighs, picking up the lunchbox you left and he felt the guilt strike him with the coldness coming in contact with his hands. His dinner was now cold, the reminder of your presence long gone and the gift made him remember the argument the two of you had. The door opened and two of his close friends stood there with troubled expressions, “Is everything alright? We saw Y/N walk out crying…” Ten said, his tone tender as though was treading on a tightrope of glass.

The expression of you crying had made the strong impression of Kun break. Tears welled up in his eyes and he hung his head low, the lunchbox on his lap tightly held onto and the other two males approached him. Teardrops fell onto the lunchbox, remaining atop as clear crystals to reveal the misery he felt. The pair looked at one another with uncertainty and sympathy towards their older friend. Quietly, Kun lifts up his arm to cover his eyes and try to wipe away the downpour escaping him; embarrassed of his vulnerability in front of Ten and Dejun.

It continues to rain, however. It was raining heavily and every droplet would drown out their comforting words, anyway. However, there was only one difference with the weeping clouds above and Kun himself - his own droplets were warm. Unfortunately so, it wasn’t the warmth that Kun craved for at this very moment; he wanted you.

He wanted your warmth to split the dark clouds inside his head.

. . .

Glancing at his phone, Kun lets his hand hopelessly drop his phone once seeing you not text him once after last night. He sighs and behind him movement shifts, Dejun is moving on the couch settled inside the studio, he sits up and looks at the older male - “Aren’t you going to see them?” he asks, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. Even with the uncomfortable sleep on the couch, he couldn’t exactly complain when Kun had slept on the chair. It was a considerate gesture from Dejun, as he was afraid to leave Kun alone after his worst.

Even if Kun denied returning back to the dorm for the night, Dejun did not leave either. Unfortunately, Ten had some things to attend which left the youngest between them to look after their leader and close friend during the morning.

“They are mad at me.” Kun says weakly, his neck aching from the uncomfortable position he slept in. It seemed like crying had finally got him some night’s rest. Dejun raises a brow, “And? Everything calmed down, you should talk to them now.” he advises while picking up his phone. He begins to tap his fingers on the screen, Kun looking towards him - “What happens if I lash out again?” he sighs, leaning back against his seat while facing the younger. It was pathetic to speak to a younger individual about his love life.

But, Kun knew Dejun has always been open-minded when it comes to serious situations. Sometimes, he is easier to talk to and he is always trying to understand everyone. Kun grumbles, noticing how he was being more open with his own bandmate than his own significant other.

Dejun puts down his phone, “Then don’t. It’s going to be hard, but you already know what happens if you do…So, don’t.” he reasons while picking up the blanket and hugging himself to gather warmth. Somehow, the studio had grown colder. Kun cocks his head to the side, thinking to himself and pondering on what the younger said; he lets out another sigh, “Maybe…” he simply said while spinning in his chair to turn towards his laptop. Dejun watches the older intently, “Whenever you are ready, you should go back to them.”

Before Kun could reply, the door opens with Ten holding cups of coffee. Both Dejun and Kun whip their heads towards the second oldest of the group, the male raising a brow at Kun - “Why are you still here?” he lightly says, his tone obviously playful and a small jab towards Kun. Like always, Ten is acting the usual with Kun; which Kun was thankful for, knowing his own moments of breaking down previously is simply in the past. “Why are you here?” Kun jabs back, rolling his eyes a bit.

Ten smiles, letting out a small laugh and his eyes creases like crescent moons. “Here. Only Xiaojun pays me back~” he says while placing down the cup of coffee on Kun’s desk before handing Dejun’s green tea latte. “Huh? You said you would buy us coffee!” Dejun huffs, taking his drink despite Ten’s sudden change of target. Kun smiled while taking a sip of his own coffee, his eyes returning back to the laptop with a sense of longing; a nagging voice telling him to return to work, despite how cluttered his mind was.

Ten notices instantly, walking up and placing a hand onto the laptop to close it while lifting himself up onto the desk to sit. Kun furrows his brows, “Yah! What do you think you are doing?” he scolds the raven-head. Taken aback, Kun sees seriousness embedded in Ten’s expression, the playful smile he held long gone - “You have something else to worry about, not your song.” He said in a grave tone. Kun blinks back at him, Dejun loudly sipping behind them with his straw and Ten’s solemn expression disappears to be replaced with a grin - “We don’t want our Kun being heartbroken, after all~”

“It’s just some stupid argument…We aren’t breaking up,” Kun sighs and opens up his laptop again. Those very words contradict his thoughts, however - what happens when you grow tired of him? Are you seriously going to leave him after this? It was a possibility, but it was one that Kun is dwelling on like a leech attached to him. Ten rolls his eyes, knowing Kun long enough to see him doubting his own words - “Then who can I give the baby clothes to?” He said while taking a sip of his coffee.

“What are you talking about?” Kun scoff.

Ten tilts his head at Kun innocently, “I already bought baby clothes for you and Y/N when the time comes where the two of you have kids!”

“Y-You guys are going to have kids now?” Dejun suddenly speaks out, baffled and obviously not catching onto Ten’s teasing. Kun felt his face heat up from the thought - surely, he thought about having kids with you, but he wasn’t ready…Not yet, at least. “We are not! You know Ten long enough not to take him seriously,” Kun exclaims while pointing at Dejun almost accusingly for being oblivious. Ten laughs, “So you have thought about it!” he said like a nosy detective figuring out a mystery.

Kun groans, “Be quiet you…” he nearly curses, but instead he lifts up a hand to smack Ten’s thigh. He sighs, “In the future. That…That will happen.” he said with a soft smile appearing on his face when thinking about it. A future with you seems like paradise for him. Dejun takes note of the older male being in higher spirits than before, he lifts up a hand to give a thumbs up of approval to Ten; Ten grins, nodding his head in acknowledgement while sipping his coffee. The future of endless outcomes with you, he knows a happy ending is what he wants - for Kun, it was a dream he strives for.

Another dream he strives for.

“I need to go.” Kun said, getting up and taking his keys and phone. To Ten’s and Dejun’s surprise, they watch the older male rise and rush out the studio. Suddenly, Ten lifts up the umbrella - “Wait! It’s still pouring outside, the manager will scold you if you get sick without an umbrella!” he calls out to no avail, the other member was running down the hall and into the elevator to reach the bottom floor and leave the building. Even if he heard Ten’s voice, Kun had no time to waste.

Especially for you.

Running out the building and carefully yet hastily moving to his car, he gets in once he reaches it. The rain was light, the droplets above leaving dark marks on his attire; his hair slightly wet, but not enough to be dripping. The engine roars to life once he turns the key, instantly backing out and driving to your home. Though he is afraid of losing you and hurting you, he knows he will always return back to you no matter how hard it is. You are his home. You are the one who loves and understands him the most, and he was stupid enough to forget that.

You were something more than the music he creates.

Your voice is his melody.

Your touch is every beat of his favorite tempo.

You are his passion, the one where Kun can always return to with love and comfort.

Pulling into the driveway and parking, Kun leaves after turning off the engine and strides towards the door of your home. His steps suddenly feel heavy, however he continues on; like always, he strives forward no matter how suffocating the pessimism is. Knocking on the door and impatiently ringing the doorbell, he sighs and bounces on the soles of his feet, the sudden coldness making his skin crawl and his whole body shudder. However, that didn’t matter.

Everything was worth it, once you opened the door and revealed yourself. You stood with slight confusion upon seeing your boyfriend, then worry expressed from you once seeing how soaked he was - “Kun! You didn’t bring an umbrella?” you gasp, ready to pull him inside however he was faster. Stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you close and holds you tight - surprised, your arms awkwardly pressed against his chest while he holds you. Kun’s grasp was breathtakingly desperate, as though every emotion was poured into the action.

He was afraid you would turn him away if he didn’t show how much he needed you.

“I am sorry. I am sorry for what had happened and what I've said…I was such an idiot for not thinking about how you felt. I didn’t give it some thought to understand what you were trying to do for me, and I am so sorry.” he spoke quickly, the words falling from his lips as though he was falling apart in front of you. Regaining some sense into what is happening, you sigh and wrap your arms around him, fixing your awkward posture against him - “Kun…” you softly call out to him, your voice causing his own body to melt.

“It’s okay. I forgive you,” you gently speak out and those words seemed to have lifted the burdens he had upon his shoulders for so long. Kun’s shoulders began to tremble, a small cry escaping him and you worriedly clung onto him, not expecting for your boyfriend to break into tears. Though it showed how many hardships he was facing. Suddenly, he is willing to show how vulnerable and stressed he was after this whole time. You smile, “It’s okay Kun. You did so well these past days. I am always going to be here to support you, love.”

Pulling away, you see his expression relax - a relieved smile blossoming on his lips, as warm tears stream down his face. You reach up to wipe away the stray tears falling, gently caressing his skin before leaning forward - “Welcome home, Kun.” you quietly speak out to him, those words sacred enough for him to only hear. Kun instantly tilts his head to the side, capturing your lips with his own while lifting up a hand to place on your cheek. Deepening the kiss, you welcome him back into your arms.

Behind him, the clouds suddenly split with sunlight seeping through and the rainfall above continues on. Rays of the sun above are always guiding him back home, every drip of the rain representing the continuous love he always held for you.

After all, no rain would stop Kun from needing you.

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luvleley · 1 year

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[Chenji Playing Roblox]

Chenle: Shit SHIT THE PIGGY IS CHASING AFTER ME WHAT THE FUCK

Jisung: Thanks for being a distraction!!

Kun: *enters and tries handing chenle a drink* Do you want some milk?

Chenle: *gets killed by the piggy* THE BITCH KILLED ME!! *turns to Jisung* Don’t have parents kids…

#based on true events in my life #chenle #jisung #park jisung #zhong chenle #nct #nct dream #nct dream incorrect quotes #nct incorrect texts #nct angst #nct 127 #nct chenle #nct jisung #kun #qian kun #nct kun #wayv #wayv kun #chenji

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thesafecafe · 2 years

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Was It Worth it? Q.K.

Request: here

TW: Cheating, angst, Johnny is a homewrecker in this, angry husband, unfaithful spouse y/n (how dare she), black fem reader, she/her pronouns, Husband! Kun x reader x Jonny, 18+, minors dni, gif not mine, enjoy!

Disclaimer: This isn’t meant to represent the members of NCT/WayV or their behaviors in any way, nor do I believe they would do any of this/act in this way, this is merely fiction for entertainment purposes.

“Is she...cheating?”

There was no way. Kun wouldn’t allow himself to believe the thoughts that passes through his mind. It was a passing thought, but it sounded so ridiculous. There’s no way what just popped in his head was true. You were loyal to him and he was loyal to you. Kun had always been by your side, through thick and thin. It was in his nature to be as loving and as caring towards the woman he loved. He was always down for you, and the things you wanted to do. He was always right by your side, in everything. You loved each other, and made things work despite busy schedules and different career paths. You were the love of his life. You were the best thing he had. Sure, you had your differences sometimes, but you would never betray him like that. A ripped pair of underwear was certainly just a coincidence. You probably just ripped them by accident. That was the only reasonable explanation.

So why was he shaking as he thought about the possibility of it being the truth? A weight settled in his stomach, and he shook the thoughts away from his head. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that only started to spike as the days went on. Your lack of interest and ever present attitude were the first signs. You’d never been truly annoyed or cross with him before. He couldn’t even properly look at you without it starting an argument these day. You started staying out later, coming home at 4 in the morning. It was like you were a completely different person. He couldn’t shake the notion that his errant thought might be the truth, so, on one of the more peaceful days in your house, he decided to bring it up.

You were sitting at the table, eating dinner, your hired help having served the first course. Kun was wealthy enough to have hired help, not wanting you to lift a finger after coming home from work. Now, as his head butler, Johnny, was pouring more water into your cup, Kun spoke up. “Darling, do you remember that lingerie set I bought you for our fifth anniversary?” He kept his gaze on his plate. In the corner of his eye, he could see Johnny’s arm shake. That was odd. “Yes. I remember it. Why? I hope you’re not asking me to wear it after dinner, in front of the staff no less.” Your scathing remark made your husband’s blood boil, but he kept calm. He needed to find out if his suspicions were correct.

“I would never. But I was asking because I was wondering why I found them ripped in half in our bedroom. You haven’t gained much, if any, weight, and we haven’t done anything in so long, so I was wondering if you knew what happened to them.” He watched as your eyes widened in surprise, your grasp on your glass of water tightening. “I’m- I’m sure the maid, probably- maybe it was the dog-” Kun raised his eyebrows. You didn’t have a dog, and you realized that you’d made a mistake. But instead of correcting it, your anger got the best of you. “What the fuck were you looking under the bed for anyway?! And quit asking me these ridiculous questions.” Before Kun could react, Johnny stepped forward clearing his throat. “Our new maid was responsible for the laundry that day sir. She panicked, and threw them under your bed.” Kun’s eye twitched, irritation flooding his senses.

He hadn’t mentioned what day it was when he found the underwear, nor where the underwear had been. You had his staff members lying to him now? Kun was livid. But he couldn’t directly ask if you were cheating; he’d never get a straight answer. He had to be smart about it, because this could get ugly very quickly. He sighed, feigning disinterest on the topic. “Forget I brought it up. I’ll be gone this weekend on a business trip. We’re going to Milan again.” He cut into his steak, waiting to hear your answer. You loved Milan, he’d taken you on a vacation there once, and you would always beg him to go back. “Well, bring me a souvenir. And have a safe flight. I’m going to bed.” You excused yourself from the table, your unfinished dinner Kun’s only guest as he gritted his teeth. Tomorrow would truly be a day of reckoning.

Early in the morning, Kun made a show of packing his bags, and taking his passport along with him. He called his regular chauffeur, Taeyong, to pick him up from the house, lulling you into a false sense of security. As soon as the car was out of sight though, Kun instructed Taeyong to pull over next to the high hedges in your neighbors yard. “Mr. Qian? Won’t you be late for your flight?” Taeyong questioned, a puzzled look on his face as he slowed the car to a stop. “There is no flight Taeyong. I just need to sit here and watch my house for a while. I’ll pay you double for your time, don’t worry.” Taeyong raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say another word as Kun pulled out the pair of binoculars from seemingly thin air.

They only had to wait for about 45 minutes before spotting a red sports car pulling up to the driveway of Kun’s home. A man emerged, shirtless under his jacket, with a box in his hand. Kun recognized the logo; it was a condom box. The man approached the small side gate, tapping it quickly. Someone- no, you! Opened the gate and let the man in! Kun saw red, not just because you were letting a man in, but because you were in nothing but a bathrobe. To get his butler no less! Kun was furious. Taeyong’s eyebrows shot up in understanding. “Sir, please don’t do anything rash, I can’t work for anyone else in this neighborhood.” Kun slipped his hand into his pocket, sliding the poor chauffeur an extra $500. “Don’t worry Taeyong, you’ll stay with me for as long as you’d like. I’m about to rid myself of two financial burdens.”

Kun truly hoped that the dick was worth it, because he wasn’t going to have you interrupt his peace any longer.

#nct #wayv imagines #wayv kun #nct 127 #nct johnny #nct angst #wayv angst #wayv x reader #wayv x y/n #wayv x black reader #nct x black reader #x black fem reader #black writers #kpop ambw #kpop imagines #kpop writing #kpop angst #qian kun

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glitxhwayventeen · 2 years

Text

The Taken One

Joshua

Characters: Joshua x female reader

Warnings: swearing, cultural adjustment issues, angst, two timing…? If you can call it that i dont know, soon to be sad Shua days

Author’s Note: So this chapter isn’t a whole lot of reader/Shua interaction. But the next chapter will be. And it’ll be more angsty and sad so sorry for that. Let me know what you think! Shits about to go down friends. Don’t forget to check out Kun’s The Taken One Part One after you read this one! Their parts go together

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

🥀

Paved With Good Intentions Masterlist

The Taken One: Part 2 & Part 3

Kun’s The Taken One: Part 1 & 2

Bold- Korean Dialogue Italics- Thoughts Orange- Mandarin/Cantonese

Tag List- @babyminghao

Usually after a long day full of classes, the stable minded boy would’ve just cemented down in his room. He would’ve wanted to mind his own business while doing his seemingly endless homework his teachers just kept assigning him undisturbed and undistracted. That was his usual routine. Usually.

But today, he felt an overwhelming need to head downstairs. It almost felt like his body would’ve just… shut down if he refused it’s urge. So, he made the unbelievably unprecedented decision to head down to the kitchen, where the very hungry energetic pack spent most of their time, to see what was going on. And boy, was he in for the surprise of his life.

——

You originally didn’t plan on spending the day at your home after your classes ended.

Training to be a translator was absolutely exhausting. It was one of the most sought after careers in korea due to the western influence becoming more and more popular by the day. People wanted to gain a job translating anything and anywhere they could. From YouTube videos to tour guides to teachers, translators were everywhere.

It was a bit of a culture shock in realizing translating in the countries native language for foreigners was a common practice. Back in your home country, there wasn’t much interest in speaking different languages. The main concern was getting a stable and profitable job you could grow to feed your family and allow them to move up in society. Jobs such as CEO or biochemist were the normal desired target for everyone your age. But you never did care about any of that.

Money, position, power. None of it interested you in the slightest. You just wanted to find a way to be useful and contribute what you could to make society a little bit better and easier for everyone.

So when the opportunity presented itself for you to become not just a translator for some random YouTuber, but the main translator for a foreign embassy, you jumped at the chance. You were a polyglot as it was because of your family background, so speaking several different languages a day was nothing new to you. Why not make it your calling in life?

You knew the schooling would be grueling and back breaking, but you figured it would be worth it if you could help people from different places communicate enough to create friendships and bonds that could be of use, something you never saw happen growing up because of the atrocities of war. You just had to get through it all in one piece.

So you had a full set of classes and because you were on a fast track program to quicken your results as per your future employer’s request, you got no rests. No spring, winter, or summer breaks. Just constant studying and memorization.

Despite that, you were doing very well grade wise and you had actually managed to keep up pretty well with the difficult material being thrown at you, unlike some of your classmates who you knew were just hoping to pass the classes with at least a D. Because you were already ahead, and because of your constant hard work and dedication to your future career, you saw no need to head to the quiet library to study. So you opted to go home.

It wasn’t until your former Korean language teacher stopped you as you began to walk out the glass push doors that you realized your new hopeful plans of a quiet night in would come crashing down to a screeching halt.

“_____!” She called just as you managed to guide one foot out towards freedom, causing you to stop to greet her on instinct.

“I need to ask a favor of you.” She panted once she got close enough to you to hold a proper conversation.

Internally, you wanted to scream because you just wanted to relax at home in your nice comfortable bed after having been at the university all day. You wanted to pull your hair out at the thought of having to do one more school related thing.

But you actually quite liked your old language teacher. She was a native of your home country and made adjusting to new classes in a different language easier for you, sometimes even staying far passed her scheduled working hours to work with you so you could nail your Korean tests. So you decided to comply. You always wanted to return the kindness she had showed you when you and your make shift family came to Korea as political refugees anyways.

You gave her as happy a smile as you could and opened your mouth to speak, “Of course Ms. Cai. What is it I can help you with?” You gripped the text books planted firmly in your hand a little harder to your chest.

“One of my exchange students from our neck of the woods is really falling behind and is struggling to grasp the Korean language properly. She really needs to pass the class and it would be such a shame to see her fail,” Ms. Cai solemnly replied, the worry on her face evident.

She always really did care about her students with all her heart. Especially the ones who came from a background similar to her own. Ones like you. Ones probably like the exchange student she was talking about.

You lightly cleared your throat to gain her attention and to get your voice started, “And I assume since you’re bringing her up to me that you’d like me to tutor her?” You replied sweetly, letting your tired heart and persona fade as you saw the sincerity pour out through her souled eyes.

She already knew how packed your schedule was and how hard what you were trying to do was to achieve. You knew she wouldn’t have bothered you if she didn’t think it was urgent. You knew she never would’ve even brought the idea up if she wasn’t completely desperate for your help.

She hurriedly nodded her head, eyes lighting up the second the words left your mouth, “Yes! Yes I would very much like you to! Would you be so kind?”

Between your school and family obligations, you were pretty packed when it came to timing. As much as you wanted to help your favorite teacher keep another one of her beloved students from slipping through the cracks, you just weren’t sure you had the ability to do such a thing. You were already spread paper thin as it was. How were you going to explain to your family you’d be away even more than you already were?

Noticing your hesitation, Ms. Cai spoke up again, “Please _____? For me? You were and still are my best student, if anyone can keep that poor girl from failing my class it’s you!” She pleaded, making it just about impossible to say no.

She had helped you through so much. Sure, moving to South Korea was hard for most people when they weren’t natively Korean but for you, it seemed damn near impossible. Your whole life had been turned upside down when you had to run with your family to safety.

Connecting to a new life that you had previously had no intention of having while dealing with the trauma of being on the run all but broke you. You had to be strong to keep your family together. You couldn’t show any of your pain to those you held most dear because you knew if they thought you could do it, they could too. But even marble had it’s breaking point.

And that’s when Ms. Cai was there for you. She was there for you as your teacher. She was there for you as your friend. She saw you struggling to gain the confidence to go on yet she pushed you everyday to make sure you felt as if you could actually do it.

She cheered you on through every test. She made sure you ate through every study session. She went with you to meet your counselors and advisors to be sure you’d be treated fairly and that you understood all the information given to you.

Hell, she was how you found out about the interpreting job at the embassy in the first place. How were you supposed to deny her a favor when she had all but kept you alive when you needed it most?

And besides, the whole reason you wanted to be an interpreter was to help people. How could you say no to someone clearly struggling to understand what was happening around her same as you had not too long ago?

“Oh you know i could never say no to you Ms. Cai!” You exclaimed, a half proud and half stressed smiled laced on your face as you announced your answer.

Your possibly too caring teacher nearly jumped in excitement at your declaration, “Oh thank you thank you thank you _____!” She cheered while pulling you into a quick rub crushing hug in celebration.

“I promise you, you won’t regret it! She’s a fast learner and she’s a really bright and smart girl. She just struggles with her Korean too much.” Ms. Cai babbled, trying her best to hide her previous enthusiasm.

Bowing your body slightly, you chuckled, “I’m sure she’ll make an excellent student Ms. Cai. I swear to do my best in teaching her so that she can pass your class.”

After Ms. Cai went on with another round of thank yous, promising to arrange and get everything set up for the both of you to converse, you bowed goodbye to the older woman and began to head out the front door of the school one more time as your teacher waved you out.

But as if a lightbulb appeared in your head, you stopped your movements once more to ask Ms. Cai a question that you had neglected to ask before you bud her farewell for the night, “Oh, Ms. Cai? What’s the student’s name so I can greet her properly when we meet?”

“It’s Genji, Xiao Genji.” She smiled, having no idea what that connection would later mean.

——

Bing Bing. Bing Bing.

You groaned, quickly smashing your alarm clock off. The thought of getting up and leaving your wonderfully welcoming bed was almost too much for you to bear.

But you promised you would do your best to help a drowning student. And you always kept your promises.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you managed to roll yourself off of your mattress and trotted out of your master bedroom to get ready.

Ms. Cai managed to get the girl and you on an email chain so you could speak to each other about meeting up. You both met at the school’s library that weekend to get the few meetings over with.

And they all went fairly well. You thought she was a nice, no nonsense person who, though you admittedly realized she could be rather pessimistic, was also thoughtful and understanding.

But, as your midterms were coming up, you started to increase your tutoring sessions as she really needed to catch up. And since the library was closed for some club event that weekend, you had to find another place to meet.

She offered to meet you at your place, but give your… current living circumstances, you quickly shut that idea down and asked to meet at her’s instead. She seemed rather hesitant to agree as well, something you found rather odd as you were certain no one else would have the same issues with others coming over to their homes the way you would. Though she eventually said she’d speak with her roommate and make it happen since she apparently really needed the extra help.

However, the night before the meeting was supposed to take place at her dorm, she messaged you saying a water pipe burst in the building she lived in and that she was now staying with her boyfriend and his friends for a few days while they did repairs. You offered to cancel and reschedule when she had her apartment back for her own sake, but she insisted that all his friends said it would be fine for you to come over to their place for your little tutoring session.

That’s how you found yourself standing in front of a rather nice house not too far from the campus. From the looks of the outside, you naturally assumed many people lived there as it was even bigger than your own home. And your own home was nothing to snooze at thanks to your newest little brother. You figured whoever lived at her boyfriends house must’ve just had a lot of family money or something and paid it no real mind.

But before you could even ring the front door bell, you heard a loud, deep growl emit from the door, causing you to take a few steps back. Genji hadn’t mentioned any about any dogs living on the premises. You started to second guess how well the session would go. Because actual dogs tended not to like you for… reasons you’d rather not bring up unless you absolutely had to.

When you managed to gain the courage to go back to the door and knock, you were met with an open door that Genji awkwardly stood in front of to greet you, “H-Hi _____!”

From when you spoke with her, she seemed relatively calm mannered and certain so the demeanor in which she had portrayed herself right off the bat had you confused.

But you just brushed it off yet again thinking that everyone sounded different over the phone than in real life. Not to mention you figured she must’ve been nervous having you come over to her boyfriends house rather than her own apartment, somewhere she no doubt would’ve been more at ease.

“Um Hi!” You uncomfortably swayed on your heels, gripping your books tighter in your hand by the second when thinking about a dog potentially coming out from behind the girl to attack you. Wouldn’t be the first time it happened.

After a what seemed like eternity of you both just staring blankly at one another, you cleared your throat, “Is it okay if- I mean, can I come in?”

Like she had just been sprayed with a bucket of cold water, Genji jumped at your question, “Oh yes of course! Please!”

You gave her a small bow as a thank you and she stepped aside to let you through the doorway, giving you a strange look when you were probably a little too cautious in your steps in heading inside. But in your defense, if you came home covered in dog bites and scratches, your family would be completely livid. You just wanted to play it safe.

Taking your surroundings in, you noticed just how spacious the inside of the home truly was, “I’m so sorry about that! I’m just not used to having people over here!” Genji admitted, snapping you out of your daze as she brushed passed you and pointed to the small rack against the wall that was about up to your neck in height.

“You can take off and leave your shoes here. They said we can use the kitchen. Most of everybody’s out of the house. The ones still here shouldn’t be too much trouble though! They’re the quiet ones. Mostly anyways.” She joked, giving you a half smile and a playful eye roll.

You returned the gestured and hurriedly started taking off your wedged heels. Genji seemed to be a few inches taller than you now that you were both on leveled feet, not that you were considered tall by any means yourself. In fact, by Chinese standards you were about average height, maybe a little bit shorter for your age. Genji was clearly above average height for your genetic class, not that it mattered to you. You just found the new height difference rather awkward. You were older than her yet your distance made it look as though she was an adult and you were just a child.

Grabbing the shoes you had just slipped off, she opened up a spot you could reach with ease for you to put your shoes in. You noticed immediately just how many pairs were already consuming the rack. Your guess about there being many people living in the home must’ve been correct. But you did wonder just how many people had to live there to fill up such a huge rack so easily…

Once the usual pleasantries/customary tasks were done, she lead you through the house to the kitchen. Truthfully, you could tell boys had cleaned the place up.

Things were wiped down but not in depth, stuff was folded but not neatly, pillows were fluffed but not fixed in place. You thought it was rather funny seeing how made up Genji and her perfectly styled hair and clothes were compared to the living room and kitchen.

Nevertheless, you appreciated the dedication grown men put into fixing up their house for their guests. Your own brothers would’ve only done cleaning as much as they had only if you forced them to.

“-And this is my boyfriend Junhui!” She beamed, going up and giving the very tall, lanky, and… familiar looking boy in the kitchen a kiss on the cheek.

Junhui, while returning the sweet sentiments of his girlfriend, was noticeably staring at you. And not just in an ‘oh hello you’re new’ type of way.

No, his eyes were deadlocked to yours in a way that’s only happened a handful of times when meeting people that you could count. You knew immediately what was going on. And based on his mannerisms and house size, your brain automatically recognized who he was. Or rather what he was.

You had heard about him specifically through your student multiple times. She never shut up about him actually, which should’ve been your first clue as you thought for a normal person she borderline had an obsession with him. But you had never actually seen him formally until you met him at the house.

Though as you took closer notice of his pointed features and height, you quickly realized you had actually already met him. More than once in fact.

He was an unofficial regular visitor of your home who always seemed to be eating your food and making weird jokes to your housemates that you didn’t always understand. You were usually too busy with homework, too scattered cooking dinner, or too wrapped up in keeping the others from fighting to actually have a proper conversation with him when he was over.

But you knew he was a pretty close friend of some of your brothers. He was from China same as you all were, though you knew they latched onto him like bees to honey for another particular similarity they all shared together. You were totally fucked.

Genji sensed the odd tension in the air and nudged her clueless partner in the side as a cue to say something or introduce himself by himself.

Yet all the boy could say was a small, “Hi” in your shared native language of Cantonese and continued with the staring.

You remembered some of the stories your brothers had told you and how the older boy acted in your home. So you were quite shocked the two paired together as they were practically polar opposites: Genji was stoic and stern, Junhui was sensitive and silly.

“Okay am I like… i dont know- missing something- or something here? Cause you’re both being really really weird.” She asked with her arms folded over her chest in a more confused notion than anything else.

That’s one of the things you did find that you liked about Genji, she always said what was on her mind. No matter how awkward or uncomfortable things seemed to get/could get from doing so. She didn’t seem to care about what anyone else thought. Whereas you on the other hand had practically been hardwired at birth to care what people thought of you.

You gulped quietly, unsure of how to answer your newfound friend without actually answering her out loud in case you read Junhui’s actions wrong. You assumed she knew what you knew based on how she spoke of her relationship.

But you couldn’t take the chance that Genji wasn’t clued in yet on the lifestyle you and her boyfriend shared. It could end up being a death sentence for your family if you did and ended up being wrong.

Finally, after realizing you weren’t going to, Jun managed to speak up, “Well… that’s just because she’s a friend Ji.” He deadpanned, probably hoping she’d catch up on her own. Which of course she didn’t.

She made a sound between a scoff and a snort, “Of course she’s a friend Jun. She’s my friend. I mean why are you two acting so… weird?” Genji scrunched her nose cutely up at her boyfriend.

He leaned down and kissed his naive girlfriend’s forehead sweetly, “Because she’s more of a friend to us than you realize baby.”

She tilted her head to him in confusion, but went on rambling about how he needed to learn how to properly interact with people and speak to them if he ever wanted to make friends with others. It was gonna be a long day for you

——

Aside from the strange encounter, the rest of the tutoring session went just fine. Well, as fine as you could be when your nerves were firing rapidly in every direction as each second passed.

But from Genji’s end, things seemed to be going well. You were having her practice her dictation and pronunciation more in depth this time as her upcoming exams was an oral rather than a written one and she was doing rather well. At least, for someone who hadn’t been in Korea for too long. You were happy with her progress anyways.

Junhui stuck around to watch his girlfriend work on her Korean, something he apparently from time to time also still struggled with. Every so often he would find her mispronouncing a certain word funny and he would giggle, but for the most part he stayed silent.

He did look to you every now and then when he thought you weren’t looking, probably due to your familiar background, but he still said nothing.

You were thankful Genji let the subject of your awkward first meet with her boyfriend go rather quickly, but you were even more grateful Jun didn’t voice what he meant fully out loud about you being more of a friend than she realized once he realized the reason for your hesitation. It meant you didn’t have to have that conversation yet.

You did have a feeling that it wasn’t the last of the conversation as you remembered the people in your house talking about how resilient on certain topics he could be when he wanted to be, but you were hoping to put it off as much as you could.

After everything you had been through and were still dealing with, you really didn’t need the headache of explaining it all and your life story to anybody in depth. Let alone someone who you had just become acquainted with.

Though, him knowing who you were gave you an idea of where that growl from earlier came from. He must’ve sensed someone, or something, foreign and potentially a threat and reacted instantaneously. You couldn’t be mad at him for it, you knew it wasn’t always something he could control.

“So _____, you’ve been teaching my Ji for a little while now and she considers you a friend.” Jun evidently pointed out to your amusement.

You found it cute that Genji thought of you as a friend already. It meant that she took to you easily and that you were doing your job right as a teacher. It wasn’t that you found her thinking of you as such as funny, you were actually glad she liked you as much as she did.

It was just funny that Junhui decided to break through the silence he had created around himself with such a random statement.

You laughed at the boy’s sudden outburst, “Yes I suppose I have. What’s your point?”

“No point really. I mean, she says you’re super smart and all-” He confessed, your cheeks lightening up a shade of pink knowing your level of knowledge had become a topic for them to discuss, to which you gave a polite smile and bowed your head to your student in thanks.

You always tried very hard in school as you wanted to be the top in your career field once you graduated. But sudden compliments weren’t something you were used to getting from anyone other than your family. You were rather used to handing them out to others. So it was a little bracing for you.

“-But she hasn’t mentioned a whole lot else.” He finished, illuminating the thought of him wanting the conversation to start picking up where he wanted it to.

“That’s because she really hasn’t told me anything else.” Genji mumbled in the conversation, throwing a playful glare your way.

While you were slightly annoyed that she was calling you out, you also knew it was semi justified. You weren’t one to make many friends outside of the small circle of friends you already had. You’d just told her the basics like where you were from, that you were in a long term relationship, and how long you had been in Korea for. But she had to practically pry that out of you with a crowbar.

She’d been trying to get more information out of you since you’d met her. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell her or that you didn’t trust her with the information. There were just some things you wouldn’t, or rather couldn’t, say to her. Only you couldn’t explain that to her without raising suspicions.

You sighed in frustration as you finally looked up from your paperwork to face the couple, “Well that’s just because I’m not all that interesting.” You informed them both, taking the mug of tea that had been given to you from the counter and bringing it to your lips as a distraction.

Jun laughed dryly, “Oh come on- We both know that’s not true,” He raised his brow at you.

Genji also raised her brow at you, not that she even knew why she was doing it to begin with. She just did it to play along, and you were starting to regret saying yes to tutoring your favorite teacher’s new student.

“I’m just saying, you’ve been at the school for sometime now but I’ve haven’t actually seen you all that much even though we run in the same circles. I just wonder why that is. ”

You knew what he was getting at. You knew. You figured he’d eventually try to get you to admit it. From what you’d been told, the tall boy was as stubborn as a mule at times and also couldn’t really keep secrets. Though you were slightly annoyed at him for it, you were at least grateful he wouldn’t outright say the words himself and that he’d rather have you confess it all out loud.

While setting your tea back down, you shrugged, “Like I said, I’m just not all that interesting to talk about. So it makes sense that you haven’t heard much of or seen much of me before.”

Junhui chuckled lightly, “Oh I’ve heard of you before. Just haven’t actually seen you so up close before.”

Bringing the subject back to where she was interested, your friend continued the conversation, “Well being here as long as you have you must’ve made friends with people no?” Genji innocently tilted her head in wonder.

She still was obviously not catching on to why her boyfriend really even cared about such things but, as she was just as curious as him, she figured she’d piggyback in on the ‘getting to know you’ talk.

“Not with anyone that didn’t come here with me no.” You answered honestly while playing with your mug.

You mostly kept to yourself. Aside from those you came from China with and a select few teachers, you really didn’t speak with many others. Communication wasn’t the problem, your Korean was near perfect. You made sure it was so that you and your family could understand more about the culture you had been thrown into to survive.

You just preferred to not go out so you wouldn’t have to deal with possibly meeting certain groups you had been warned about. You didn’t want to risk running into specific complications and refusing to meet people when you could cut them out.

Plus, your housemates had… certain rules you all had to abide by. One of the most important ones was that no one could go anywhere without one of the males living there for protection. You were even nearly forced to bring one of them along with you to your tutoring sessions. But you finally managed to have them reel in their overprotectiveness by bringing up the fact that the girl you were tutoring was also from your homeland and that she couldn’t hurt a fly. So they reluctantly let you leave the house without a guard dog.

And just like that, Jun found his opening to ask questions that went along with what he really wanted to know, “Oh you came here with people? Who might they be? We might know them since they’re probably all Chinese too.”

There it was. You had thoughtlessly brought the questions you so dreaded into easy conversation with one simple sentence while you were too busy trying to distract yourself from being uncomfortable. Well played.

For a minute, you thought maybe you should create some sort of emergency reason for you to leave in a hurry. You thought maybe you could’ve faked a message notification saying that you were needed back home. But realistically, you knew the truth was bound to come out one way or another.

Since you could already see there was no way out of your situation, you decided it was just best to steer into the skid. Junhui already knew. And if he hadn’t told his girlfriend yet and still wanted you to admit it all out loud and risk her freaking out, that was on him.

“Okay you want the truth?” You questioned them for once, wanting to just get it all out in the open quickly so you would just be done with the topic.

After they both shook their head yes, with Jun giving you an evil smirk to go along with his like the asshole you knew he was trying to play, you rose from your seat and continued, “Fine. If you must know, I came here from China with another wolf pack to escape the escalating war we found ourselves in. That’s all I’m gonna say about that part for now.” You declared with a humph, sitting back down and fixing your outfit.

There was a silence so thick you swore you could cut it with the knife. Jun already knew you lived around wolves. That was something he figured out from his constant visits to his friends at your home. But it was news to Genji.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She quietly quizzed, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to concentrate on the Hangul ridden paperwork in front of her instead.

“I didn’t even know your own situation until I saw your boyfriend today. It’s not like we just tell people about it if we aren’t required to tell them. So i didn’t.”

It was another pack rule: don’t talk about wolves or their existence to outsiders. People didn’t take too kindly to them, which was why hunters also existed in secret to kill them off.

And since you didn’t want word to spread to them and potentially have them come after your family, you hadn’t ever told anyone about the boys being wolves. Other outsiders you knew who knew about them knew because they were either related to them themselves or romantically involved with them.

“I get that,” she nodded in understanding before looking at you in the eye, “I mean why didn’t you just both tell me when you walked in and figured it out?”

Once again, the silence could make a pin dropping to the floor a loud noise. You felt bad for seeming like you were hiding it from her. Even for that little bit you were there. But it was what it was. You couldn’t turn back time. Besides, it wasn’t like you were the only one hiding it and beating around the bush.

Jun cleared his throat causing her to give him her attention while he gave his mate a guilty look, “Well even though I knew, it didn’t mean it was my place to tell. It’s not like she’s a threat to you or anything. So I just figured I’d bring it out into conversation to make it more natural. Though, based on her smell, word of mouth, and the fact that I’ve been to her place before, I know already know exactly who ___ came to Korea with.”

After about a minute of direct eye contact with him, she turned her gaze back to you with an expectant face. You wanted to say something. You knew you had to say something.

Though instead, you bit your bottom lip in nervousness and felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Your heart was beating so fast you felt like you were gonna pass out from sheer anxiety, or at least what you could only pin point as anxiety. You didn’t even know why you felt that way. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell her. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of anything either. You guess you just… didn’t see the need to tell people anymore about your pack than you had to.

When you opened your mouth to say something back to them, nothing came out. Instead, you heard something small that resembled a squeak emit into the room at the same time. Only it didn’t come from you. It came from behind you.

Turning yourself over in your chair, you noticed a toned boy only a bit shorter than Jun with a glittering gaze staring directly at you in shock.

He had stepped on an older floor board causing it to make a noise that alerted you to his presence. And boy, what a presence it was.

His piercing eyes, plump lips, and perfect nose were enough to make a grown man weep. He was just so pretty. In fact, he might’ve been the most attractive boy you had ever seen in your whole life.

Being in the same vicinity as him made it feel as though time had stopped moving. It made you feel nervous and excited all at once. He made you feel like you and him were the only people in the room…

While you were both too busy taking in each other’s appearance, time had actually still been moving forward for the other two people left in the room.

“God damn it Shua Hyung. What did you do?” You heard Junhui rhetorically mumble under his breath in Mandarin, much to the confusion of his mate, who had still yet to figure out what was happening.

But you knew. You knew all too well what was happening. You had known since you were young what the feelings you were having were….

“H-Hi.” He stuttered to you.

The sudden volcanic eruption of fluttering in your stomach. The enchanted stare the beautiful boy was giving you as he spoke in his stuttering tone. The speed of your heart beating. It all added up easily.

There was just one problem…

“H-Hello.” You wearily responded back to him.

You had already felt the feelings you were feeling before. And the bite mark on the apex of your neck was an all too painful reminder of it as you stared the beautiful boy in the eyes, unsure of what you were supposed to do next.

(Edited 3/18/2023)

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limjaeseven · 2 years

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Flying to You

Pairing: Kun X Ten

Genre: Angst, Romance, WW2!au

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,191

Summary: Kun has dreamt of flying high among the clouds all his life. Things take a turn though, when the war breaks out and he's forced to leave his own plane for a fighter jet.

Warning(s): Major character death, implied smut, mention of war related casualties, mention of corporal punishment

[a/n]: Written as part of the Ghibli Collab hosted by the one and only @toikiii. Thanks for proof reading this, dae! This fic was inspired by the movie 'The Wind Rises'.

Travelling to London was not something Kun had ever thought he’d get the opportunity to do. The trip was slow but it gave the man enough time to ponder over his plight.

Kun had grown up in a small village, where his main form of entertainment was a book about planes that his uncle had brought for him from the city. He spent his waking hours memorising every word in the book, engraving the drawings in his brain, and spent those he slept dreaming of flying those beautiful machines high in the air.

He was never alone on these fantastic adventures, there’d always be a lady by his side, some twenty years of age, one he’d never seen before. “Concentrate, Kun, your focus is drifting. One mistake and it’s a one way ticket to hell, you know that,” she’d remind him when he’d let himself get lost in the scenery around him.

Kun knew he was dreaming, but those dreams felt so real, sometimes he wondered if he was wrong about the difference between reality and his imagination. There was always a feeling of disappointment when he’d wake up, waiting for the moment he could go back and enjoy the open fields and vast oceans from the sky.

Kun’s father wasn’t the nicest man he knew but he did fund his education without qualms, which he could never be grateful enough for. Getting an engineering degree wasn’t easy, but he managed to get through it. His dream of flying only became greater as he studied, having gotten the opportunity to actually see some in real life and study them.

His actual opportunity didn’t come until two years after he’d graduated, when one of his co-workers shared that he knew the owner of a private airfield who gave lessons. The fees were exorbitant, and despite saving every penny Kun could, it wasn’t enough. He felt bad asking his mom, but she only smiled, spoke to his dad and returned with the money he needed.

“Hands go there and there,” The instructor showed him on the third day of training. He’d run him down on all the basics on the days prior, and was actually showing Kun how to put that knowledge to practice. The cockpit was small, barely enough for the two of them, but without even having left the ground, Kun felt at home.

Once they’d completed a tour of the plane, the instructor told him to hop in, promising him his first ride. Kun could feel himself buzzing as he sat down behind the man, fastening himself into the seat and bracing himself for what was to come.

The taxiing process was nerve-wracking, as Kun felt every hair on his body stand on end. The instructor threw him a thumbs up to signal that they were taking off before the plane began picking up speed. The feeling of his body being forced into his seat was grounding to Kun as the plane left the tarmac, pushing them full speed forward into the vast skies.

Kun has his eyes glued to the window that showed the world outside shrink rapidly. The clouds felt tangible for the first time in his life, not mere swathes of white painted on the endless horizon. He could barely process the words his instructor spoke, his mind trying to make sure this wasn’t another dream.

When it was time to land, Kun wished he could stay up in the air forever. He swore in that moment to spend every spare moment of his life doing this, regardless of what came in his way. Work would fly by as he thought of himself in that cockpit again, this time with his hands on the controls, floating through the air. His instructor could see the passion in his eyes and kept it burning as he guided Kun through his training, and before he knew it, Kun had a licence.

Flying became an escape for Kun after that, when work was hard or he was missing his mother, he would rush to the airbase to pull a helmet on his head and set off into the infinite skies above him. Things were fine for a while, the dreams of flying had ceased because Kun was able to fulfil them in his waking hours, but then all hell broke loose.

Everyone knew the war was impending but it still surprised people when it finally broke out. The military was conscripting able-bodied men and Kun knew his father would never forgive him if he didn’t serve, so he was amongst the first to enrol in the wartime efforts. Basic training was short and brutal, a cruelly abridged regimen to get the men into shape and out onto the battlefield.

Training had sucked the life out of Kun, but he knew that this was where he was supposed to be. His father may not have been the nicest man he knew, but he was deeply patriotic, and had instilled a sense of responsibility in Kun, one that made him strive for the betterment of those around him.

By the end of the month, he was going through one evaluation after the next, before he was redirected to the air squadron as a consequence of his licence. The deployment was quick to come, the war was evolving rapidly and men were needed in London, where the British had developed jets that could help the Allies in the war.

The trip to London from Hong Kong was long and nerve wracking, men packed like sardines in the back of a large plane. There was no communication with the outside world in those hours they spent between stops, and the atmosphere was too sombre to say much during. They would only be able to tune into the radio while the plane refuelled, a few quiet hours of listening to the worsening conditions and climbing body counts.

Kun didn’t get to see much of London before he was whisked away to the Royal Air force's base. He was with a team of nine other men, the best Hong Kong had to offer. They were shown planes of iron and steel, war machines meant to annihilate populations with a few well placed bombs. They were to fly it into Germany, an act of retaliation against the increasing violence on their part.

Kun sat down on the bunk assigned to him at night, hours after the briefing of their mission, wondering what he was doing. All he had wanted was to fly to escape from the world below him, not to hurt people. He wished he could go back to the air field back home and enjoy the peace of the green fields and infinite skies again.

That night, he dreamt again, just like he did when he was younger. He was sitting in the cockpit of his plane with the same lady behind him, now a little older, her sharp eyes making sure he was flying properly. Out of nowhere, he found himself speaking something he’d surprisingly never wondered. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she said with a hearty chuckle. Kun didn’t have the time to ruminate on that comment, he had to keep his eyes in front of him.

It was after they’d landed that he spoke to him again. They were sitting on the ground in the grass, their helmets next to them. “I know you’re worried about what you’re doing, but you have to take a call, Kun,” she said, “In war, you either have conviction, or you run away.”

When he awoke, warm sunlight was streaking out of the window, his bunkmate still asleep above him. He left the room to find the mess and have something to eat. Their training with the new jets would begin soon, the final mission just over a month away. His English was good enough to be able to communicate with the British officers, and they led him down to the dining room.

That’s when he saw her, his eyes blowing wide at the sight of familiar short hair and sharp eyes. “Ms Lee, this is Kun Qian, one of your trainees,” the officer introduced before turning to Kun, “Mr Qian, Ms Hazel Ying Lee will be guiding you through your upcoming mission.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Hazel spoke, extending her hand to Kun. He returned the gesture, trying his best not to look too flustered. It was weird standing in front of the woman who had guided him for so many years and have her not know who he was. She asked him to join her for breakfast, which he did, and enjoyed an amicable conversation with her.

“Kun, things are going to get tough from here, not only physically, but emotionally as well. You’re clearly not a military man, so war isn’t something you were trained for. I suggest spending your free time in the city, enjoying what is left while it lasts.” Hazel was just like she was in his dreams, just as fierce and just as wise. Training under her was harsh, but the end result was far better than what Kun could have anticipated. Flying with Hazel was always a challenge, her sharp eyes ready to point out the smallest mistake he made.

He did take her advice though, and started to spend his free time exploring the city. He visited cafes and spent afternoons reading by the river, the atmosphere calm till he was brought back to reality by loud air raid sirens which made him run for cover.

It was in the evening, one week after he first arrived in London, that he saw him. He was standing by the fountain in a big park where Kun was taking a walk. His dark hair sat prettily over his forehead, plain white shirt tucked neatly into a pair of trousers, leather belt accentuating his tiny waist. He was playing around with a small child, helping her toss coins into the water and make wishes.

Kun didn’t realise that he had stopped in the middle of the walking trail to admire the man till someone politely asked him if he could move so that they could walk ahead. Finding the nearest bench, Kun pulled his book out of his jacket and tried to distract himself but his eyes kept wandering to the man in white. His eyes were so kind, face lighting up as he spoke to the child.

Just as Kun was about to force himself to leave, the man glanced up, catching Kun staring at him. Kun froze in his place as the man smiled at him, turning back to the child and sending her off with a wave before making his way to the bench.

“Do you spend your evenings ogling young men at the park?” The man asked, his tone light.

Kun knew he was joking but still felt the strong urge to apologise. “I’m so sorry. You just caught my eye,” he tried, even though he knew it was a terrible explanation.

“You’re nice, so I’ll let it be,” the man said, smile widening. “I’m Ten, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Kun, and pleasure’s all mine.” Ten sat down next to Kun after their introductions, and the two men quickly fell into a comfortable conversation. Ten explained that he was an elementary school teacher, explaining his skill around kids. He had tried to join the war efforts but a frail body had denied him the opportunity.

“Is it scary, being that high up in the sky?” It was late in the evening, the two men having spent hours talking about anything and everything. They had relocated to a restaurant for dinner, not wanting to let go of each other just yet.

“It’s liberating. I’ve never felt scared, just free.”

“Can I fly to Hong Kong with you when the war is over? I’m too scared to go on my own, but I really want to go there.” Ten had already told him about being born in England to Thai Chinese parents and how he had never left the country before.

“Of course, I’d love to show you around. The food is incredible there.” Kun couldn’t help but picture the two of them wandering through night markets and munching on street food, shoulders brushing as they walked through the bustling crowds.

He went home that night, unable to get Ten’s face off his mind. It was as if the man had engraved himself on the back of his eyelids, being the only thing Kun could see when he closed his eyes. He knew the way he thought about the man could get him in trouble if anyone found out, but he just couldn’t deny the feelings that raged in his heart.

Of course Hazel could tell that something had changed, and she pestered him about it whenever they were together in private. “Tell me, Kun. Is it a girl? Wait, of course it is, you wouldn’t look so lovesick otherwise. Is she pretty?” She kept throwing questions his way and he kept trying to avoid them, till one day the dam broke.

“It’s not a girl, Hazel,” he mumbled, unsure of how she would react.

“Oh, a boy, then?” Kun couldn’t help but stare in wonder at the cheeky smile on his trainer-turned-best-friend’s face. Of course she would be supportive of him.

“Yeah, and he’s really handsome. I met him at the park a few days ago,” Kun admitted.

“I know I don’t need to tell you to be careful, but I do want you to enjoy yourself while you can, Kun. If he does know, make the best of the time you two have left, if he doesn’t, at least make a friend who’ll make your days better.” Kun felt tears well up in his eyes as he pulled Hazel in for a hug. He didn’t have the words to express the gratitude he felt towards her, but he hoped she could feel it through his gestures. “Go get your man, boy.”

***

In the month leading up to the mission, Kun lived two lives everyday. One, on the training field, and one in Ten’s company. Mornings spent doing push ups and getting used to flying jets, evenings spent getting coffee or dinner at small restaurants tucked into quiet corners of the city. For someone who’d always loved daylight, Kun couldn’t wait for the sun to set, just to be able to see Ten again.

“Do you have to go back now?” Ten asked him one evening, less than two weeks before Kun had to leave. Kun couldn’t actually tell Ten his d-day for his team’s safety but he’d alluded that he’d have to leave ‘soon’. The moment he heard that, Ten had become adamant to spend as much time as they could together. Kun had a curfew to get back on the base but he’d gotten Hazel’s help to extend them by a few hours to follow Ten wherever he took him.

“I have till midnight, there’s only so much they’d loosen up,” Kun sighed, not wanting the night to end. It was just after ten thirty, meaning they only had a little more time for the day.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.” Ten grabbed Kun’s hand and dragged him up from the bench they were sitting at, leading them to the nearest tram station and hopping onto the right one. Kun followed quietly, enjoying the man’s company as he spoke enthusiastically about the new student in his class. They stayed till the last stop before the tram would turn back to return the way it came before they got off. The area was secluded, bordering the bustling city. It was definitely a change of landscape for Kun, only having seen the tarmac of the air field and the busy streets of the city in the preceding weeks.

They followed a narrow trail that led them up a hill, the night sky blanketing them in hues of blue and black. They didn’t have a light on hand but the shine of the moon and the neighbourhood nearby provided them with just enough visibility to make it to the peak. A lone apple tree sat there, old and dry, leaves frail, as if waiting for just the right moment to fall off. Ten sat down with his back against its bark, patting on the ground next to him as a silent request to Kun.

“I used to come here a lot as a kid. There was something very calming about being here alone, under the stars. This tree was mine, I had carved my name into its bark to make sure it would remember that this was my spot,” Ten said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I came here two days ago, for the first time in years. It was after you’d gone home, and I had felt this sinking feeling when I saw you leave. I thought coming here would make me feel better like it always did. It didn’t, and I couldn’t figure out for the longest time why I felt alone in a place that had always kept me company.”

Ten paused, turning to face Kun. Their knees brushed from how close they were sitting. Kun could feel his heart race, seeing the man’s face up close.

“It dawned upon me long after I’d left, upset at the lack of answers.” Kun held his breath, anticipating the words that would follow. “I had found something, someone else, to keep me company.”

Ten had barely gotten the words out when Kun leaned closer, his hand cautiously reaching up to cup the other man’s face. If he was wrong about this, it would absolutely doom Kun, but in that moment, it was worth the risk. He couldn’t tell who initiated it, his senses full of the feeling of Ten’s lips against his own. Kun couldn’t help the surprised sound that left him when Ten reciprocated the kiss, hesitant at first but quickly melting into something comfortable.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I laid my eyes on you,” Ten admitted when they pulled away for air, his forehead resting against Kun’s. Their time was running out, with only a few short minutes left before they would have to return to the tram station and head home, but they savoured every moment they could spare, lips never parting for longer than the few seconds it took them to catch their breath. If their smiles were just a bit brighter on their way home, they’d blame it on the lovely weather.

***

“It’s D-5, boys. Five more days to prepare yourself for war. The mission is going to last for as long as you and our resources do, so better strap in for the long ride,” Hazel briefed them. She was already dressed in her flight suit, ready to run the squadron through offence and defence manoeuvres. While Kun wanted to concentrate, his head was still reeling from the happenings of the night prior.

They had finished dinner early as-per Ten’s request, heading to the river side to admire the late evening for a bit before Ten dragged him to his apartment. It was a small, dingy room with a little kitchenette and bath in a not so great part of town, but it was the best he could afford. Letting Kun step inside first, Ten was quick to lock the door before pushing Kun against it, his lips claiming the smooth expanse of his neck. Kun bit his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning as Ten ravaged his body, sending waves of pleasure crashing over his body.

They had spent all of that night making love, basking in the short lived intimacy. They both knew they were fighting against the clock but they were not going to give up. It was twenty minutes to midnight when they finally calmed down, Ten’s head nuzzled in Kun’s bare chest, hands clasped tightly together.

“I always imagine you turning into a mouse when the clock strikes midnight,” Ten muses, his tone teasing yet melancholic.

“Wouldn’t you love to see that? You’d become the most popular teacher. The kids would call you Prince Charming.” Kun stared at the clock that hung on Ten’s wall, trying to will it to slow down. It didn’t, and when there were five minutes remaining, Kun dragged himself off the bed and put his clothes back on, easing the wrinkles out with his hands. Ten didn’t move from where he sat on the bed, though his eyes followed every motion Kun made. Pressing a kiss to the man’s forehead, he bid him a quiet goodbye before finding his way out.

“Kun?” Hazel’s voice pulled Kun out of his thoughts. He looked up at her apologetically, and she just shook her head before pulling him away. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m in love, Hazel,” Kun said before he could really process the words that came out of his mouth. Noticing the worried look that crossed her face, Kun was quick to clarify, “We’re on the same page.”

“Oh Kun, I’m so sorry.” It felt odd having someone feel bad for him for having his love be reciprocated but he knew all too well what he meant. He had five days left, three of which he could spare Ten, before he’d leave. There was no certainty that he’d return, that he’d see Ten ever again.

The hours he spent with Ten shortened drastically in those last few days, their usual five hours turning to three, to two, to one. The minutes would fly by them as they tried to grasp them between themselves. It was hopeless and they both knew it.

The last time he saw Ten before his mission, they had spent their time under the apple tree, Ten carrying a knife with him to carve Kun’s name right under his own. “It’ll keep me company while I wait for you.” Kun had to muffle his tears into his pillow that night to make sure his bunkmate didn’t wake up.

***

“It was a pleasure to work with you,” Hazel said during her last briefing, the morning of their D-day. She gave Kun a tight hug, tears in her eyes, “See you on the other side.”

Once he was in the jet, his body worked on autopilot, hands moving from one side to the other, fiddling with the controls in front of him. He knew his job like the back of his hand, and he carried it out without second thought. Hours of flying blurred into mere minutes, and before he knew it, they were landing in their designated hiding spot. They would spend the night there and restock before they set off again.

Days turned to weeks and Kun spent his spare moments trying to figure out how long it would take them to run out of resources, forcing them to return. He knew it would be a stretch for him to survive till then, his fellow pilots going down one by one as the days went on. He was still hopeful as he watched their stocks deplete with every trip, the end coming closer and closer.

By the time of their last restock, their squadron of ten was down to three pilots and three jets that were barely holding together. All Kun could think of was dropping the last of the payload and returning home. He could picture Ten waiting for him by the river, his eyes flickering between the horizon and the sidewalk, counting the seconds down till Kun would show up next to him.

He flew with vigour that day, his mind on reaching the right spots at the right time, wasting not a millilitre of fuel. The moment he hit the button for the last drop, he signalled to his team that they were done, and they raced back to their home airbase, impatient to have their feet on the ground.

Hazel was waiting for them on the tarmac when they landed, having been alerted of their arrival. Kun had expected a big smile and a tight hug, but the expression on her face as he took his helmet off scared him.

“There was a bombing the day after you left,” She said, her voice apologetic, “One fell on Ten’s school. He couldn’t make it out in time.”

Kun could barely hear her words as he fell to his knees, tears pouring down his face. As much as he wanted to mourn losing Ten, a part of him knew he’d just administered the same fate to hundreds of other people. An eye for an eye, fate had asked of him. He might be on the right side of history, but it didn’t mean he could fight without getting blood on his hands.

Kun’s father wasn’t the nicest man he knew, he had beaten Kun black and blue when he was a kid for daydreaming too much, but when he funded Ten’s funeral without a single question, he hoped he’d be able to learn something from him, for himself and for Ten.

#ghibli collab #kvanity #kdiarynet #rainingmxmnet #wayv kun #wayv ten #wayv fanfic #wayv fluff #wayv angst #qian kun #wayv chittaphon #nct ten #nct kun #wayv oneshots #nct oneshot #kunten #kpop fanfic

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gureumcityrecs · 2 years

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qian kun

wayv masterlist

| ☁ personal fav |

crazy [♤ ✿] idol!au

#nct #wayv #qian kun #kun #kun angst #kun fluff #kun smut #kun oneshot #kun fanfic #nctzen #czennies #wayzenni

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xofanfics · 5 months

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Lost For Words - Part III

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Genre: angst, fluff, smut 🥺🤗🥵

Pairing: Reader x Kun // Reader x Taeyong

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: You have the best boyfriend you could’ve asked for. Things take an interesting turn as you befriend your new coworker, exploring the blurred lines between friendship and something more.

“Introducing "ElysianGlow" – a prestigious international beauty brand poised to revolutionize your entire beauty and skincare ritual. With its European elegance and a mission to cater to every facet of your beauty journey, ElysianGlow stands at the forefront of luxury. As it sets its sights on the vibrant Korean market, this brand promises to bring an unmatched fusion of cultures, innovation, and indulgence to your daily beauty regimen…”

It was the last presentation of the day and you were exhausted. After hearing so many speakers, being exposed to so many new products, and taking in so much information, you felt a little overstimulated. You’d all been taking notes all day as you saw interesting things your competitors were doing.

Your team dipped out a little early, in the hopes of avoiding the herds of people trying to exit the convention center at the same time. Outside the venue, Valentina said, “Good job, everyone. I saw a lot of you taking notes today. I want to do a larger meeting sometime next week or the week after to discuss our takeaways. I think that there was a lot of useful information we can use in our global marketing plans.” She smiled with a nod. “Anyway, I was thinking that we should go back to the hotel, freshen up, and then head out to get dinner?”

There were nods and murmurs of agreement, so David looked down at his watch. “It’s 5:09 now, so how about we meet in the lobby at 6:15PM. Who wants to be in charge of finding a restaurant?”

Hina waved her hand excitedly. “I can find a place!”

Valentina raised a cautious eyebrow at Hina, recalling the last time that Hina had chosen a restaurant. “Let’s try to keep it under three dollar signs this time, yeah?”

You and Hina took advantage of the time you had to freshen up before dinner. You began rummaging through your suitcase, tossing two dresses onto your bed. Hina, on the other hand, sat cross-legged on her own bed scrolling on her phone, ready to give her opinions as needed.

Your phone buzzed on the dresser, and you picked it up, recognizing your boyfriend's contact name popping up on the screen.

"Hey," you said, balancing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you slipped out of your pants.

"Hey, how was the first day?" he asked. “Are you finished now?”

"It was great!" you replied with enthusiasm. "We all have a bunch of ideas. Valentina said we’ll have a meeting next week about it, so I’m excited to share.”

You could practically hear his smile through the phone. "That's great to hear. I can’t wait to hear all about your ideas when you’re back at home. Do you have dinner plans for tonight?”

“Yeah, Hina is actually in charge of looking for a place,” you said, glancing at her. “Hopefully she picks somewhere good.”

Hina stuck her tongue out at you and laughed, bringing a chuckle out of you as well.

“Okay, well, have fun at dinner. And if you’re going to be drinking tonight, don’t forget to drink a lot of water.”

"I will," you promised, feeling a rush of warmth for your supportive boyfriend. You tossed the phone on the bed and pulled out a dress from your suitcase.

An hour later, the group gathered in the hotel lobby, ready for a well-deserved dinner outing after a long day. Hina had strategically chosen a Thai restaurant within walking distance.

Upon arrival, the restaurant's ambiance whisked you away to a far-off tropical paradise. Intricate wooden carvings adorned the walls, vibrant textiles draped from the ceiling, and the scent of spices filled the air. The decor was a seamless blend of charm and cultural authenticity, making you feel as though you were on vacation.

With everyone seated, Valentina seized the moment and confidently ordered a round of drinks for the table. While they excitedly waited for their alcoholic beverages to arrive, they decided to order appetizers to try and share. A few moments later, the drinks arrived, following a clink of glasses and the chorus of cheers.

David placed his drink down on the table and clapped his hands together. "Now that we're not at the conference anymore, let’s talk about something other than work for a change…" Laughter rippled through the group as everyone welcomed the idea.

A few more drinks later, your steaming plate of drunken noodles made its grand entrance to the table. The thick rice noodles glistened with a rich, dark sauce, topped with tender slices of chicken, colorful bell peppers, and vibrant Thai basil leaves.

Kevin, your jovial coworker, leaned toward Taeyong, who was sitting across from you. "Hey, Taeyong," he teased, "I saw you talking to that pretty girl at lunch earlier. Who was that? Did you get her number?"

Taeyong's cheeks tinged with a slight blush at the sudden question. "She was pretty," he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of bashfulness. He glanced in your direction to see if you’d react, but you were reaching across the table for a leftover spring roll instead. "She told me that her name was Ari and she works at one of our competitors. But, uh, I didn't get her number."

"Yeah, Taeyong, maybe you should date the competition so we can find out their secrets," said Valentina with a laugh.

Kevin couldn't resist but add, "Honestly… I'm surprised you don't already have a girlfriend.."

Hina playfully agreed, "Definitely, Taeyong, you've got the looks. Sorry, Kevin, but he's got you beat."

Kevin nodded with a chuckle and said, “That’s fair.”

Taeyong found himself lost in contemplation, wondering if it was time to move on, given your existing relationship. Everyone seemed to enjoy their evening, unaware of the thoughts swirling around in his head like a storm. He went back and forth with his emotions, unsure of where to go from here, as the possibility of a future without you weighed on his mind.

* After dinner, the group ended up splitting up. Some of your colleagues decided to call it a night, retreating to the comfort of their hotel rooms and call it a night. Those who still had some energy left decided to head out for a night on the town, determined to make the most of their time in Incheon. Before the group split in two, Valentina issued a gentle reminder about the early morning conference session, a subtle hint to keep the night's festivities in check.

Among your coworkers in the group, and a relatively new addition to the team, Seolyun stood out as the point person for all things social media. She was the person who always seemed to have a recommendation, whether it was a new restaurant opening up, a trendy pop-up opening, or a cafe hidden in the backstreets.

In no time at all, she found a trendy bar not too far from the restaurant. The bar had two floors, along with a rooftop. Each floor, according to the reviews, had a different vibe. And the rooftop seemed to have an amazing view, which was perfect for taking pictures.

You could feel the lively energy on the first floor as you entered. While you waited for your friends to get their IDs checked, you took a look around. Laughter and conversation filled the air, in combination with the beat of electronic music that had quite a few people up and dancing. People were engaged in animated conversations, clinking glasses, and sharing smiles. It seemed like the perfect place to start on a night out.

As you walked up to the second floor, you noticed a subtle shift in the vibe. Here, the mood was more intimate and relaxed. The decor took on a cozier, lounge-like feel, with plush seating arrangements that were great for deeper conversations. The music, while still upbeat, had a more gentle feeling and allowed for more conversation over dancing. The lighting was dimmed, casting a darker and more romantic aura. It was an ideal spot for those looking to enjoy time away from the loud music and actually have a conversation.

As you all ascended the stairs to the rooftop, the night breeze welcomed you, carrying the pulsating rhythms of music and offering a breathtaking view of the city's twinkling lights. The ambiance was mellow, with cozy seating arrangements and soft lighting, perfect for unwinding. Interestingly enough, the roof wasn’t the most crowded area, and there was more than enough room for everyone to get comfortable at the bar.

Kevin insisted on shots, saying, “Look how beautiful it is out here. Nothing says a night out like a shot of tequila!” Despite a groan or two, everyone accepted Kevin’s idea of taking shots.

“Cheers!” you said, a moment later, clinking the small glasses with your colleagues. You gulped down the liquid fire with more ease than you thought.

As Seolyun finished her shot, she said, “Let’s go dance!”

Taeyong, while certainly up for a night out on the town, wasn't quite in the dancing mood tonight. Instead, he chose to linger on the rooftop, where he could savor the serene night view while sipping on a glass of whiskey.

He gazed out into the city, taking in the twinkling sky above. He took a sip of his whiskey even though he had no business mixing light and dark liquor. I’ll be fine, he decided. Even though he and the others were in Incheon for business, he was having more fun than he’d had in quite some months. Living in Seoul without many friends had been a little hard on him, but he felt a little less lonely during the week while he was surrounded with his coworkers. And he felt less lonely when he was with you. He felt at ease when he was with you. Despite your unfortunate relationship status, he enjoyed platonic moments with you. Being friends with you was better than nothing at all, he thought.

In his peripheral vision, he saw someone sit down but he didn’t bother looking up, as he was enveloped in his thoughts. Suddenly, your voice filled his ears and interrupted his thoughts. “The view up here is something else, huh?” He turned and the corners of his lips curled into a small smile as you settled beside him on the couch.

“I’m enjoying it,” he said, taking another sip of his drink. “I thought you wanted to dance?”

"You know, I wasn't really feeling the music down there," you admitted with a soft laugh. "But it looks like the others are having the time of their lives, so I thought I’d come back up here and keep you company.”

The two of you started talking, just some lighthearted conversation. A few moments later, Taeyong shook his head. "Sorry - where are my manners? Did you want another drink?”

You glanced at his nearly empty glass and then back at him, a thoughtful expression on your face. "I think I'm good for now," you replied, a faint smile touching your lips. "I'd hate for you to see me too drunk."

Taeyong chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on your face. "I wouldn't judge you," he assured.

As you continued to talk, Taeyong found himself getting lost in your eyes, your presence, and the way you laughed at his jokes. His heart raced as he realized how much he had grown to like you. At this point, he could feel the tension building, an almost magnetic force that he had never experienced before. It was a potent mixture of desire, guilt, and admiration. He knew he was getting close to the danger zone and he found himself unable to deny the connection that seemed to pull him closer to you with each passing moment.

Unable to resist the pull between you two, Taeyong leaned in and kissed you, his lips meeting yours in a tender, sweet embrace. It was a moment of surrender to the intense connection that had been building, a silent acknowledgment of his desires. A few seconds later he pulled away, realizing how crazy all of this was. He’d lost his mind for a moment, he concluded.

Your eyes met, just for a moment. Time seemed to stop as you gazed deeply into his eyes. In that moment, Taeyong’s senses were completely taken over by you. He could only smell the faint scent of your perfume. He could only taste your lips. He could only see you.

But just as Taeyong was about to voice his apologies and regrets, the unexpected happened. Your lips crashed into his once more, igniting a wild, uncontainable fire of longing and desire. In that moment, nothing else mattered – not your boyfriend, not the complications of being coworkers – as you both gave in to the irresistible pull of passion. Lost in the kiss, you and Taeyong allowed yourselves to be swept away, indulging in a connection that defied all logic and reason.

The intense chemistry between you and Taeyong became an undeniable truth that neither of you could ignore.

***

You woke up in the morning, before your alarm. You recalled the events of the previous night and, of course, that amazing kiss you shared with Taeyong. It was wrong, you knew, but something about it just felt so right.

Kun [7:31AM] Good morning, beautiful. Hope you had fun last night! Enjoy the rest of the conference today ❤️

As you looked at the good morning text from the man that was actually your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty. You had a man who loved and cared about you, yet you’d had the audacity to kiss another man.

What was frustrating you the most was that you hadn’t even ever thought of Taeyong that way. You found him attractive, yes, but everyone found him attractive - even Kevin. He was a physically attractive looking man - simple. But you didn’t have to cross that line with him and you did anyway. Then, to top it all off, you kissed him on your own. After that first kiss, you should’ve stopped. Unfortunately, something came over you and you initiated that second kiss.

Should you tell Kun? You wondered. No, you thought, he’d never forgive you. Should you break up with him? Was that too much? Was leaving him just running from the problem?

Should you set a boundary with Taeyong? Should you tell him that it can’t ever happen again? God, but you liked it! You liked it so much and you wanted more of it. That was the problem.

You’d never felt tension with Taeyong before. You weren’t sure if it was because the two of you had been drinking or if it was because it was an intimate setting. Maybe it was because you hadn’t really had many moments to be alone together like that. You didn’t know. All you knew was that you could almost taste his lips on yours.

Hina’s alarm started going off, bringing you back into reality. You almost wanted to tell her, but that would just bring up unnecessary questions and drama. So, you decided that you were going to leave it alone all together and do your best to act normal and keep your cool.

After successfully avoiding Taeyong during breakfast and most of the morning programming, he caught you during lunchtime as you were grabbing a water bottle. He lightly grazed your hand and, as you turned to face him, he said, “Can we talk?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said. “Sure.”

Taeyong led you out of the cafeteria and upstairs to the second floor. This floor was quiet, as everyone was downstairs eating. You followed him into a random room where he closed the door behind you. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken tension.

Taeyong took a deep breath, his eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and longing. "I can't stop thinking about last night,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, “and what happened between us...”

Your heart echoed his sentiments, a mixture of desire and inner turmoil. "Taeyong," you began, a sigh leaving your lips, "I can’t stop thinking about it either.”

“What do we do?”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “I-I don’t know. I have a boyfriend and I care about him. Things are just…complicated.”

Taeyong nodded, his understanding gaze never leaving yours. "I don't want to complicate your life," he said, his voice soft but filled with yearning. "But I don’t know if we can just ignore this."

Taeyong came a little closer, pulling you into his arms. In his embrace, you felt safe, as if the world outside ceased to exist.

Unable to resist any longer, your lips brushed against Taeyong's, igniting a longing that had been building up inside you. But you both knew the complications of your situation.

With a whisper, you said, "We should get back..."

Taeyong let go of you, reluctantly and eyes still filled with longing. You needed to leave. If you looked into his eyes any longer, you might just kiss him again. As he watched you leave the room, the connection between you remained, an unspoken promise that the chemistry you shared would continue to pull you closer, even if the path forward remained uncertain.

***

General Taglist: @to-all-the-stories-i-love @sweetnspicy-noona

Lost for Words Taglist: @ridinjuyeon

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starlightkun · 4 months

Text

❧ word count: 7.6k ❧ warnings: cursing, mm and that’s really it! i mean like they fight and stuff but just read the genre tags lmao ❧ genre: exes to lovers, angst with a happy ending (look at what blog ur on rn), christmas-themed (if the title wasn’t apparent enough), getting snowed in trope, cuddling to share warmth trope, just a fun, cheesy, time ❧ extra info: i wrote this in a 24-ish hour fever. it’s moderately proof-read. beware. ❧ author’s note: a starlightkun fic under 10k! it’s a christmas miracle!

“I just said, it’s not that simple!” You yelled, your hands curling into fists at your side. Kun let out a huff, walking away from his armchair to pace in front of the Christmas tree across the room from you. You weren’t going to let him off that easily, though. “Why did you stop loving me?”

“Any big holiday plans, Y/N?” Your boss asked as you handed her some documents to sign.

“Oh, staying in town,” you answered nonchalantly. “What about you, ma’am?”

She told you about her own Christmas and New Year plans with her wife, kids, and parents with a bright smile on her face as she flipped through the pages. After giving you the signatures you needed, she handed the papers back to you.

“Can you run those over to Dr. Oh’s office for me? The undergrads all went back home for break.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“After that, you can head out for the day. My Christmas present to you.”

“Oh, thank you, ma’am.”

“That, and also this.” She handed you a red envelope before standing up from her desk and closing her laptop. “Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Thank you, you too,” you flashed her a genuine smile. “Happy Holidays to your family as well. See you in a week.”

“See you.”

Tucking the envelope into your bag, you quickly tidied up your workstation before heading out of the research lab to do your final task. You were a research fellow at a rather prestigious university, and while running papers would typically be asked of the interns and undergraduate students who helped out in the lab, as your boss—the head of the lab—had already pointed out, classes let out for their Winter Break two weeks ago, so you were fresh out of fresh meat.

You pulled your scarf tight around your nose and lower half of your face as you stepped out into the chilly winter air. Dr. Oh was the Dean of Graduate Studies at the university, and you’d been to his office a couple of times before, so your feet followed a familiar path as you hurried through the cold and into the building. The air was almost oppressively hot inside, and you tore off your scarf as you ran up the stairs.

There was light pouring out from Dr. Oh’s office at the end of the hall, the only one on. You poked your head in through the open door, greeted by the sight of a seemingly empty office. Must have stepped out.

Just as you had dropped the papers into his inbox on his desk, you heard footsteps at the doorway and whipped around to greet the older man, breathless smile already on your face.

Except it wasn’t Dr. Oh standing there. Your greeting died in your throat as you stared at the newcomer with blatant shock.

“Oh, Y/N,” Qian Kun rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His hair was a bit longer than before, a shaggy length that covered most of his ears and neck, and he’d forgone his contacts in favor of a pair of silver wire-rimmed glasses, but there was nothing that time could do to conceal his identity from you. The way your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as he said your name was undeniable. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” You sputtered back harshly. His PhD program was at a completely different university in the area and should have ended in the spring. What business did he have here of all places?

“I started assisting Dr. Oh last month. Uhm, sorry, I sort of thought you graduated already, or I wouldn’t have interviewed for the job.”

“I did graduate.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Two years ago. I’m a research fellow now.”

“Of course. Well, congrats.”

You let out a small noise of acknowledgement that could’ve also been interpreted as a cynical chuckle.

“So, did you need to see Dr. Oh? He’s left the office for the year, I’m just finishing up a couple things here.”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head, vaguely gesturing to the inbox over your shoulder. “My research head asked me to drop something off.”

Kun nodded. “Right. I’ll make sure he looks it over first thing when he gets back.”

“Thank you.” There was a pause of tense silence, and you looked around the office uncomfortably. “So, can I go, or…?”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” He moved out of the doorway, stepping aside to clear the exit for you. “It uhm, it was nice to see you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You’d just brushed past him when he called your name out again. Against your better judgment, you stopped just short of leaving the office and turned to look at him.

“What, Kun?”

“What uh, what are you doing for the holidays? Are you going back home? Or, celebrating here with… someone?”

You weren’t sure what compelled you to answer other than basic social niceties. “No. Airline tickets were crazy, couldn’t find anything that would get me back in the lab in time that wasn’t ridiculously expensive. All my friends are traveling, so I’ll be eating ramen by myself on the couch, presumably.”

You had answered his half-asked question. No, you didn’t have a significant other to spend the holiday with. Just your family back home that you couldn’t afford to go see, and friends who had all left town.

“Oh…” He looked down at his feet.

“What about you?” You asked pettily, fully expecting him to be visiting a significant other’s family in town, flying home to see his family, something much merrier than the picture you had just painted.

“Same for me,” he admitted quietly. “Plane tickets back home were so expensive… and I just left my old job and haven’t really made new friends here yet. At least not ones that are on the level of them inviting me to their family Christmas.”

While you wanted to be bitterly vindicated by Kun making himself as alone on Christmas as he had made you, it somehow just weighed twice as heavy on your heart. All that came out of this was two lonely people, far away from home.

“Do you… maybe want to come over? For Christmas?” Kun’s hesitant proposition knocked the wind out of you.

“Why?”

“Well, neither of us have any other plans. And, I don’t know, I thought it might be nice… to be with someone you know. Better than being alone on Christmas eating instant ramen, maybe?”

You took a couple deep breaths, gnawing on your bottom lip as you thought over his offer. “Fine. Christmas dinner. No presents.”

He grabbed a pen and pad of sticky notes off the desk, scribbling something down. “Here’s… my address. Let’s say six?”

You plucked the yellow square from his fingers delicately. “Six.”

“See you then.”

You reached into your bag to affix the sticky note to the red envelope from your research head, then pulled your scarf back out. “See you then, Kun.”

For the next three days, that sticky note sat on your coffee table and stared at you. Even as you went about your day trying not to think about it, busying yourself with jigsaw puzzles, books, and whatever cheesy Christmas movie was on at the time. That yellow square was stuck to your forebrain, plaguing your every waking moment.

Every night you were kept up with memories. You hadn’t seen Kun in three years, since you’d picked up the last of your possessions from your old apartment. The apartment the two of you had lived in together. A brief flash of picking up your things, cut by the first time you’d opened the door to your new place together, hand-in-hand, absolutely bursting with excitement and hope for the future.

As you started getting ready to go over to Kun’s place, your body moved by itself, despite the sinking pit in your stomach threatening to swallow you whole.

Rooting through your spare closet, you finally got a small blue box out of the back. You opened it up, a bittersweet sigh leaving your mouth. Nestled in among some tissue and spare ornament hooks was a three-dimensional figure of a sea turtle, covered in glitter and with a navy blue loop of string for hanging coming from its back, but otherwise pretty realistic. You placed it in your bag, carefully cushioned by a scarf.

Before you left, you finally opened your card from your boss. She had written you a very nice note about how much she appreciated your work at the lab, and wishing you all the best in your future endeavors. There was also a gift card loaded up with a considerable amount of money, which you pocketed for later.

Kun’s place wasn’t terribly far from yours, about a fifteen-minute walk, but the heavy snow that was starting to fall slowed you down a bit more. You’d probably have to get a taxi on your way back at this rate. Hopefully your awkward, polite Christmas dinner would be very short.

Knocking on the evergreen-painted door, which sported an elegantly beautiful wreath, you checked the time on your phone. So you were a few minutes late. Oh well.

Kun opened the door with a bright smile, dressed nicely but casual enough in a dark brown knitted sweater, loose-fitting dark pants, and socks with cartoon reindeer on them. “Hey, you made it. Come on in.”

“Thanks.” You stepped into the warmth of the apartment, and he closed the door behind you.

“When I saw how hard it was snowing out there, I started getting worried.” He helped you out of your thick overcoat, hanging it up on a hook by the front door for you. “I hope you didn’t walk.”

“I did. It wasn’t too bad.” You peeled off your gloves, moving to put them in your purse at the same time that you grabbed something from the bag.

“Did you see they’re forecasting 30 to 90 cm of snow by tomorrow morning? We’ll have to get you a cab home tonight before it gets too bad.” He was still talking as he started leading the way from the narrow hallway entry into the rest of the apartment.

His living room was cozy, especially with the crackling fireplace, delicious smells emanating from the kitchen, and festive decorations put up everywhere. One corner was taken up by a modest-sized Christmas tree, covered in colorful lights and an eclectic mix of ornaments.

“Is that a real tree?” You asked curiously.

“Yeah,” he admitted almost sheepishly. “Your uh—your Christmas tree purism rubbed off on me... Doesn’t feel like Christmas unless I’m sweeping up pine needles.”

You chuckled lightly at that, remembering that your first fight as a couple was around your first Christmas together, specifically about whether to get a plastic tree or a real one for his apartment, which you were practically living in at that point. Your family had always gotten real ones when you were growing up, and you could never get behind the fake ones. Kun, on the other hand, didn’t really care either way, but got frustrated when he couldn’t convince you on the cost-saving aspect of being able to reuse your tree every year. The spat fizzled out the very same day, and you ended up having a very cute date when you went to go pick out your first (real) tree together.

“I know I said no gifts, but I don’t think this really counts, since I’m just giving you something back that was yours in the first place.” You brought the sea turtle ornament out, holding it out to him by the loop of string. “It ended up in my stuff and I couldn’t... see you again. Sorry for holding onto it for so long.”

Kun accepted the glittery marine creature in his hand, a fond smile coming to his features. “I thought I’d lost it. Thank you for not uh, throwing it out or something.”

“I paid good money for that, I wasn’t going to be the one to put it in the trash,” you joked half-heartedly, watching as he turned to hang it up on the tree. In the branches among his other ornaments, it looked at home.

Your first date had been to the aquarium, and your first kiss that same day by the sea turtle exhibit, which was why you had picked that specific ornament to give him for your second Christmas together. It was actually from the very same aquarium’s gift shop— meaning that it was wildly overpriced, but cute nevertheless.

“You have a working fireplace, too?” You gestured to the very real fire nearby.

“I do!” He beamed proudly, going to readjust some of the logs, the flames growing to a steadier burn. “I got really lucky with this place.”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you nodded in agreement.

A couple of beats of silence passed, then Kun gestured towards the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

You followed him into the kitchen, where there was a small square table with four chairs around it, and two places already set across from each other. A few full dishes were already on the table as well, and you wondered how much more food he could be making, as it looked like there was already enough to feed a family of eight at least.

“Smells good,” you commented.

Kun gave you another small smile, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the closed oven. “Thanks. I uh—got excited to cook for someone else again, and sort of went overboard. So you’re welcome to take a bunch of leftovers, too.”

“Cool, thanks.” No fucking way would you be doing that. Taking leftovers home in one of his containers, that you would then have to wash and bring back to him? Absolutely not.

The beeping of a timer went off then, and he spun around to turn off the numbers flashing at him from the stovetop. He opened the oven, putting on oven mitts before taking out the last dish.

After putting it down at the table, he announced, “Alright, dinner’s served!”

You took a seat, watching as Kun continued to bustle around the kitchen. Putting the oven mitts away, turning the oven off, grabbing a wine bottle, corkscrew, and two wine glasses from the cabinets.

“Oh, I don’t drink anymore,” you informed him casually.

“Oh, sorry.” As he went to go put everything away again, you interrupted him.

“You can drink around me, it’s not... anything like that. I’ll be fine. Just sort of lost the taste for it.”

Kun poured a glass for himself over at the counter before putting the bottle away. “So, what can I get you? I have some sparkling water, sodas, eggnog...”

“Just regular water is fine.”

He rushed to do that, and as he set your glass down in front of you, you noted, “You remembered how much ice...”

“You did give me a ten-minute lecture on the proper ratio of ice to water, if you’ll recall.” He took his seat across from you.

“Alright, lecture is doing a lot of heavy lifting there. I was simply explaining myself thoroughly so as to not be misunderstood.”

“I understood you crystal clear afterwards,” Kun chuckled, lifting his glass of red wine. “Merry Christmas, Y/N. Thank you for agreeing to do this kind of weird thing I asked you.”

“Merry Christmas, Kun,” you clinked your glass to his in a toast. “That’s what I do, remember?”

Dinner continued with civil, even sometimes amicable conversation. Mostly catching up on what had happened in both your lives in the past three years, how your families were, your jobs, fairly neutral topics.

Kun had just finished his doctorate program in the spring, and had taken the position with Dr. Oh at your university while he looked for something more aligned with his studies. You wanted to do some research before possibly going back to pursue a doctorate in your own field.

Kun’s family was doing well, his baby brother Chenle was graduating high school in the spring, his middle brother Dejun was now in his fourth year of undergrad at your own alma mater back home, and his parents were going to be celebrating their 30th anniversary next year on a cruise— which they were both very excited about, as it would be their first one.

You had to belatedly break the news to him that your grandmother passed two years ago— she had always loved Kun and you never did have the heart to tell her that the two of you broke up when she would ask where he was on your visits, since her dementia just meant that you would’ve had to re-explain it to her again the next time you saw her. You elected not to mention any of that to Kun in the moment. Other than her passing, your family was alright. Your parents had just gotten a new old cat from the shelter a few months ago, your older sister welcomed her second child, a baby girl, and you happily showed off pictures of your niece, and now five-year-old nephew to Kun.

“Wow... I can’t believe Little Bear is so big,” he gushed at the photo of your nephew on your shoulders.

“Oh, he’s an absolute menace now,” you laughed and shook your head. “That little docile baby you knew who would just fall asleep in anybody’s arms is nowhere to be found.”

“And his sister?”

“Oh, she’s going to be even worse than her brother, I just know it.” You swiped to another photo of the baby, fond grin on your lips.

Kun’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, then he cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Are you finished?”

“Oh, yeah,” you looked down at your empty plate, having completely forgotten about it in the moment. “It was all really delicious, thanks, Kun.”

“Better than the instant ramen you had planned?”

“By far. You’re a great cook, as always.”

He stood up to grab your plates. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Realizing that this was the end of dinner, of your commitment for the night, you felt simultaneously disappointed and relieved. On one hand, it was kind of nice seeing Kun again and being able to catch up—you especially loved hearing about how his little brothers were doing, you had adored doting on them while you were dating, since you were the youngest sibling yourself. But on the other hand, it was all a façade. Neither of you were addressing the elephant in the room, and it was getting exhausting trying to keep up the friendly chatter and not veer into anything serious, to only put your best foot forward in representing yourself and your life.

“Thank you for inviting me, I don’t think I said that before,” you said indicatively, standing from your seat. “You were right, it was nice being with someone you know, someone who’s from the same place as you, on Christmas.”

Kun gave a half-smile, taking his phone from the table. “We should order you that taxi, huh?”

“Right.”

As you started putting all your layers back on in the hallway, you could hear Kun’s end of the phone call with the cab company.

“What do you mean you’re not dispatching? I know it’s Christmas but— How much?! Seriously?!”

You poked your head out to look at him with concern, but he wasn’t facing you. Instead, he was at the window of the living room, throwing the curtains aside to look out.

“Alright, well, you can’t help that, no, sir. Thank you. Yep, Merry Christmas.”

After he’d hung up without giving his address, you knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” You asked cautiously, still slowly pulling on your gloves one finger at a time.

He looked at you over his shoulder, now leaning one forearm against the window. He jerked his head for you to come over. “Come see for yourself.”

You walked over hesitantly, and saw nothing but white. “Oh my God.”

“Forecasts were off a bit. Apparently there’s already been 100cm of snow, and they’re projecting at least another 50 before tomorrow.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Your jaw dropped. “So we’re...”

“Snowed in. Yeah,” he confirmed bluntly. “Guy at the taxi company says they’re not expecting the roads to start being cleared until New Year’s, and they’ll start with businesses and shopping districts first.”

You continued staring at the snow piling up against the window in shock, and Kun took a step back.

“So, you want some eggnog?”

After you had once more removed your coats, scarf, gloves, and boots, you sat down on Kun’s couch, fervently texting all your family. They had apparently seen on the news about the crazy snowstorm hitting your area, and were checking in on you. You reassured them that you were just fine, and were staying at a friend’s place until the storm blew over and the roads cleared. You deigned not to tell them who exactly this ‘friend’ was. You hadn’t told anybody who knew Kun that you were going to his place today, actually. While your family and friends had been supportive of you during the breakup, you could tell how disappointed they were that you two hadn’t worked out—and a couple outright said so. You knew it was in the ‘we’ve never seen you so happy’ sort of way, but that didn’t make it feel any better at the time.

A mug dipped into the top of your vision, accompanied by Kun’s voice. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks,” you flashed him a smile as you accepted it, and set your phone down on his coffee table. “Just letting the brigade back home know I’m not dead under a hundred meters of snow.”

He sat down in the armchair caddy corner to the end of the couch you were at. “My family has been blowing up my phone, too. For some reason my parents aren’t very amused about Chenle and Dejun daring me to go build the world’s largest snowman right now.”

“Probably have enough snow for it,” you mused. “What is the record for the biggest snowman, do you think?”

“Got to be at least ten meters, right?”

“Oh, definitely way more than that.”

“Really? You think?”

“For sure,” you snorted, picking your phone back up and quickly searching online. “It looks like the official Guinness World Record is 37.21 meters, in Bethel, Maine. But Donnersbachwald, Austria made a snowman that was reportedly 38.04 meters, named Riesi.”

Kun whistled lowly. “Well goddamn.”

“And look!” You turned your phone to show Kun the photo of Riesi. “It’s so cute!”

“Is that a top hat?”

“I think?”

As you looked at the picture one more time and put your phone to the side, you reclined back in your seat, lifting your mug up to your lips to take your first sip of the eggnog. The fire continued crackling in the background, and you hummed a Christmas carol to yourself. So you couldn’t make your great escape exactly how you’d planned. But you and Kun had tolerated each other pretty well so far, you could probably make it out of here in a few days relatively unscathed.

“Hey, uhm, what did you mean earlier?” Kun quietly shattered all of your hopes and dreams for peace with just one vague question.

“Huh? When?”

“When I thanked you for going along with my weird idea to get together for Christmas despite… everything. And you said: ‘It’s what I do, remember?’ What did you mean by that?”

“Oh… just… you know— You’d have some weird, or crazy, or slightly irresponsible, or fun idea and I always said yes,” you kept your tone conversational and nostalgic. “Blowing your whole paycheck on a LEGO set that you’d always wanted but your parents would never buy you as a kid, skipping classes in undergrad to laze about your apartment, taking the long way back to your car after Sicheng’s film festival even though it was pouring rain because you remembered I had said on our first date that I’d always wanted to dance in the rain, submitting my paper to the undergraduate research panel…”

“Moving out here,” he filled in for you flatly.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line before nodding. “Moving here…”

“Is that really how you feel? That I was always dragging you around places, making you do stuff that you didn’t want to do?”

“Kun, we’re going to be stuck in here together for who knows how long, can we not do this?”

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “I mean, I knew you were bitter about coming here, but apparently I was holding you hostage the entire four years before that too and had no idea.”

“That is not what I said,” you said through gritted teeth, narrowing your eyes.

“What else am I supposed to think about what you said?”

“You don’t!” You snapped. “You don’t think about it, you don’t read into it, they’re just words! Not everything has a deeper meaning, sometimes people just say stuff, you know.”

“Well you never actually say what you mean, so I have to try to read between the lines.”

“Or maybe I’m saying plenty, and you’re too far up your own ass trying to decipher me like some cosmic puzzle instead of listening to the actual words I’m saying!”

“So I don’t have to ask if you’re still bitter about it, then,” he scoffed.

The final shred of decency and civility left in you burned up right then, and you got to your feet as you exploded, “You convinced me to leave my family, my friends, my home, everything and everyone I knew, to come here for your dreams! And then you told me you didn’t love me anymore! Of course I’m fucking bitter!”

Kun got to his feet too, staring you down intensely. “Then why didn’t you go back home? After you graduated, you stuck around. Why?”

“I was offered the position at the lab—”

“There’s other labs.”

“The studies we’re doing—”

“There’s other studies.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“If you hated it here so much and hated me for dragging you here, why didn’t you take the first chance you had to leave?”

His features turned apologetic for a moment. “Y/N—”

“You knew how much I loved you, that I’d follow you anywhere. I chose to study here even though it was my second choice because your top pick had already accepted you. I thought we were planning our life together, but then you dropped me like it was nothing. So why? Why did you stop loving me?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Just answer the question, Kun,” you demanded. “Why? You had to have an inkling before you took me from everyone I loved—”

“I didn’t take you anywhere, you’re not some helpless waif! We were grown-ups and we made grown-up decisions!” He raised his voice again, face red with anger and veins bulging in his neck and forehead. “If I remember correctly, I suggested being long-distance while we did our graduate studies.”

“I loved you, Kun! I loved you, and I wanted to see you thriving and to support you from right next to you, not be in the sidelines of your life.”

“I never stopped loving you.”

“What?”

“The answer to your question is that I never stopped loving you, actually. I just told you I did.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, slack-jawed, before you were filled with even more white-hot rage than ever, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Y/N, we were fighting every other day, we never saw each other because we were working so much and when we did we just fought—Like this!” He gestured between the two of you zealously as he defended himself. “—about the stupidest stuff. I could see how much you hated being here, and I knew you resented me for bringing you here, but you wouldn’t ever talk to me about it. I thought that if I was the only thing keeping you here, then I needed to stop being so selfish and let you go back home where you would actually be happy again.”

“And you didn’t think to consult me on any of that?”

His jaw clenched as he took a deep inhale through his nose before answering, voice absolutely incensed, “I couldn’t get you to talk about it! Whenever I tried to ask you how you were doing settling in here, how you liked your program, anything, you just gave me these- these hollow smiles and placated me with the same ‘oh, it’s great, I really like it’ over and over again! It was like being in love with a brick wall!”

“Because I didn’t want youto blame yourself! Because it wasn’t your fault!” Your chest heaved as you caught your breath from so much shouting. The white-hot anger was gone, leaving only a cold sorrow inside you as you were confronted with your own admission. You hugged yourself as you followed it up with a much quieter, “It wasn’t your fault, Kun… It’s just been so much easier to blame you this whole time.”

“Y/N…” Kun sighed, running a hand through his hair as his tone changed from anger to remorse, his face softening. “I should’ve made sure our focus was on your career as much as it was on mine. I let my ambitions become the priority for both of us instead of seriously considering yours as well. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for blaming you the whole time. You’re right, I was a grown-up, and I made a grown-up decision.” You shook your head at yourself, staring into the dynamic flames of the fireplace. “It was so much easier to hate you for dragging me here than to hate myself for following you here.”

“I’m sorry for lying, too. When I told you I stopped loving you. I really thought that would get you to leave, to go back home where you could be happy again. But it was just needlessly cruel. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice was shaking, and when you looked back at him again, you could see that the whites of his eyes were pink.

“I didn’t go back home because it wouldn’t have meant anything to go back without you,” you finally answered his question, swallowing the lump in your throat. “When we first moved here, and I’d imagine going back home, I would always imagine us going back together. Because it wouldn’t have been home without you, for me. That’s why I stayed. Not because you were here—I really never wanted to see you again. But because you—the you that I wanted, that still loved me—weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry…” He blinked and the first of his tears slipped slowly down his cheek. “I know I said that a lot the first time we did this but… I wasn’t apologizing for the right thing.”

The corners of your lips twitched with a bittersweet, cynical smile. “You didn’t know any of this stuff the first go around.”

“I did know that you loved me. And I really thought that if you could just get over that one little thing then you could be happy again. I underestimated you and what it meant for you to love me.”

“It wasn’t that simple…” You repeated feebly. “You made me happy too, Kun. I should’ve told you that, all of this, everything, instead of pushing it down and letting myself resent you just because that’s what seemed easier at the time. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“None of this was fair on either of us.”

“But saving our relationship wasn’t your sole responsibility, Kun. We were partners, it was on both of us, and I didn’t try.”

“It was everybody’s fault and nobody’s fault,” Kun declared with another sigh, dropping his body back down in the armchair.

“Yeah…” You sat down in the corner of the couch. “It was…”

The apartment was silent as you took another sip of your eggnog, and Kun wiped his damp cheeks.

“So… now what?” You prompted as you met his gaze.

“You still like jigsaw puzzles?”

Kun and you worked together on a puzzle on the floor of his living room. Once put together, it would show a full Winter Wonderland scene. He had put on Christmas music in the background, and your assembly was interspersed with sing-alongs, easygoing conversation, and long, comfortable stretches of silence.

When the puzzle was about halfway done, you let out a big yawn, briefly checking the time on your phone. “Oh, jeez, it’s after midnight already.”

“I think that’s plenty for tonight,” Kun declared, slowly getting to his feet. “We can finish up the rest tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” You twisted around in place to crack your back.

“I’ll go get you some pajamas.” He gave your head a gentle pat before walking off, taking both of your now-empty eggnog mugs with him.

He returned just a couple minutes later in a pair of lounge pants and simple longsleeve shirt, holding out a stack of clothes to you. “Here.”

“Thanks, Kun,” you accepted them gratefully. “But you really didn’t have to—”

“Y/N, were you seriously going to wear the same clothes for like a week straight?” He raised an eyebrow doubtfully.

“I mean, you have a washing machine, presumably.”

“And you would’ve… stood by the washing machine naked? Until they were done?”

You covered your face with one hand as you laughed. “Good point, good point.”

“Seriously, it’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you fully appraised the clothes as you changed, a funny sort of tug in your chest when you recognized the sweatshirt he’d given you. It was a plain black crewneck sweatshirt, save for a small rose embroidered on the left wrist, just above the cuff. It had always been your favorite of his to take and wear for yourself before.

The sweatshirt was as soft as you’d remembered, and when you put it on, you were awash not only in Kun’s scent, but warm, happy memories of being held, loved, treasured, safe. You folded up your clothes and left them on the bathroom countertop.

The fire had been put out when you returned to the living room, and the lights on the tree unplugged.

“I uhm, I’m not sure where you wanted me to put my clothes, so they’re on the—” You cut yourself off when you looked up from where you’d been fiddling with the hem of the sweatshirt to see Kun looking at you with an off-putting, oddly mournful look of tenderness. “What? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off your concerns, his voice tight. “That’s fine, I’ll throw them in the wash with mine tomorrow.”

“Do you have some extra bedding I can use out here?”

“What?”

“I mean, your couch already looks super comfy, but a real pillow would sort of be nice…”

“No, no, you can take my bed,” he shook his head. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Kun, I’ll be fine out here for a few nights,” you pushed back. With humor in your tone, you added, “You’ve done enough sleeping on the couch to last the rest of your life, okay? I think it’s my turn.”

He seemed to understand your joke, but also the sincere intent behind it, and held up his hands in surrender as a smile cracked across his face. “Alright, I know when I’m beat. I’ll get you some pillows and blankets.”

Kun set up your makeshift bed on the couch for you, with a couple of real pillows, a very fluffy blanket, and heavy quilt to go over that. He refilled your water glass from dinner, and set that down on the coffee table for you.

“Oh, phone charger—”

“I have one.” You stopped him with a hand on his arm, going to grab your purse and root through it. “I keep an extra on me. Never know when your phone is going to die reviewing notes in a random café.”

“Right. Cool.” He watched you plug it into the outlet closest to the pillow end of the couch, then stand back up.

“Well, goodnight, Kun. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Thanks again for coming, and uh, sorry for getting you stuck out here…”

You sat down on the couch, smiling up at him. “Hasn’t been all bad.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t,” he agreed with a chuckle.

When he still hadn’t moved, you realized the both of you must have been debating the same thing. Should you hug goodnight?

To save yourselves, you opened your arms in a half-invitation, and Kun bent over to give you a one-armed hug, briefly rubbing your back before standing back up. He gave you a final hesitant smile and nod. “Night.”

“Night.”

As you laid down, you could hear him walking across the room, and pause at the threshold. Just as you’d finished readjusting your covers and getting cozy with your head on the pillow, the lights were turned off, and you listened to Kun walk all the way into his room and the door creak closed behind him.

You watched the last of the dying embers in the fireplace as you started trying to sort through your muddied thoughts. You and Kun no longer had the awkwardness of bitter exes, but it had just been replaced with a new kind of awkwardness. Now that you didn’t hate each other, what was left? How did you feel about each other?

You still hadn’t figured it out by the time you fell asleep.

Full-body shivers woke you up, and you blinked rapidly trying to readjust to your surroundings. You pulled the blankets tighter around you, but that did practically nothing. Every inch of you from your fingers to your toes felt like a block of ice, and your muscles were shaking to try to generate some kind of heat. Your teeth even chattered a couple of times.

A hasty look at your phone showed you that it was only two and a half hours after you’d fallen asleep. You turned on your phone flashlight, looking around the walls for the thermostat. Having spotted it at the start of the hallway, you made the hasty decision to throw your blankets off you and run over to it as quick as possible, fumbling to look at the controls. But as best you could tell, the heat was definitely turned on, and it was set to a perfectly comfortable temperature.

You felt terrible for what you were about to do, but you were going to get hypothermia sooner than you would get back to sleep at this rate. Lightly knocking on Kun’s bedroom door, you paid attention for any signs of life. After a moment of no response, you knocked again, a bit louder.

There was a groan from inside, followed by a half-intelligible, confused mumble of your name.

“Yeah, Kun, it’s me,” you responded through the wood.

You heard the sounds of him rolling out of bed, then lumbering over to the door. He opened it, rubbing one of his eyes.

“Y/N, what are you— Shit, it’s a fucking meatlocker out there!” He exclaimed, grabbing at his own arms.

“Yeah, I know. I’m really sorry to wake you up, but I can’t seem to figure out your thermostat and it’s freezing out here.”

Kun pushed past you, shutting his door tight behind him before going to inspect the thermostat himself. “Doesn’t make sense… The heat should be working fine…”

“Oh.”

“God, of course it’s fucking broken,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry about this, Y/N. I’ll go call the maintenance line right now.”

Just a moment later, and you heard more swearing from his room. He came back out with his phone in hand. “Got a text from the management company… Heat in the whole complex is busted, but they can’t get anybody out here until the roads are clear.”

“Shit…”

He spun on his heel back towards the bedroom. “Come on, it’s at least a little warmer in my room. You’ll freeze to death out here.”

You followed him in without complaint, and he shut the door firmly behind you. He grabbed a towel from his attached bathroom and stuffed it under the crack of the door.

You couldn’t see much about his bedroom in the dark except for a few vague shapes, but the air felt noticeably warmer in here than it had been in the living room. Kun opened up a couple of drawers on what you were now realizing was a dresser, and grabbed a hoodie for himself, then handed you a zip-up hoodie. It was big enough to fit the sleeves of your sweatshirt through, and you could feel the chattering of your teeth dying down.

Kun sat down on one side of the bed, and indicated to the other side for you. You obliged, following his lead to slip under the covers. The sheet, blankets, and heavy quilt were still pleasantly warm, and you rubbed your frozen feet together in contentment. You accidentally bumped Kun’s leg, a flash of accidental heat.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” You jerked your limbs as far back as you dared without leaving the security of the blankets.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re an icicle,” Kun said disapprovingly.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Come here,” he sighed and lifted the blankets in between you two.

“Wh—”

“I’m not going to let you freeze to death literally right next to me. Either you come here or I go over there.”

You shuffled a couple inches closer to him, but either he was impatient, or wasn’t sure that you’d follow through, because he moved to close the gap himself, meeting you in the middle and wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer to him.

You gulped, and hoped he couldn’t hear it. “That’s a lot better, actually.”

“I was always much warmer than you,” he pointed out.

Readjusting to lay on your side facing the same direction as him, your hand brushed against his that was slung over your middle.

“God, you feel like you’re about to lose your fingers to frostbite, too.” He covered your hand with his.

You instinctively spread your fingers so his would slot together with them, and it felt so familiar and comfortable that you almost burst into tears again on the spot.

“Y/N?”

“Y-Yeah?” You tried and failed to keep your voice casual.

“I think you’re cutting off my circulation now.”

“Oh God, sorry!” You loosened the death grip you didn’t even realized you’d had on his appendages.

“It’s alright,” he reassured you. “Are you warming up?”

You nodded hastily. “For sure. Thank you, again.”

“I was thinking… about earlier.”

“Kun, for real, if there was ever a time not to fight.”

“No, it’s not— Well it is about that, but I’m not looking for a round two, promise.”

“Okay…”

“I was thinking… about how I didn’t really accept your apologies, and you didn’t accept mine.”

“That’s fine, Kun. Not every apology is made to be accepted.”

“I know, I know. And I’m not fishing for your forgiveness right now. I was just thinking, about how I’m kind of relieved, that we still haven’t you know, finally gotten our closure or whatever.” His breath was getting quicker. “Because I don’t want this to be over, actually. And closure feels like it’d really be the end.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and opened them back up again, staring into the inky darkness. “What do you mean by that, Kun?”

“I mean… When I said I never stopped loving you, I didn’t just mean when we broke up. I still do.”

“So you… What? Want to get back together?” Your voice was a hoarse whisper.

“At least talk about it,” he confirmed. “I’ll do anything you want, lovey. Complete restart, take you on a new first date, or we can even just try to be friends first. I’m not saying we have to jump right back in where we left off. I think we need to leave space for the people we’ve become since then but… I know I want to try again.”

You swallowed down your sniffles as you turned over to finally face him. Despite the lack of light, you could find every feature on Kun’s face, holding a caged hopefulness in them. You gently caressed his cheek with the back of your knuckles.

“Okay…” You murmured. “We can try again. I-I want that too.”

You caught just a flicker of Kun’s bright grin before you were tangling your fingers in his shaggy locks and pulling his mouth to yours. It was somehow even better than you remembered, than you had imagined, because it felt like coming home all at once. Like all of you, body, mind, soul, heart, had come home.

Kun kissed you back just as ardently, tangling his legs with yours and pulling you even closer—if it were even possible. One of his hands cupped your cheek while the other wrapped around your waist, bunching in the fabric at the small of your back.

When your lungs were screaming for air and you were light-headed for more than one reason, you broke away, resting your forehead against his.

“Looks like neither of us followed the no gift rule,” Kun said in the negligible space between your mouths, the tip of his nose bumping yours for a moment. “I think I had my heart gift-wrapped for you from the moment I saw you again.”

You chuckled as you stole one, two more kisses from him. “You’re as cheesy as ever, pooks.”

“I have three years’ worth of lines like that stocked up,” he teased, giving you another peck. “And you’re stuck in here with me until next year, lovey.”

sequel :･ﾟ✧｡･:･*

⤷ 2023 hallmark movie marathon | blog masterlist

187 notes · View notes

breadcatcreations · 2 years

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I just fucking know that Jisung loves it when you wear really short crop tops. Ughhh and when you need something on a shelf but can’t reach it. And your shirt is riding up to see the top of your tits. oh oh and when if he picks you up to grab it and his face is right next to your exposed skin. He’s definitely making a bathroom run after this interaction. And don’t get him started on when you stretch. My guy would NEVER say it to anyone. Maybe Chenle but he know that Chenle would tease the living hell out of him. Ugh and if he’s horny enough he’ll definitely fuck the shit out of you. Like omg I still have legs. You can’t tell them but their there. Oops that got smutty :=}

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snoopymins · 1 month

Text

we're all reaching out to find another hand | na jaemin

summary: Na Jaemin is an up-and-coming investigative journalist, relentlessly exposing corruption and cover-ups at every corner, and you are but the exasperated superhero charged with ensuring he doesn't get killed in the process.

pairing: journalist!na jaemin/f!superhero!reader

wc: 26k

genre: non-idol, superheroes, angst, fluff, eventual happy ending/romance

warnings: violence and injuries, typical stuff for superhero media ig? brief mentions of natural disasters, gun violence, etc

note: had to mush things together and cut things out to get this to fit. i hope that whatever staff member decided there should be content blocks on posts has a wretched day. anyways, this is a superhero au, specifically inspired by superman/clark kent and lois lane, in that reader is a kryptonian/supergirl and jaemin is, essentially, her lois lane. those characters (clark/lois etc) are not here, however, kun is placed into what is essentially clark kent/superman's role, as well as an oc for lois lane. no in-depth knowledge is necessary—all my research is based on google, wiki, and popular media surrounding superman. i do my best to explain everything as well, promise!

playlist: tomorrow is closed—nothing but thieves • do you realize??—the flaming lips • who we are—hozier • drowning—woodz

masterlist

“This is happening too often.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Of course you don’t. You never do.”

Your cousin has always tried to impart careful advice on professionalism and respect when it comes to your job. For the most part, you agree, and treat it like your own personal Hippocratic Oath.

You figure if Kun saw you now, bickering with Na ‘Persistent Pain In Your Ass’ Jaemin, he’d be a little disappointed in you.

“I wasn’t in danger,” Jaemin counters stubbornly, crossing his arms.

“I think falling off a ladder and cracking your head open on the sidewalk counts as danger.”

“It’s not being held at gunpoint, though.”

What does he want, a congratulations that the one time you save him he isn’t seconds away from being shot or otherwise maimed?

“It’s still dangerous.”

But—you figure that there must be something in the water at the Daily Planet. One journalist acting recklessly for the sake of the greater good—and consequently roping in her own personal Kryptonian-on-call—is a fluke. A second one is too much of a coincidence. Especially considering the Kryptonian that Lina Dhar-Qian had was your cousin, Qian Kun, the one and only Superman.

Leaving you, Supergirl, to save the persistent Na Jaemin from certain death when he pokes too many sleeping dogs. You, however, lack the patience Kun had. Has. Then again, Kun and Lina are married. Have been for ages. That probably changes things.

Na Jaemin may be the prettiest person you’ve ever laid eyes on in the entire universe—and you’ve seen a lot—but that doesn’t quite cancel out his penchant for trouble that, at times, seriously concerns you.

A cough pulls you from studying the streak of white paint on Jaemin’s cheek—flushed red from the unforgiving summer heat and humidity.

A dark-haired guy looking close to Jaemin’s age gazes up at you two, bewildered.

“What happened?”

You decide now is a good time to set him down, having gotten distracted with your argument after you’d caught him, and remaining several feet in the air. Even so—Jaemin is one of the few men who are more or less okay with you carrying him. Once your feet are settled on the ground, he slides out of your arms with ease. An old song and dance for you two. Which is, again, concerning if you think about it.

“What’d you do?” his friend asks next, frowning at him.

“I fell off the ladder. What’d I do? Clearly suffered from the negligence of my friend, Renjun. I could’ve cracked my head open right here and died.”

“I see,” Renjun says, uninterested. He turns to you next. “Well, I suppose we should say thank you for making sure he sees tomorrow.”

I’m used to it, you want to say.

Supergirl, however, must reply, “No thanks needed. Please be more careful next time. Both of you. Using a ladder is more dangerous than you think, you know.”

“It’s not my fault,” Jaemin mutters. “He left.”

“For thirty seconds—”

“Thirty seconds is all it takes!”

“I swear to god, Jaemin…”

You gently interject, “What’s this for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

They stop their bickering. Renjun blinks a few times at you, then the wall, coughing.

“Oh, it’s—it’s supposed to be a mural I’m doing. Me and some other local artists are putting up murals around the city,” he explains, then hastily adds, “With permission, of course.”

You chuckle quietly. As if you’d do anything if it wasn’t done with permission. But back to what Renjun is saying…

“Did you do the one on the corner of Flanagan and 30th? The one of me?”

You know he did—you can recall the loopy signature on the corner reading, simply, Renjun. Unless this is another Renjun, but you don’t think so.

“I did.”

“It’s really nice,” you say truthfully. “Very… warm.”

His face lights up. “Thank you! That was my intention—part of it, anyway. A lot of depictions of you guys always seem so… cold. Great art, don’t get me wrong, but… too impartial for my personal tastes. Like you guys are bigger than life. Which you are, technically, but not like that… not in my opinion, anyway…”

Renjun is flushed and a tad sheepish by the end of his mini tirade. Jaemin stares at him like he can’t believe his eyes.

You smile at him. “Thank you, Renjun. That’s very kind of you to say. And for this—you just need the wall to be white to start?”

“Oh, yeah…”

“I can do it.”

That catches him off guard. Jaemin, on the other hand, says nothing and simply looks at you. You blame the jump in your pulse on the distant thundering crack of a tectonic plate moving on the west coast at that very moment.

“Oh, no, no, you don't have to do that. Jaemin and I—well, it should probably be me—”

“Hey.”

Renjun ignores him. “—can finish it. I’m sure you have more important—”

In the time that it takes for him to say the word important, you scoop up the can of paint and the brush and finish painting the wall white. The breeze hits in the next moment as you settle yourself back in front of them, smiling.

“—work…” he trails off, blinking a few times as he gazes at the now-white wall. Jaemin crosses his arms and turns a critical eye over it, as if searching for mistakes.

“Hope I didn’t miss anything,” you joke.

Renjun stares at you, looking a little starstruck all of a sudden. “Can I get a picture with you?”

You grin. “Sure.”

The shutter of the camera on his phone is loud as he takes a selfie of you two.

“Thank you so much… I really appreciate it…”

“Of course.”

Ten miles away, a fire alarm goes off. If you try hard enough, muddle through enough of the scents in the air, you can smell the building smoke.

You lift off the ground. “I should go. You two be safe.”

“Thanks,” Renjun says earnestly. “You, too.”

You wink and rap your knuckles against your chest. “Bulletproof. But thanks.”

You’re off in the next second. Despite the distance between you in the next handful of seconds, the thump of Jaemin’s heart lingers in your ears.

He has a steady heart.

You arrive at the burning apartment building just as he speaks.

“Really?”

You clear the first floor.

“She’s Supergirl,” comes Renjun’s grumbling response. “She’s cool. You aren’t going to make me feel bad for geeking out a little.”

Second floor.

“Hmm.”

“Don’t Hmm me. What about you, huh?”

Third floor.

“What about me?” Jaemin asks coolly.

Fourth floor. A teenager studying, a babysitter and a toddler, an elderly couple, a sleeping man. A fire truck and ambulance draw near, sirens piercing in your ears. You focus on the heartbeats leftover and underneath that, the conversation happening ten miles away.

“You know, I thought Hyuck was exaggerating when he was talking about your sleuthing.”

One more room left. The fire originates from here. You feel the heat of the flames but you’ve also felt the heat of the sun, so you dive in without fear. In the corner of the kitchen, a little girl and a Malinois puppy huddle together. A beam crumples and part of the ceiling caves. You catch it before it can crush them. The little girl, teary-eyed and helpless, gazes up at you with nothing short of relief.

Finally taking a breath, you hold it for one second as you toss the ceiling to the side, then release it as you take the girl and her puppy into your arms. Little hands and claws cling to you.

You get them out.

There are no casualties. A few burns, smoke inhalation, but no casualties. Katie, the nine-year-old girl you saved, inadvertently started the fire trying to cook for her mother, a janitor at Metropolis General pulling fifteen-hour workdays to pay the bills. She only wanted to do something nice for her. You text Kun and Lina about it, to make sure nothing bad happens to either of them because of it. Unlike them, there is only so much you can do as a civilian. Same with Supergirl, as officials deem you an outsider when it comes to these kinds of issues—useful only to pull people from burning buildings and to stop alien invasions.

During this, Renjun and Jaemin’s conversation has gone on unimpeded.

“Sleuthing,” Jaemin is saying, “sounds incredibly unprofessional. I’m a journalist. And Donghyuck is always exaggerating. I don’t even talk to him and Mark, you know that, right? Where are they getting their sources from?”

“Your headlines,” Renjun deadpans. “And the fact that every major story you’ve published in the last four months have featured Supergirl in some way or another, usually with a footnote—a footnote, Jaemin—about how you had your ass saved from certain death by her.”

“I have a word limit, alright?”

“You’re insane. Totally insane.”

“I love you, too, Renjunnie.”

“Where’s that ladder at? Get on it. I’m going to push you off.”

Jaemin’s laugh is warm in your ears.

You ignore the weight that forms in your chest and head home for the day.

You first met Jaemin when he was about to be shot. Specifically, shot by the Russian mafia for getting caught poking into their drug trades. The mobster had pulled the trigger. Bullet released from its chamber, aimed to kill, to ensure the things Jaemin had learned would never see the light of day.

If it were anywhere else, they’d likely succeed. But this is Metropolis. You can push your limits. Bullets can fire and you can still save someone.

It was close, though. Fired in an instant, Na Jaemin had not flinched but had instead braced, refusing to show fear to them. Very noble. Very impressive. Nonetheless—unnecessary. You pulled him out of the way and didn’t hesitate to take down the mobsters, either, tying them up and leaving them outside the dingy warehouse—because it’s always a warehouse these guys use to kill people—for the police to grab.

Then you went back to Jaemin and let time resume. Off-balance and disoriented, he stumbled right into your arms. Some initial pushback. But the fight left him just as quickly when he realized who you were, wide eyes taking in the symbol on your chest.

“It’s okay,” you had said to him gently, your hands on his arms. “You’re safe now.”

The adrenaline was quickly leaving him, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird in your ears, blood pumping, fear still tangible.

He had put up a good front in front of those mobsters. He really had. But it wasn’t good enough to fool you. But—that was perhaps the point. You were you. Supergirl. You weren’t just anyone else witnessing a vulnerable moment. That’s why, you think, for a few minutes, he was willing to let his guard down. You remember the way he shivered, one of his hands balling up the material of your cape.

“You’re safe now,” you had repeated and finally, it seemed to sink in. Or rather, what had kept him going finally gave out.

You helped him sit on the floor, kneeling beside him, keeping a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s your name?” you remember asking him gently, regaining his attention.

You remember him looking at you, really looking at you, the emotions in his dark eyes, revealed to you, reeling from the situation he had just been in. He had, in that moment, reminded you sharply of yourself. It was a discomforting thought, but no less true.

“Jaemin,” he had told you quietly, an accent curling his words faintly. “Na Jaemin.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jaemin. I’m Supergirl.”

“I know.”

You had smiled, because you got that a lot when you said it, but there was something else that was… charming about the way he’d said that, so knowingly. And after that, after the police arrived and he was seen to and the story broke in the papers, his name underneath it, the moment had stuck with you. It usually doesn’t. You have an excellent memory and nine out of ten times you can recognize someone you’ve rescued but they don’t… linger with you.

Not in the way Na Jaemin did.

Then, one month later, you got a tip about an illegal arms deal involving two heavy-hitter players in Metropolis. When you arrived at the hotel it was taking place at, you bumped straight into Jaemin.

“Oh, you’re here,” he said when he saw you.

“Jaemin?”

He had only pointed at the men with machine guns advancing on you, said, “They’re trying to kill me,” then ran the other direction.

“The exit is the other way—!”

“I’m not done here yet!”

“Now, wait a second—” Your response was drowned out by gunfire. Bullets pelted you and clinked to the ground. By the time you handled them, delayed by your confusion over Jaemin’s decision, he was gone.

Well, he was in the stairwell, going down, and you could hear his heart, thumping quickly, less fear this time and more determination. But since he wasn’t in more danger, you decided to handle the gunmen first.

By the time you were finished with that, a few sounds from the basement gained your attention. When you ventured down, you found a stash of weapons far larger than expected, a knocked-out mobster, and Jaemin, with an abandoned crowbar near him and a split lip, snapping pictures.

“I’m not helpless,” was the only thing he had told you.

That set the tone for the rest of your relationship.

For the better and for the worse.

Blue-and-red lights flash rhythmically in the night. Coming up on three days of no sleep, it’s just about a siren’s call to close your eyes and drift off right there.

You do get energy from the sun—yellow suns specifically, and in this case, Sol, the star which makes you what you are—and can go longer stretches without having to eat or sleep than if you were under a red sun or if you were a regular old human, but at one point, you do need it and you are rapidly approaching that threshold.

It’s why you just about miss Jaemin.

“What happened here?”

Your head whips to the side, to where he now stands, gazing out at the scene, eyes tired, button-up and slacks rumpled, like he was sleeping at the office when he got the tip. He probably was. He shouldn’t, you’ve told him too many times to go home and rest. It’s not good for his health… though when he asks why you care, you say something lame about him getting slow because of it. Which is true and just as concerning but emptier without a pretext. But if you included one, you think he’d be even likelier to ignore you. He’s like that. You don’t know why. You wish you did.

Something cold slides into the loosely curled fingers of your hand. Your fingers close around it reflexively.

SNAP.

You blink, dropping your eyes from his face—now facing you—to your hand. Ink pools in your palm, staining your skin and the shattered bits of the pen, too. On the ground lies the other half of the pen.

“That,” Jaemin says, “is a terrible reflex.”

“I zoned out.”

“You were looking straight at me.”

“I zone out while looking at things and people sometimes,” you say defensively. “It happens.”

“Right,” he says doubtfully.

You wipe the ink on your hand on your cape, then reach up to dig the heels of your palms into your eyes. Colors starburst in the darkness of your eyelids. When you reopen your eyes, they feel ten times heavier.

“I’m just tired,” you mutter. “It is and isn’t a reflex. I’m just very good at subconsciously categorizing whether the thing in my hand is fine to be crushed or if it’s soft and fragile.”

“Soft and fragile.” His tone leaves much to be desired.

“Humans are. So are puppies. And cats. And other animals. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Hm.”

“Can’t tell you, either, by the way.” Referring to his initial question. What happened? An amateur bank break-in. Boring.

“Yes,” he says. “I figured.”

He always does this—if you’re the first on the scene and he’s second to follow, he’ll ask what happened and you’ll tell him the same thing: Can’t tell you.

“Why come out here knowing the answer is always going to be the same?”

A shrug. “Why not?”

You chuckle tiredly. “Touché.”

“You should go home and sleep if you’re tired.”

It’s childish, but you can’t help but reply, “You should go home and sleep.”

It’s dark, but you can see everything. Nothing is hidden from your sharp eyes. Neither is the way his lips twitch into a small, amused smile that he turns away to the police car parked near you.

“I will. Eventually. But between the two of us, I think you’re the biggest liability. Only one of us can destroy ten city blocks if we lose focus mid-flight.”

“I saw the mural,” you say instead of responding to that. “It turned out great.”

“Renjun is a great artist,” he agrees, and you think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him express that kind of admiration for someone.

A jaw-cracking yawn forces itself out of you at that moment.

“Seriously,” Jaemin says, exasperated now. “Go home.”

“Only if you do.”

“Only if I do?”

“What I do isn’t limited to just danger, you know. Although one could argue a sleep deprived human is dangerous—you know, the statistics—”

“No statistics.”

“Fine. But being moderately invested in your health and wellbeing, which does admittedly center around making sure you don’t die—”

He clicks his tongue. “It’s never that serious.”

“It’s always that serious, Jaemin. Anyway, as I was saying, it also includes ensuring you get an adequate amount of sleep.”

“Alright,” he says with a big sigh, like you’ve asked the world of him. And knowing him and his sometimes workaholic tendencies, it likely is. But nonetheless, you’re pleased that you’ve gotten him to agree to this much.

“Alright,” you agree, lifting from the ground. A warm summer breeze ruffles your cape. “Get home safe, Jaemin.”

He gives a lazy wave of his hand. You chuckle quietly and then, you’re off.

As previously mentioned, you consider Jaemin—and Kun and Lina and any other person involved in investigative journalism, or really any kind of journalism—to be much stronger than you. Not quite in the physical sense but more in that… doing what you do, you learn to focus on the silver linings, on the hope, on the possibility of a better future.

Now, obviously, is not quite that time. Not with the legislature that comes out every six months talking about whether to make superhumans register with the government—a bad decision, if it isn’t obvious—and then the other bills that come out about every three months about whether ‘Kryptonians are really necessary on earth.’ This typically involves something similar to a superhuman registry, though with a little more hostility and an open threat of death by Kryptonite or, if you’re lucky, a nuke (since that won’t kill you—not permanently anyway, it might scatter your particles a bit but you’d come back together eventually).

This is in addition to the many other issues this country and this world has. But you cannot give up that easily. And the truth of the matter is, being Supergirl already exposes you to the countless injustices of the world. Doing investigative journalism on top of that, you think, would ruin you completely.

This realization has caused its fair share of guilt, though Kun and Lina agree that it takes a different brand of strength to do what they do and that you shouldn’t force yourself to do something that will only make you suffer in the long run.

You’ve suffered enough, Kun once told you quietly.

So have you.

Yes, he had agreed. But I wasn’t alone.

Yes, you had thought. That did make quite a difference.

What do you do, then?

You bake. Specifically, you bake and do deliveries. Sleepless Bites specializes in late-night cookie deliveries. Its main demographic is college students, stoners, stoned college students, insomniacs, and the occasional sleep-deprived parent. It works well with your hectic schedule but can also provide some much-needed structure when you feel more Supergirl than you.

Most often, you work the night shift, baking the cookies and then delivering them. There used to be someone else with you, specifically the delivery driver (while you did the baking), but Jisung, the kid you’d worked with, wasn’t totally happy about working these shifts since they, obviously, messed with his sleep schedule. He’d fallen asleep one night and you felt bad about waking him up since he was also a student at Metropolis University. So you decided to take care of the delivery on your own. Only to end up nearly mugged at gunpoint.

You didn’t let it happen. Obviously. You came back safe and sound with the money and your tip, but the whole incident put management in a tizzy, mostly over concerns that you’d, you don’t know, sue them or something. And poor Jisung felt so bad about it, too. You were able to use it to your advantage, though, insisting you can take care of yourself and their profit—as evidenced by you coming back unscathed and that mugger getting arrested—and thus, they should return Jisung to the day shift and leave you on your own.

It sounds a bit crazy, you know, but they were greedy enough that they agreed easily, which means you have much more room to work with in terms of potential incidents during your shift where Supergirl is needed. Sleepless Bites is also only half a mile from the Daily Planet, so you occasionally get orders from Kun, who has an insatiable sweet tooth when he’s pulling all-nighters.

So, one warm summer evening, when an order pops up on the computer screen, delivery address listing the Daily Planet, you assume it’s Kun again. A smaller order than usual this time; he usually gets two sugar cookies, two chocolate chip cookies, and two peanut butter cookies. This one only asks for two oatmeal raisin cookies and one snickerdoodle cookie, as well as an order for a large coffee—also a first. But you assume he’s branching out, so you think nothing more of it.

You get the coffee made, the cookies warmed and tucked into the box, then reach for the order sticker.

Then you see the name.

Na Jaemin.

Identity is a tricky thing. For all beings of the universe, for all humans, and for you. You are you but you are also Supergirl. Or better put—Kryptonian. To those who do not know the truth about you, you are a human. Like to Mark and Donghyuck. You are a simple delivery girl. Human. Not extraordinary.

To those who only know you as Supergirl, you are just that—Supergirl. An alien. An ally, but also potentially an enemy. Someone to politely work with but also someone to fear. You smile and shake the mayor’s hand while knowing he has an under-the-table deal with the federal government for a stash of Kryptonite, to be used in the scenario in which you decided world domination better suited your interests than saving people.

The pool of people who really know you is a small one. Kun. Lina. Their son and your nephew, Jay. Kun’s adoptive mother, Maria Qian. And… that’s it. Most of the time, you can cope normally with this. You don’t have a lot of friends—any at all, actually—which means there is not much risk for exposing yourself. And Supergirl isn’t in the business of making friends, either. Well, she was, until…

This is what happens when those worlds get too close to each other. You’re standing outside of the Daily Planet, a fifteen-story glass building in the heart of downtown Metropolis, feeling like you’re about to throw down with Darkseid (this bad alien guy who tried to colonize earth a few years ago). When in all actuality, it’s just Jaemin. Normal and relatively harmless Jaemin.

You have your ball cap on, a simple black one with Sleepless Bites in white stitching, then your glasses, a pair of black unremarkable frames. You know it seems like a flimsy disguise. But according to Kun, half of the disguise banks on the fact that most people don’t want to accept that a Kryptonian, much less Superman himself, is standing in front of them. That Superman is the quiet and polite journalist Qian Kun, who is sometimes easy to miss, especially since Superman is a figure that is impossible to miss.

It is something of the same with you. But Jaemin isn’t just anybody on the street, he’s…

Well. It doesn’t matter.

Not many people are left in the building. The janitorial staff is finishing up their nightly cleaning duties. A few journalists burning the midnight oil. Or perhaps the poor interns enlisted to proofread for them. And Jaemin. His heart is easy to pick out in the onslaught of noise all around you. You resist the urge to use your X-ray vision and look through the layers of wall and plaster in front of you to spot him.

You take a deep breath that you, biologically speaking, don’t technically need but helps soothe a bit of your nerves anyway. Your heart, though, pounds erratically in your chest. It feels impossibly loud to your ears, nearly drowning out everything else. You’re never usually this nervous around him but—being around him as Supergirl is easier because the roles are known and played. He is the persistent journalist that gets himself into trouble. You are the superhero tasked with getting him out of it.

But you as you are right now? Nothing for it. This is… no man’s land.

The glass door swings open. A sleepy-eyed Jaemin emerges, ushering a familiar burst of warmth in your chest. Oddly assured at the final sight of him in front of your eyes, you step out of the delivery car, meeting him halfway.

Clearing your throat and praying he’s tired enough not to focus too much on your voice, you ask, “For Jaemin?”

You meet his gaze for a moment, then avert your eyes to the sticker on the box of cookies, listing his order.

“Yeah.”

You trade him the box of cookies for the twenty-dollar bill, ducking your head as you start to thumb out his change.

“Uh, that’s…”

“Keep the change,” he says. “Your tip.”

“Thank you.” You flash him a quick customer service smile, then as you start to turn away, you add, “Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

“Thanks.”

You’re turned away before he is, striding for the delivery car. It takes him exactly two seconds before he himself turns around and starts heading for the doors again. Two seconds in which you clearly feel his gaze on your back. Two seconds is only an eternity to you, though; to him, a human, it’s fleeting—nothing.

It’s nothing at all.

In your six years operating in Metropolis—having started at the age of eighteen—you’ve had a number of journalists attempt to unveil your identity to the masses. Many of them used the defense that that’s what the point of their job is. Lina Dhar-Qian, the first and only journalist to ever figure out a superhero’s identity (not that anyone else knows but, you know), disagrees.

It’s not that they don’t have an obligation to do those things, it’s more that, well, most of them wanted to do it for the inevitable acclaim that would come with revealing such a fact about a… controversial figure within the world. Though Maria Qian, Kun’s adoptive mother, always believed public opinion would be split in half. There would inevitably be those who see it as a good thing, mostly those who are suspicious of Kryptonians and would rather see them leashed much tighter to the US government rather than the UN (both for the sake of potential uprisings but also—and this is the part they hate to admit—so that they’d have such a powerful backing against whoever they deemed the enemy that day).

But then, she would insist to you, Kun, and Lina, the other half would see it in a negative light—a breach of privacy, a wrongdoing against you and Kun, who have worked so tirelessly for this city and this world, swooping in during natural disasters, minimizing the time and effort for search and rescue. So, maybe someone like Huang Renjun, whose mural depicted you so warmly, seeing you as you are, for as potentially harmful as that may be.

It is… nice to have someone see you for the thinking and feelings being that you are, rather than an untouchable, larger-than-life alien deigning to help out a lower life form. You won’t try and say that it isn’t. But again—whether it’s good, is another question.

Nonetheless.

Attempts to reveal your identity are old hat. You are used to them. You know how to deal with them. There’s a habit, you’ve noticed, for new additions or transfers to the Daily Planet; quite a few of them take it upon themselves to try and reveal your identity and prove themselves to the newsroom at the same time. They never succeed, of course—laying low like you do with your job at Sleepless Bites gives you a significant advantage in comparison to Kun, who oftentimes relies on coincidence to cover himself. But it happens. The editors never quite dissuade them, either. You imagine, to them, the chances are low but never quite zero. So, why not? They’re happy to watch these guys run in circles chasing their own tails.

It’s a bit cruel, in your opinion, but what do you know?

This is all to say, shortly after Jaemin’s arrival in Metropolis and after your first and second meeting, he gets, not a gentle nudge, but a full push into chasing down your identity. Admittedly, it also comes on the tail of him exposing a few drug rings in the city and the officials caught up with them, so you figure it is equal parts wanting to watch a newbie spin his wheels but also maybe he could figure it out.

And this all happens right in front of you, one day. You took lunch with Kun, who had subtly complained about not seeing you recently and not knowing what was going on with you.

“There’s never anything going on with me,” you mumble to him, spearing a piece of chicken into your mouth. The two of you are crammed into his cubicle, which, as always, looks like a tornado just came through, papers strewn over his desk, PC tower wheezing and working overtime with an unfinished Word document running behind fifty-something tabs on Chrome.

“What about that guy you work with? Didn’t you hang out with him recently?” he asks, eating a sad-looking salad but not seeming to notice that fact as he hones his focus on you.

“Jisung. I was going to. A basketball game at Met U, his friend plays for them. But the night of we got called out for those wildfires in California, remember?”

“Ah,” he says, grimacing. “I remember. It took days to get the smell of smoke out of my suit. And hair.”

Movement to your left. Crinkling brown eyes peer over the cubicle wall. “Taeyong kept complaining it smelled like burnt popcorn in here.”

You laugh. Kun chuckles, too.

Grinning, Lina comes around to lean against the opening, arms crossed.

“Jay’s been asking about you,” she says. “Let us know when you’re off. He’s dying for a sleepover and we’re dying for a date night.”

“Don’t tell him it’s a date night. He’ll insist I need to patrol so that nothing bothers you two, and that he also needs to come with me because leaving him alone otherwise would be child neglect and in that case, having him help out would be ‘convenient, but also educational.’” You give them both a flat look. You figure most nine-year-olds are generally a little bit conniving, but you’re also very certain his parents play a role in that.

Kun jabs a thumb at his wife. “He gets that from her.”

“Actually, if I remember correctly, that’s technically all you.”

You pretend to throw up. Kun smacks you with a bound stack of papers and Lina laughs.

“Oh, Lina, there you are! You know Jaemin, right? One of our newest? He did that piece on the comptroller.”

You can’t see them from your corner in the cubicle—Joey, the editor always getting on Lina’s nerves, or Jaemin—but you can tell the former is strong-arming the latter next to him, who keeps shifting on his feet, obviously uncomfortable.

“Right. That was a good one.” She doesn’t hold back the respect in her tone.

“Thank you,” comes Jaemin’s quiet reply.

“I was just telling him—if he could use those investigative skills for Supergirl, that would be great, wouldn’t it? Although Superman’s invulnerable—heh—” Kun makes a face, and you smile down at the stack of papers in your lap “—to any and all attempts at his identity, including yours, and you’ve been working his beat for a long time, I figure Supergirl’s free game, isn’t she?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Lina says passively.

“Oh, come on.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Joey. I’ve been working the, as you say, Superman beat, for over a decade. If I haven’t figured out his identity yet, then I think Jaemin’s chances with Supergirl are just as low.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot.” Joey is looking at Jaemin now. “Give it a shot, rookie, and see where it gets you. She’s rescued you twice now, hasn’t she?”

“Really?” Lina asks.

You feel Kun’s eyes on you for a moment before he averts them to his sad salad. Jaemin reluctantly—so very reluctantly—affirms this.

“Does that change anything?” Joey asks her hopefully.

“No,” she says mercilessly. “Supergirl saves hundreds of people every day. Statistically, there are bound to be some journalists she saves and there are also bound to be repeats. No offense, Jaemin, but I wouldn’t consider you overly remarkable in her eyes.”

“None taken,” he quickly says. “I completely agree.”

“He needs to stand out,” Joey says, taking her words as some kind of suggestion of action rather than the clear dismissal that it is. “Of course. That’s it. Thank you, Lina.”

Joey, once again physically strong-arming Jaemin, turns them around.

“That’s not what I meant,” she mutters under her breath.

You don’t say anything and neither does Kun. You’re both still listening.

“What I think you need to do now is most likely try to get within her proximity. You know what I mean? Show up where she is. Establish a rapport like Lina has with Superman. You know, I get where Lina was coming from, if she can’t figure out his identity, then who can? But it’ll be different with you and Supergirl.”

“And by that you mean…”

The sound of a hand meeting clothing. Joey must’ve finally let him go and clapped him on his shoulder just now.

“You don’t need me to say it, do you? Our female interns haven’t been able to keep their eyes off you since you came here. And Supergirl is, well, a girl. You get me?”

Crunch. Kun bites roughly onto a piece of lettuce.

“Maybe,” Jaemin says at last. His voice is tight, obviously discomforted. “Excuse me, I should go… Taeyong wanted to see me about something…”

“Think about it!”

Jaemin grunts and you can hear him striding away quickly, mumbling something in Korean under his breath.

You pull your focus back to the cubicle, shaking your head. “Well, that was fucked up.”

“Maybe Superman should give him a visit…”

You kick him. He curses lowly, pain flashing across his face.

“Don’t do that. That’ll gain too much attention. And I can take care of myself…”

“Of that, I am aware. Wouldn’t be entirely selfless, either. A few weeks ago, he said my writing was too bland. Jerk.”

“Droning,” Lina says. “Not bland.”

“Is there even a difference?”

She shrugs, then turns to you. “Anyway, I didn’t realize that, hm, Supergirl had saved Jaemin.”

“He mentions that in his article…”

“You read what he wrote?”

Your eyes dart between your pseudo-cousin’s shocked face and the eyebrow raise Lina is giving you.

“Wh—yes? Why is that so surprising?”

Kun and Lina look at each other, then back at you.

“I did read it,” she says next. “Well, skimmed it. Still. He’s got a lot of potential.”

“He does,” Kun agrees, setting aside his salad. “He reminds me a bit of Lina, actually. Cape chasing and all.”

She looks at you. “Kick him again, would you?”

You kick him again.

“Ow…”

“He’s not cape chasing, I think,” you murmur. “In fact, the second time we met, he seemed more than happy to prove that he didn’t need me.”

“He’s got something to prove,” Lina says. “I don’t exactly blame him.”

“Not at the expense of his life, though,” Kun disagrees.

You make a sound of agreement.

She wiggles her fingers at you. “You two. The exact same. In any case. Is this a foreseeable problem for Supergirl?”

Considering how persistent he seems, how he, as Lina says, seems to have something to prove… maybe so. You’ll simply have to be more careful and try to avoid him.

“No,” you say. “I don’t think it will.”

They give you lingering looks but don’t bring it up any longer.

But the thing about Jaemin is that, once he’s got an idea in his head, he won’t let it go, come hell or high water. And the thing about you is that you’re prepared to handle people trying to dig into your past. From journalists to amateur sleuths to the government sending satellites to try and track your flight paths and pinpoint your home (or as they’d call it, ‘base of operation’ or some really dramatic shit like that).

So, for the next couple weeks, you do your job as you normally do, with perhaps a little more vigilance than usual for spotting journalists. With, of course, the caveat that if you do end up getting tailed or cornered or something like that, you know precisely what to do to throw Jaemin off your tail.

This all comes to a head when a LexCorp research and development lab explodes. Messing, as usual, with things that are best left alone. You and Kun are both first on the scene, ushering out scientists and immediately clocking the radiation; not high enough to evacuate the entire block, but high enough to have the labs sealed and a perimeter set up, with only those with the proper protection allowed in and out.

You’re already not looking forward to having to rinse off at the end of the day when Kun puts you in charge of the back entrance while he does a little more digging. You’re a potential guard against any errant employees or otherwise people sent to do LexCorp’s dirty work and clean up the mess before the authorities can get their hands on it, but also against those who might be interested in poaching whatever goods they’ve got.

At some point in the evening, you floated up from the ground, crossing your legs beneath you as you watched the back entrance. It gives you the perfect vantage point to spot a very familiar Na Jaemin creeping around rubble and taking pictures. It’s only when he gets too close to the entrance do you say something.

“I really wouldn’t.”

You partially expect for him to be surprised at your entrance—he is not. A small flinch initially, but he recovers quickly, like he was expecting you.

“I knew it,” he says.

You lower yourself to the ground. “I’m sorry. It’s just not allowed—it’s dangerous in there if you don’t have the proper equipment and the mask helps but—”

“I’m not talking about that,” he says, waving a hand. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to go in. I really don’t want to, either. Lina’s got this story handled and I’ll be honest, I’m not interested in subjecting myself to that, even for the sake of justice.”

You cock your head. It is perhaps safe to say this is your first at length conversation with him and right off the bat, what an interesting thing to say. For the sake of justice, huh? Maybe you two have more in common than you think… Plus that stunning show of self-preservation, after Lina’s initial insistence, is a nice change of pace.

If you don’t consider the fact that he might be planning to figure out your identity and expose you to the rest of the world, you’d soften a lot on him.

As it currently is…

“Then what are you interested in, Jaemin?“

He looks at you for a moment. It is a moonless night and back here, there is minimal lighting, the power having been blown out from the explosion. You know you must be hard to make out but for you, you can make him out easily.

His dark hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it all night, and there are deep bags beneath his eyes—deeper than before, than the previous times you have seen him. Like he’s been toiling about something.

But when your eyes meet his, you see nothing but determination there.

It makes you falter for just a second, wondering, perhaps, if he’s already pulled the rug out underneath you, if he’s figured it out. It shouldn’t be possible, he’s never seen your civilian identity—been in proximity, yes, but he didn’t see you, did he?

“Who are you?”

Huh.

“No one’s ever asked me so bluntly,” you say. “Kind of a nice change of pace. But you know I can’t answer that, don’t you?”

“I know. I don’t really care, either, to be honest.”

And the crazy thing is, he’s telling the truth. That, or Na Jaemin is a professional liar and knows how to control his pulse. But you don’t think this is that.

“Is that so?”

“It’s a waste. A waste of time, of effort. There is no use in chasing a mystery like that.”

“No?”

“No. The only thing I want to know,” he says, gazing steadily at you, “is what that means.”

Jaemin points at your chest—specifically, the symbol on your chest.

“It’s not a letter,” he adds. “I know that much. You’re aliens, why would you use the English alphabet? So, I figure, it’s a symbol. It means something to you.”

“To Superman,” you add gently, because the symbol is on his chest, too.

“I don’t care about him.”

You pause, not quite sure what to say. Everyone cares about Superman. They love him. They revere him. Or they hate him completely. Either way, sometimes, a lot of the time, it becomes your problem. Which is not to say you have a problem with Kun. You don’t. But what he does reflects on you.

But this is…

You smile. “Na Jaemin, you are the strangest being I’ve ever met.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” you say, and you mean it, too.

A pause, a moment of understanding passing between you two, like before now, you’ve been working on two different wavelengths. You suspect, that though you now seem to be on the same one, you’ll still be on opposite ends, but nonetheless…

“It means hope,” you tell him softly. “This symbol that we wear, that I wear, it means hope.”

“Hope,” he repeats, more to himself than anything else, gaze clinging to the symbol for another minute before he looks back at you. “I understand. Thank you.”

It’s earnest. Genuine. And you can also understand that he does not intend to make this knowledge public. He can and it likely wouldn’t hurt but he won’t.

Jaemin takes a step back, his objective now completed.

One last glance, then he turns and leaves. You watch him until he disappears around a corner, no longer in your immediate field of vision.

And the next day and over the days after that, nothing happens. Nothing comes out in the papers about you or Kun. Jaemin keeps his unspoken word, just as you thought he would.

“But… how do you really know there’s nothing there?”

“Jay, kiddo, I told you. Jupiter is a gas planet. Beneath the surface is just—wait for it, gasp—more gas.”

Jay Dhar-Qian, your nephew, purses his lips, brown eyes focused on the Jenga piece he’s pulling out of the tower of them.

“But have you ever gone in?”

“Well, no, but again—”

“So, you don’t know. Mom says firsthand experiences are important in the field—”

You laugh. “Of journalism! And, yeah, some of science, too, but humans have come up with plenty of solid theories about space without going out there and exploring because they don’t have the means to. The one about Jupiter being a gas planet? Unfortunately, very true.”

“I think you need to go in there and see,” he says decisively, setting the piece he pulled on top of the tower. “Then get back to NASA.”

“Oh, they’ll love that, I’m sure. Your dad and I regularly break multiple laws of physics, you know, which bothers them enough. They won’t be happy to hear their theories about gas planets being disproven.”

“Facts don’t care about feelings,” he mumbles, folding his arms on your coffee table and watching you pull out a block at the bottom.

Though, you have to pause that way you can laugh. He smiles faintly at the table, which isn’t quite the reaction you expected from that; you don’t let him know that, however, resuming your task of pulling out the Jenga piece from the middle section. You set it on the top.

“I guess,” he goes on, finger tracing a scratch in the wood, “I’ll only really believe it if I see it. So… when I get my powers, let’s go see it, okay?”

Ah.

Jay Dhar-Qian, the first of his kind, Kryptonian and human—your nephew for all intents and purposes, even if you aren’t technically biologically related to Kun.

This can, as anyone might imagine, come with baggage.

But you don’t touch on that yet. “There are spacesuits, you know. We could just get you one of those. If we ask NASA very nicely, they’ll probably give us one.”

“That’s not as fun,” he mumbles.

You don’t say anything, watching him reach for a piece from the second row from the bottom. He pokes it out oh-so-carefully but the tower wobbles precariously, then falls in a crash. A few Jenga pieces tumble off the edge of the coffee table.

He slumps back against the couch. “I lose.”

“Jay…”

“I know what you’re going to say. It’ll take time, no one like me has ever existed before, we don’t know anything about how I’m growing or how my powers will develop since I’m Kryptonian and human. I have invulnerability but it doesn’t even stay on all the time. I scraped my knee the other day, you know? It was embarrassing. I just want to be like you and Dad…” He ends his tirade of frustration by knocking his head against the edge of the couch, glaring sullenly at your popcorn ceiling.

You purse your lips, thinking for a moment. This has been a growing concern for him—and for Kun and Lina as well. Less so that they wanted Jay to even have powers in the first place and more so that Jay seemed to be vying for his powers for some misguided wish of belonging. You know that sounds harsh, especially since belonging might be even more critical for him, with one foot in the world you live in and another one in a dead one, but despite that, or perhaps in spite of it, you—and Kun and Lina and Maria—fully believe that Jay will be able to feel at home here, powers or not.

He wants to prove himself, you think, and considering the shadow that his father does cast—consciously and subconsciously, because the world needs it, but his son doesn’t—as well as your reach, though you’d hardly consider yourself as weighty as Kun is, well, it is a lot of pressure. Pressure you and Kun have never subscribed to him, to be clear, but some that he feels, nonetheless.

It’s a lot for a kid. You know very well what that feels like.

“Jay… you are the best of us. But that doesn’t mean you need to go out there and carry the weight of the world. You don’t need powers. You don’t need anything.”

He leans his head on your arm, and you are suddenly aware of how small he is next to you, little scamp that he is.

“I wanna be like you guys, though. I wanna help people.”

You curl an arm around him. “There are plenty of other ways to do that. I promise. And we’ll help you find them. Alright?”

He mumbles his assent, curling further into your side; you’ll coax him out eventually with the promise of ice cream and his favorite movie but for now, you let him hide from the rest of the world. And because when you do that, he does respond, and after a bit of time, he’s back to his old self again, you don’t linger too long on the issue. It remains in the back of your mind, poised to be brought up again next time you see Kun and Lina, but in the present moment, you decide that for now, Jay is okay.

For now, as you will find out, is not good enough. Because the next day, when you wake up—he’s gone.

Chronologically speaking, you are older than Kun. By a solid ten years, in fact.

His parents were friends with yours. And so, you vividly remember the day he was born. At ten-years-old, you were not too interested in this red, wrinkly-faced baby, who could only cry, sleep, and eat. And when you were sent off, with the instructions, among other things, to look out for who was essentially your cousin, Kun, you were very much older than him.

But then there were issues with the ship itself, and space is unfathomably harsh, and time and gravity are even worse, so, when you landed on earth at the age of sixteen, you did find your cousin—coming up on more than a decade of Superman, married, with a kid.

Those first few years were, as one can imagine, difficult. But you really would not trade it for anything in the world. And with Jay, in many ways, it feels a lot like finally fulfilling the wish of your mother. You couldn’t take care of Kun, not in the ways she had envisioned, because his adoptive parents, the ones who found him in a cornfield in Smallville, Kansas, Yuzhe and Maria Qian, had already done so. But you could—can—take care of Jay. So, you do.

People don’t know about him—they don’t know that there is another Kryptonian on earth, much less the son of Superman. And if they did? You are certain the thought of Superman—a Kryptonian—reproducing in any way would make the government implode on itself.

So. When you wake up the next morning to find Jay missing from your sofa bed, you panic.

It’s not like him, to do things like this, especially when you don’t find a note or anything. He may be invulnerable (occasionally) and raised with the optimistic kindness of Kun and the eagle-eyed shrewdness of Lina, but he’s still a kid.

You inform Kun as soon as you realize it, already forming a list of spots to hit—places familiar to him, like their apartment, his school, that fro-yo spot on Elderberry—and your cousin affirms your plan and promises to head over, since he and Lina are on the west coast for a convention. He’s mostly calm, too, which helps your panic but not quite the bundle of guilt in your chest. Still, you figure that can be addressed after you find your escapee nephew.

Then—you hit the streets. You get more than one complaint from pedestrians as you fly through the city a little faster than usual, wind whipping behind you and glass windows rattling in your wake, jostling coffee cups and papers and whatever else is light enough and unlucky enough to be caught in your path.

But as you continue to fail to find Jay and Kun does, too, having gotten in ten minutes after you set off, your initial panic returns and you care more about finding Jay than your speed.

Nightmare scenarios keep running in your mind, varying from him being abducted by any number of entities, government and not, for experimentation, to his flight suddenly developing and him panicking and leaving the city and landing in another continent, or hell, off planet entirely. You keep them to yourself, though, refusing to burden Kun even more as you can see his patience start to wear thin.

So, while he pauses to regroup with Lina—also worried out of her mind—you run through the city again.

Their apartment. His school. The Daily Planet. The fro-yo place. The—

“Supergirl!”

Your body stops before your mind processes it. Mostly because, instinctively, you recognize the voice.

“Jaemin, I’m sorry, I really don’t have time—”

“Are you looking for a kid?”

Jaemin is unbothered by the whip of wind as you flash over to him. He does, however, seem curious.

“Where?”

“Here.” He looks to the side, and you do, too. A new apartment building still under construction looks back at you, a hole in the fence right in front of you.

You duck through without a word. And like always, Jaemin follows you.

Heartbeats are hard to use on their own as locators, there is simply too much feedback, but they are familiar, nonetheless. In the present state that you are, you couldn’t make an effort to even try picking it out. But Jay’s heart pounds quick. You can hear his breathing, faster than normal, small whimpers impossibly loud to your sharp ears. You’re on the fourth floor before you know it. You hear Jaemin curse under his breath, left behind on the first flight of stairs, shoes thumping on the steps faster now.

You tune it out as soon as you spot Jay. Using your X-ray vision, you peel back the only layer between you, the door of a maintenance closet, where he’s curled up in the corner, face buried in his arms. Jaemin is on the second flight now. Still far enough for you to kneel in front of the closed door, flattening your palm on lacquered wood and whispering Jay’s name.

“Tell me what’s wrong, kiddo.”

“There’s—too much,” he says, voice strangled. “There’s too much.”

“Too much?”

He curls further into himself. “The world is too big.”

Looks like you were right. His powers—his senses only, maybe X-ray vision, too—developed overnight or just a few minutes ago.

“Make it smaller,” you say softly.

“How?”

“Focus on my voice. Pretend… it’s an island. Out in the ocean. Can you see it? Look hard, Jay. I know you can find it.”

As you speak, you can sense the shift in his focus as he tries to do as you say. His breathing is still quick but lesser than before, same with his heart.

Finally, in a trembling whisper, “I can see it.”

You reach for the doorknob, speaking as you turn it, as the gears turn and move, “Then swim toward it, kiddo.”

He sucks in a breath when you open the door, but you can see the tension starting to seep out of his body. Slowly, he lifts his head from his arms, but his eyes are still screwed shut. You open your mouth to tell him to open his eyes.

Then, Jaemin comes in. Your body moves before you can process it, shielding Jay’s face from him, because Kun and Lina have brought him to work countless times and you don’t know if Jaemin’s ever seen him. The tension returns to Jay in an instant. It sets you on edge for a reason you can’t quite articulate, your hand shooting out behind you. Jaemin stops in his tracks at your signal.

“Who is that?! Who’s—”

“It’s okay,” you quickly soothe. “It’s alright. He’s just a—a friend. It’s okay.”

“No… no…”His pulse picks up. So does his breathing.

You utter his name under your breath, unheard to Jaemin’s human ears but easily audible to Jay’s newly sensitive ears.

“It’s okay, I promise, nothing bad is going to happen—”

“No, no,” he cries. “There’s too much—it’s too hot—I don’t know what—”

Red begins to glow beneath his eyes. Then they open.

His heat vision is new and unlearned. Because of that, it burns the hottest it can go.

Your suit is built to mostly withstand what you can withstand. The freezing cold of space, nearly absolute zero, and the burning heat of the sun. But a Kryptonian’s heat vision can be as hot as the surface of the sun. Hotter, if anything. Concentrated as it is, it shreds through the fabric at your arm, thrown over your face as you moved to intercept its path, which had been aimed right over your shoulder.

So, Jay’s heat vision burns like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

You feel it tear through your skin, blood pooling, dripping onto the floor. If you keep letting it hit you, it’ll do worse, split your forearm open like a sieve. But Jay is past the point of coherency. Nerve strikes don’t work on you—Kryptonian physiology is very different from a human’s under the surface—but you bank on the very human part of Jay’s DNA to work in your favor, and as you rush forward, gritting your teeth at the white-hot pain of his heat vision burning into your skin, you find it works well on him.

He slumps in your arms in the next second, heat vision flickering out, eyes fluttering closed. For a moment, you just breathe, cradling him to your body. Your left arm trembles from the pain.

As you watch your blood drip onto the concrete floor, crimson on dusty grey, all you can think is this is the first time in a long time that you’ve seen your own blood. The slow intake of breath behind you reminds you of Jaemin’s presence. His pulse is a little unsteady, breathing the same. At that moment, it sinks in for you—what he’s seen.

He knows this is another Kryptonian.

Shit.

You reach up to unclasp your cape and wrap it around Jay, using it to keep his face hidden.

“Kun,” you whisper. “Kun, I have Jay.”

You know he hears you because in the next second, you hear the unmistakable boom of the sound barrier breaking from his path. And in the second after that, with a sharp gust of wind that makes your wounded arm throb, he’s behind you, a hand on your shoulder. You stand. He shields you and Jay from Jaemin.

“Your arm—”

“I’m fine. I’ll… be fine. His powers—I don’t know what he has entirely, but his senses and his heat vision are definitely there.”

He takes Jay from your arms. “Alright. And…” The way he trails off in combination with the way his gaze slides left leaves an open and urgent question about Jaemin’s presence.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Be careful,” he says quietly, and you know he also realizes the weight of the situation. How quickly south this can go depending… Depending on Jaemin. One last lingering look, then Kun is gone.

And Jaemin is still there. Looking at you, eyebrows knitted together. The absence of your cape is noticeable. A missing weight on your shoulders. You feel like a turtle without its shell.

“Jaemin, listen…” Your heart thunders in your own ears. In that moment, you feel a little like Jay must’ve, overstimulated and knee-deep in panic because of it. “You just—you have to understand, I… we…”

How do you say this? How do you tell him? Should you even tell him? Can you spin this in a way that doesn’t reveal Jay’s parentage? You’ve never really… lied to Jaemin. You don’t lie. You just… don’t tell him things. He once asked if you had a job and you said yes. He asked what and you said, Nothing interesting. And that was—is—true and he left it at that.

You clench and unclench your hands. The movement sends pain rippling through your forearm, still bleeding onto the floor. You make an absent note to clean up the blood before you leave.

It’s like you said. The world would lose its mind if they found out Superman had a child. That he had a child with a human. That there was another Kryptonian here—one with powers, no less, one who, if the rest of his powers develop, will come across as more Kryptonian than human.

People don’t think of Superman and Supergirl as people. As your average everyday Joe. That is the point of this persona. That you aren’t and you help people because of it. But that’s as far as people’s patience will extend. Most think you and Kun don’t even live in Metropolis proper, that you two hide away and only come out during crises. No one wants to consider the fact that Superman—an alien—might be walking among them.

You don’t want to think badly of Jaemin, but you know well that this changes things drastically, maybe enough to have him reconsidering his position in relation to you.

“He’s… Don’t… He’s just a kid,” you say weakly. “He’s just—a kid. Just a kid.”

Realization flashes across his face. “I’m not going to say anything,” he says. “I never was.”

Your shoulders drop in relief. “Thank you.”

He shifts on his feet, frowning, teeth digging into his bottom lip for a moment before releasing it. “Why—I would never… I mean. He’s just a kid.”

“I had to be sure,” you whisper. “Because it’s—it’s different. With the kid. He’s… People would do a lot to kill him or experiment on him.”

He nods along slowly, understanding. An odd silence unfolds between you two; this is new territory entirely and the newness of it leaves you both uncertain of your places.

Jaemin blows out a breath. “You don’t have to tell me anything but… is he… yours?”

“No! No, no, he’s…” You stop, swallowing. “You have to swear not to tell anyone, Jaemin.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“He’s Superman’s,” you reveal quietly. “And I’m—Superman and I are like family. The kid is like a nephew to me.”

“And his mom…”

“She’s human,” you admit.

His eyes widen. It’s not entirely surprising that that is the thing that surprises him the most and less so that Superman had a kid. Humans have such a hard time compartmentalizing the thought of Superman walking among them, much less a Kryptonian being involved with a human in that way. But, to you, even in the beginning, it wasn’t anything to scrutinize. Interspecies relationships are alive and thriving outside of earth and your time in space gave you great insight into that. More than that—well, the Kryptonian dating pool is kind of… small, for obvious reasons.

“So… his powers…”

“He’s the first of his kind,” you murmur. “We had no idea how he would develop. We still really don’t. Today… they developed. We weren’t prepared. But he’s not dangerous. I mean—he needs to learn control. But that’s it. Control for us is easy.”

He nods slowly, gaze dropping to the floor thoughtfully as he mulls over your words. You figure you two are out of dangerous territory, but it still makes you nervous.

Eventually, his gaze returns to yours. “I won’t say anything. I promise.”

You close your eyes, sighing. “Thank you.”

“You’re hurt.”

Reopening your eyes, you glance down at your arm; the wound runs lengthways of your forearm, still weeping, though it’s slowed significantly, blood starting to congeal.

“I just need sun. That’s all.”

Although, because it’s from heat vision, it’ll take longer to heal, which won’t do. You might need to go off-planet and get closer to the sun. A sun. NASA doesn’t like when you and Kun get too close to Sol.

Movement from Jaemin regains your attention. You watch as he shuffles closer, digging through his messenger bag for something. You aren’t sure what until he pulls out a small first aid kit.

“No, Jaemin. Keep that for yourself—”

“You’re bleeding everywhere,” he scolds. “It’s a biohazard.”

“I promise I’m not carrying any extraterrestrial or inter-dimensional diseases.”

“Even so. It should be covered up.” He pulls out a roll of gauze, closing the distance between you. You find yourself raising your arm to him without prompt. You can never really say no to him.

Gently, he winds the gauze around your arm. You grit your teeth at the pain that throbs through your arm.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

He nods, putting the roll away. You glance at your arm, gauze neatly wrapped around your arm. Blood is already starting to dot through the fabric. You really need to head out and get this fixed.

“I should go,” you sigh. “Thank you again. Really. For everything.”

He rubs the back of his neck, almost bashful. “You’re welcome…”

“Get home safe, please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you, too.”

You’ll be just fine. Eventually. All that’s left now is the aftermath.

In the summer, Smallville, Kansas is hot and dry. But at night, the heat is less blistering and more soothing. After spending the last few hours in the freezing cold of space, it’s nice against your skin, warm air blowing through your hair as you fly for the Qian farm on the outside of town.

Your arm is fully healed, thanks to the time hanging out halfway between Sol and Mercury—as far as you think you could go without making the NASA people twitchy. You stopped by your place in Metropolis to pull out a replacement suit—flying without your cape makes you uncomfortable—and a set of clothes. Clothes that you change into as soon as you get close to the farm.

The house comes into view. An invisible weight peels from your shoulders. You sigh. There is only one place on earth where you get to be yourself—get to feel like yourself. That is the Qian farm.

Kun meets you at the porch steps.

“How is he?” you ask immediately.

“Shaken but alright.”

His eyes flicker to your arm in the next second, a clear question in the action—an action that must go unspoken, since Jay’s superhearing has obviously kicked in and neither of you want to make him feel bad if he’s listening in—which he most likely is. You would.

You raise your arm for him to look at—the skin is healed, unmarred, as if nothing ever happened. Nodding, he clasps a hand over your forearm, squeezing gently. You pat his hand.

Kun tilts his head. “He’s in his room. Have at it.”

The screen door slams shut behind you. In the kitchen, freshly washed dishes sit on a drying mat beside the sink; you can smell the remnants of whatever they had for dinner. In the living room, the TV is on, playing reruns of soaps that Maria and Kun are fond of watching together. You greet Maria, then head further in, finding Jay’s bedroom.

You knock gently on the closed door. “Kiddo? Can I come in?”

Waiting a moment, you get no response, though you know he’s in there. You can hear him breathing, hear his heartbeat, which has picked up its pace out of nervousness.

“I’m coming in.”

His bedroom is full of everything that makes Jay, well, Jay. Dark blue walls, a solar system hanging in one corner, Star Wars and Star Trek posters decorating the walls, LEGO sets decorating his desk and dresser. Your shoe nudges a baseball. It rolls underneath the desk.

On the twin bed, Jay is nothing more than a lump of planet-themed blankets and sheets. Dusty, a black and white Border Collie, lifts his head from where he lays at the foot of the bed, curled over Jay’s feet underneath the blankets.

You sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out a tentative hand to what should be his head. “Jay?”

Quiet for yet another moment. But then, he shifts, covers tugging down slightly for his hair and eyes to be revealed. He still doesn’t look at you, though.

“‘M sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you are, kiddo. There’s nothing to forgive.” He was forgiven even before it happened. You know what it’s like to deal with the onslaught of the powers, of the ways in which the yellow sun fuels you differently than a red sun does. Especially to have them develop here on earth, where there is so much noise.

A small shake of his head as he stares determinedly at the footboard, away from you. “I could’ve—could’ve killed you.”

Sighing quietly, you kick off your sneakers and bring your legs up onto the bed, turning onto your side and pulling Jay closer to you.

Leaning your head on his, you murmur, “I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“You don’t—”

“Maybe, if it had been anyone else. That… is the truth of our powers. We can really hurt someone—each other, but also, more importantly, humans. That’s the truth, Jay. There’s no sense in denying it. You can hurt someone if you aren’t careful. But what happened today was an accident. And no, that’s not really an excuse, but that’s for us, for your dad and I, because we know our limits. You don’t. Your powers just developed, there is no possible way you could know the ins and outs about controlling them. I don’t want you to be hard on yourself because of this. I’m fine. I’m completely okay. All you need to do now is learn to control them and your dad and I are going to be there every step of the way, okay?”

“Okay.” His voice is small. He curls into you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You squeeze him for emphasis.

After that, he relaxes bit by bit. At your feet, Dusty rearranges himself to lay his snout over your ankle, now splayed over both you and Jay, snoring lowly as he snoozes. Downstairs, Lina is humming to herself as she digs through the freezer for ice cream. Kun is pulling down bowls from the cabinets and Maria is flicking through the channels on the TV. Outside, crickets chirp and the cicadas sing in the summer night.

That’s what you like most about Smallville—aside from being able to feel the most like yourself, it’s quiet in a way Metropolis rarely is. But you would miss it eventually, the noise, the sound of thriving life.

You wonder where Jaemin in. What he’s doing. Hopefully staying out of trouble.

The sound of your name brings you out of your reverie.

“Hm?”

The initial melancholy that saturated the room and atmosphere has mostly disappeared; what has replaced it is still calm and a little solemn, but now tinged with a new curiosity.

“I know,” he starts haltingly, clearly a little bit nervous, “that I still have a lot to do with controlling my powers… and they haven’t even all developed… if they develop…”

“It seems likely that they will,” you muse. “But what you have now is still nothing to scoff at.”

“Right… so… when I do learn to control it… can I go out there with you and Dad?”

“That you’ll have to bring up with your parents, kiddo. But…”

“Yeah?”

You chuckle at the thinly-veiled excitement in his voice at the prospect of bringing you into this to convince his parents. To him, you are the fun aunt who lets him stay up and watch TV on school nights, and his parents are the ones who are happy to put their foot down and kill his fun. Jay idolizes you enough to never really consider that you would wholeheartedly agree with his parents if they decided that this wasn’t an appropriate avenue for him to explore. And technically speaking, it isn’t, not right now, not at this age. Things could, however, change as he gets older. But you’ll leave that up to Kun and Lina.

This, however, is not about that.

“Don’t get too excited. I’m leaving this in your parents’ hands and if they say no, kiddo, you’re gonna have to listen to them.”

He wriggles a little impatiently in your hold. “I know, I know.”

“But… if they say yes, I need you to remember something.”

“What?”

Sighing, you lean your head against his. “It’s okay to quit.”

He stills next to you. “…Huh?”

“It’s okay to quit. If you change your mind… it’s okay to quit. It’s okay to run away. You know that, right?”

He’s quiet. Confused. Mostly about where this is coming from or because the thought of giving up is inconceivable to him. He doesn’t know what it’s like. But to be honest, there is a part of you that knows that if Kun and Lina agree and he, at one point, emerges as another figure alongside Superman and Supergirl, he won’t give up. No matter what. Jay is so good. So kind. And not that either of those things cancel out if he quit, but even if it is hard—and it will be, is your point—he wouldn’t give up, he’d force himself to see it through—like you do sometimes. Like his dad does sometimes, too.

A hero’s temperament, Maria once called it. Nonetheless. The way you see it, you and Kun have something of an obligation to help earth. But Jay, the next generation, the best of humanity and Kryptonians, does not need to bear the weight of this burden if he doesn’t want to.

“Okay,” he says at last. “I understand.”

You squeeze him tighter and say nothing more during your time with him. It’s only when he dozes off a few hours later do you slip out of his room. Lina and Maria are in the living room, the former working on something on her laptop, the latter doing a crossword puzzle and watching TV. Outside, the night sky is clear of clouds and full of stars. You join Kun on the porch, leaning against the railing.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he admits after a long moment of silence.

“It had to be said.”

“It did,” he agrees. “But it… never really crossed my mind—our minds—to say something like that to him.” Guilt lingers in his voice.

You watch the corn stalks sway in the breeze. “Most wouldn’t.”

“We’re not most.”

“No,” you say quietly. “But that gives you leeway. It’s fine that you didn’t say it because I did and truthfully, I think if you say something like that, too, it’ll make him wonder if we doubt him. In that case, either he doubles down or gives up entirely.”

He plants both hands on the railing, blowing out a breath.

“I sort of want him to give it up,” he admits very quietly in Kryptonian. “He doesn’t need that burden.”

“No… he doesn’t.”

Falling back into silence, together, the two of you watch the corn stalks sway in the breeze, stars twinkling at you.

“Supergirl!”

You don’t always stop for people calling your name. Sometimes, it’s a clout grab. Sometimes, someone is trying to throw acid on you. But if you recognize the person’s voice and if you have the time, you’ll stop. So, when Huang Renjun calls out to you when you’re passing by the community center where you first met him, you stop.

“Oh,” he says, blinking when you go down to him. “I didn’t think you’d stop.”

You smile kindly. “I recognized your voice. How have you been?”

“Good, good. And, um, you?”

“I’m alright, thanks. So, what’d you need?”

He gets hesitant here and you aren’t sure why. Biting his lip uncertainly, he scratches his head, clearly thinking something over. In his chest, his heart beats at an unsteady pace, one that’s enough to concern you.

“Is something wrong, Renjun?” you ask, concerned, mostly for his wellbeing—is he in trouble?

“No, no, no,” he says, waving his hands. “I’m sorry—I’m fine, I promise. It’s just… ah, I called you because… an artist in the circle I run in put up this mural and he knew I’d met you and he wanted me to tell you about it… but I’m not so sure it’s a good idea now…”

You cock your head. “Why not?”

“The mural is—well. It’s… good. Just not…” He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“I’m not naked, am I?”

“No! God, no, I wouldn’t—”

You laugh. “I’m kidding!”

He closes his eyes, exhaling a laugh. “Seriously?”

“So long as I’m not naked or otherwise depicted in a weird sexual manner, Renjun, I don’t care. Where’s the mural?”

“The bar’s in hell, you know that, right?”

“I’m well aware. But I take what I can get. Tell me.”

“Right…”

He tells you the address—still very reluctant to do so, for reasons you aren’t sure of. Outside of being sexual in nature—which he vehemently denied—you can’t imagine why he is hesitating so much. But before you get to grill him for more details, you get pulled away by something on the other side of the city. Kun ends up beating you to it, though, as when you arrive, the robbery at the jewelry store has already been taken care of, gunmen disposed of, hostages rushing out. You do a bit of damage control, then get ready to leave when the police and ambulance arrive. Then you spot a familiar face in the crowd.

“Jaemin.”

He turns. His eyes flicker to your face, then to your arm—your left forearm, where you’d taken the hit from Jay a few days ago.

“Good as new,” you say when his gaze meets your again.

He nods, fingers fiddling with the camera hanging around his neck. He inhales, opening his mouth to say something, then stops, glancing around. Ah. Too many ears.

“Renjun told me about a new mural of me,” you tell him. “It’s a few blocks from here.”

Jaemin nods and in the chaos of the scene, the two of you slip away unnoticed.

This is a more residential area, so the further from the scene you get, the quieter and emptier the streets get. You know no one is following you, either, so you feel free to say: “My nephew is okay, if that’s what you were wondering.”

“It was.”

“He’s alright. He’s got a steep learning curve ahead of him, but I know he’ll do fine.”

“And… Superman… is he okay with me knowing?”

“He trusts me, and I trust you. So, yes.” There’s a small stutter in Jaemin’s pace, one that goes unnoticed by you as you realize the mural is just around the corner. You step around it, curious to see what had Renjun so nervous and reluctant.

When you see it, you understand.

Jaemin stops as soon as he realizes what it is, disbelief palpable, while you slowly walk to the center of it, gazing up at the painted bricks.

Jaemin’s scoff is harsh. “Why the hell would Renjun tell you to check this out?”

“To my understanding, his friend—or, well, he never said they were friends, just that they ran in the same art circles, but anyway, he said the painter was bothering him to tell me about it. I can see why. This is… really nice.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Why? Because you think it’s untrue?”

You look back at the mural. Muted dark shades of blue flow into darkness, with you in the center, on one knee, a sphere of midnight blue, swirling white, green, and brown on your shoulders, braced by your hands. Despite the gravity and the weight of your task, the look on your face, eyes closed, is serene.

The message is clear.

“Are you that dramatic?”

“Jaemin,” you say softly. “You and I both know this isn’t about dramatics. This is what I am. This is what we are. Me and Superman.”

“No, it’s not,” he argues, with a stunning amount of gall as usual, but you’re used to it by now, no longer surprised by the things Jaemin is willing to do or argue for if he feels strongly enough about them. The fact that you’re the topic of it is what surprises you, however. Why should it matter to him?

“You’re… you. And that—” he points at your chest, at the symbol there “—you said it means hope. How is this hopeful? It’s just… miserable. Inevitable.”

“Now who’s the dramatic one?” Despite the tease, your words are gentle.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s what humans need. You know that.”

The way he purses his lips tells you he knows that very well. Yet it still seems… almost upsetting to him. You can’t imagine why. This is—well, perhaps a bit dramatic, but no less true. This is what you were saying. You and Kun have a responsibility to earth, to humans, on behalf of Krypton, on the behalf of your people. To help them. They will stumble and they will fall but one day, they will stand in the sun with you. You know this with everything inside of you.

And yet… Jaemin looks so…

Something takes over you. You’re closing the distance between you two before you realize it.

To tell the truth, outside of saving him, you try to keep your distance from him. Out of all the planets you’ve visited and the people—beings—you’ve seen, Jaemin is by far the prettiest in the entire universe. Up close, this fact is made a thousand times more debilitating for you. But even as your pulse skyrockets, warmth flooding your chest and face, you hold steady like you always do.

Your hand lands on his shoulder before you can stop it. The heat of him seeps through the fabric of his button-up, searing into the palm of your hand. Humans are much warmer in comparison to you and thanks to your senses that are heightened with the power of Sol, everything feels that much more intense to you, including this. This is the first time you’ve ever touched him outside of pulling him out of the way of a bullet or something. It’s not physically possible for you to get dizzy, and yet…

“This is presumptuous on my end,” you say quietly, lips quirked. “And truthfully, I would rather not know that fact and pretend that you do actually care about this—me (like I said, presumptuous)—but this is how things are. This is how they have to be. Humans can’t handle us in any other capacity than this one—solemn figures with a… responsibility to the sanctity of earth and humanity. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Jaemin looks at you, brows still knitted together. His eyes are such a dark shade of brown—darker on the edges of his irises before lightening a bit further in. Still dark. Still endless—easy to get lost in. And you’re very good at getting lost.

You step back. Hand falling from his shoulder, your skin tingles from the imprint of his body warmth; it leaves you quickly, leaving the palm of your hand oddly cold. You flex your hand idly and look away.

“I should go. Don’t give Renjun a hard time about this, please?”

His quiet, “Fine,” shouldn’t surprise you but it does. He’s not usually so mellow like that with you. But you aren’t complaining about it now.

“Thank you. I’ll… see you around.”

He doesn’t say anything. You turn, meandering a few steps away from him so your take off won’t jar him too much. His gaze remains on you, burning into you. Until you’re thousands of feet in the air, you feel his gaze on you and wonder when you became so attuned to it.

There are a few things you don’t like about earth. Nothing big, mind you. Not, like, humanity itself or something. If anything, you’re quite fond of them. Much fonder than you used to be. But earth has its quirks. You’re not overly fond of thunder. It’s too loud—and you’re not exaggerating. It leaves your ears ringing sometimes. The constant shift of the tectonic plates isn’t something you like that much, either. Krypton didn’t have tectonic plates. It’s part of the reason you had so many issues with the core, towards the end.

But you digress.

On that end, earthquakes aren’t your favorite things in the world, either. They happen a lot, constantly, little ones that are unnoticeable to anyone but you and geographers with the equipment to sense them. And even then, you experience them on a different level.

But you have another reason. They make you feel so… useless. All you can do is wait them out. Intervene in the moment, but you can’t stop them.

The earthquake that happens in California the next day is a prime example of that.

You heard it, of course. Loud and thunderous beneath the surface of the earth. Seconds after it hit, you and Kun were pinged about it for search and rescue. This is where you try to do everything you can to help.

You and Kun beat the search and rescue aid being sent in from the rest of the world, but you run point with the local aid. You work through the night, shifting through pieces of rubble and glass, pulling out people. You always breathe a sigh of relief when they emerge okay. You can hear their heartbeats, of course, hear when a destroyed building has no survivors, no life, and must quietly redirect the locals to other buildings that do for aid, while others will work on finding the bodies.

It’s hard, though. It’s so hard. You would think that after doing this for six years, after everything you have seen, even before you came to earth, it wouldn’t be hard. You are no stranger to suffering, to pain, to death. You watched Krypton die. You watched your people die. Your father, then your mother.

Earth was, is, a second chance. This is your home, too. And for these people, they’ve lost virtually everything. They’ll get back up, Kun reminds you. They always do. If there is anything that they are, they are resilient. You know that. And you do. But it’s still hard. The tight, brimming hug a woman gives you after you rescue her from a building on fire nearly brings you to tears, holding her to you as she sobs her thanks.

You work hard for the next two days. From dawn to dusk. You and Kun have worked on the scene of enough natural disasters like this that aid knows to rotate their workers, but it’s still a lot on them. By the third day, you and Kun are working late into the night, late enough that dawn is already approaching. Your next mission is a partially destroyed skyscraper, the other half still standing with people still trapped inside. It’s tricky because the building is too unstable. At that point, they call on you and Kun directly, right before it’s set to give out so they can make a last-ditch effort to get the people out.

You work in tandem, diving in to hold it up yourselves while workers rush in and pull people out. A boy cries and refuses to move from his friend’s body, curled up in a ball in the corner.

“Go!” you yell at the worker. “I got him—go, get out of here now!”

Kun utters your name in a question.

Metal groans and rumbles, the infrastructure seconds away from giving out—not enough support, even with you and Kun there. You strain against the weight of it, glass, and concrete, and metal bearing down on you.

“Go when I say,” you order.

One second, an eternity, then, “Okay.”

You meet the boy’s gaze. He looks no older than ten. Like Jay. Like you, when Krypton died.

“Go.”

You move exactly when Kun does, diving for the boy, wrapping your arms around him as the building finally collapses on itself. Knowing that if you stay here, you will be buried, and it will be that much harder to get out, to get him out safely, you go up. Curling yourself around him, making sure to cover his ears, you rip through metal and glass and concrete as it falls on you. It bounces off harmlessly on your skin, but you know it is very much not the same for the boy in your arms, so you keep him shielded as best as you can.

You keep rising up and up and up until—air. Debris and dust swirls around you. Beneath you, the building gives its last breath, crumbling to the ground. You can hear the wind whistle as Kun moves people out of the way. The clamoring of others further down the street as they watch with bated breath. In your arms, the boy’s trembles. But his heart thumps soundly in your ears, lungs expanding with each breath he takes. You smell no blood in the air and when you ease your grip on him, using your X-ray vision, you find no broken bones, either.

“Where are they?” someone calls.

Wind whips against you, Kun pushing out a current to dissipate the debris and dust swirling around you and blocking their and your vision. You lift your head. You finally glimpse the people on the ground, and they see you, too. Their cheers are thunderous. The boy jolts at the sound, sniffling, and finally lifting his head and looking at you.

“Are you okay?”

Sniffling again, he looks at you for a moment, then, slowly he nods.

No one was able to save Krypton. You. Your parents. Your friends. Your people. Earth was always, first and foremost, a safe haven.

You’ll go to earth, your mother had told you when there was no hope left, when she had no choice but to send you away. They’ll take care of you. Your parents hadn’t ever left Krypton. What they did have of earth were mere snapshots. But they had faith—implicit faith in the possibility of a kinder life with a people who would accept you.

On some days, it feels like this wish is nothing more than a fantasy. On others, you know with everything inside you, it is true.

But your parents had believed in them, in humanity, in earth, their final hope for you. A safe haven.

Your powers, the mantle of Supergirl, the legacy of Superman, were an afterthought. But still remnants of that faith. You will always believe in humanity, in the fact that goodness is intrinsic to all beings, and this includes them. They will fight and they will hurt but you could never possibly lose faith in them, in the prospect of a better tomorrow, and when they needed help, when they needed saving, you will always be there for them.

But… as you touch down, passing the boy to the arms of his sobbing—grateful, so grateful it hurts your heart and makes your throat tight—father, people clapping you on the back, thanking you, cameras on you, pictures being taken, Kun’s face in your peripheral, a little sad but mostly proud, happy, you find yourself thinking of Jaemin.

Even as Kun tells you to go home for a few hours and rest, since you’ve mitigated most of the serious damage from the quake. Even as you leave, the sun rising on San Francisco, which moves higher and higher in the sky as you fly east. It’s mid-morning, with clear skies and a hot day ahead in Metropolis when you arrive.

You find yourself landing on a rooftop of a building directly in front of the mural Renjun painted. The one you complimented him on all those weeks ago. You still stand by what you said—it is… warm, in a way that many depictions of you are not. It shows you mid-flight, a clear blue sky behind you, smiling down at something or someone, hand raised in a wave. It is seemingly so mundane but the warmth in your gaze is real and tangible. Enough so that, you imagine this truly must be what you look like when you wave at people while flying.

The door to the rooftop creaks open. Jaemin’s heart is steady in your ears. Something inside you unwinds at the sound. You continue to gaze at the mural as he walks over to you. The air shifts when he’s close to you, body heat tangible only to you, vestiges of vanilla and vetiver shampoo tickling your nose.

You look at him. If hearing his heartbeat soothed the bundle of emotions in your chest, then seeing his face finally, for the first time since the quake hit, makes you relax. It’s only been four days and his face is ingrained in your memory but it’s nothing like seeing the real thing in person—the messy strands of his dark hair, the dark brown of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the swell of his cheeks, the pink of his lips.

In your chest, your heart skips a beat.

He drops his gaze, flipping open the flap of his bag and digging for something. Plastic crinkles. Something white peeks out from his bag. He pulls out a single wipe and lifts it to you. You step closer. An unspoken answer or perhaps an unspoken wish, one he seems to have no quarrel fulfilling for you in this moment.

The wipe is cool against your cheek, clean smelling. Jaemin’s touch is heart-achingly gentle.

“You’re dusty,” he murmurs.

“Thank you.”

A minute shake of his head. He gently drags the wipe over the swell of your cheek, underneath your eye. His heart is beating faster now. Still a sweet song to your ears.

After a minute, after moving the wipe to your other cheek, he says, quietly, “You are right. We need you. We need Supergirl. It’s just…”

“It seems bleak. But it isn’t. Not really.”

“Isn’t it?”

You smile. “Atlas… his duty was a punishment. This is a responsibility that can fall to no one else but my cousin and me. But it is one I accept gladly.” You reach for his hand, cradling it in your own; your thumb grazes the back of his slowly, savoring the feeling. “And more than that… I am not alone. I have a family, Jaemin. I have people who I love and who love me. I have kind strangers and even reckless but passionate and good-hearted journalists,” and you dare to squeeze his hand here, watching as the furrow between his brow softens and his gaze does the same thing, “I believe in the goodness of humans. This is not a punishment. Not to me.”

The wipe in his hand flutters to the ground. He turns his hand, until your palms are pressed together. A moment, then he tugs. In the next second, his arms are around you and yours are around him.

You’ve felt the burning heat of stars and supernovas. It’s an out-of-control kind of heat, a wild kind; the reality of the harshness of space, but one you can survive, albeit with mild discomfort. Humans, in spite of this and in spite of their tripled vulnerability, seek out such things—wish to explore interstellar space on a mission of curiosity and exploration, even if it might hurt them.

Jaemin’s embrace is nothing like that. Searing, yes, because of the differences in your temperatures, the sensitivity of your skin, but this is the kind of heat you sink into, that soothes you, that comforts you; the kind you could slip away peacefully in. Your heart is pounding now. You hope he can’t feel it but since you can feel his—hear it, too—pounding away in his chest, you know he can feel yours, too, pounding in wild tandem.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. You know. He understands.

“No, no, I got it, Kun. The mom seemed a little surprised to see me, but it wasn’t an issue.”

“Great. Thanks for doing this, by the way. I would’ve picked it up but it’s my turn to cook dinner tonight and I got a late start…”

Setting Jay’s Spider-Man themed backpack to the side, you quickly change into your suit, having flown that way to Jay’s friend’s house to grab his backpack for him.

You hear Jay’s voice from the receiver next, your name in a question.

Kun hums an affirmative.

“You can play with my Jenga if you want!”

You chuckle, setting off, coasting higher than you usually do to avoid people seeing you and your cargo.

“Thanks, kiddo. Appreciate it.”

“Dinner’s almost done,” Kun says to him. “Go wash up, please.”

A soft huff. “If you want to talk to her alone, you could just ask, Dad…”

A snort escapes you unbidden.

Kun sighs but it’s fond. “Okay, I need to speak to your aunt alone and you need to go wash your hands.”

“Okie dokie!”

Never mind that ‘alone’ no longer existed for the three of you anymore, but according to Jay, it was quite easy to phase out the extra noise and just focus on whatever he’s doing so as to not overwhelm himself or encroach on anyone else’s privacy. It’s a very Kun thing of him to do—and say. Not that you don’t try to do that, but you also lack a social life, so, you admit to being a bit nosier than he is and sometimes shamelessly listening to people’s conversations.

“What’s up?”

“Have you… seen Jaemin since yesterday?”

You frown. “No? What happened yesterday?”

Yesterday, you weren’t even on earth—you were up in space, fixing something on the International Space Station at the request of NASA. Too treacherous of a job for the astronauts on board and too big of a problem to be left alone for the time being. So, they’d asked you. You actually had a quite pleasant conversation with the astronauts on board. You had to decontaminate afterward—deadly rays from the sun and space and all that—so you only got back to Metropolis late into the evening, showering, eating dinner, then promptly crashing.

“You hear about Congressman Wilkins?”

You did in fact hear about Congressman Wilkins—the US House Rep for Metropolis. Newly elected. Apparently, he’d spent almost a million of the campaign funds he received on personal expenses like private jet flights, vacations, and a new house. When the story broke, he tried to leave the city and the police chased him down. He ended up in a nasty accident with a fuel truck and died. The truck driver barely made it out, too.

“Well,” Kun goes on, “Jaemin was the one to break the story that morning, after tipping off the police. He was there on the scene, too.”

Your flight slams to an abrupt halt. “Is he okay? Did—”

“He’s fine. Physically. It’s just… I don’t know. I just have a feeling…” Kun sighs. “With this stuff, sometimes, well, a lot of the time, you feel a sense of responsibility. Even if it’s not really your fault.”

“…Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Okay. I’ll… see him.”

“No pressure, really, I’m thinking I’m gonna talk to him on Monday, anyway, but—”

“No,” you say. “I should. He’s… I should.”

“Alright. Take your time with Jay’s backpack, then. He doesn’t need it until Monday.”

“Right, yeah.”

The call ends with a click. You tuck your phone away, grip tightening absently on the backpack, one strap slung over your shoulder. Downtown Metropolis glimmers ahead of you in the late afternoon sunlight; the sun will be setting soon.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and focus. In a city of five million, on a planet of seven billion, Jaemin’s heart is easy to pick out. You let it guide you to the roof of the Daily Planet.

“Mind some company?”

The distant look on his face melts away when he looks at you. Slowly, he shakes his head. You close in. The wind that ruffles your cape ruffles his dark hair, loose over his forehead today; you’ve never quite seen him this relaxed, in jeans and a t-shirt. Something about it makes your heart pick up. You swallow down the feeling and let your feet touch the concrete of the roof.

Dark eyes slide to the backpack slung over your shoulder, eyebrow raising in a silent question.

“Nephew’s,” you answer, only a little bit embarrassed. “He forgot it at a friend’s house.” Setting the backpack down between you, you sit beside him; the nearest buildings are not tall enough for anyone else to see and Kun has long since looped the feeds of the cameras up here that way he has a place to change in and out.

He hums, then returns his gaze to the yellowing horizon. The silence that falls between you is not an awkward one, exactly, but something is there that unsettles you. Since your… moment on the roof in front of Renjun’s mural, things have been better, if not a little odd, between you two. New footing, you figure. Not that you were ever really annoyed or exasperated with Jaemin’s penchant for trouble (though you’re sure you can’t quite say the same for him with you), but your dynamic had, more or less, always been set in stone. Things are different now.

You’re still trying to figure out if it’s a good different or a bad different. For now, he seems so melancholic that you stow away those thoughts and reach for Jay’s backpack.

“Wanna play Jenga?”

Jaemin blinks at you. You don’t waver in the face of his bewilderment, suddenly quite sure this is the way to go for this.

A second passes, then he nods slowly. You waste no time in pulling out the container of Jenna, pushing Jay’s backpack behind you and dumping the Jenga blocks in the space between you. You start fixing the tower of Jenga blocks one by one.

When it’s halfway finished, Jaemin asks, “Why don’t you use your speed to do it?”

“Less fun.”

“Really?”

Pursing your lips thoughtfully, you keep your eyes on the slowly growing Jenga tower. “There’s something to be said about taking your time and enjoying it. Even for the boring stuff. I mean, when it comes to washing dishes, water doesn’t do that great with super speed, so that’s kind of null, and sometimes, I don’t want to deal with folding my laundry that slowly, but most of the time…” you shrug. “I take my time.”

“Sounds mind-numbing.”

You laugh softly. “It’s… really not. Life already passes me by so quickly—I have to take my time.”

“Isn’t it the opposite?”

You finish the tower and look up at him with a smile. “You go first.”

Mouth flattening into a line of displeasure at you not answering his question—you would, but it’s not about you right now and that topic… well, you don’t sense it would help him right now—he moves anyway, letting out a big breath, then reaching for a block in the middle. He pulls it out cleanly and sets it on the top of the stack.

You go next, taking your time as you pick one out from a little bit towards the top end and set it beside his. For a few minutes, that’s what you do, going back and forth, pulling out blocks from the body of the tower and stacking the top. It’s your turn, aiming for a block in the third row from the bottom—the most treacherous move thus far—when he next speaks.

“I’m fine, you know. If that’s why you’re here.”

“It is,” you say. “And it’s fine if you aren’t, too. What Wilkins did was terrible, but he didn’t deserve to die. But that he died at all, that everything happened yesterday, wasn’t your fault, either. He’d have panicked regardless of whether the story was broken or not because I’m quite sure any other journalist would shake it out of some cop while it was going down. Maybe it would’ve been you, maybe it would’ve been Lina Dhar-Qian. Who knows? But I have a feeling the outcome would’ve been the same, anyway.”

You successfully pull out the block. But you have an advantage with your powers. You can sense the slightest of movements and adjust accordingly; stop if it trembles, keep going if it’s stable. Jaemin, terribly human, for the better and for the worse, does not have such an advantage. He aims for a block from the second to bottom. You sense the tremble before it happens; he only gets it halfway out before it tumbles.

Sighing, his fingers curl around the block still in his palm. “He had a family.”

“Yes, he did.”

“This isn’t what I wanted to do when I decided to work here.”

“Why did you?”

Jaemin looks out at the Metropolis skyline, wind ruffling his hair, looking startlingly, heartbreakingly, lost.

“I was in med school, before I came here. In Korea. One of the best—and the most expensive—programs in the country. My friend was in the program, too. The first two years were for the basics, for the textbook stuff. Then, in our third, we started clinical training. I had expectations for what it would be like, what the students in the years above us would say to us, what the advisors said, and the professors said. But it was nothing like that. It was… it wasn’t what I thought it was.”

You stay quiet, watching him.

“The way they did things,” he says quietly. “It was just what was on paper—the disease or the problem that brought them here. Find a solution and fix it. Or don’t, and let them know. Then your job is done. It wasn’t… kind. It was brutal. It was ‘reality,’ they said. People started to drop the program. My friend held on. But I could see… he and everyone else was fine with letting go of whoever they’d been before we started in order to become the best of the class. I wasn’t.”

He finally turns to look at you. “I thought I could do it differently. But it wasn’t what they wanted. It wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to help people. I wanted to be there for them. They told me it was impossible to do that, that I’d end up killing myself by caring too much. I still don’t know if that’s true, but I did know that I couldn’t keep going like that.”

He lets out a sigh. “You have no idea how hard my mom worked to put me into school. And just like that, when it got too hard, I wasted it. I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t face anyone. I took the first flight out of the country and ended up in San Francisco.” The snort he lets out is derisive. “Didn’t know any English but I knew my way around a camera and started doing photojournalism for a local newspaper. I still wanted to help people, you know. It wasn’t until I started seeing what the journalists did—what Lina Dhar-Qian did—that I realized that was another way I could do it.

“So, to answer your question—I want to help people. I have to. What happened yesterday wasn’t that. It was the furthest thing from it. He may have been an idiot with his campaign funds, and the people he scammed deserved to know what he was doing, but he also didn’t deserve to die.”

No. He didn’t. Jaemin lets out a shaky exhale. You wonder if he’s told anyone about this since it happened. You have the strongest, heartbreaking feeling that this is the first time ever. The sun is starting to set now, washing everything in gold.

“Do you know how old I am, Jaemin?”

Confusion seems to bring Jaemin back down to earth as he frowns at you, clearly thrown off by the abrupt topic change but willing enough to go along with it. “I… No. I always assumed you were around my age.”

“I am, technically. But I’m also technically around thirty-five.”

His eyes widen. You can’t help it—you laugh.

“Just listen. Technically, I am around that age. But physically, biologically, mentally, I’m your age. During my… travels to earth, I ended up too close to a black hole. The gravity around black holes is so strong, it stretches the fabric of time and space—slows it down. What was an hour near the black hole—a terribly long and boring story, I assure you—was… ten years on earth. The rest of my trip here took even longer on top of that. When I left Krypton,” you swallow past the burst of pain in your throat; you rarely ever say its name out loud, there is no good reason to; reminiscing about it makes Kun feel bad and that makes you feel even worse, “my cousin, Superman, was just a baby. But he had left before me. And when I got here, he was a grown adult.”

Jaemin takes in your words quietly, eyebrows furrowed.

You push past the emotions, trying for a small smile. “So, going back to your earlier question—it’s not the opposite.”

“What is?”

“Life does pass me by quickly. I wish it didn’t. Rao, I really do. But…” you lift a hand, sun rays painting your skin warmly, “as long as Sol fuels me, I’ll have no choice but to sit back and watch my life and the life of my family pass me by. Same with the rest of the world. Time will touch them. But it’ll leave me alone.”

You drop your hand, shaking your head slightly. “I won’t be alone. But in some ways, that’s worse. And who even knows what’ll happen to my nephew? For now, he ages like a human boy, but… I don’t know if he’ll live long enough to see his family—his mom—die. And I don’t know if I’ll have to watch him die, either. If his father will have to watch him die.” You sigh. “And no parent… deserves to watch their child die.”

Jaemin is still beside you. You look at him.

“Time is cruel. But there is nowhere else I’d rather be than here. I watched my planet and my people die. I watched my father die. I know it’ll kill me when my friends and family pass away. But at least I had the time with them—an entire lifetime, hopefully. That’s why I like to take my time.”

He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

You take his hand. “I’m sorry, too. For yesterday. And everything before that.”

He looks at your adjoined hands, frowning. “I made my choices. I need to live with them.”

“Do you?”

“I’ve already wasted one opportunity. I can’t waste this one.”

“It sounds like this is a punishment for you, then.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why haven’t you spoken to your mom?”

“You don’t know that I haven’t.”

You squeeze his hand.

Jaemin sighs. “And disappoint her more? I don’t think so.”

“Is she the reason why you want to help people?”

A slow nod.

“Then I think you might be doing a disservice to her by thinking that,” you say gently. “By all means, take what I say with a grain of salt—I know nothing about her and it’s definitely not my place but… oh, I don’t know. I’m—I watched my father die. I know my mother died after she sent me off to earth. It’s not fair to you to use my life as a comparison but really, Jaemin, I would…” You swallow, throat painfully tight, eyes stinging. “I would kill just to have a few more minutes with them. Anything. I miss so much about Krypton. But I miss them the most.”

His hand loosens from yours. Then his thumb swipes over your cheek, catching a tear. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. You sigh, composing yourself, then start to pick up the fallen Jenga blocks, putting them away. You figure you’ve reached your quota of meddling in his business tonight. Putting the container away and zipping the bag up, you stand. Jaemin follows.

“It’s not presumptuous.”

His words stop you short and you look at him, eyebrows furrowing. “What isn’t, Jaemin?”

“What you said before,” he says, looking at you. “When we saw that mural. Not Renjun’s. The other one.”

The memories of that day and your talk with Jaemin slingshots to the forefront of your mind.

“This is presumptuous on my end. And truthfully, I would rather not know that fact and pretend that you do actually care about this—me (like I said, presumptuous)—but this is how things are.”

“You should know that,” he says. “It’s not presumptuous. It’s really not.”

“I’m starting to see that,” you admit with a soft laugh. “But thank you for telling me directly anyway. It’s nice to hear. While we’re on the topic of saying things that need to be said, there’s something else I want you to know.”

Jaemin looks troubled for a moment before the expression is put away and he nods for you to go on.

“It’s pretty implicit that I’m there for you, even if you aren’t in physical danger, but, inside that and out of it… if you need anything, you can call me. I will come.”

“Call… you?”

“I’ll hear you,” you say and it’s then that he understands.

The weight of his gaze now is too much. You look away, coughing. “I… just need you to know that, too. If you call me… I’ll come.”

Saying it out loud changes things. A tension that wasn’t there before lingers in the air. But you had to say it. He cares. He felt the need to emphasize that. He should know you care, too.

(Not just care, either. There’s a lot more behind it. You know that. It’s been a slow growing thing but—from the start, Na Jaemin did not leave you alone. He lingered with you, even when he seemed to not want anything to do with you. In that space, he’s grown on you—or rather, you’ve started to see him for who he is.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. But it’s not bad. Not bad at all.)

“Get home safe, alright?”

You don’t wait around for his response, lifting off the ground, breeze catching your cape. Again, as you leave, you feel his gaze on you until you’re out of his field of vision, swallowing down the longing in your chest.

“You didn’t have to do it tonight, you know,” Kun says when he steps onto the balcony of his and Lina’ apartment.

“Maybe I just wanted to steal your ice cream.”

You pass him Jay’s backpack, following him inside, closing the balcony door behind you. Water runs in the pipes, Lina humming in the shower, Jay sleeping soundly in his room. Kun leaves the backpack near the front door, then beelines for the refrigerator, opening the freezer. Too lazy to change out of your suit and knowing Lina’s rules about suits on the couch, you slump in a chair at the small table in the kitchen.

He sets down a carton of your favorite ice cream in front of you, along with a spoon, then sits down across from you, with a carton of vanilla for himself. You pop off the lid of the carton and dig in. You didn’t have ice cream on Krypton. No cows of any kind at all, actually. Great what humans have invented with dairy products. Really.

“So… Jaemin.”

“Mm, he’s alright. Sort of what you thought he’d be feeling like, but we had a nice talk about it, so I think he’ll be okay.”

Kun chuckles quietly. “I didn’t doubt that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then?”

He just looks at you with a small, knowing smile.

“Kun.”

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

“Sure you aren’t.” You sigh. You know what he’s getting at and truthfully, you see no point in denying it, either. But the consequences of it are something else entirely. You can’t just think about yourself here. Not for this.

Kun leans back. “What’s stopping you?”

“This.” You gesture a hand to the apartment. Lina’s laptop open on the coffee table, drafts stacked next to it marked up with red pen. A book with a bookmark sticking out the top. Jay’s drawings pinned on the walls. “It’s not just about me.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not, Kun. If—if I tell Jaemin who I am, it’s going to be so much easier for him to realize who you are, too. Not even just easier—it’s inevitable, that he finds out.”

“I know,” he says. “And that’s fine. But it is just about you because I trust you and if you trust Jaemin, I know you’re trusting him with everything. So, there’s no reason to worry.”

The worst part is—you know he’s right. You shovel more ice cream into your mouth to avoid answering right away. Because, if there is that, then… what next? Do you even know if Jaemin really truly likes you? Enough to consider seeing you that way? You aren’t under any impressions about the way some people view you—you do good things but you’re not like everyone else at the end of the day. Not human. Not normal. Not to mention the danger he’d be in if he associated with you.

“I have experience with this,” he says next, tone thoughtful. “Saying I’m the precedent sounds a little conceited, but I think in this regard, it is, well… true. I went through what you’re going through. Like realizing that I’d have to give everything up to her. But, it was more than that. It was wanting to. It’s not impossible to date as simply you and avoid telling whoever they are about what you are and what you do.”

A soft look crosses his face. “But I didn’t want to settle for that. Maybe, for some time, but then it would come down to whether I would be okay with, essentially, living a lie or breaking things off. With Lina… the thought had crossed my mind, especially because I knew her just as well as Qian Kun as I did Superman, but the thing was… I wanted her to know. Does that make sense?”

You nod.

“But,” he goes on, “your case is a little bit different in that you know him better as Supergirl than you do as yourself.”

“It doesn’t change it,” you say quietly. “I do want to. Tell him, I mean. I think I’d want it even if I knew him as myself and not as Supergirl. I guess now, it’s a little more imperative that I do, because it’s not even remotely sustainable to date him as Supergirl. And even if it was, I wouldn’t—I don’t want to do him that disservice.”

Kun has a soft, proud look on his face that makes you look away.

“You don’t need my help,” he says. “You don’t need my permission. This is yours. All of it. You’ve got it. If you want it, that is.”

Warmth floods your face. You don’t answer that.

Want it? You want it with everything inside of you. Every cell and every atom. It is selfish, though, even despite what Kun says, because he may be okay with revealing himself, but the danger Jaemin would be in shouldn’t be understated.

But… it’s like Kun said. He is the precedent. And if you look at him and Lina now… It would be more than worth it.

For you, that is. For Jaemin? That… well, that’s the question, isn’t it?

It’s so much easier to think about these things in theory than it is practice. You know this, because the next day, you see Jaemin during one of your patrols and when he waves at you, you sort of… panic.

You wave back, of course, it would be impolite not to, but there is this one painful second where you hesitate and you know that he definitely probably noticed and when that knowledge finally sinks in, you cannot get out of there fast enough, making a frantic mime about something going on to him (nothing is going on, obviously), then booking it out of there.

It is, truthfully, humiliating. It’s not how you wanted it to go. What is it, one may ask? Well, you aren’t sure of it yourself. But just because you had that conversation with Kun, just because the possibility is suddenly on the table—it shouldn’t change anything in the meantime. If anything, it is imperative that nothing changes until you try and parse out what he might potentially feel for you.

The thing is—Jaemin is so… impervious. It’s hard to figure out what might go on in that pretty head of his. Feelings of this nature are even more so. The solution is obvious, then, that you should ask him—but that’s… not easy, either. Feelings are not easy.

Regardless of that issue, though, you do want to try and be… well. Normal around him. And about him. It’s hard but surely not impossible. You can be normal around a guy you like. You can!

So, a few days later, when you see him again, that’s your main objective. Well, actually, it’s in the middle of a search for some guy with a gun, street filled with mild panic, officers trying to get people inside, you and Kun trying to find this guy before something happens—because something always happens—and Jaemin is not really cooperating.

“Jaem, you really have to get inside—”

“I will,” he says, yet he has a hand latched belligerently to your cape, quite literally on your heels as you scan the buildings surrounding you. “But I just have one question—”

“It really can’t wait?”

He’s downright petulant when he says, “No.”

“Jaemin—”

He presses on. “What you said—when I said it wasn’t presumptuous for you to think I care, and you said I’m starting to see that—did you think I didn’t like you?”

Nothing, you’re getting nothing, is this a false alarm or is the guy gone? On the other end of the street, you hear Kun say, “I’m getting nothing.”

You mutter the same, then redirect your attention to Jaemin. “It’s not like you’ve ever been very forthcoming with me—which is fine. I know there’s the issue of your own capability, which, I know you can take care of yourself, believe me—”

“That’s not—”

This is a terrible time and place to have this conversation but—so be it.

“It’s alright, lots of humans have that issue, they don’t want to be seen as weak—which, there’s nothing wrong with, but nonetheless, I wouldn’t ever call you weak, or better yet, believe you need to be taken care of like that. Obviously I have to step in sometimes but in most others, you can take care of yourself. It’s just for my own peace of mind that I like to ensure that. And then there’s the, well, what I am and how others perceive me—”

“I am not others—”

Any other day and you would laugh at the indignant tone. “Well, no, not anymore, but in the beginning, you know, I get it—”

He’s tugging on your cape; you think it’s more out of indignation than wanting your attention, but you stop and turn anyway. The hot August sun beams down on you. Sweat beads at his hairline, hair slightly mussed from it and from what you can assume was him running his hands through it. His eyes are dark and unhappy. Not unhappy with you, though, you don’t think.

“No, I don’t like that—I’ve never not liked you because of what you are, I don’t care that you’re not human, why would I care about that?”

“A lot of people do,” you remind him semi-patiently.

“I get that, but that’s not me. I don’t care, I’ve never cared.” He’s quite impassioned about this. More than you thought he would be. You still aren’t sure what the purpose of this conversation is, either. You suppose, in some ways, it matters, but you’d hardly hold it against him. Most people would be leery. That’s fine. That’s just the way of the world. This world.

“I was… gruff with you, not necessarily because I didn’t like you. It’s just that—” the steam he had before is finally running out; he runs a rough hand through his hair, eyes looking anywhere but you.

“What?” you ask softly. The sudden smallness of this moment is out of place, standing on the sidewalk of the street, police cars crowding it, Kun and the officers still searching, still coming up empty. He really needs to get inside—you need to him inside. But right after this. You need to hear this first and you think… he has to say it.

“I was like that with you… because you reminded me of myself.”

You go very still. Jaemin’s gaze meets yours. Though slightly pained and more than a little embarrassed, his eyes are softer than before.

“The way you were… what we’ve gone through is in no way comparable. You lost everything. But—despite that…”

You don’t know what to say. No, wait, you do—you want to say he’s like that, too, despite what he thinks of himself, and you have the strongest sense that he thinks he’s some kind of… failure, for the decisions he’s made, and you don’t think this is true at all. Despite stumbling so much, he still believed.

You open your mouth to say this—knowing inside you that this is a terrible place and time to have this conversation, yet all the more important, especially considering his apparent sense of urgency to make it clear that he never disliked you, a thought that makes your chest fill with warmth.

But you don’t get to. You hear the bullet before you see it. Time slows down, but not as fast as it needs to. Whoever shot it is close. All you can do is move Jaemin out of the way and deflect it yourself.

Your hands are still on his shoulders when everything comes back into play, when the shot finally registers with the humans, officers unholstering their guns, ducking for cover. He flinches, shuddering, but not jarred since you only moved him a few inches to the left.

“What—”

Any kind of response to him gets stuck in your throat. Your vision blurs around the edges. Heat spreads through your shoulder. You touch it instinctively. Something slick and warm coats your fingers. You look at it.

The sight of blood on your fingers shocks you. No, you’d—you moved Jaemin out of way, didn’t you?

He’s looking, too, eyes wide. “Hey…”

Oh. It’s your blood. The bullet is made of Kryptonite.

Your vision swims. Your legs buckle but Jaemin catches you, lowering you both to the ground. A bullet whizzes past you. He curses up a storm.

Your senses go haywire, sounds blurring in and out of your ears. You can hear everything in the city in one second and in the next, all you can hear is your own heartbeat, pounding in your ears. You feel weak, washed-out; you’re shaking, chest stuttering with each breathe you take, as if your lungs are fighting the air you breathe.

“Hey, hey! Bring her in here!”

The sun is too bright. You close your eyes. The swaying motion makes you nauseous, like your heart is trying to crawl up your throat. Everything starts to fade in and out. Something presses against the bullet wound hard. A tiny thrum of pain that had started in your shoulder, kryptonite poisoning your cells and atoms, amplifies from the pressure—the actual hole in your shoulder combined with the effects of kryptonite against you.

Voices overlap, panicked, harsh.

Bile threatens to rise up. You swallow it down.

“—doctors or nurses here?”

“I need—”

A stuffy heat envelops you. Fingers brush against your cheek. You can’t hear Jaemin’s heartbeat. Why can’t you hear his heartbeat? All you can hear is what’s happening around you. This is what you used to be like—on Krypton, underneath the warmth of a red sun, rendering you effectively human.

“Okay, I’m going to—”

A hand—Jaemin’s, you know this intuitively—touches yours for a brief moment and a squeeze is all the warning you get before the tweezers go digging into your flesh.

A fire eats at your shoulder, in your skin, in your bones, in the tendons and muscles. The flames spread, into your chest, into your belly. All you can hear is the pound of your heart, beating so hard it feels like it’ll shred itself to pieces. It’s killing you, poisoning you. It hurts.

“—not breathing—”

“—hospital—”

Darkness creeps in on you, an alluring embrace that you sink into.

And you’ll do anything to take the pain away.

You wake feeling empty.

The feeling of the pain, the kryptonite, eating away at you from the inside out is imprinted in your memory. When you sit up and move your arm, you expect pain—but get nothing instead. It’s fine. You’re fine.

“I know,” comes your cousin’s quiet words. “It’s jarring, isn’t it?”

He shuts the book he was reading, setting it on the side table. You’re in your apartment, in your bedroom, out of your suit and into a t-shirt and pajama pants.

“Weird,” you mutter, hand sliding beneath the collar of your shirt. Your fingers find the spot where the bullet was, ghosting at first, some odd part of your brain fearing pain, but then you press down and feel nothing but the fleshy give of your skin, muscles and tendons beneath. It’s fine. Not even a scar left behind, skin still smooth and unmarred.

You drop your hand back into your lap, turning to look at Kun. “Jaemin?”

“He’s fine. Safe.”

You relax at that, allowing yourself to ask the big question. “What happened?”

He crosses his arms, jaw clenching for a moment before saying, “Merc. Refused to say who hired him, though we can probably make an educated guess. Not happy that we—I—couldn’t get a solid answer out of him, although the police were able to get half a million from him—the incentive he was given, with the other half delivered presumably after he did his job, which, luckily, he didn’t.”

“Only halfway,” you muse. “Fair to call it a lose-lose, I think. Guy’s in jail, no more money. And whoever hired him is half a million out. Though I guess if you’ve got a million laying around, ready to be spent on a poor attempt to kill us, then maybe that part doesn’t matter so much…”

Kun says your name, exasperated.

“Sorry. Too soon?”

“You passed out and lost a lot of blood,” he says. “Yes, it’s too soon.”

“Speaking of,” you turn, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed. “How long have I been out for?”

“Five or so hours. Had to get that kryptonite out of your system even after they removed the bullet.”

“They?”

“Doctor at the cafe you were in. She was the one to do it. I got you out of there.”

You frown. “The bullet—”

“It was with Jaemin. I… had a feeling he’d defend it with his life, so I left it.”

You wrinkle your nose, not quite on board with the prospect of him defending anything with his life, even for that kryptonite bullet.

“He’s fine,” Kun says, watching your face intently. “Handed it off to Lina, who will dispose of it through the proper channels.”

You nod, taking a deep breath, reacclimatizing yourself further. A lot happened, but you feel… okay. Thanks to Sol, anyway. And if you’re okay… well. You have something to do next, don’t you?

“You’re gonna go to him, aren’t you?”

“Do you think I shouldn’t?”

“No,” Kun says. “I think it’s about time.”

You chuckle softly. “I don’t disagree with you.”

Especially because—you remember vividly what you and Jaemin had been talking about before you got shot. You can’t imagine how he must feel now. Rao knows if you had to watch him get hurt… You cut the thought short and stand. The wood floorboards of your apartment are cool underneath your bare feet. Kun stands, too.

“Be careful, please.”

You get the sense he isn’t just talking about your physical well-being here. But… you don’t know. You don’t think Jaemin is going to be the one to break your heart tonight.

“I will be.”

He kisses your head, squeezing your arm. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Tell Jay and Lina I say hi.”

“I will.”

Kun sends you a smile, then he’s gone. You really don’t want to get suited up tonight—not to mention your main suit, which is folded neatly on your dresser, courtesy of Kun, you’re certain, has a bullet hole in it and is still stained with blood. You have a backup, an older version, but—you don’t want to come to him as Supergirl. You want to go to him as you. Yourself. So, you leave it there and grab one of your hoodies, slipping it over your head.

Then—you’re gone, too.

Metropolis is quiet at midnight. Skyscrapers shine in the night, clouds hanging low, turning lights into blurred smudges. You rise above the clouds, finding a pocket of space. The clear midnight blue sky stretches out ahead of you, full moon beaming down upon you. Ahead of you, a plane that just took off parts through the clouds, lights blinking on the wings. You follow it east until you come upon a familiar neighborhood, diving through another open space between the moving clouds. The moon and the clear sky disappear as the ground appears.

A familiar heartbeat echoes in your ears. Calm and steady. You swallow down a burst of emotion, pinpointing where it is, picking out which apartment is his when you come upon a five-story brick building.

You land quietly on his balcony. The curtains over the sliding door are drawn, leaving you to hesitate—no one likes hearing a knock on their balcony doors and it would be just your luck that you might scare Jaemin into an early grave by doing that—

A sudden sound.

“Holy shit—”

A dark grey cat with yellow eyes jumps onto the balcony, slipping through the metal fencing. Without pause and without fear, it hisses at you, back hair standing sharply on end.

You hold up your hands. “Woah…”

The balcony door slides open quickly. Jaemin pokes his head out, doing a double take at the sight of you.

“Hi. Your cat doesn’t like me.”

“He’s not mine,” he says, stepping out, can of Fancy Feast held in hand. “Dali’s a stray. I have no idea how he keeps getting all the way up here, but I figured I might as well feed him while he’s here.”

He sets the can of food on the ground. The cat—Dali—hisses at you, ignoring Jaemin’s quiet scold in Korean (then English), and dives in, eating for a moment, looking up to hiss at you again, and then going back to eating. You watch him warily.

“Out of everything,” Jaemin says, bemused, “a cat is what scares you?”

“I have great respect for cats as creatures, that’s all. Also—I’m invulnerable but my clothes aren’t.”

He shakes his head. “He won’t do anything. He’s… all hiss, no bite.”

“Ah.”

Jaemin glances around, then reaches for you; you suppress a full-body shudder as his hand, so very warm, wraps around your wrist, tugging lightly. “You should come inside.”

Rendered speechless by the sudden contact—and him initiating that contact—you have no choice but to nod and let him pull you inside. The curtain flutters back into place when he closes the sliding door again. You kick off your sneakers, leaving them by the door.

“So,” you start, ignoring the racket that your heart is making in your chest right now, “you’re okay, right?”

Jaemin gives you such an incredulous look that you have to suppress a laugh. “I’m okay? You’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“Yes? I mean, in fairness to myself, it was a… very stressful situation that we were in earlier—”

“You were the one that got shot.”

“…It doesn’t happen often, is the thing. At all, actually. That was my… first ever brush with kryptonite, if you can believe it. Superman tries very hard not to let me get exposed to it. Not really for the reasons you would think, either—I mean, yes, because kryptonite bad but that’s not really fair when you consider that he gets just as affected as I do but, um, it’s because—Krypton.”

“Krypton?”

Jaemin’s wearing cat socks. Space-themed. Space cats.

You chew on your bottom lip. “The core was unstable. Too much energy, nowhere to go. Argo City was the only one to survive, protected by its own atmosphere that my parents had helped create years before simply as an environmental measure. It helped shield us from the full force of the blast, but… not enough. People still died in the initial blast. But then afterward… the parts of Krypton that were left, what we stood on, was… poisoning us. It was kryptonite. It killed my father first. Then the rest of the people in droves. I managed to escape it; I don’t know why. Didn’t matter anyway. It was going to kill us. It did.”

Jaemin’s apartment looks lived in, you think. He’s struggled with so much and yet, he seems to have made a home here despite that. You two really are the same, aren’t you?

“My mother didn’t want me to die,” you say quietly. “Even though she was starting to get sick from the radiation, she managed to pull together a ship for me, one last final shot for me to survive. I didn’t want to leave but I had to. So… my memories of Krypton in its final days aren’t great, you know? The sickness, the death. I’d gotten lucky and I’d never felt the effects of the kryptonite, there, and even here, at least up until now because… I think because he didn’t want me to know what it was like for them. For my parents. For everyone else.”

“I’d do the same,” Jaemin murmurs. “You shouldn’t have to know that kind of suffering.”

You shrug. “That’s life.”

“But not all of it.”

His hand is on yours now, palm sitting against your knuckles, thumb rubbing idly over your wrist.

Your lips twitch. “See?”

“What?”

You look up at him, meeting his eyes, wondering when he got so close. “You’re like me, too.”

“You think so?”

“I do. You still believe—you still have hope, despite everything. Just like me.”

Begrudgingly, reluctantly, you know he does. You get the sense that it would go against everything in him to lose that hope.

“Your influence, probably.”

You reach up to push lightly at his chest. “Own it, Jaemin.”

He chuckles. “Alright. Sorry.”

You shake your head.

“So…” You glance back at him, tilting your head as his previous smile falters a bit, a more serious look coming onto his face. “You’re… okay.”

Reluctantly, you let go of his hand, reaching for the hem of your hoodie to pull it over your head. He takes it from you, tossing it over the back of the couch a few feet from you. You push up the sleeve of your t-shirt, pushing it as far back as you can to reveal the skin of your shoulder, the area where the bullet hit, where a scar should be but is not, skin fully healed.

“Good as new.”

He stares and you get the feeling he’s remembering what it looked like more than anything else.

You don’t move when he lifts a hand, staying perfectly still as his fingers hover over the spot where, a few hours ago, you were shot and bleeding from. You can feel the heat of his hand even with that, swallowing. The action itself is fine. So is the area. But you don’t quite anticipate what it would feel like to have his hands anywhere else other than your own hands. At the first brush of his fingers, your arm twitches.

He pulls back, looking guilty. “Sorry—are you still—?”

“No,” you quickly say, warmth flooding your face. “No, it’s—it’s completely healed, promise. Doesn’t hurt. I’m just. Um. Super senses… heightened touch… sort of… sensitive to that… in general… Not really used to anyone other than my immediate family touching me just ‘cause no one really… as Supergirl, you know, the perception of me and my… alien-ness. Doesn’t make a lot of people desperate to get close to me.”

A strange emotion flits over Jaemin’s face. It’s gone too quickly for you to really decipher it. His touch returns, hand fully settling on your arm, thumb brushing over the area where the bullet was. You have to fight a full-body shiver at the touch. His hand is warm, soft, with a few callouses.

(You wonder where he got them from. Did he play any sports when he was younger?)

He still appears faintly troubled. You can’t say you don’t feel the same.

The distinction between you and Supergirl is a clear one—one that must exist, a necessity. Not just for your own safety, but because you (and Kun) also believe that most humans, especially the ones that don’t like you, wouldn’t like the thought of knowing you lived like they did, that at the end of the day, even with the power that the Sol gave you, you were just another person, another being like them trying to get through life. Some might be okay with it, like Renjun, who probably doesn’t consciously realize it, but sees you like anyone else. But others wouldn’t—they need something different. For some, Superman and Supergirl as mere protectors of earth, solemn guardians overseeing humanity. For others, like those in Metropolis, that, too, but also someone kind, someone who would help them save a cat stuck in a tree or help them find a lost dog.

But with Jaemin… maybe in the beginning, you tried to keep to that, to the polite and responsible hero, but he got under your skin far too quickly, and by now, by this point, after everything that happened, the lines are blurred. You feel more you than Supergirl. The only thing missing is your name.

All that’s left is to wonder how he sees it.

“But that’s fine,” you say in the next second. Jaemin’s hand leaves your arm, dropping to the side. A few streaks of blue ink stain his index and middle finger from the pen he must’ve been using earlier. “It’s what they need. To see us as… larger than life. If being disgusted at the thought of touching us goes with that, then… so be it.”

He purses his lips. You try not to linger on how pink they are, soft and plush.

“I don’t see you that way,” he mumbles.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. “I had wondered,” you admit.

Jaemin frowns. “After what I said—?”

You push gently at his chest. The heat of him is palpable even through his t-shirt and it lingers on your fingertips. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you remind him. “If you didn’t, you would have no reason to try and see me that way.”

“I had. From… pretty much the very beginning. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t weird at first but that was more my own issues than anything about you and you being Kryptonian. I just…”

“Have—had?—a chip on your shoulder. One that is valid, don’t get me wrong, but, you know.” You smile up at him.

“I wasn’t always like that—like this.”

You’ve seen it, rare bouts of playfulness that come out, usually taking your breath away. But the way he is now isn’t so bad, either. At least—as long as it’s without the pain and burden of what he left behind and what still hangs over him.

“But regardless of that,” he goes on. “It might be presumptuous to say this but… I think I’ve always seen you as you are.”

“It’s not,” you say quietly. “It’s—nice to be seen.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

The look on his face is soft, softer than you’ve ever seen it before—softer than when you’ve seen him pet stray cats and dogs during your patrols or talk to the neighborhood kids who play soccer in the street.

You’re effectively stripped bare now, knowing he sees you for you, but he’s still missing the final piece, the thing that’ll expose you for everything you are, the name you have, the name you were given. But what’s so bad about it? Maybe there is some part of you that fears being seen like that to the greater public, that needs a veneer of responsibility and duty preventing you from appearing too human. Too… feeling and thinking. It’s so much easier to get hurt like that. Here, now, you’re baring all the soft and fragile bits of you now—intentionally, purposefully. He saw it before, but you hadn’t known that. Now you do and you give him permission to carve out your heart if he wants it.

It’s like you said. It’s nice to be seen.

Your heart is thundering now but—so is his. He’s nervous. Just like you. The tips of his ears are red, a visible flush starting to creep into his cheeks. If he gets any closer to you, he’ll feel the warmth in your face, too.

“I don’t know how much you know,” you admit in a whisper. “If you’ve looked into it.”

“I meant what I said when I said I didn’t care about that.”

“Maybe it’s because you see everything you need to see and that’s enough… but it’s not enough for me. You have to know. I want you to know.”

He nods. You step closer, taking a deep breath. You’re almost dizzy with nerves, which is a real feat, since you physically can’t get dizzy.

Jaemin’s hands take yours, then slide up your arms. You breathe shallowly, overwhelmed at the simplest and gentlest of movements, but no one’s ever touched you like that before, no one that wasn’t your family. It’s a reassuring movement, you can tell, since your eyes aren’t on his face but on his shirt instead.

He squeezes your arms, whispering, “It’s okay.”

When he pulls you in, you go without resistance. His heart pounds beneath your ear. Warmth surrounds you, a nonsensical feeling of security found in his embrace because by all accounts, you are the one who can stand against nature and fight battles that humans cannot fight on their own. You are the one protecting. And yet…

A tension that never quite seems to leave your shoulders no matter what finally escapes you. One of his arms braces over your shoulder blades, the other diagonal across your back, hand finding a home at your waist. It’s almost terrifying how right it feels.

But the rightness of it, like this is what you’ve been searching the universe for, is what tips you over the edge.

You lean your cheek against his chest, his heart thrumming beneath your ear, and tell him your name. His arms tighten around you. He murmurs it back. At the sound of your name from his lips, you shiver, inhaling sharply, fingers balling the material of his t-shirt. The arm around your shoulder drops, moving, until his hand cups your cheek. Lightning sparks down your spine at the sensation. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Can I—?”

Strands of his hair tickles your forehead. You nod.

Jaemin’s lips are soft against yours. You’re trembling faintly, you realize, his arm tightening around you, pulling you closer, flush against him, both to keep you close and you think maybe also to keep you grounded. You move your lips tentatively. He doesn’t overwhelm you. Maybe keenly aware of how much this is for you. An onslaught on your senses. The scent of his shampoo, the warmth of his body, the heat of his mouth, the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, breathing shallow and unsteady as he tilts his head and your lips slot together even more perfectly.

Jaemin kisses you so gently, so tenderly, your heart aches.

You break for air—mostly for him. He leans his forehead against yours, breathing unsteady.

His thumb strokes the apple of your cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a goodbye.”

“Not a goodbye. I’m not leaving. I’m not running away again. I’m here.”

You hug him. Bury your face in his neck and mold your body to his. He holds you back just as tightly.

And you know, neither of you is going anywhere.

Two months later “Where’s your shadow?” “Sorry?” Who is this one? You can’t remember his name. He’s been at the Daily Planet for a while, you know that much. You’ve seen him in the vicinity of Kun and Lina’s cubicles. He’s older, with rumpled clothes and elbow patches, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and an odd amount of antagonism. “Your shadow. Na.” “I wouldn’t know.” You do know. He’s at his apartment, washing dishes and grumbling to himself about you eating the last of his ice cream. He had wanted to come out, when news broke about some incident at City Hall, but you convinced him to leave this one. He only agreed if you bought more ice cream on the way back. “Can’t complain, I guess. Kid snatches up all the good stories, doesn’t leave anything for us.” Lina would disagree with that. You could just hear her saying, If you were good at your job, you’d find a good story. Jaemin would probably agree. You don’t say that. You don’t say anything, watching the gunmen get driven off in the back of the police cars. The reporter whose name you don’t remember eventually walks off, muttering to himself about favoritism. Your lips twitch. You should head back soon. It’s late and you’re tired, having assisted with a few wildfires in Australia. You just want to shower and eat ice cream and cuddle with Jaemin and watch soap operas. Before you go, though, the sound of your name stops you. Not your name, rather, but— “Supergirl?” An accent. Familiar. Stronger than Jaemin’s, that curls some of his intonations on certain words he speaks. He’s always complaining about your near photographic memory that is letting you pick up Korean faster than he picked up English. You turn. Then do a double take. You’ve seen pictures of Ms. Na. Jaemin has pictures of the two of them from his high school graduation, then a few outings together after that. You always get the sense he feels guilty that they never got one at his graduation from med school. The tall guy with her is familiar, too. Lee Jeno. Jaemin’s childhood best friend and the one who went to med school with him. Ms. Na is older, but not frail. Still, she looks a bit like a ghost standing there, Jeno hovering closely by her side. An air of desperation hangs over them, the kind that sobers you. You approach them. “How can I help you?” “You know my son,” she says simply, gazing at you with the same dark eyes that Jaemin has. “I do,” you say softly. His mother is still a sensitive topic these days. But you know he’s trying to muster up the courage to call her. To see her. Hell, maybe even fly back to Korea. Explain in person. He wants to. But it’s hard, isn’t it, going back, knowing you hurt the person you loved and who loved you back so much. “Can you… can we see him?” You look at them, Ms. Na, dressed in finely-pressed button-up and slacks, but slightly disheveled all the same, weary with the circles under her eyes. Jeno hovering close, unmistakably protective of her, but still clearly not untouched by the pain of Jaemin’s departure. Finally, you give them a small smile. “I think he would like that.”

Grocery bags dangle from your fingers as you fish out the key to Jaemin’s apartment. The TV is on, playing a sitcom. Three heartbeats—and another on the balcony, Dali having his dinner—ring out. Looks like Ms. Na and Jeno found their way here. Good. You’d texted Jaemin in warning and had heard his pulse skyrocket as soon as he read it. You had already shot into the sky when he texted you saying he was okay—that he would be okay. With great reluctance, you held back on going home and instead ran out to pick up the ice cream as promised.

Considering they’re all still here, Jeno and Jaemin talking in Korean, the former laughing at something and the latter joining, too, you assume it went as well as it could.

You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose, then step inside. Your boyfriend is on his feet before you’re even fully inside, taking the grocery bags from you. Instead of the usual kiss in greeting, he takes your hand, squeezing, brown eyes shining with a newfound energy and warmth. You pretend to use him for balance as you pull off your shoes, just to keep holding his hand.

He introduces you to Jeno, an embarrassing amount of affection dripping from his voice when he says your name and introduces you as his girlfriend. Jeno doesn’t seem to be aware or suspicious of anything, thankfully, and kindly greets you back. Ms. Na is another story entirely. Emerging from the guest bathroom evidently refreshed, though her eyes are still red, she appraises you carefully.

According to Jaemin, though he never tried to purposefully dig into your identity, because he ‘paid an embarrassing amount of attention to you prior to getting together’ he had noticed you, both when you’d pop into the office for lunch with Kun and Lina, and that one time when he ordered from Sleepless Bites. It’s not like he made any hard conclusions but—there was a sense of familiarity, even if you carried yourself very differently in each identity.

With the timing and the fact that Supergirl spent enough time around Na Jaemin to be noticeable by them, truthfully, you probably should’ve spent the night with Kun and Lina. Just to let their memory—her memory—of you weaken a little bit. But you can’t leave Jaemin alone for this. Even if they’ve apparently reconciled, at the end of the day… you have to be here for him.

Even if Ms. Na is looking at you intently, dark eyes gleaming with familiarity. But she says nothing about it, simply shaking your hand, hers warm in your grip.

“How long have you known each other?”

Jaemin glances at you. “For a while now. Almost a year, right?”

“Eight months,” you confirm.

She squeezes your hand, giving you a look you aren’t quite sure how to decipher but one that doesn’t alarm you, anyway. “I’m glad you were here for him.”

You smile faintly as Jaemin looks away, embarrassed. “Glad to be here.”

She lets you go. Jaemin waves for her to sit down, then heads for the kitchen. You follow him.

“So…?”

He sets the bag on the counter, then pulls out the cartons of ice cream. You take them, opening the freezer and finding places for them.

“Well, three years of radio silence isn’t going to be fixed in one good night.”

“But…?” Because there very much is a but here. Even if you’d been able to smell the salt of tears shed when you came in, there is a visible weight that has been lifted from his shoulder’s—from Ms. Na and Jeno, too. Not quite as desperate as they appeared earlier. They’d perhaps prepared for the worst—that Jaemin might turn them away for one final time. He had done the same—that neither his mother nor Jeno would take him back.

“But,” he goes on slowly, smile forming on his lips, “it’s a start.”

You are unable to stop a stupid grin from forming on your lips.

“It’s a start—a great start—you’re exactly right—I’m so proud of you, you know—mmpf!”

He crushes you to him, kissing you long and hard, like he’s trying to steal the breath from your lungs. Which is, unfortunately, not physically possible for you as a Kryptonian. Actually—as nice as this is, his hands on your hips, lips warm against yours—

You gently push at his chest, a reminder about air. One that he needs because you swear, it’s like he’s trying to beat you at holding your breath, but again—human who needs air to breathe and live, Kryptonian who technically doesn’t (but admittedly breathing has become a habit for you, one that’s uncomfortable to shed).

Jaemin doesn’t budge until you push a little more and he finally pulls away.

“Your lungs are going to shrivel up and die if you keep doing that.”

He smiles and kisses you again. “That’s not medically possible.”

“Well, that’s where you’re headed if you keep that up.”

Forehead against yours, eyes shut with a content smile, his shoulders shake with laughter. You lean into him, enjoying the warmth of him, the feeling of his arms around you, heart beating in his chest.

Things are going to get better. They already were, even without this impromptu visit from his mother and being able to reconcile with her—and Jeno. It’s like you said—he’s making friends at work, getting along well with Kun, Lina, and Jay, even Maria loved him to bits when she met him for the first time last week. You’re making friends, too, going to games with Jisung and then going out to eat afterward with him and Chenle. It's not like you were some kind of ghost before this—you enjoyed yourself, you were content, you didn’t have much yearning for anything else, but now that you do, you’re happier. You feel more grounded. Present. There’s more to hope for, to look forward to. You know Jaemin feels the same way. No longer just going through the motions but actually planning for the future.

You’ve even had a few late-night conversations about whether he wants to go back to school. He’s surmised that med school simply isn’t for him but—that’s not the only healthcare position that exists. As it happens, Metropolis University’s nursing program is one of the best in the country and there are scholarships he can apply to to help with tuition. As for you, you still quite enjoy your work at Sleepless Bites but there are still a lot of things you want to try and that Jaemin happily encourages you to do so.

Like you said. There is so much more to hope for and look forward to now.

It is this, you think, that your parents wanted for you.

Exactly this.

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