#we're SO close to the end should i post it tomorrow

[knifemartin]

coming up next on placeholder: "didn't go well"

#we're SO close to the end should i post it tomorrow #but then. maybe i should give you all a bit of a breather before we get there???? #Things Are Happening! #placeholder #carcar

[sentientcave]

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Had to stop working on everything else and write a whole bunch of this instead. Usually I like to finish things that I think might be on the longer side before I start posting, but we're gonna live on the edge with this one. Expect updates in 1-2 Bearimys.

Chapter One - Sweetpea

Next Chapter >

Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, Large men picking up reader like a football, No Y/N, A spot of magic, Some exposition, Reader's dad (deceased) was a real piece of work, Reader descriptions kept as neutral as possible but keep in mind that she is a character to me and does have a specific appearance so things might slip through. This is just me having a bit of fun with a fantasy setting because it is my favourite type.

~3.4k Words - MDNI

Sunlight streams down through the light scattering of clouds above, as you carry your nearly empty basket into town to buy a few things for your auntie Kate. She’s not truly your aunt, but over the past few years it’s hard to think of her as anything less than family. She’s not warm, exactly, but she’s honest, and you know that you can trust her with anything.

Kate would usually be at your side when you go into town, watching the crowd with hawkish intensity, as though she still expects agents of the new king to materialize and snatch you away, but she’s away on business, and her wife much less paranoid. You expect that anyone who was ever looking for you has given up on you now. After the civil war, there was a time of instability, and you laid awake many nights, half expecting armed men to break into your bedroom and snatch you away, but everything is smoothed over now, and there’s no reason why Price would feel like he needed you to cement his rule.

You’re happy to just let him have the kingdom. You have more freedom as an ordinary girl, and you’re happier now than you ever have been. You were miserable living in your father’s halls, just a spindly little flower growing without enough sun or rain. And your people are happy now too. It twists your stomach something fierce, to think that your father was never a good king, but the reality is that he wasn’t. People starved while he feasted behind his walls. He sent good men to wage war on his behalf, to die in far off lands when they should have been home building better lives for themselves and their families. He allowed his chosen men to terrorize the women and children and old men living in the towns still. Things had been bad.

So yes, let Price have the crown, and the castle, and the responsibility and anything he likes. What difference does it make to you now?

What matters now is the sun on your face, and the gentle sound of birdsong around you, and the dull bite of the occasional stone through the soft leather soles of your shoes. The air smells sweet and green, although there’s a slight prickle at the back of your nose that tells you that there will be rain tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest. There’s nothing to worry about aside from whether or not the children in town will like the end of the book you have tucked into your basket.

You see a young man sleeping by the side of the road on your way into town, his horse tied to a long halter while he lounges beneath a tree. As you pass by, a bird flying too close startles the horse, and it pulls up the peg it’s tied to, and bolts. The young man doesn’t stir, so you dash after the horse without a thought, dropping your basket so you have both hands free to seize the halter.

You try to dig in your heels to stop the big, white-stockinged horse, but it half-drags you a little ways down the road before finally stopping, swinging it’s head around to look at you as though you’ve personally offended it. “Come on,” you tell it, exasperated. “You don’t belong out here.”

Arms wrap around you from behind, hands much larger than yours close over your wrists. “You’re awfully pretty for a horse thief,” a voice says in your ear.

“I’m not a horse thief!” you protest. “I was trying to help!” The horse snorts, as though it intends to tattle on you for something that you most certainly were not doing.

“And you didn’t think to wake me up?” The man behind you lets go of one of your wrists and spins you around, the movement smooth and graceful, like you’re two dancers at a ball, rather than two strangers meeting along a country road. But when you look up, you find the all too familiar face of one of Price’s knights.

“Sir Garrick!” you gasp.

“Princess,” he says, smiling. He’s far too handsome, his smile bright, teeth a little bit too sharp. “How very nice to see you. I thought for sure you’d have left the kingdom by now.”

“No! Oh no.” You push against his chest uselessly. He’s strong, so much stronger than you. Despair claws at your ribs. Your nightmare-come-true may be wrapped in a pretty, familiar face, but you have no desire to return to the capital. “Please let me go. I promise I don’t want the kingdom. Price can have it— You can have it. I just want to be left alone, I swear, I’ll never—”

“Hush, sweetpea.” He tucks a few of your thin braids behind your ear, fingertips grazing down your neck. “I have to bring you in. But you can make your case to Price. Maybe he’ll let you come back, alright? Don’t fret. He’s always been reasonable.”

You’re not certain how to get out of this. Sir Garrick has kind eyes, but his grip is like steel. He lifts you up easily and sets you on his horse before you so much as think of protesting or making a feeble attempt to fight him off.

“We’re not far from the capital. We can make it there before dark,” he continues, voice low and reassuring, as though you’re worried about the travel, and not the destination.

“But— What about my aunt? I should let her know where I’ve gone.”

“We’ll send word. Don’t you worry, your majesty.”

“No, no, don’t call me that. That’s for kings and queens, and I’m neither.” I’m no one, you want to shout.

He's amused by that, amused by you, as if you're just being a silly little girl. "I suppose we'll settle on sweetpea for now." He holds his palm out and three little white birds materialize and fly off in different directions, spectral and iridescent as soap bubbles. And then he swings into the seat behind you and pulls you most of the way into his lap, wraps strong arms around your waist, and nudges his mount into a walk.

“So,” Sir Garrick says conversationally, his voice low, lips far too close to your ear. It’s overly familiar, but you’re already practically sitting in the man’s lap. “What have you been doing out here all these years?”

“Um. Gardening. Embroidery. Taking care of my chickens. Lessons, for some of the children that live nearby. Just letters and arithmetic. I’ve been thinking about organizing a proper schoolhouse.” You can feel your nerves bubbling up as you babble, thoughts coming to you disorganized and stilted. “I never realized how few people can read. It seems a shame. I do a few hours of reading around town, help out at the church. I keep busy. I haven’t any real purpose, so I have to go out of my way to make one.” You sigh, thinking of how you had left things at a particularly gripping point in a story you’d been reading to the town children. They’ll be disappointed if they never hear the end of it, but you still have hope that Price will decide you’ve become something of a country bumpkin with no place in the court, and let you go back home soon. “How have you fared? Is your family well?”

“Quite well. My sisters will be glad to see you again. They always thought you were sweet. Rosie’s opened her own dress shop in the city, and Camellia has five children now. I think Kylie and Jorah were just two or three last you saw them. My mother lives with Cam to help out.” Sir Garrick’s mother and sister used to work at the palace, and he had been apprenticed to the court wizard before he specialized in battle magic and became a knight. You hadn’t been friends, exactly— You’re not sure you ever really had friends— but he’d always been nice enough, when your paths crossed.

“And what of you?” you prompt gently. “Have you found yourself a wife?”

He laughs lightly. “I’m working on it. I’ve a girl in mind, but I think she’ll take some convincing.”

“Oh I doubt that, Sir. You’re perfectly unobjectionable.”

“High praise indeed, princess.”

The two of you chat idly as you travel, mostly about nothing, but it’s pleasant enough. Sir Garrick— Kyle, he insists you call him— is far more charming than you remember, and he makes you laugh so much that you’re certain that you’d simply fall right off the horse if he wasn’t holding onto you so securely. He’s the very picture of a romantic hero, all chivalry and smiles, handsome in the dappled light under the canopy of trees as the road carries you from farmland to forest. You come to a bridge, and he dismounts so his horse can drink, and lifts you down so you can stretch out stiff muscles. His touch lingers, strong hands resting on your hips for a few beats longer than would be appropriate, but you don’t really mind.

You part from his company so you can relieve yourself a little ways into the trees, glad he’s not concerned about you making a run for it. His assurances that Price can be reasoned into letting you go home once you’ve spoken to him is enough to make you cooperative. You’re certain that he’ll take one look at you now and send you right back home. You’ve never had any luck with the young men in town, and if that’s any indication, you’ll be back to your little bedroom in Kate’s house before the week is up.

You fix your clothes and walk back to the road, humming lightly under your breath. Kyle is speaking to a flat glowing disc that hums with energy, floating above his palm. He gives you a smile and a nod and retreats to the tree line while he finishes his conversation. You catch a glimpse of a face on the disc as he turns, searing blue eyes meeting yours for a moment. Price, certainly. You recognize those eyes.

Kyle’s gaze slips over to you again as you kneel by the creek, one arm keeping your skirt out of the water while you trail the other hand through the water idly, the cool stream a pleasant offset to the heat of the afternoon. If you were alone, you would consider stripping down and going for a swim, but as nice as Kyle is, he’s still a man, and not one you know particularly well anymore, if you ever did.

When you look over again, he’s tucking the crystal disc into the front of his tunic, and a wolf is behind him, stalking out of the woods, low to the ground and ready to pounce. “Kyle!” you shout, pointing behind him. He turns quickly, a spell glittering on his fingertips, but the wolf pounces before he can cast it, both crashing into the packed earth along the side of the road.

You rush over, although halfway there you wonder what help you expect to be, and an arm snatches you around the middle, hauling you back. You’re beginning to get a bit annoyed at how much you’ve been manhandled today, and you start kicking as you’re lifted off your feet. “Let me go!”

“Easy, sweet girl. Let the lads say hello,” a deep voice says behind you, the sound rumbling through you like a cat’s purr. “No danger ‘ere.”

You look at Kyle and the wolf again. Only there isn’t a wolf anymore, just a large, naked man laying on top of Kyle, kissing him ardently and more than a little messily. The sound of it makes your cheeks burn. “Oh.”

The man who was a wolf stands up, and you look away, too flustered by the sight of so much bare skin to do anything else. The big man puts you down and turns you to face him, putting your back to the werewolf. “Johnny, put some clothes on before you say ‘ello. We know you were raised by savages, but you don’t need to act like it,” he says firmly, his heavy hands on your shoulders.

You stare at the skull embroidered on the black tunic in front of you, recognizing the emblem, and then the black fencers mask tied around the man’s face, obscuring even the shape of his features. You see a glint of light when he drops his chin to look at you though, gleaming eyes that look at you inscrutably. You know him, by name and reputation and deep, rumbling voice, if not by his face. No one knows him by his face, but he was as highly ranked a knight as Price was, one of your father’s personal guard before the war. Often tasked as your guardian, a solemn but comforting presence always. “Hello, Ghost,” you say, cheeks burning all the hotter. “Been a while.”

“Not as long as you might think,” he says. You can almost hear the smile in his voice. “Been keepin’ an eye on you.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. “For how long?”

“Knew where you were this whole time. Wun’t about to let you disappear, princess.” He tucks you against his side, keeping an arm around your shoulders protectively. “Johnny. Come meet our girl. Best behaviour.”

Johnny the werewolf grins at you as he walks up, still adjusting the drape of the tartan fabric around his hips, broad chest bare and dusted with hair, swirling blue tattoos printed on his scarred skin. His hair is shaved on the sides, a stripe of it left long in the center. “Nice ta finally meet ya, princess. Officially, anyway. We’ve bumped intae each other once or twice, but I was told no’ ta approach unless ye approached first, aye? Shame ye never did.” His smile is crooked, his too-bright blue eyes intent on yours. “Think we’ll get along.”

“The whole time?” you ask, skipping back a few paces in the conversation, glancing up at Ghost. “But Kyle said—”

“Sorry, sweetpea,” Kyle says airily. “I lied.”

“Typical tricksy wizard shite. But dinnae ye worry none, we’ll keep him honest for ye.” Johnny grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, and then to the inside of your palm. His rough fingertips push your sleeve back, and he kisses the inside of your wrist too. When you squeak, he gives you a heated look and does it again, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he opens his mouth and licks a stripe across your pulse.

You’re warm from the tips of your ears to your chest, your breath catching on ragged nerves. You tug your hand out of his grip and cradle it with your other, like you’ve been burned by his brash touch.

“Johnny,” Ghost says, exasperated. “S’that what you call best behaviour?”

“She likes it, sir.”

“I most certainly do not!” you protest.

“Oh, aye ye do. Werewolf, ye ken. Can smell ye.” Johnny taps the side of his nose and winks at you. “Ye dinnae need ta be embarrassed, sweetpea. Ye can hardly blame yerself, faced with all this.” He gestures to his admittedly impressive physique, the broad and lean shape of near-perfect manhood on immodest display.

“Let’s move.” Kyle’s hand brushes your elbow. “You can ride with me again.”

Ghost shakes his head and turns, pulling you with him. “No. Come meet Nox.” He whistles, and a huge black shape hurtles down from the sky, glossy black wings snapping open just before the creature hit the ground, flapping a few times so that it lands lightly on four mismatched limbs, stirring up dust leaves. You shrink back against Ghost’s side, eyes wide. A gryphon.

The massive beast has a raven’s head and wings, and shiny black fur on it’s haunches. The catlike tail, with it’s tuft of feathers at the end, twitches back and forth as the bird head tilts to regard you, dark, slit-pupil eyes watching you with interest.

You look up at Ghost for reassurance, and he nods. “Go on. Offer ‘er your ‘and. She won’t bite. Hey, girl?” he scratches the gryphon behind the ear, and it opens it’s mouth to make a vibrating, keening sound that makes Kyle’s horse snort nervously. “That’s right, sweetpea’s a friend.”

You offer your outstretched hand to the giant creature, bolstered by Ghost’s calm, and it sticks it’s beak under your palm, making the same keening sound again. The last of your apprehension melts away, and you step closer, smiling. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?” You scratch the spot where her beak meets her feathers, and her eyes close for a moment.

Johnny reaches for the Nox’s side, and she whips her head around and hisses at him, her throat feathers fluffing up defensively. “Och, yer no’ goan ta git my fingers, ye wee beastie. Thought ye was gettin’ soft.”

“Away, Johnny. Let the girls get to know each other.” Ghost stands behind you and guides your hands to points just behind Nox’s jaw. The gryphon croaks and leans her head on your shoulder, nudging Ghost with her beak.

“Not so scary,” you coo, pressing your face into the soft cloud of feathers. “What a sweet girl.”

“How about it, Nox? Can she ‘op up?” Ghost asks. The gryphon croaks again and backs away enough to lean her front half down. Ghost picks you up and sets you on her back, on a flat saddle that sits right behind the joint of her massive wings, which fold up over your legs like she’s holding you steady. He pats Nox on the neck and starts walking, and she follows, padding beside him, sticking her beak between the joints of his leather armor playfully whenever he takes his hand off her.

You grab the edge of the saddle, mindful of Nox’s feathers, and it takes a moment to adjust to her movement. It’s not the side to side sway of a horse, but she’s steady, like she’s trying her best not to spill an inexperienced rider. Thoughtful of her.

Behind you, Kyle scrambles up onto his horse, and Johnny hustles to catch up, positioning himself on Ghost’s other side, giving Nox a wider berth.

“Thought we weren’t supposed ta tell her we were watchin’,” Johnny said. “Price said—”

“She ought to know. I wun’t too ‘appy about it in the first place, but a deal’s a deal.”

“A deal with who?” you ask.

“I’ll let Price tell you that much, sweetpea. But if it were up to me I’d’ve dragged you back home years ago.”

You shake your head tiredly. “Home is where I was. And I’m going back as soon as this business with Price is done. I don’t know what he wants, but I’m sure we can work something out. Kyle said he’s reasonable.”

“Oh, did ‘e?” Ghost asks, amusement colouring his deep voice. “S’pose that’s ‘ow ‘e had you comin’ along purrin’ like a kitten, hm?”

The blood drains from your face as you turn to look at Kyle, but he doesn’t look guilty, or like he’d been lying to you. “Well, again, I’m perfectly happy to cooperate. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t let me go when he gets what he wants, is there?”

Johnny chuckles, exchanging a look with Ghost that’s inscrutable. “Aye, ye’ve got a point. I’m sure ye’ll have no trouble dealin’ with the old man. Born diplomat, aren’t ye?”

Your stomach twists with nerves. It’s been many years since you’ve seen John Price. You don’t know him as well as you know Ghost. You’d always found the big, faceless man strangely comforting, easy to talk at, if not to, especially when you were still young and silly. But John Price, when he fixed you with those fathomless dark blue eyes, had always rendered you speechless, turned your usually clever tongue to lead. He was a knight captain then, a natural leader of men, a hero. Not someone that your father wanted you to get close to. It’s easy for you to see why now, with your father dead in the ground and Price wearing the crown, but you were glad for any excuse to stay away.

You wish you could ask Nox to fly away with you on her back, maybe home, but maybe somewhere else entirely, where no one knows you, where you can start again without the weight of the crown hanging heavy over your head, an executioner’s ax waiting to fall.

***

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

#Fantasy AU #cod mw fanfiction #x reader #x fem Reader #141 x reader #Heavy Weighs the Crown #Cave Writing #This is mostly gonna be fun and light-hearted I just really enjoy fantasy and I've been watching a lot of DnD content lately #“He's always been reasonable” Kyle lies thinking fondly of his boss - the least reasonable man in the realm #Let me know if you need any content warnings in here but I feel this one's pretty light

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

03/20/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys; Samba BTS; Con; YouWear50Well; AdoptOurCrew; RhysRadness; FanSpotlights; Articles; LoveNotes; DailyDarby/Tonight's Taika

== Rhys Darby ==

Rhys Darby turns 50 today (the 21st, so technically tomorrow for those of us in the US)!! He graced us with some new Selfie's in Aotearoa!

== Samba Schutte BTS ==

Good Calypso Samba put a lot of videos up today. I made posts for them, so I'll link them here. Literally only 1 picture and 14 videos. The man is a lunatic and I love it.

Video 1: Dream Sequence BTS!

Video 2: "Any other burning questions?"

Video 3: Samba & Madeleine & Vico BTS!

Video 4: Leslie & Nat BTS

Video 5: Zheng Plank Scene Takes

Video 6: Explosion Explanation - Earplugs In!

Video 7: Zheng Planking Stede BTS

Video 8: Samba on the Zipline BTS

Video 9: Revenge Crew Running on the Beach

Video 10: Canons BTS: "Let's try doing away with the pull line, cause I think that's just going to be a fucking disaster"

Video 11: Canon Fire: No sound

Video 12: What Explosions Felt Like

Video 13: "That's How The Pros Do It"

Video 14: More Canon Fire / Plank Walking Stede BTS

= Con O'Neill =

Con's show, Happy Valey haws been nominated for a BAFTA! Bafta TV Awards 2024: The List of Nominations

== You Wear 50 Well ==

Rhys Darby's 50th! There were so many well wishes going around for our lovely captain's birthday! Several crewmates were kind enough to allow me to add their dedications to our captain to the recap tonight! @wanderingnomad @lucybluetiful @PaulineKnip @ourflagmeansfanfiction @eros_the_artist @kaddele

= Tumblr Highlights! =

Our tumblr crewmates had lots of dedications as well!

= @brainfugk =

= @bizarrelittlemew =

= @kiwistede =

= @snejpowa =

= @stjernegaupe =

== Adopt Our Crew ==

The votes are in! Anton vs Louise was darn close! Now it's the final round! Stede Vs Anton! looks like Stede's in the lead!

== Fan Spotlight ==

Our darling crewmate @iamadequate1's #MaxMadness replacement is down to the final round! We're down to Our Flag Means Death vs Coyote Vs Acme!

= Cast Cards =

Thank you our dear @melvisik for tonight's new cast card! Christopher Corbin, while only in the show for a very small amount of time, he made a huge impact! "I'm no prostitute, mate!"

== Articles ==

Coyote vs ACME Interview

= Love Notes =

Hey lovelies! Today's been amazing! Definitely been a lot of engagement and we're getting to celebrate our lovely captain! Soooo many people signed the 50th birthday Kudoboard that ended tonight ( and the Taika Kudoboard that ended yesterday). So many crewmates stepped out of their comfort zone and put themselves out there, and I just want to say how proud of you I am. I know it's hard to put yourself out there in case you can get hurt, but you still did it for the good of something / someone you love, and you should be proud of that! I hope you're getting some joy out of these days. I know it can be a bit of a double edged sword because we miss Stede and Ed and the whole Revenge crew so much. It's reminding a lot of folks of the gravy basket. Just a gentle reminder that things aren't over. Even if we're not fighting full force right now-- it's not over. It'll never be over. So many people are behind us, and so many other shows have gotten renewed later, sometimes years laters. I know you've heard it all before, but this isn't the end. If you feel up for it, take these days that are for celebrating, and even if you do it just with yourself, do something to celebrate the things and people you love. If you're feeling alone and have discord, feel free to join us on the #RhysDarbyFaction server tomorrow. We'll be doing a lot of group stuff to try and keep some of the love going. If you're not-- reach out to any of your crew. We're here, and we care and we want you all to be okay. Remember to lean on each other, you're all such kind, resilient, and wonderful people and kindness is what keeps this world moving in the right direction. Our crewmate @ourflagmeansfanfiction made a lovely picture that felt appropriate for tonight. You are strong, and beautiful, and we're all gonna get through this together. Night crew <3

= Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika =

Tonight's theme is microphones!

Daily Darby Courtesy of @celluloidbroomcloset Tonight's Taika Courtesy of @agaywithcoffee

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #our flag means death #save ofmd #ofmd adopt our crew #taika waititi #rhys darby #you wear 50 well #youwear50well #samba schutte #con o'neill #ofmd bts

[snoopymins]

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.  

#na jaemin #jaemin #nct dream #nct #jaemin x reader #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin fluff #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #na jaemin angst #jaemin x y/n #jaemin x you #na jaemin x you #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #na jaemin imagines #jaemin imagines #sun writes

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

FRIENDS?

pairings: Xavier Thorpe x Fem!reader summary: Xavier doesn't like seeing you around other people. warnings: swearing, mention of alcohol and drugs. jealous Xavier, mention of sex. Xavier being a bit possessive. characters are 18.

note: don't forget to request anything that you would like to see. I made a post on who I take requests for

"what the hell is wrong with you?!" you shouted at Xavier

"nothing, what's your problem?" Xavier said aggressively

"leave, get out of my room. I don't want you here!" you demanded, pointing to the entrance of your room

"I'm not leaving" he shook his head, taking a slow step closer to you

"Xavier, get the hell out my room right now" you yelled at him, taking a step back.

"fine, but don't come crawling back to me when they leave you!" he screamed in your face

"oh trust me, I won't" you laughed sarcastically.

Xavier walked away from you, out the door where you slammed it in his face. you leaned against the door and bit your tongue, trying your hardest not the let the tears fall from your eyes, but they did. and they wouldn't stop.

---

that was a month ago. and since then, you haven't talked to Xavier at all, you had lost your closest friend of years to something he was jealous about.

"hey, darling" said an annoying voice, you turned to the blonde boy

"I've already told you not to call me that, we're not dating, we're not together and we never will be, what we did was a one time thing and I was partially drunk. so please. whatever your name is, leave. me. alone" you rolled your eyes at him.

he had been following you around like a lost puppy for the past two weeks because you slept with him at a party and you had gotten sick of it, but up until now, you could just bare it.

the boy gulped before leaving your table

"don't you think you should take a break from sleeping around with guys?" your friend, Danny suggested

"It's not like I do it on purpose, its the alcohol and drugs that does it" you shrugged.

lately you've been experimenting with those type of things at parties. you don't mean to but it's like a routine. you go to the party, you see Xavier staring at you, you take a dink or a smoke and end up all over a guy.

you wouldn't say it's to make Xavier jealous, but you do it because of him.

but again, you don't mean to, you just help yourself.

XAVIER'S POV

something about seeing her with all these guys just pisses me off. she knows what she's doing, and she knows I don't like it.

I even said it to her.

she started ditching me for her new 'friends' and sleeping around having sex with almost any guy she crossed paths with.

I told myself I was looking out for her. but I know it's more than that.

it's been a month since she threw me out, meaning she has a whole month to cool off. so when I saw her walking the corridors to the poe statue alone. I took my chance.

I followed her and snapped twice. down the stairs quietly I noticed her talking to a guy

"yesterday was fun, so. did you want to go out again. maybe tomorrow?" the guy said. standing a little too close for my liking

"I'd like that" she giggled softly. my stomach flipped, and not in the good way, my hands formed into finsts as I watched the scene unfold. he tucked a stray hair behind her ear and smiled at her.

she looked at him like he was the only guy in the world.

"well I'll see you then" he said

"I can't wait"

I quickly hid when I saw him coming up the stairs to leave. i held a breath as he walked past. I didn't want to hurt him.

but I did

--

"she's mine" I growled as I stared down at his unconscious body laying on the concrete floor.

I go back to the secret library and see her standing there, back turned to me. she looked like she was doing something, but I couldn't see.

I get to the bottom of the stairs with my hands in the pockets of my pants. I walk up behind her without her knowing and grabbed the notebook floating in the air.

the pen that was writing on it dropped and she turned to me out of shock

"give it back" she demanded. she looked cute

"come and get it" I smirked hiding it behind my back so she can't access it.

"give it back to me please" she sighed

"tell me what you you were doing with that other guy" I said

"what?" her eyebrows were lifted, acting oblivious

"you know I don't have patience. what where you doing?" I stated

"none of your business" she had her arms crossed against her chest, she look annoyed, but she made it look so cute

"are you wasted?" I asked

"no! why do even you care anyway? it's not your problem" she rolled her eyes

"you know your friends have been here too long" I took a step forward

"oh my god I can't believe you right now, I am aloud to have friends, I don't know why we're having this conversation again" she groaned

"no no, you can't blame this on me anymore. at first I did too, but over the past month I've realised this is on you, that you were too busy lying and sleeping around with guys to even hang out with me" i dropped the book and took a step closer to her

"I don't need to explain myself to you- why does it matter anyway, it's not like we were together!" you yelled at him

"well what the hell were we?! you can't seriously tell me that we were just friends, cause you and I both know we were more than that!" I took another step forward, making her back up slowly

"you're being ridiculous!"

"oh I'm being ridiculous because I'm fucking protecting you?!" I screamed

"Protecting me from what? my friends? they're better friends than you will ever be" she growled

"trust me they are not your friends, and that guy you were talking to is seeing three other girls" I paused, licking my lips frustratedly "but yeah, if they're better friends go on then, leave again" I laughed

"fuck you!" she yelled

"please do" I smirked

"my friends are great" she defended

I took a look around the room, pretending to look for her 'friends'

"and where are these great friends of yours right now, hm?" I huffed in amusement

"I-"

"-I can tell you where they are" I smiled "they're out in town, probably in the cafe, drinking coffee while talking shit about you"

"you are such a fucking dick" she ran her hands on her face

"I'm a dick for stating the truth? ok sure" I shrugged

"why are you even here?" she threw her hands in the air and back down to her sides

"because I'm fucking sick of seeing you with other people!" I screamed, backing her up into a bookshelf

"so you're jealous? we're not even friends anymore, you don't have the right to be mad at me for it"

"I'm aloud to be mad, I've been watching the girl I love ditch me for idiots for the past two months!" I yelled

"oh so now you love me, great" she said sarcastically

"I've always loved you, you fucking idiot, you're just to blind to even notice!" I ran a hand through my hair.

-

you went to say something but he cut you off

"don't you dare try to tell me you don't feel the same, cause we both know that we had something. you just threw it away to sleep with people"

"I was drunk and high, I didn't know what I was doing" you said quietly

"that hasn't stopped you from doing it again" Xavier growled

"I- I'm sorry" you whispered

"no you're not" he shook his head in disappointment, looking down at his feet, he didn't want to look at you.

"the only reason I did it was to get over you!" you yelled

"what the hell do you mean?" xavier questioned

"don't act like you haven't slept with other people. I only slept with them because you did it with Bianca!" she choked out

"what the hell are you talking about?"

"don't act fucking clueless! I know you slept with her, there's no point in denying it" you sighed, moving past him and walking away

"I never slept with Bianca" he denied

"bullshit" you cursed, not turning back

"don't fucking walk away from me, turn around" he said, trailing after you, stopping at the stairs where you were walking up

you stopped but you didn't turn around

"she told me" you smiled sadly, turning around for him to see your eyes become watery

"I can promise you that I didn't, you are the only girl I've had my eyes on in years" he gripped onto the railing of the staircase while looking up at you

you walked down the stairs and stopped in front of him

"I promise" he muttered to you, looking down at you lovingly

you gripped onto the collar of his shirt and pulled him down your level, placing a desperate kiss on his lips.

he situated his hands on your hips and moved closer to you, rubbing your hips against his own.

"so you love me?" you said amused

"don't act like you don't love me back" he shook his head, chuckling

"we're just friends" you teased, trying to hide a smile

"friends? yeah, I'll show you friends" he smirked, picking you up, wrapping your legs around his torso and kissing you.

------------------------------------------------

i swear this took way longer than it should've.

this is loosely based of friends by Chase Atlantic

#xavier thorpe headcannons #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe #wednesday 2022 #wednesday series #netflix wednesday #enid sinclair #ajax petropolus #imagines #angst #jealousy #friends #chase atlantic

[wifeofnatasharomanoff]

My Future

Warnings: Angst, fluff?, light makeout, happy ending dw

Words: 621

Summary: You and Nat finally get the life you two always wanted after so many tries.

A/N: OKAY. sooo I don't know if I'm finishing my gone but not forgotten p2 yet :( but I'll still post, feel free to request my loves <3

You smile happily, looking over at your wife playing with your baby. “Detka come here!” you nod, walking over to the pair. “Hey Natty.” she places a kiss on your neck, “Hi sweetie!” you exclaim, picking up the cheerful child.

She sighs, admiring you two. It wasn't always like this.

Two years ago.

You gasp, 2 lines. You were pregnant, Natasha and you had been trying for so long, and it finally worked. You go and knock on your wifes office door.

“Hey, I'm working. What is it?” you fiddled with your fingers, looking down at your hand. “Nothing! I made dinner so.. just telling you that.” she pries her gaze from the paperwork to you, “Well then go eat dinner, it's not like we're going to have anything else to talk about tonight.”

You furrow your brows, not daring to step closer. “Nat you can't eat dinner with me?” she looks back at whatever she was doing, “No. I have work to do, I don't time for that.” you mumble something, she hears you. “What?”

“I don't get you lately.” “What are you talking about?” you scoff, “What am I talking about? Natasha I have spent hours making dinner for us, but you just don't seem to care.” she gets up from her desk, “Then why aren't you eating dinner?”

“Because I'm waiting for you Tasha.” she sighs, rubbing her temple. “I told you, I have work to do. Get the fuck out of my office.” you gasp at her harsh tone, “Fine. But if you wake up alone tomorrow that's all your fault.” you leave the room, going back into the bedroom.

She closes her office door, "She sounds serious, I should go check up on her."

Natasha leaves her office, and walks into your shared bedroom. You weren't in the room, you were in the bathroom. She looks around, but her eye catches something on the nightstand. She picks it up, “Dekta what is this?”

You wipe away stray tears, exiting the bathroom. “Oh it's just–” she looks over at you, “You're pregnant? Y/n why didn't you tell me?” you sit down on the edge of the bed, “You told me you didn't want me in your office.” she frowns, “Are you actually gonna leave me?” you look up at her, sighing. “I don't.. I don't know Natasha.”

She steps close to you, cupping your face with her cold hands. “Y/n.. please.” you falter, giving in and bringing your gaze to her face. “Nat just promise me that.. that you'll change.” the corners of her lips twitch into a small smile, “Yes. I will detka please stay.”

Your breath hitches, gaze flickering down to her lips. “Kiss me Natasha.” she presses her lips against yours, hands intertwining with each others hair. Her tongue slipping into your mouth, swirling around with yours. Soft moans escape the both of you, lips locked till you run out of breath.

She presses her forehead to yours, “I'm so–” her voice cracks, tears pooling in her eyes. “I'm so sorry kotenok, I shouldn't have acted that way. I love you, so, so– so much.” you smile, tears rolling down your face. “I love you too Natasha.”

Present day.

Her gaze moves to your lips, watching you try to get your daughter to fall asleep. You catch her staring at you, “Tasha I can see that.” she smiles innocently, pecking your lips. You chase back, pulling her in for a longer, proper kiss. “I love you.” she smiles against your lips, you smile back. “I love you too.”

The baby stirs, making you break the kiss to rock her again. You wink at your wife before walking off to the nursery, “Motherhood awaits darling.”

#Spotify #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

[martyrsex]

JASON TODD x READER

a/n: hello, i'm back again! well, this is a very silly cliche, but i really wanted to post something - even if it's a very silly cliche.

summary: reader and jason end up in the middle of a cabin. it's cold outside, snow preventing them from getting out. they need to spend the night, and - uh oh, only one bed.

Cabin.

"My fingers are gonna fall off. I'm losing my fingers." Jason laughs at the dramatic way she states that, while working on the fire. She sits in the carpet behind him. He can feel her eyes penetrating the back of his head.

"Not letting you lose your fingers, don't worry." As the fire finally gets steady, Jason let go of the stick and tilts his head. Her soft features are painted by the orange light, and she blows air on her fingers, trying to warm them.

He feels cold himself, the wind passing through the wood walls and threatening the fire he battled to keep alive. He gets up, her eyes following his steps, analyzing the cabin they ended up for the night. In the middle of north Russia.

"I'm amused about how you know this place." He states, questioning himself about her unusual - yet convenient - knowledge of places that are just perfect for their just as unusual job. In resume, she has the key to a bunch of small, secret cabins around the world.

"I have a lot of... contacts. Networking is everything, I guess."

She gets up, dragging the huge blanket behind her. They had no clue of time, and the storm outside discarded every option of leaving the small house soon.

"We'll have to stay for the night. Maybe more than one. There's food?"

"Yeah. A lot of canned crap, probably - I'm gonna look in the kitchen." Her and the stupid blanket leave him alone, and he takes the opportunity to search for any kind of weapons. None.

The cabin seemed out of a Ghibli movie. Small, in the middle of a soft, new snow. If it wasn't for this mysterious contact of hers, they would've freezed to death. The wood was of a dark brown, yellow flashing lights - as if a stronger breath was enough to shove them into darkness. Is comforting, in a way. Quiet.

"So, there is a lot of canned crap, as usual." He hums, acknowledging her information. She keeps talking;

"But is not a lot, so we should probably save it for tomorrow."

"That's fine. I'm not really hungry." Jason sits on the bed, sheets strangely clean for a place so unused. Everything was oddly clean, he realizes.

She sits besides him, eyes lost in thoughts. Jason was familiarized with the way she retreats inside her mind, sometimes being awfully quiet for long periods of time. As if she wasn't really there. He knows the feeling too well - ghosts of the past sneaking in unpredictable moments. He normally would respect her space, leaving her alone to deal with wathever was going inside her mind, but is impossible to do that now. He needs her; they need to figure a way to get out of here.

"Hey," his hand touches her shoulder, shaking it at the most gentle way, "we need to plan how we're reaching the others, so they can get us out."

Her eyes snap, as if she just woke up from a dream. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

Jason decides then, this is not working. "We should go to bed. Tomorrow we need to find a way to contact Bruce."

Scratching her eyes, she nods. "Right. Sleep seems good."

It's not the first time he has to share bed with someone. He did it with Roy, with his brothers, with Artemis. When living in the street, he shared his shitty mat with strangers. And many of them stole it from him, if that counts for anything. The point is, he was used to share space.

So Jason doesn't understand why his heart races so fast now. He is nervous. The bed isn't exactly big, far from it, and the coldness outside obliges them to keep close. He tries to not touch, keeping his back against hers, staring at the wall. The low fire now being the only light, and yet he felt overwhelmed with clarity; overwhelmed with how sensitive his skin is towards every movement she does.

She turns around, facing his large shoulders, and her breath in the back of his neck arouses shivers in his arms. "Jason, are you awake? I'm freezing."

He tilts his head, enough to look at her upon his shoulder, "I'm awake. Do you want me to check if there's any other blanket?"

She refuses the offer with a shake of her head, "I already did. There's none."

The fire light made her eyes glow, and he felt like those thoughts of her - being stared mercilessly at, unable to hide. He sighs, searching any other way to warm her, but his mind only perceives one.

"I can - I can warm you, if you really need it." He curses at himself for stuttering at such a silly phrase, aware this is just so she doesn't get cold. Assuring himself it's a mere necessity, nothing else, and there's no need for his heartbeat to increase. Clark is probably able to hear it from Metropolis.

"That would be... convenient. But if it makes you uncomfortable, there's no -"

"It doesn't. It's fine." She smiles at that, and his cheeks redden at the hurry the words left his mouth. Jason hopes she doesn't realize the color in his face isn't because of the soft lights emerging from the fire.

He turns around, face in front of hers, hands not daring to touch yet. Her mouth is slightly apart, and he fights against an urge to look at those soft lips. The question of how they must feel against his own invading his mind, how would she react if he decided to taste them. If he choosed a different way to warm her.

"Jason?" His eyes trail up again.

"Yeah?" Adorable smile; a chuckle leaving her throat.

"I'll turn around so you can... You know, not let me freeze to death." Before waiting for an answer, her face vanishes in the darkness, soft hair taking it's place. He acts on his word, strong hands bringing her close to him by the hips. Jason dares to rest one of them in her belly; feeling a much smaller hand holding his own, her thumb stroking his wrist slowly.

They always had an interesting relation. Eyes searching for each other in the room, hands touching in planned accidents. But the job, the duty; the schedule. It was hard to get involved this way - because there's risk every single day. He knows she has feelings, but is that fear of getting attached and losing. But Jason knows losing someone before loving them properly hurts way more.

If he was feeling overwhelmed before, now he's probably combusting. At least it will keep her warm, he thinks. The smell of her hair intoxicates his senses, keeping him awake, and at the same, urging him to sleep. It's such a small act, her hand uppon his, holding carefully. But it is enough to make him sigh.

Her breath is slow, and he knows she's sleeping. So he close his own eyes, getting closer to her. He allows his mind to run free, indescribable images of different situations he was shoved in - most of them against his wish. Jason feels safe, comfortable.

He could get used to this, he thinks. He could actually have a proper sleep routine if he knew she would be there, waiting for him to provide heat. Tomorrow, they have a hard duty of getting the hell out of that cabin in the middle of the white woods. He hopes is hard enough to require one more night besides her, and curses himself for his selfish, silly wish; before finding rest in her company.

#jason todd #jason todd reader #jason todd fanfiction #batfamily #jason todd deserves better #jason todd x you #jason todd blurb #jason todd fluff #jason x reader #jay x reader #red hood and the outlaws #batboys #jaybird

[manchurian-barnes]

Coffee Shop Blues and Red Part Four (Peter Parker x F! Reader)

Post NWH - Collage Peter!

Busy nights filled with college course work, leads to late nights in a crappy coffee shop, the only perk? Friendly neighbourhood company.

To keep updated heres the Series Masterlist and for my other works, you can find My Masterlist Here!

Peter paced back and forth around his apartment, pondering every outcome of taking you out on a date. He ran his hands through his hair and just let out, a sigh, a massive friggin 'what the hell are you doing Peter?' kind of sigh. Though all he could think about was how happy he was that you even liked him back marginially, he also found that happy thought being replaced by the sight of you getting hurt. By the sight of you bleeding. By the sight of you in his arms bleeding and him knowing it was his fault and he couldnt stop it- He stood still and just looked at his mask, freshly off his head, over his raditor...

"Fuck me..." He whispered, "c'mon parker." He took a deep breath. Dating was hard enough, the looming and ever presant threat of something happening to you, well, that only further complicated matters...

You sat in the middle of your bed staring at a blank word document. Nothing was coming to you, no stories, nothing in the news sparked enough interest to even try and draft something. You closed that tab and instead opened another, google, good ol' google.

You bit your lip before typing 'spider-man sightings'. Staring at the page as it loaded up. most recent sightings no less than an hour ago. It was exceptionally difficult at the moment to really picture that being Peter, you knew it was yet, the idea of him letting himself go through hell daily and still showing up to the damn coffee shop with his bright smile - the fact he was always more conerned by your day than his... It was difficult to fathom someone who had so much good inside their heart. "Jesus Christ...get a grip, it's not that weird...it's not that weird..." You whispered to yourself as you watched a video of Spider-Man stopping a truck with his hands. Biting your lip you reached for your phone, holding it to your ear.

"Hey, HI!" Peter's voice came through the phone, chirpy as he ever was. "A truck hit you tonight-" You informed him as if he didn't know. "That's a really good metaphor for you admitting you like me-" "Peter-" "Seriously that is why you're a writing y/n-" He stopped at your sigh. "I'm alright." He assured you. It took a moment before you found it in you to respond to that. "Yeah-right." You nodded. Pinching the bridge of your nose. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay...I just wanted to make sure you were still...able to take me to dinner."

The weak laugh that came from you made Peter's heart clench. He sat down on the edge of his bed and looked around, trying to find the right words for any of this. He'd considered this all from his side, but had never considered what it would be like to be interested in someone like him...someone who risked his life, someone who you would never really know if youd see him again...wasn't really anyone's normal.. "Im okay." He spoke softly, "Ive been doing this like...half my life now and im okay...I swear to you, if i wasn't...i'd of stopped by now." He informed you, "Now, worry about what youre gonna wear...I want to see you like...now ideally but I'm willing to wait until tomorrow..." He laughed.

Rose covered your cheeks by the time he was finished talking and you let out a sigh. "Should i wear a dress? how fancy is the place-" "It's like, so fancy." He chuckled. "We're doing this?" You asked. "We are doing this, but you should know, I don't kiss on the first date, I'm not easy-" He joked. "Who told you I want to kiss you?" That made him laugh, harder than he probably should've.

"You don't want to kiss me?"

"Oh Parker...I've never wanted to kiss someone so bad in my life."

End Of Part Four - Finale!

If you enjoy the series and are curious about my other works you can find them on My Masterlist!

#peter parker imagine #peter parker reader insert #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman imagine #spider-man #spider-man x reader #marvel reader insert #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel masterlist #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #mcu reader insert #peter parker fic #peter parker soft #mcu fanfiction

[sp00kycrumpet]

When Our Paths Cross Again. (Part Two)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E

Tags: Soft!Joel; pre-outbeak up till end of Season 1; no use of y/n; sometimes Ellie is the adult in the situation

Warnings: swearing; character death; spoilers (if you haven't watched the series/played the game)

Word count; 5,534 out of 22,020

Will also be posted on my AO3

Part One

After a few days, you could tell Joel was getting frustrated. In the snow, everything everywhere looked the same. You could have walked in circles and never known. He squinted at his map in the dying evening light, Ellie dozed off slumped against your side like a dead weight.

"We'll figure it out Joel. Don't worry." You offered softly, Joel sighing and giving a nod as he carefully folded the map back up.

"I think I know where we are anyway. We just gotta find the river." He lightly pinched the bridge of his nose before pushing himself to his feet. "I'm gonna keep watch, you should get some sleep. Ellie will talk your ear off again tomorrow." Before you could argue, he'd picked up his gun and moved to find a vantage point where he could sit and keep an eye on the surroundings as well as the two of you. You watched him quietly before adjusting the blanket draped around Ellie and closed your own eyes to try and sleep for a little bit. It wasn't exactly comfortable huddled up in what was basically an abandoned shed but it was shelter for now.

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself alone. Momentarily you panicked they'd abandoned you or something had happened. Until you spotted Ellie's joke book by your feet, a note scrawled on the back page explaining they'd gone to a cabin nearby to see if it was empty or if they could get directions but would be back soon. You groaned and pushed yourself up, grabbing the granola bar Joel had left. You ate it and gathered your things, you weren't sure how long they'd been gone so you decided to go check it out for yourself. Once you had everything, you headed out into the snow - burrowing your face into the collar of the jacket. It was way too big but when it was all that was available, you couldn't exactly be picky. At least it was warm. You followed some footprints across the snow, careful to keep quiet as you picked your way across the open area. You spotted the cabin and quickly moved closer, your heart almost stopping as the door swung open to reveal Joel and Ellie heading out. Ellie stole one of the rabbits hanging by the door as they left, you could hear Joel scolding her as you approached. Suddenly Joel grabbed at his chest and took a moment to lean against a fencepost. You darted over as Ellie babbled at him.

"If you're dead, I'm fucked. We don't know where we're going without you. Joel, what's wrong?" Ellie sounded panicked as Joel tried to wave her off. You had no idea what was going on, but Joel didn't look good.

"I said I'm fine." He snapped, looking over his shoulder at Ellie.

"Hey Joel. Just breathe, okay? It'll be fine." You said softly as you reached to gently cup his face in your hands. He watched you for a moment before pulling back, saying it was just the cold air. You and Ellie exchanged glances before the three of you continue your journey, Ellie telling you about the old couple in the cabin, how the woman made them soup - which Ellie had tipped some into the empty thermos for you - and they'd given directions for where to go from here.

"So we just have to find Tommy and the Fireflies. It's easy. All we have to do is cross the river of death." She muttered, a frown twisting her face momentarily as she tried to explain what the couple had said to her and Joel. You listened to her but kept an eye on Joel the whole time, his moment back there had you concerned. You just needed a moment with him to check in without Ellie overhearing.

You walked for hours, the quiet unnerved you slightly. Conversation dwindled as everyone started to get tired. Eventually the sound of running water broke the silence, you'd finally found the river.

"The river of death… scary." Ellie muttered, staring out at the dark water.

"Don't start. It's getting dark, there's some caves across the river we can set up camp in." You nodded in agreement as Ellie muttered about stealing two rabbits as the three of you headed towards the caves.

"Come on, just a bit further and we'll stop there for the night." Joel muttered, leading the two of you over to a cave where you could set up camp for the night. He set to skinning the rabbit and preparing it to eat while you and Ellie set up a sleeping area. Ellie wandered off to find water so everyone could wash up before eating - her muttering about not wanting to eat with the image of Joel's bloody hands in her mind.

"Hey. You okay?" You asked softly, Joel pausing before shrugging a shoulder and continuing cutting the meat into chunks.

"I'm fine." He mumbled, wiping his knife on the grass when he was done. You sat beside him, looking up at him.

"Joel…" You reached to place a hand on his arm, Joel glancing at your arm before looking up at your face.

"I promise. I'm fine." You sighed softly, knowing he wasn't being completely honest, he placed his hand gently over yours though. His thumb gently tracing along yours, you studied his face for a moment as your heart fluttered in your chest. Your moment was interrupted by Ellie coming back.

"How long till dinner? I'm starving." She said as she came back and dropped to sit down, Joel quickly snatching his hand back as you looked up at her.

"Not long." He muttered, moving to put everything into his little camping pan once the fire was hot enough. You caught the way she looked at you both but was glad she didn't say anything.

After dinner, the three of you just sat around the fire as it got dark. Ellie flicking through her book of puns while you went down to the river to wash up. When you came back, she was at the entrance to the cave with her eyes on the sky.

"Look at that."

"Northern Lights." You breathed, looking up as Ellie looked at you in amazement. "C'mon." You grinned and held out a hand to Ellie, leading her around a few rocks to try and climb higher while Joel stayed by the fire.

"Aurora borealis." She muttered, the two of you standing on a high rock as you stared up at the sky in amazement. You chuckled softly.

"You know the fancy term. Do you know how it works?" Ellie shrugged a little.

"Not really, I read about it forever ago but thought it was one of those urban myth things."

"If I remember rightly… it's caused by electrically charged particles entering the Earth's atmosphere at a super high speed. I'm sure there's a proper in-depth explanation but that's all I remember." You chuckled, Ellie looking at you in awe. "I was a bit of a nerd in high school." Ellie laughed as she nudged you lightly.

"Damn. Course I get stuck in an apocalypse with a nerd." You pulled a face at her, glancing down at Joel from the vantage point. Seeing him rummaging through his bag for something. You looked back at saw Ellie looking at you.

"He's talked about you before y'know." She muttered. "I thought he was lying, someone would willingly spend time with his grumpy ass? But you're cool." You smiled softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her briefly.

"I'm gonna go check on him, you wanna stay here for a bit?" Ellie nodded, waving you off and her attention was back on the sky. You climbed down carefully and headed over to Joel as he pulled some tape from his bag. He glanced up at you as you smiled.

"You gonna tape up the leftovers?" You teased, Joel snorting softly.

"No leftovers, Ellie ate every last bit. My boots got a hole, just gonna tape it till I can find more." You nodded, holding out a hand for the tape.

"Let me help. You should relax." Joel eyed you for a moment, a declining argument on his tongue before he just relented and handed the tape over. You knelt by his feet, taping up the worn boot and making sure it was secure. You worked quietly, feeling Joel's gaze never leaving your face. Once you were satisfied, you patted his calf and handed it back.

"It'll hold for now." Joel thanked you and shoved the tape back in his bag. "I got a little something, hang on." Joel watched you curiously as you dug into your bag and fished out a little hip flask. "It's not as good as the stuff we used to sell at the restaurant but, it'll do." Uncapping it, you took a swallow of the whiskey and offered it over, Joel paused before he took it from you with a thanks. He took a sip then glanced up as he realised Ellie had climbed higher. Joel whistled to get her attention, telling her to get down. Reluctantly she did as she was told, sitting across from you both as Joel took another sip. Ellie watched him, glancing at you then back to him.

"Can I have some?" You chuckled, Joel swallowing and shaking his head.

"No."

"Just to warm up, c'mon." You nudged Joel gently.

"One sip won't hurt her." You grinned, Joel glanced at you then sighed and offered it over. Ellie practically beamed as she took it from him and took a tentative sip. Her face screwed up a little, handing it back pretty quickly.

"Yup. Still gross." You laughed loudly, taking the flask from Joel and having another sip before putting it back in your bag. You leaned back against the rocks behind you, feeling the warmth from the fire on your face as your gaze wandered back to the sky as a quiet settled over the three of you.

"So. I've been thinking, let's say we find the Fireflies, it all works. They draw my blood, put it in their fancy machines and make a cure…" Ellie started, getting both of your attentions again.

"Okay…" Joel replied, curiosity in his tone.

"Then what. What do we do?"

"There's we." He teased and you couldn't help but smile, you loved seeing the playful banter between them even if Joel tried to keep a straight face.

"Okay fine, whatever. You. You can do anything you want. Where are you going, what are you doing?" Joel paused as he thought about it.

"Never been an option. Maybe, an old farmhouse. Some land. A ranch." You looked over at him, you could imagine him doing that. Maybe he'd let you stay with him, pick up where you left off all those years ago.

"Cool. What kind?" Ellie's voice broke your thought bubble.

"Sheep. I would raise sheep. They're quiet, do what they're told." Joel perked one eyebrow slightly, a dig at Ellie again as you laughed.

"Yeah, yeah okay. So just you and a bunch of sheep. Romantic." Ellie glanced at you, you just glanced at your hands.

"What about you? Were you gonna go?" Joel asked, Ellie taking a moment to pick through her thoughts.

"It's probably cause I grew up in the QZ, behind you is the ocean, ahead of you there's a wall. Where else to look but up? I've read everything I could in the school library. Neil Armstrong. Buzz Aldrin. Jim Lovell. You know who my favourite is?"

"Sally Ride." Joel answered without missing a beat, you nodded a little.

"Sally. Fucking. Ride. Best astronaut name ever." Ellie grinned, her eyes on the sky.

"I used to want to be a teacher… maybe I'll find a settlement somewhere. See if they'll have room for a teacher. Domestic bliss sounds nice honestly." Ellie smiled a little, disappearing into her thoughts for a moment. "You good?" You asked, nudging her foot with yours gently. Ellie looked up, studying the two of you for a moment.

"It'll work right? The vaccine." Her voice suddenly sounded so small, nervous.

"It's a little late to start wonderin'." Joel muttered, folding his arms over his chest as he glanced at you then back to Ellie. She pursed her lips a little.

"I tried. With sam." You blinked, watching her.

"Tried what?" You asked gently, leaning forward slightly as her voice sounded so soft.

"I knew he was infected. And I tried to rub some blood into his bite. I know, I know. Stupid but I wanted to save him." You reached out and took one of her hands in your own, gently rubbing your thumb over her knuckles.

"Ellie… I'm sorry." You said softly, Ellie wrinkling her nose like she was on the verge of tears but refused to let them fall.

"I reckon its a lot more complicated than that. Marlene, she's a lot of things but she's no fool. If she says they can do it, they can do it." Joel said, determination in his voice. You nodded a little.

"There's gotta be something to it if they are so determined to get you there and make this cure Ellie. I've heard so many stories about Fireflies but, I've seen their scientific knowledge is strong. They managed to recreate the cancer drugs that helped save Sam. They can do this too." Ellie nodded, squeezing your hand tightly. You smiled at her, shuffling over to hug her against your side. She leaned into you, her cheek against your shoulder.

"You wanna take first watch or second?" She asked Joel after a moment. Joel rolled his shoulders.

"I'll do both. Get some sleep, dream of sheep ranches on the moon."

"Joel…" You said softly, he just shook his head and adjusted how he was sat. You knew he was determined to be the protector. Maybe his moment earlier in the day had shaken him more than he would care to admit.

Eventually you both dozed off, only for you to wake a few hours later when the fire died down. A shiver woke you and you realised your blanket had slipped off. You sat up to find it in the dim light, glancing over to see Joel had fallen asleep. You chuckled to yourself and silently got up, carefully draping your blanket over him as he slept. You couldn't help but admire him for a moment. Even in a shitty world with an impossible task on his hands, the fates had somehow led you back to each other. It seemed so childish to dwell on it but you couldn't help it. You'd fallen hard for Joel so long ago, it was the last time you'd felt good. Being with him in a tiny coffee shop, squeezing into a tiny booth side by side, his hand holding yours as he laughed and told you some silly thing Sarah had done that day. It was so long ago but still so vivid in your mind. You carefully pried his gun from his sleeping hand and draped it over your shoulder, moving to do a quick check around the perimeter before taking a spot by the entrance. You yawned quietly, your hand covering your mouth. You were tired but determined to keep a lookout. There'd been no sign of anyone around here for a while, no tracks other than your own so you weren't too worried. Hearing a noise behind you, you spun around and saw Ellie heading over, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She glanced at Joel and shook her head.

"He's such a stubborn old man." She whispered to you, pulling her hat on her head with a smile. You nodded, leaning against the rocks beside you.

"He just cares. Joel's never been great with expressing himself. Must be a man thing." You joked, Ellie muffling her laugh into her gloves. You glanced over at him, hearing him stir and mutter.

"He does that a lot. Sometimes it's just noises but sometimes he talks." The corners of her mouth tugged downward slightly, you nodded a little.

"Stress can do that. We don't know what Joel went through before he met us." Ellie nodded, wrapping her arms around herself.

"It's been rough but… I am glad I bumped into you both. Got me out of Kathleen's insanity and finding more joy in things." Ellie smiled at you.

"Nerd." She teased but still smiled as she kicked at a stone. You knew she meant well and was clearly happy for more company. "I saw you two earlier. Holding hands." You felt your cheeks flush a little, clearing your throat.

"I was just making sure he was okay after earlier. Besides I hold your hand a lot too." Ellie opened her mouth to say something else but just nodded a little.

"That was scary. What was that?" She asked, her eyes on Joel. You shrugged a little.

"Could be exhaustion. Could be a panic attack. Could genuinely have been the cold. But we'll look after him between us, okay?" You smiled at her, Ellie nodding before glancing at you.

"Can I have the big gun? Joel never lets me hold it." You snorted softly, Ellie was always so quick to change subjects. But you didn't mind.

"Okay but if he asks, I suggested it so he doesn't nag you." She beamed at you as you carefully draped the strap over her small shoulders and showed her how to hold it properly and use the aim.

The two of you kept watch as the sun rose, taking it in turns to check the surrounding areas. You excused yourself to find somewhere to pee once it was light enough to see around yourself properly. Ellie saluting with a grin before you went.

As you came back, you could hear voices. Joel had woken up in a bit of a panic after realising he'd fallen asleep and his gun was gone.

"Wake me up next time." He scolded as he held out a hand for the gun. Ellie handed it over reluctantly.

"But Joel she was…" She paused as she gestured towards you then sighed. "Yes sir." You fastened your jacket back around yourself as you watched Joel.

"C'mon Joel. You need to sleep sometimes as well, I'm not going to just let you do everything yourself. I know that's what you're used to but, you have me here now okay?" You nodded, Joel watching you for a moment before he just nodded.

"We'll have the last of the soup for breakfast then move out." You and Ellie exchanged glances, she rolled her eyes at his grumpy mood and trudged back inside to pack her things away while you helped get the fire started again. Ellie went to get more wood as you looked at him.

"She's a good kid Joel. She means well." Joel grunted in response as you placed a hand on his arm. "I know it's not easy. But have a little faith in her, okay? Between the three of us, we'll be fine." You smiled at him, reaching to gently brush some dirt from his cheek. His eyes flickered to your hand before back to your face, studying you quietly. You pulled away after a moment, not wanting to make him uncomfortable as you finally got the fire started and moved to pack your things away. Completely aware of Joel's eyes watching your every movement, you smiled to yourself as you finished and used your bag as a seat while you poured the small amount of soup into the camping pan to warm up and share out between you. You glanced up, your eyes meeting Joel's over the fire. Something flickered in his eyes, your heart fluttering as those old feelings bubbled back to the surface and almost past your lips. Stopped by Ellie's return, Joel hiding back behind the emotional walls he'd built around himself almost immediately.

The three of you followed the path Joel had mapped out after the couple had pointed it out, Ellie interjecting the silence with questions or her admission she didn't know how to whistle - prompting you to playfully tease her as you whistled a few songs and tried to teach her how to do it. Unsuccessful but it killed time, you could see Joel relax a little, clearly amused by your interactions. After a few hours you came to a dam, one used to conduct electricity if it worked properly.

"Damn." Ellie said, breaking the quiet and making you laugh out loud. She looked proud of herself as she turned to Joel. "So that made electricity?" Joel glanced her out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't ask me, I don't have a clue." Ellie groaned, throwing her hands up as she carried on walking.

"You coulda made something up, I would have believed you." You snorted softly, nudging Joel lightly with a smile as you passed him. "What about you? Do you know?" You shook your head.

"I don't know. Witchcraft?" You teased, laughing as Ellie just huffed about neither of you being helpful. You glanced back, catching a hint of a smile on Joel's face that warmed your heart. You got closer to the goal, pausing by the river - Ellie insisting on calling it the river of death again as the three of you hid behind a small mound for a moment to look for any signs of life. Joel fired off a shot to see if there was any response.

"For the river of death, it's pretty quiet." She muttered, Joel shaking his head before the three of you headed out into the open land. You were so close now, you only hoped you'd find Tommy and he would help you get Ellie to the Fireflies. The peace was broken by a rumble, Joel instinctively reaching out an arm to put you and Ellie behind him. Your hand instinctively went to your gun as people on horses surrounded you, your heart hammered in your chest as Joel spoke with them. A man ordered you and Ellie to step away and separate. Joel hesitated before telling you to do as they said, that it would be fine. You nodded, squeezing Ellie's hand before stepping away. You looked around at the group, their faces all hidden and guns trained on all three of you. You didn't escape Kathleen or the hoard of infected to be shot dead by some wannabe bandits. Joel tried to reason with them as a man stepped forward with a dog, the apparent leader explaining how she was trained to sniff out infection and how she'd rip any of you apart if she smelt it. Fear crawled up your spine as you thought about Ellie's immunity and the bite hidden on her arm. She may be immune but maybe the infection just lay dormant in her system. The dog sniffed at Joel then moved to you, sniffing at you before growling and heading to Ellie. Your eyes glued to the girl as she glanced at you then the dog. With your hands up, there was no chance of snatching up your gun and protecting her. You held your breath as the dog sniffed at Ellie before welcoming her with a lick to her fingers, Ellie giggling at the feeling before crouching down to pet the dog confidently. You exhaled slowly, glancing at Joel before looking back at the man that spoke. A woman came through a small opening in the group, eyeing Joel as she asked his name. There was something in her eyes as he gave his answer, she turned to the man beside her and said something in his ear. Reluctantly he called everyone to lower their weapons, making a few of them double up so Joel could ride a horse then you and Ellie could ride another. You sat her in front of you, your hands holding the reins and keeping her close.

"That was close." You whispered in her ear once you all got moving.

"Yeah but we don't know what happens now. She seemed to know Joel. Did you see her reaction to him?" You hummed in agreement.

"I got you. Don't worry." You muttered, Ellie leaning back into you in agreement.

The ride was pretty quiet, Ellie unnaturally quiet as she took in her surroundings and took note of everything going on. She was young but experience had made her wise beyond her years at times. You almost envied her sometimes. You were taken to a huge gate, the woman who'd spoken got someone to open it and you were led inside. To a whole town hidden behind these enormous walls. You breathed out, in awe of this little wonderland sprawling before you. Houses, shops, restaurants and all sorts. Kids playing in the snow, families walking around, friends chatting and enjoying the day. It was like a haven that the virus hadn't managed to get to. People were working together, existing peacefully and content with their little home here.

"This is incredible." You muttered, feeling eyes on the three of you as you rode through town. Ellie nodded quietly, the group pausing momentarily.

"Tommy!!" Joel suddenly yelled out, a man a few feet away on some scaffolding stiffening before turning and spotting Joel. Joel slid off of his horse as Tommy came over instantly, the two brothers embracing tightly. Joel laughing a little as tears shone in his eyes at the joy of finally seeing his brother. The men looked at each other before embracing again. Ellie glanced over her shoulder at you as you smiled softly.

"We found him. Side quest complete." You muttered to her before sliding off of the horse from behind her. Joel glanced over as he heard the snow crunch, Tommy following his gaze before he laughed.

"No fucking way." You grinned as you approached.

"Funny, that's exactly what I said when I first saw Joel a few weeks back." You laughed and wrapped the man up in a tight hug. Tommy shook his head as he patted your back, pulling away after a moment.

"C'mon, let's go get you three fed."

The restaurant was lovely. Reminiscent of a log cabin in it's decor and wooden walls, it had a warm atmosphere and the smell of food made your stomach growl instantly. You followed Tommy and the woman from earlier - after introducing her as Maria - to a table, she asked one of the girls working there to get food for the three of you.

"How do we pay for this?" You asked suddenly, Tommy chuckling.

"Call it a welcome gift." He grinned as he sat back in his seat. You nodded a little, glancing around. It felt surreal to be in a restaurant with Joel and Tommy Miller, like the world hadn't changed. Except it was Ellie between you and Joel instead of Sarah. Tommy explained to Maria about how you had met him and Joel, working every shift ever and constantly looking after them like they were royalty.

"Man I lost track of how many freebies you'd sneak us or how you'd use your staff discount when no one was lookin'." You grinned and shrugged.

"You guys became some of my best friends! How could I not treat you well?" You grinned, Tommy just giving a playful smirk - choosing to omit the details of you and Joel going on dates or the cupcakes you made. When the food came, silence fell over the table as you all ate like starving prisoners. It was so nice to have a home cooked meal, which Ellie exclaimed - Joel scolding her to mind her manners. Ellie looked up and over your shoulder, seemingly spotting someone as she yelled out to them.

"She's was just curious. Kids around here don't look or talk like you." Maria said softly. Ellie just shrugged.

"Maybe I'll teach em." She bit back, you could see Joel was rubbing off on her - instantly defensive when she felt on edge. You nudged her under the table with your foot, she glanced at you with a 'what?' expression before turning back to Maria. "And I want my gun back."

"They also aren't armed." Maria answered softly. Tommy cleared his throat a little.

"Y'know I think y'all got off a little on the wrong foot." He said, glancing between the three of you.

"She was gonna have her guys kill us." Ellie scowled, you swallowed and said her name softly to try and get her to calm down.

"We gotta be real careful about who we let in this place. But it's all bark, we just wanna scare off those who might try us is all." Tommy explained, hoping to keep the peace. You nodded in understanding as you put your fork down for now, sipping your tea.

"Well you got a couple of ninty year olds out there shitting themselves."

"Ellie." Joel scolded.

"They said you leave dead bodies around." You sighed softly, pinching the bridge of your nose after shooting Maria and apologetic look, Joel constantly trying to keep the peace.

"Those are the people who tried us." Maria answered, still calm and level as always.

"A bad reputation doesn't mean you're bad." Tommy added.

"Not always at least." Maria interjected, shooting a look at Joel that had you feeling irritated now. You put your cup down and fixed her with a look, opening your mouth to say something when Joel stepped in.

"Ma'am. We're grateful for your hospital and all, but it'd be nice to have a moment here just for family." Joel replied, you exhaled slowly as you swallowed back the comment on the tip of your tongue, Tommy shifting in his seat as he slid his hand into Maria's.

"Well. Maria is family actually." He replied as you spotted the small wedding band on her finger.

"Oh shit. Congrats." Ellie said, Joel just staring at his brother with an unreadable expression on his face. You congratulated them as well before Ellie stared at Joel.

"Joel. Say congrats." She hissed, Joel frowning for a moment before nodding once.

"Congrats." The couple shared a look before Tommy forced a smile.

"How about a tour?" He suggested to break the tension, you nodded in agreement as you pushed your empty plate aside.

"That sounds wonderful. Thank you." You said softly, wiping your mouth before leaning back in your seat. Ellie glanced at you while Joel still stared at Tommy with that unreadable expression still on his face. You exhaled slowly, excusing yourself to use the bathroom before you left. It felt weird. This little safe space, the relaxed atmosphere of everyone around you, how Joel had gone from emotionally ecstatic at finding Tommy to cold and unreadable so fast. You took a moment in the bathroom to splash some water on your face and have a second to yourself before rejoining the table. You stacked the empty plates together and tided the table out of habit, glancing up when you felt eyes on you.

"Old habits really do die hard, huh?" Tommy teased with a laugh as you chuckled and realised what you'd done.

"When you worked in the food industry as long as I did, you can't not do the little things to make other servers' jobs easier." The little joke seemed to ease the tension slightly as everyone gathered their things and headed out. Tommy and Maria showed you around, pointing out the different buildings and how they kept everything running. The dam helped give them power and hot water. Your eyes lit up at the mention, the dream of a hot shower had almost died months ago when the hot water had been shut off in the city. They explained how everything worked as you walked towards a little holding, Ellie's face lighting up when a flock of sheep trotted past in a field beside you.

"Hey look Joel!" She grinned over her shoulder at him, imitating the noises the sheep made as they ran past. Maria led you to the stables, introducing Ellie to the newest horse, Shimmer. She cooed over the horse as Joel and Tommy stood back, you glanced over at them - your gaze lingering on Joel to check in before looking back at Ellie. Maria suggested she show you and Ellie around a little more so the men could catch up. Tommy agreed and led Joel away.

"Ellie, best behaviour." He warned, glancing at you. "You'll be okay?" You waved a hand, smiling at him.

"I think we'll be fine. Go." Joel nodded, watching you before turning to follow Tommy. Maria had a questioning look on her face once you turned your attention back to her but she never said anything, instead showed you both around a little more. Introducing you both to the stable hands, showing you the pigs and a little fat barn cat that was lounging on a haybale. After walking around for a while, Maria offered to take you both back to hers for a tea and a shower. You agreed, Ellie shooting you a look before just shrugging and following you both.

(Part Three)

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #ellie williams #ellie tlou #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel miller x you #soft!Joel

[marvelgirlstories]

Hi my lovelies ❤️,

It's finally here!!!!!!! Sorry I haven't been posting, but I will start posting more regularly soon. Anyways here you are.💓🫶🏻💓

Stole my heart

Masterlist

Part 3

Warnings: Bad language, mentions of fighting and blood, gossiping (is that a warning??)

Steve was left puzzled, because Bucky was acting strange. Ever since you arrived he had closed up again. It's like you had awoken a memory in him. One that has been gone for years. If you were from the 40s, he would know. He has met every single person Bucky took on a date. That must only mean one thing. But... "Captain Rogers. Mr. Stark requests that you come down to the living area.", Friday interrupted his thoughts. "Now?", he asked. "Yes."

"What do you want, Tony?", he asked as he entered. He stopped in his tracks as he saw everyone. Well, everyone apart from you. "We need to talk about Y/N.", the billionaire replied. "So you called down everyone just to gossip about a new teammate.", Steve questioned. "Exactly!", Sam butted in. "What if she finds us?", Bucky said. He had suddenly appeared behind Steve. "She left this morning to do a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. She won't be back until tomorrow afternoon.", Natasha said. "And even if she is, I told Friday to tell us if she comes early.", Tony added.

"So what do you all think of her?", Sam asked, "I think she's ... strange. She lives here, but we hardly see her. We've never seen her in action, but we should just believe Fury." "Me and Steve have seen her", Bucky said breaking of Sam's rant, "She was training on the day when you all went swimming. We went down and saw her break multiple punching bags and fire a gun bullseye without looking. Hell, she almost took Steve down!" Everyone looked at Steve for confirmation. He nodded. "We were quite evenly matched." "Well, I will believe it when I see it.", Tony said, "She's to big for her boots." "You're still upset about last week?", Natasha asked. "Bucky! You knew her, didn't you?", Wanda butted in. "No!", he almost shouted back, a little to fast. Nat gave him a look. "Ok. Fine. I might remember her from something. "From what? And why didn't you tell us?", Steve questioned.

"She helped me in Romania. Happy?" Bucky was starting to get annoyed. "Ok. Sorry!", Steve said, "But why did you call her Shadow?" "She told me to.", he answered. "Wait wait wait, someone just came up to you, told you to call her Shadow and you trusted her?", Tony asked. "Well, I didn't have much choice, did I?", he asked indignantly, "Anyways, it was safe. She's a S.H.I.E.L.D agent." "You were just one of her many missions.", Sam said.

"Mr. Stark, Agent Y/L/N has returned early.", Friday interrupted. "Oh fuck! Act like you were doing something other than gossiping!", Tony almost yelled. "Oh carry on with your gossiping", you said appearing in the doorway. Their mouths dropped. "What happened to you?" Sam asked. Your suit was covered in blood and slashes and your face was covered in scratches. "Mission. Maybe you should try fighting of 20 Enemies of at once and come away with out a scratch." That shut him up quickly. "You took them down alone?", Bruce asked. "Yep." "And the blood? How badly are you hurt?", he added. "Don't worry, most of it isn't mine.", you said, while getting some water. "Why did your mission end early?", Wanda wanted to know. "Fury found someone else to finish it off. Have fun gossiping!", you said as you left the room. "We totally weren't gossiping!", Tony shouted. You chuckled. "Well, if we're done here.", Bucky said and got up out of the room. Steve followed.

You signed as you got under the shower. It was always nice to unwind after a mission. It was as hard as you described earlier. You let your thoughts run wild, as you carefully cleaned your wounds. They were definitely gossiping about you, but you didn't care. As long as Bucky didn't say anything, it didn't matter. But you needed to give them nothing to gossip about, otherwise he might let something slip. Your thoughts turned unpleasant as you relived your memories. You quickly turned off the shower, thus turning off your thoughts. You changed into something comfier and decided to go downstairs.

You walked down the corridor, when suddenly walked out of a door and pushed you through the opposite one. You groaned at the sudden, harsh contact of the wall. "What the fuck, Barnes?", you asked.

Hope you enjoyed! ♥️😘

Xxx

Tags:

@felicitylemon @kandis-mom @animegirlgeeky @cjand10 @capswife @tripletstephaniescp

#fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers #the avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rodgers fanfic #stole my heart

[lichtenbergforest]

YOU DONT SEE US LIKE I DO

Summary: How could people leave him? How could they leave this loyal, good soul? How could they hurt Buck like that? He was so easy to love - so he said it.

It’s quiet, but Buck hears it.

Word Count: 3k

Notes: first tumblr post woot woot! this is cross posted on archive of our own - it’s technically a songfic bc i listened to i do by reneé rapp while i was writing. without that song, this fic wouldn’t exist :)

requests go here! • find me on ao3 here!

We fall asleep on the couch, I refuse to move

'Cause it's the only time that I'm ever sleeping next to you

It was a rough shift, and Buck hadn’t taken more than a look to follow Eddie back to the Diaz household.

Rough days always ended in movie nights, Christopher would sit between them and hold the popcorn - and he always held them back, relaxing into their hugs despite being a bit ‘too cool’ for that now.

It was the couch that Eddie found himself on after unlocking the door and heading inside, not needing to glance back to know that Buck was following him - he just would be.

He was proven right when the front door closed and the sound of Buck’s bag hitting the floor filled his ears, a tired Buck soon collapsing next to him on the couch. Eddie held his breath for a moment - they were always tactile, but Buck had never simply leaned closer and nuzzled his head into the crook of his neck before.

Eddie tensed up, mind racing as the scent of Buck’s shampoo filled his nostrils and made him dizzy. Buck was out like a light only seconds later, and Eddie manoeuvred his arms around his friend - friend, he tried to remind himself - and carefully moved so that his legs wouldn’t cramp up.

Chris was fast asleep, Carla having gone through his night time routine with him, so it was just them.

And Eddie felt gross, he hasn’t showered after his shift and Buck hadn’t either, but in that moment he didn’t care.

Buck was laying in his arms, his breath was tickling his neck.

And god, he wants.

He wants and wants so selfishly that he should feel guilty, but he never would when it came to Buck.

His best friend, his co-parent, the person who he revived, the person who survived and came back to him.

His Buck.

Some days it hurt - the cemetery was rough, meeting Natalia was god awful, and he thanked his lucky stars that it had ended.

He’d promptly broken up with Marisol, which hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped.

“We went on a double date, with your kid! What the hell do you mean this isn’t working?!”

He held back a shudder at the mere memory of that conversation.

His love for Buck just outshone everything else - eclipsing everything else and making life feel worth living.

But while Eddie wasn’t ashamed of his love for Buck, he was a coward.

And tomorrow he would feel guilty for letting himself fall asleep on the couch just to hold him for a bit longer.

When we're saying, "I love you"

I mean it different than you do

Sometimes Eddie felt brave - he had to at least try and tell Buck.

The man had driven over in the rain at 2am on the night of a shift the second Eddie called and mentioned having a particularly bad nightmare. If Eddie hadn’t been in love with him before, he absolutely would be now. Buck did all of that and more for Eddie - he felt like he at least owed him that.

Buck was in the kitchen making his special hot chocolate for them, and Eddie was sitting on the counter watching as buck melted the marshmallows for his concoction.

The kitchen light was the only light on in the house, and Buck is wearing mismatched socks, cookie monster print boxer shorts and a white t-shirt, and it’s leaving Eddie feeling some type of way as the light hits him just right.

How could people leave him?

How could they leave this loyal, good soul?

How could they hurt Buck like that?

He was so easy to love. So he said so.

“I love you”

It’s quiet, but Buck hears it.

He blinks once, twice and then smiles all sleepy and pauses what he’s doing.

He takes two steps towards Eddie, and he feels like he’s frozen as Buck squeezes his shoulder and says he loves him right back.

“I love you too, Eds - you’re my best friend and I want to be here for you” he says.

Eddie feels cold all of a sudden.

He feels a little melancholy after that, like his heart hurts, like it’s bleeding and trying to claw his way out of his chest

You don't see us like I do

You don't see us from my view

It's like we're both looking up

And I'm under a storm

And you’re seeing sky-blue

“To Maddie and Chimney!” Hen shouted across the patio, everyone cheering and taking a sip of their desired drinks.

Maddie looked beautiful, and Buck had looked so unbelievably choked up at his first glimpse of her.

He’d grabbed Eddie’s hand as he sucked in a deep breath - Eddie had expected him to let go after the tears stopped welling up, but he hadn’t.

Eddie was torn between watching Maddie and Chimney’s vows and looking from Buck to their hands - he only felt a little bad.

He felt cold when Buck released his hand at Maddie’s announcement.

“Bouquet toss! Gather round, singletons!”

Buck was on his feet quickly at that, and Eddie had a moment to just…look at him - to appreciate the way the light hit his skin, the way his skin dimpled at the corner of his mouth.

He was beautiful.

Eddie was so in love.

Sometimes he wanted to tell him - he’d almost told him so many times, but then Buck would say something - or look at him in a certain way, and he just couldn’t.

He couldn’t risk this going wrong for Christopher, for Buck, for their family and their friends.

And his chest ached, god, it ached.

Maddie tossed the bouquet, and Buck jumped towards it, his height giving him an unfair advantage.

And then Christopher was cheering for him as he caught it, he glanced at his Dad’s winded look and cheered a little less.

“Is there a Buck 6.0 update incoming?” Athena joked, glancing from Buck to Eddie with some kind of all knowing look.

It made Eddie’s skin crawl.

Buck laughed, throwing his head back.

Why did he have to be so gorgeous?

“You’re next, little brother! The bouquet said so” Maddie laughed and Buck positively groaned.

“Why do I need to get married next? What if I want to take a break and just, I don’t know, bro out with Eddie?” Buck complained, and Eddie positively choked on his drink.

Athena gave his back a pat from her spot beside him, a smirk pulling at her lips. “I’m sorry - bro out? What on earth are you on about, Buck?!” Josh looked positively confused and extremely amused.

Chimney looked like he knew something no one else did.

Eddie was paranoid.

No one could possibly tell he loved Buck, right?

He prided himself on his ability to school his behaviour.

“You know, staying single and just hanging out with my best friend. We’re basically in an intimate-less marriage anyway! I have everything with Eddie, just in a platonic way, you know?”

Eddie couldn’t fucking breathe.

Chris was beaming beside Buck, looking up at him with glee, “Does that mean I can start calling you dad?” He pondered out loud, glancing at Eddie anxiously.

Buck was glowing, and Eddie felt like he was drowning, but now it was more of like drowning in a jacuzzi, he felt warm as opposed to the cold he felt at Buck’s implications.

Eddie nodded, a smile of his own making its way across his face as Buck nodded and Christopher.

God.

Buck was everything.

And Eddie was so, so blind - how could he not notice the heart eyes that stayed on him the second Eddie was in his presence?

#evan buckley x eddie diaz #9 1 1 fanfiction #9 1 1 abc #9 1 1 fic #9 1 1 buddie #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #eddie diaz x evan buckley #buddie fic #eddie x buck #fic #one shot #songfic #writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[heavencasteel420]

I was feeling a bit stuck on my main WIPs, so for fun I wrote a couple of lines/paragraphs for each of my other story ideas (the proper ones where I have a general sense of the story's shape, not the shitpost ideas like "Chrissy turns into a car?"). Here are the ones for my Cute/Normal story ideas:

Long

Nancy Wheeler Can't Win (no UD AU, Nancy-centric)

Sometimes, Nancy thought her life would be easier if she were dating Jason Carver instead. Not better, necessarily. She didn't like Jason nearly as much as Steve; he was kind of pompous and, although he technically looked way more like Tom Cruise, she couldn't imagine ever finding him as sexy as she did Steve. She couldn't help but notice, though, that Chrissy Cunningham didn't have to be one person on Saturday night and another on Monday morning.

Life During Wartime (companion to above, centers on Will and Jonathan)

"I can't believe I'll be the last one to get girlfriend," Mike lamented as he and Will biked home from school. It was a perfect September afternoon, neither too hot nor too cold, and the first leaves were turning yellow. "First Lucas and Max, then Dustin and Suzie, now you and Megan. I'm going to die a virgin."

"We could all still die virgins," Will pointed out. "I don't think Lucas and Max are doing it yet, and Megan and I definitely aren't. And we're not even sure if Suzie is real."

Horse Girl (Stoncy, summer 1985)

The thing about being an asshole, Steve thought, as he listlessly scooped butter pecan ice cream for a couple of sixty-something ladies, was that it took a long time to catch up with you. For instance: the thing he'd spray-painted on the theater marquee about Nancy almost two years ago. Sitting on the hood of his car outside the 7-11, he'd resigned himself to her shunning him forever. He'd even gone to apologize to Jonathan first so he could put off seeing the cold disgust on her face. Then, one month later, she'd taken him back, accepting his apology as a matter of course. Maybe that should've been his first clue that something was wrong.

It's All a State of Mind (AU where Hopper-Byers siblings are psychic carnies/confidence artists in the 1930s)

"Heather likes you," El pointed out a few days later, after they'd settled in. They were in the dining tent, digging into some beef stew. "You could get close to her."

"Keep eating and forget what Murray said," Jonathan told her, although he couldn't summon any harshness to back it up. This was the best meal that he or the kids had eaten in months. "Heather puts up with me. She doesn't want to get close to anyone, either."

Heather Holloway was an aerialist, a pert dark-haired girl who'd joined the circus to get away from a home in some ways worse than the one that Lonnie had provided him and Will. She was friendly to Jonathan, but that was probably because he'd shown no interest in getting inside her drawers.

"So you admit it," Will said smugly. "We wouldn't mind if you got married, you know. So long as we liked her.

From the High to the Low to the End of the Show (S1 AU where the teens are in their late twenties)

"Doesn't it piss you off?" Fred asked her. "That he can just waltz in and get a job because he's 'so talented,' when the rest of us had to work hard and do it the right way?" "Eyes on your own paper, Fred," Nancy said, in a chipper tone that she knew would annoy him. She agreed with him, to a point; she never would have been hired at the Hawkins Post if she'd gone to night school instead of IU. At the same time, she'd heard the other guys say that she'd only gotten the job out of pity. Fred wasn't one of them, but she was running on three hours of sleep an half a bagel, so she didn't feel like being nice. "Why would Holloway care about college? Byers has something he wants and he's willing to pay for it."

Medium

Tomorrow May Not Be Your Day (pre-S4 Jancy breakup, probably no Vecna, eventual Jargyle)

"I'm sure you'll work it out," Mom says. She smiles at him anxiously, and he knows what he should do. He should mumble agreement, accept this bit of comfort. Pay her back with white lies of his own: that the distance isn't really a problem, that she didn't kind of screw him over by moving them all across the country. That there's no reason to worry about him, because he's going to figure things out with Nancy and somehow make Emerson happen. "Yeah?" he asks instead. "What if I don't? What if this is it?" It doesn't come out as a plea for reassurance, either. That would be humiliating, maybe even futile, but at least everyone would understand what he was doing. Instead, it comes out as a challenge.

Let the Broken Hearts Stand (companion to above, Nancy's first year at college, eventual Nancy/Carol)

"Look, I was friends with Steve for, like, ten years before he ditched me and Tommy," Carol says, taking a drag off her cigarette, "but he was definitely the bigger asshole in your relationship." Nancy laughs, startled. Carol grins uncertainly, then offers her the cigarette. She accepts. "Like, whatever, you're a totally embarrassing drunk, and you didn't have the balls to dump him until you were sure you had Byers eating out of your pussy, but--" "Jesus Christ, Carol," Nancy said, turning bright red, but Carol waved her off. "Fine. Va-gi-na. Lady garden. Cavern of feminine wonders. Whatever Emily Post says to call it." Carol cackled as Nancy struggled to look disapproving. "My point is, he was also a fucking prick."

How Will You Make It on Your Own? (Stonathan no UD college AU, the context is Jonathan and Samantha have broken up):

Because all the theater freaks were shunning him, Jonathan sat with Barb and Nancy at lunch. "You'll get back together," Barb said glumly. It was unclear whether she was trying to reassure him but was too stressed out about Mathletes to manage a cheerful tone, or if she was predicting an outcome she disapproved of. "You'll ignore her, she'll call and sort of say sorry, and, because she apologized first, you'll fall all over yourself saying that it's all your fault, and that she's right that you should both move to New York City and live in a condemned building and wear garbage bags instead of clothes." Well. That answered his question. "I don't think that's going to happen," he said, contemplating the peanut butter cracker he'd spent the last half hour eating. "It feels different this time."

Oh, I'm Bound to Go (companion to Drive All Night)

Will wasn't sure who figured it out first, him or Mom. When the money first started coming in--so much money, enough for Mom's medicine and Will's new shoes and more food than he could ever remember having--he asked why they couldn't just live with Jonathan in the city. Surely Indianapolis had enough piecework and odd jobs for the two of them. "He's living in a boarding house, sweetheart," she said, keeping her eyes on the chicken she was cleaning instead of his face. "There's no room for us." Maybe she'd known it was a lie all along. But Will understood Jonathan better than anyone, knew how his lies looked and sounded. On paper, he couldn't hear the too-bright home or watch him disappear behind his eyes, but the wrongness came through all the same.

Short

I Know It Breaks Your Heart (Tommy-centric, mostly future fic)

Tommy didn't need anyone to think that he was smart except for Carol, who understood without explanation that he didn't have to act like a nerd or a circus freak to prove that he was clever. It just felt shitty, sometimes, that Steve clearly thought of him as a dumbass. Steve, who had no bullshit meter and maintained a B-minus average with more effort than he liked to admit. It was annoying, but, more than that, it struck Tommy as greedy. Steve was taller, more handsome, more impressive on the court and field. He put people at ease. He could've let Tommy have something.

Raised on Promises (El's life in California, gen)

No matter what Joyce says, and no matter how nice Will and Jonathan are about it, El still feels embarrassed by the toys. Jonathan doesn't play with anything, except sometimes for the hacky sack Argyle gave him; he just listens to tapes and smokes. And maybe that's because he's almost grown up, but Will is her age and he gave away all his D&D stuff to Erica before they moved. He does art now, which isn't playing. Grown-ups do art, too, sometimes even as a job. The girls at school don't play with toys, either. They have fun like she and Max did last summer: dressing up and messing around with makeup and hanging out at the mall. Only the girls here aren't as nice, and Max isn't here to show her how to act her age. So she finds herself building little towns out of blocks and shuffling around a bunch of plastic dolls.

The P is for Perfection (and You Know That We Are Freaks) (Joyce doesn't move the family to California and El becomes a cheerleader)

"I heard she was raised in a cult," Amanda whispered to Chrissy, as the freshman girls lined up. "Chief Hopper knocked up some hippie and only found out when she died a couple years ago. And then he left her with Joyce Byers when he died. Not really an improvement, if you ask me." "Shush," Chrissy said. She was already getting a headache and the yelling hadn't even started. "You don't want the other girls to hear." Amanda muttered that it was common knowledge, but Chrissy tuned her out and studied Jane Hopper. She was on the tall side, with a lean and strong-looking frame. No flyer, but she could be a backspot or a base. She had curly brown hair pulled back in a scrunchy and a pretty, guileless face. She was dressed okay, in a baggy light purple sweatshirt and white leggings, but there was an air of offness about her.

#fic

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

Cyno Thought I had at work today- 5 times Cyno ate something he shouldn’t have and didn't get sick as a dog, and one time he flew too close to the sun…

this isn’t a request or anything it’s just something I thought would be funny to think about lol. The various things through out their relationships that Cyno has eaten and tighnari is just…waiting for it to destroy him. Maybe checking in on him extra cuz “there is no way he ate that gas station sushi and feels fine??” Or! Like with each example, he gets away with it but with more and more side effects? Like the first two he Eats something sus and is fine no issues. The next one, he’s fine, but like maybe a little bloated, but he’s fine and it doesn’t seem to bother him. The fourth one he actually feels kinda gross after but it doesn’t make him sick at all and he’s still cracking jokes even tho Nari is like plz just rest??? And then ofc the fifth one is where all hell breaks loose. Idk I feel like there could be many shenanigans here to play with 🤣

also know you mostly write modern au but i could also see this working in canon au. Through out his travels Cyno comes back to nari and they do their normal check up post mission. Cyno reports what he’s had to eat and nari is just *surprised pikachu* sometimes the stuff he eats(old rations, bugs, mushrooms that probably are safer Cooked but I guess he gets away with it??) has him not having much of an appetite later or other minor symptoms but like..he doesn’t have the massively negative response Tighnari would be expecting. Until the fifth case, where Cyno stumbles home practically green…

I think it would be funny too if he’s fine eating all this weird stuff for survival, random plants and insects or whatever and the thing that gets him ends up being something very normal 😅 nari is ready to prepare all the antidotes for the surly hyper toxic mushroom he ate but nope. He just ate some bad tofu or something

there are Honeslty so many possibilities as to how one could tackle it too!! But that’s all for now byeeee

Alright I absolutely love this! It fits my interpretation of Cyno so well, it's so silly, but I love it. The thought of Tighnari just growing increasingly exasperated because Cyno's repeatedly getting away with eating the most bizarre things.

"Did you really just drink half a carton of expired milk, Cyno you're literally lactose intolerant??"

I love that. And I love the idea of sometimes he's fine, other times he might feel a little off or have a minor side effect, but he's still okay. ...until he inevitably isn't.

It's like his body decided "okay I'm done taking all the weird crap you put in my, I'm going to angrily rebel now."

Tighnari is torn, because he wants to gently scold Cyno and tell him I told you so, but he also just. wants to comfort him. because Cyno is really not feeling well.

He definitely gives him a gentle bonk when he's recovered though, and Cyno has to sit through a lecture about being more careful about what he eats. (But does he actually learn? Maybe for a month. Then the risk taking starts again, because this is Cyno we're speaking of.)

Also THAT LASR SCENARIO!! Modern au is my speciality but I absolutely adore that concept and I will be thinking about it a ton. Poisoning attempts, strange plants and insects, the most questionable shit, Cyno's body weathers them all, but a case of regular old food poisoning is what bests him.

I want to scream about this more but it is getting very late where I am and I should go to bed if I want to not feel like a corpse at work tomorrow. But I will rant about this again because I absolutely love this silly boy and his silly life choices and the consequences they come with.

#earthquake author's note #earthquake rambles #sickfic #genshin sickfic #genshin emeto #emeto #sickfic prompts #sickfic headcanons #sick cyno

[deepseavibez]

Nerve_30 [V] || KNJ

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Nerve [Namjoon x Reader]

Prompt - @casnextdoor

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Part 30 - Finale [R]

Part 30 - Finale [V]

Part 30 - Finale [E]

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Genre - cheating; aftermath; husband au;

Summary - You would never expect it really. He’s doting. He’s sweet. He’s hardworking. But he’s forgotten his morals. Suspecting it is one thing, but when he confirms it, will you stay or walk away.

Warning - Cheating(Aftermath); Angst; Borderline Assault(Sexual); Attempted Sexual Assault(Aftermath); Explicit Sexual Implications; Heavy Angst; Anger; Anxiety; Overwhelming Feelings; Memories tied to a traumatic event; Psychological Trauma.; PTSD; Sadness; Emotional Hurt; Comfort; Panic; Dissociation; Self-deprecation; Angry/ Protective Namjoon;

Additional Warnings - Graphic Depiction of Sexual Assault; Rage; Hopelessness; Guilt; Self-loathing; Self-hate;

Word Count - 4.7k

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A/N - After every trauma, there's always the aftermath and in this au we are somewhat veterans of the 'after'.

It's quite concerning how much research it takes to depict something as real as this, even if some of the aspects are pulled from a past experience. It just goes to show how much of an impact something like this could have on someone.

Needless to say, our oc definitely deserves a bunch of happiness... but then... some of the best people, aren't meant to be happy.

We're almost to the end of this era of the Nerve Universe. I will be posting [E] and the Epilogue together, tomorrow.

xx Dee

Please note the following chapter contains a complete representation of OC’s current psyche and her mental state. PLEASE!! Proceed with caution as this whole update is a MAJOR trigger warning.

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It didn’t take much else for Namjoon to get you to listen to him. On your best of days, you could be stubborn and on your worst you could be illogical, but neither of those traits could cloud over the fact that Namjoon was solid ground. Namjoon was the Earth and the rain and hope and every sign of life you could truly respond to.

At that moment, nothing made sense, you felt so many emotions, and some part of you was still thinking ‘What the fuck? Did that just happen’. 

It did. And tears leaked from your eyes each time you answered the question. Because it did. But really, were you overreacting a little? Maybe you were just exposed for who you truly were–a weak, oversensitive little girl. A fraudster that truly didn't deserve a voice. Not when you couldn't defend yourself. 

It should just be another trauma to add to the list. 

You didn’t return to the hall. You didn’t see Yuna or Ria or anyone else for that matter.

Yeon and Xan said nothing the whole way home. You sat with Namjoon at the back of the car, his fingers playing absently with a loose thread on your gloves. You couldn’t use your winter coat, and you couldn’t hold Namjoon’s hand because it felt… weird. Your skin was oversensitive.

None of the guys followed this time. It was you, your husband and your biggest fear of him losing any love for you.

When you got home, you stepped out with as much of your self-respect you could muster, and bid the two remaining members of your team farewell. 

Then Namjoon took over your footsteps – all but dragging you behind him, through your house to your bedroom.  

Before you knew it, you were standing in the middle of the master bathroom, holding your midsection as he crossed his arms and stared at you. You hated the physical distance. Ofcourse, you both knew you needed it, to think clearly, to breathe, but it still hurt.

You pulled your lips together, but tears stung your eyes anyway as you tried to close your head against the memories of the night. 

‘Where?’

You internally shook off the question and blinked rapidly as you looked at the floor. ‘Can I just shower? Please?’

‘Y/n,’ he softly reprimanded when you didn’t move an inch.

‘Namjoon, please --,’

‘No. You’ll face it here, and now. With me. No more running. No giving it life.’ He made to rush at you, then stopped, his hand frozen in midair, giving himself a second, giving his actions a second thought. ‘You can’t be silent,’ his nostrils flared and he closed his hand into a fist before he dropped it. ‘I refuse to let it suffocate us, while a war happens inside you.’

Your eyes darted back and forth on the tiles. You felt trapped, like a cornered animal. 

You knew Namjoon meant no harm; he was doing only what he knew. You calmed down when he smothered you, in hugs, affection, touching, kissing, his hands around your neck, your body under him… You found clarity in communication, in talking your feelings out, in making it real. 

And making sure absolutely nothing got between you after the struggle your marriage had just gone through was Namjoon's priority. 

And you understood. You really did. But… 

Right now those tactics weren't working. It wasn’t working because he wanted you to talk about it, and you didn’t want to talk about it just yet. But if you didn’t, it would fester. That’s how it worked with you. Ripping the band aid off worked way better than coaxing and prodding would. Because you were the best at putting your pain in a chokehold, ignoring the fact that your lips were turning blue from the suffocation. But you still didn’t want to talk about it! You didn’t want to explain anything, for fear of Namjoon’s reaction.

How could you tell him? How could you tell him about Kwang, and his words and his actions and what he'd tried to do? How could you even begin to explain how horrifying it was to freeze in a moment where you needed yourself most? 

And if you told him the truth, then what? 

What if he didn't believe you? What if he thought you wanted it? Asked for it? What if he actually thought you were disgusting? What if he didn’t want you anymore? What if he thought that you were dirt—

‘Y/n!’ Namjoon’s voice exploded into your face, his hands on your upper arms.

You felt your eyes go wide and your body shook, but you couldn’t yell back. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out, save for a soft whimpering. You couldn’t breathe. 

You looked at Namjoon and his lips were moving and words came out of his mouth, but you couldn’t hear him. You couldn’t breathe. You choked on nothing as you tried to consciously inhale and exhale but you couldn’t breathe! 

You were moving. The floor fell away and you felt yourself falling and you couldn't stop it and you couldn't control it and you had nothing to hold onto and, and –

Frigid cold chased the heat off your spine out of nowhere and you finally took a sharp breath in.

‘Breathe, Y/n.’ You heard Namjoon’s voice from faraway. ‘Breathe for me.’

You felt his arms, a vice-like grip on your own forearms.

You inhaled and exhaled sharply, the blurry details coming into focus. 

You were in the shower and your clothes were drenched, your boots and your pretty dress – the outfit that Taehyung had poured his soul into was ruined. He wouldn’t mind. But you did.

‘Y/n?’ Namjoon asked tentatively, as he kneeled in front of you, his own suit waterlogged. You searched his face. The tremble in his lips, the wetness at the edge of his eye, his wide eyes as his hands moved to close over your palm as he tried not to crowd you… nothing but fear for you etched in his features.

‘I’m okay.’ You nodded to assure him as you took deep shaky breaths. ‘I’m okay.’ You repeated the words, more for yourself. 

The thoughts and fears all felt like a freight train ready to run you over, but you closed your eyes and pushed them away, focusing on the feel of Namjoon’s strong hands and the coldness of the water cascading over you.

Namjoon watched you until you returned to a somewhat normal state. Then and only then did he slowly grip your calf and pull it towards him. He watched you as he toyed with the zipper, silently asking permission. 

You nodded your ascent.

When your boots and dress were in an unseemly pile on the floor outside the shower, he sat back on his heels.

His voice when he did speak again, broke your heart even more. ‘Tell me what to do.’

‘Don’t--,’ you said sharply. You almost screamed at the statement, because you were not a broken doll, and your marriage was not so weak that he had to ask such things. ‘Don’t, talk to me like that. Please. I’m not some victim that needs to be approached cautiously – especially not when it comes to you.’

‘Well, being forceful, gave you a panic attack.’

You almost smiled. Namjoon the ever-logical.

‘Being gentle makes you swipe, anyway.’ He continued. ‘So, you tell me what to do.’

‘What if I tell you to leave?’

It was an unnecessary challenge, but some petty part of you wanted to hear it out loud.

‘I will never leave you, y/n.’ He tentatively traced the back of his middle finger across your cheek. ’Especially not when you need me the most. I can’t.’ His last words were almost strangled out of him, like being there for you was his only option. The same two words you decreed to him on the dancefloor.

You let his statement sit, the meaning, the intention behind them aggressive in its clarity

He knew what you were doing though. It was similar to putting feelers out, testing a situation before charging forward.  

A blinding need overtook you and you braved your way to your question, even if you didn't deserve it. ‘Can you hold me?‘ You didn’t look at him as you asked. ‘No clothes… no barriers between us.’ You were afraid that he might see through your request, he would realize how terrified you were that it would be the last time he ever held you like that. Because he would want the truth. Namjoon wouldn’t let the issue go – and you would not lie to him.

He wasted no time in stripping down. He helped you up, offering an open palm so you took it with consent, and he hauled you up against him, the side of your head immediately dropping to his shoulder.

It felt… good.  

‘Is this, okay?’ He whispered in your wet hair, one hand on your waist, the other flat on your back.

You nodded, reveling the feel of his every solid muscle against the curves of your body. You fit. You and Namjoon, your bodies, they always fit. 

He’d turned up the water temperature before picking you up, and the chill slowly made space for the heat, of the steam and of your husband.

There were so many reasons, mistakes aside. So many of them. To respect Namjoon. To choose Namjoon. To love him.

As he held you in his arms and brushed his hands up and down your hair, and left featherlight touches to your skin… he reminded you how much you meant to him, without even saying the words. 

You felt it then, how tired you were, how heavily the world had weighed you down. You weren’t anything in that moment. Neither a wife, a CEO, a daughter, a sister, a mentor, a Noona, a friend, you were Y/n. It wasn’t about tears, or about letting go or falling apart… it was about being your most vulnerable, with the one person you trusted in the world to protect you.

Maybe that’s why his cheating cut as deeply as it did. Because he had been given free access to these parts of you, that you battled to even acknowledge within yourself.

But even you could admit, he had more than made up for it. 

‘Namjoon,’ you spoke against his shoulder.

‘Hmm?’ 

‘Can you help wash it off?’ It wouldn’t tear the feel of Kwang's fingers away, or the touch of his hands, or even erase the memory of his scent, but anything external you could manage, you would try.

At least this wasn’t like the last time. You were alone, then. You didn't have anyone to defend you or to take care of you. 

You remember scrubbing your skin raw, bawling your eyes out, wishing it was all just a nightmare you could wake up from.

Only it wasn’t a nightmare, it was reality, it became history… and it was apparently very capable of repeating itself.

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Namjoon didn’t need telling twice. He took the lead with the soap and loofah, gentle hands, and a loving touch. It didn't do much, but if anything you did feel a lot lighter. 

You thought the worst was over.

But when he was toweling you off, and helping you wear one of his shirts, you realized how wrong you were.

He moved away from you, and folded his arms, much like he did before. 

A resting stance that had you tilting your head in question.

The hardness was back in his eyes. ‘I’m giving you space.’ He swallowed thickly, ’because we’re not done here.’

Your teeth clenched and you backed up against the wall on your side, placing your palms flat and leaning against them to keep yourself upright. 

‘Will you tell me?’ 

You looked down. ‘Tell you what?’ Your throat felt raw as you croaked the words.

‘Will you tell me where he dared to touch you.’

You chuckled mirthlessly, a defensive response. ‘So eager to get rid of me?’

‘Don’t fuck with me, baby.’ He warned softly. 

You flinched when his voice cut across you, your hands coming up to wrap around you, to protect yourself… His tone was too gentle, despite how much anger you knew was coursing through him.

‘I don’t know how.'

'Try.'

You shivered involuntarily. 'I-I can’t -- ,’ the nails on your right hand dug into your left shoulder as you tried to stabilize yourself. ‘Please, I don’t --,’

He came to stand in front of you. ‘Look at me.’ You shook your head and kept it down. His fists clenched at his side as he spoke. ‘Did he kiss you?’

‘NO!’ You answered too loudly, almost alarmed, ‘n-no, he didn’t.’

His hand moved to cup your neck. ‘Here?’

‘No.’

His fingers trailed down your dress. You tensed when he ghosted the side of your breast, but he didn’t stop there, he just moved the rest of the way to stop on your waist. ‘What did he do?’

You squirmed, wishing to get out of this somehow. ‘The usual, t-tried to f-fondle my, my uhm…’ you winced and lifted your left hand slightly, still feeling his fingers against your skin. You grit your teeth against the feeling and covered your breast with your hand, squeezing lightly, tracing the line on your skin, above your breastbone, reminding yourself that it was your hands, not his. 

‘He tried. Be-between m-my legs…’ You managed to choke out. 'He was going to, t-,' You closed your eyes and sniffled, wishing you were stronger, wishing this wasn’t so pitiful. ‘He j-just… just didn’t rape me.’ The last two words came out as a whisper.

You shut your eyes tight, then found the courage to look up at your husband.

Namjoon frowned when he noted how aggressively your nails dug into your arm. Instead of prying them off, something small and subtle and absolutely fucking illogical that would turn this whole exchange upside down, he decided to change tactics. 

'What if I hold you, again?’

Your head snapped up at the question. ‘Will it make it easier for you to tell me then?'  

It was… unexpected. 

He'd been touching you this whole time, your fingers, your neck, you'd even kissed albeit in the heat of a moment. He gave you a bath for crying out loud! But still… 

Namjoon was your husband – he had a right. He had every right.

Instead of questioning it, feeding into the confusion, or even trying to make sense of what he was trying to do, you asked the one question you were afraid to get an answer to. 'Do you want to?' 

Tears clogged your throat and welled in your eyes. Again. 

A pained noise escaped Namjoon's chest before he pulled you into his arms. 

You shook against him, his big strong arms wrapped around you, his hold so tight, as if he could put all your broken pieces back together again. 

'I'm so sorry, I wasn't there for you today.' He sniffled as you shook your head against the apology. 'I'm so sorry, baby.'

You squeezed your eyes shut as you sobbed openly for the nth time that night, clutching at his shirt like it was a lifeline. 

Again you wondered… why you? 

Why did the very idea of normalcy evade you at every turn?

Childhood trauma was a given. So fuck that. But then again… men forcing themselves on women… that was some sort of normal too. 

It was heard of at every turn. 

Catcalling, whistling and derogatory terms. If she wore too little she asked for it. If she wore too much she was a prude. 

Rape, sexual harassment at the office, trading blowjobs for good grades with the right professors, sexual abuse on the street… 

Every woman you knew, every single one would have gone through some sort of sexual encounter with a male or at least, felt unsafe with them. 

Here, with you, Kwang Jae and Kim Y/n, it was a cute cat and mouse game, years in the making. 

Maybe it wasn't black and white, and the universe added a bit of glitter to make the trauma sparkle a little with the trauma bond… but you experienced what most women would in their lifetime. 

And they survived. They lived. Some spoke out. Some owned their truth. Even if you couldn't be vocal about it. If anything, you could get past it. You could do that… couldn't you?

When you quietened down he brushed his lips against your forehead. ‘What’s really going on?’

‘Joon just…’ you inhaled sharply.

‘I already know how strong you are. You just proved it, by reliving a fucking nightmare, by putting the rest of us first, and I know how big hearted you are – especially by letting the fucker walk.' He inhaled sharply, his only indication that he was very disappointed in your decision. 'I know you will get through this, y/n. But you’re hurting, baby, I can feel it… and it’s breaking my heart.’

A whine left your throat and tears stung your eyes again. ‘-m confused…’

‘You’re allowed to feel anything and everything you need to, to process this y/n.’

No! ‘You don’t get it,’ you tasted salt on your lips, your time was up. ‘Joon… listen, y-you need to know…’

He hummed and rocked you from side to side lightly. ‘Do you want me to back off?’ The masculine heat that radiated off his body, it curled around you like a blanket. Your trembling lessened slightly -- enough for you to get words out.

‘No, please,’ You let go of his shirt, and pushed him away to put some distance between you anyway, 'it was different, this time. And you have to know, you have to know.’

His brows pulled together, but he didn’t let you get far, his hands stayed on your elbows. Your ears felt hot, and your cheeks were aflame from embarrassment and you really didn’t want to say this, but even if you kept it inside things wouldn’t be the same. 

‘H-he… tried to t-touch me, and, on my body, a– an – and my skin, and... I felt, I --,’ a strangled whine clawed out of your throat, ‘I felt his hands and they were warm and patient and… I felt him touching me and it won’t go away!’

The humiliation, of his touch being so delicate, of you not having the proper reaction in time, of you not pushing him away, of your body not reacting in the proper way in time!

‘I didn’t fight, I didn’t slap him or hurt him or push him, I tried at first, to knee him, but he deflected and, and -,I froze… and I closed my eyes closed, l-like, I could ignore it, or, or make it go away. It didn’t fully happen, he never got there, but I, I’m, I-,’ You flailed your arms, working yourself into a panic. ‘But h-he was touching me and I didn’t move! He was tracing lines, on my skin,’you curled inward and submerged fully into the nightmare, ‘and playing with me and,’ you inhaled shakily, ‘he threatened to use his fingers, me, to get me to be quiet, but he almost did it anyway and I had to listen and it almost happened and  I didn’t fight him off! I, -I, don’t, I --,’

You were silenced again with Namjoon’s lips. For the nth time that day probably. They were soft as they moved against yours, this kiss tender and slow, serving as a reminder that he was there. You tasted a hint of frustration, but he didn’t let it through.

You stopped the kiss first, pushed his arms off and hid your face. ‘He bit me.’ You whispered as your fingers found the spot of its own accord. ‘It’s okay if you’re repulsed,’ You muttered in a dejected tone. ‘I am.’  

You yelped when Namjoon pushed you against the wall without warning, and his hand curled around the front of your throat. He pulled you in for another kiss, a slow, deep, darkly possessive kiss, that was also a silent scolding with his teeth when he bit your bottom lip.

‘Mmmh,’ you turned your head away from him. ‘Namjoon, you’re not listening!’ He still didn’t let you go. Instead he leaned forward and bit the exact same spot. You winced at the sting, but you didn’t stop him. Namjoon had always been a darkly possessive male. Huru. Kwang.  Namjoon more than needed the reminder for himself, and for you, that you belonged only to him. 

Your throat felt tight when he pulled back and you saw the smoldering rage in his dark gaze. What he did say, when he spoke again, succeeded in ripping away every single defense you could ever attempt to hold against him.

‘Nerve endings in the body can react as if everything is normal, y/n.’ He breathed the words of logic, of comfort, words of calm, the complete opposite of his actions. ‘Mentally, you can know it's wrong and not want something, and wish for it to not take place… but the body reacts, because it’s physical… Y/n that will never be your fault.’ The pressure in his fingers increased slightly, pushing you to focus, to listen to him. ‘This whole thing is not your fault.’

You did not… fucking deserve this man.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ You wrapped your hands around his wrist still at your throat and yelled at him, as tears welled up and threatened to trail down your face. ‘You should hate me. You should be disgusted. I don’t have any self-respect! I didn't fight until the last moment! You almost lost me today, and I didn't fight back to avoid it!'

Ashamed. You were so ashamed. Something inside you felt… broken. How could you turn on yourself like that? How could your own body betray you? How could he not see that he could do so much better than you? 

‘Y/n,’ Namjoon coaxed. ‘You broke his nose. He was away from you when I got in. I know what you’re saying baby, but I know what I saw. You did fight.’

'But I almost didn’t! I was stuck and I couldn’t move and I kept wishing for it to be over.' You closed your eyes and screamed the honest truth. ‘If he didn’t compare himself to you… I don't know if I would have gotten angry enough to defend myself.’

‘I shut down, Namjoon,’ you clutched at his hand and sobbed. When your knees bent he closed into your space, his other hand holding you at your waist. You had no strength to keep yourself upright at the weight of the knowledge. ‘I just fucking shut… down; I did nothing!’ 

He hauled you into his arms, then. Needing it, needing him, you leaned into him, burrowing deeper into his chest as you sobbed. ‘How can you trust me if I can’t even trust myself?’

‘Shh,’ Namjoon’s hand circled your waist and held you against him, the other curled around your nape and squeezed. ‘I know none of my words will get through to you right now, so I just need you to know that I love you, y/n. I love you.’

You reveled in the proprietary hold and his words. You went from avoidance, to not wanting to pull away from him, you didn’t want to leave his arms. If you did, you were terrified of what you would see. Your brain answered that for you. Disgusted. He should feel so disgusted. You heard his words, you did. And they made sense and you knew in your heart that he loved you, but the possibility of him changing his mind… you were so scared of losing him. ‘I’m so sorry.’ You hiccuped dryly, your body all out of tears. 

‘You have nothing to apologize for.’ You felt his jaw tick. ‘I’m the one that should be sorry.’

It was selfish to be angry at him, or any of them. You shouldn’t be in need of any saving. It was your responsibilities and your burdens and your pain. No one should have to deal with your shit. Not even your husband.

A flash of Kwang’s face in front of yours… you shuddered and tightened your hold on the front of his shirt.

You were so angry… so angry at yourself.

‘He’ll never come near you again, y/n, I swear it.’ Namjoon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. ‘Neither will your father. They’re responsible for your freeze response, not you.’

You blinked against the implication that this was a purely post traumatic response. You didn’t want to entertain it just yet, you didn’t want an out. But you didn’t say anything because of Namjoon. 

Something volatile and violent was being suppressed in your husband – you could feel it. The gentle hands and kind words were for your benefit, but you knew in your heart, this night and the anger he felt on your behalf, was going to have lasting consequences. 

‘You were a victim, y/n. And now you’re a survivor.' You hated the word, even if it was true. 'But you still have your respect, and you’re still strong and you are incredible, baby, so incredibly strong. Please know that. Please, please know that,’ he whispered in your hair.

You felt… something. You didn’t agree with him right now, but his words made you feel something. And something was better than nothing.

In all honesty, facing head on should have felt worse than it did, saying it should be hard, admitting to what had happened should have some sort of double back because you weren’t even sure any part of you had processed the trauma mentally… even if you were just giving yourself props, maybe you really were resilient. Because you could act normal and talk normal and be normal and there was no doubt in your mind that the night would go and the morning would come and you would meet who you needed to meet, pack with Yuna, if she was even speaking to you, greet and reassure the band...

You swallowed against the bile that surfaced when you rubbed your legs together… you didn’t know how you were going to handle this, because you were your own worst enemy at this moment.

If you were being realistic, Kwang’s presence or what he could do, didn’t matter anymore. There was no fear of him. All of those feelings were absolutely miniscule if you compared it to the betrayal in your heart. And it was funny how the negative emotion of fear canceled out the leaden duplicity, the complete disdain you felt for yourself. The lack of confidence, the insecurities and doubts, all of it was nothing compared to the shame, the knots in your stomach, the feeling of letting yourself down as it lingered in every bone in your body, like a weight you would have to carry for the rest of your life.

You should have never told Namjoon… any of the specifics… but he was the only one you could have admitted it to. Some part of you was terrified that he could still push you away, and another part was solid in knowing he would never judge you…

Unwillingly, you turned your head and found yourself looking out of the window panels, the moon round, and it was one of those moments where you see something you like, and think ‘yes’. The downpour of the rain as it hits the roof, the light in a loved one’s smile, the trickle of laughter through your soul… and Namjoon, holding you in his arms, always doing everything in his power to hold all your shattered pieces together.

Yeah, love wouldn’t save you. No way. Not with life being this fucked up.

Namjoon moved a hand to your head and held you closer to him. And you could cry, you could scream and cry, because it was the safest you had felt all night.

‘We’ll get through this, y/n. Together.’

Together.

Just like everything else, just like the fights and the cheating and the unknown, unseen enemies you now knew you had to contend with. Guess you would need that therapy after all. Fun. 

‘Hey?’ He whispered after a while. 

You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked at him. He cupped your face in his hands. ‘Want some oreos?’

Despite the fucked-up-ness of the situation, the question made you smile – a genuine smile. ‘Only if we have them with coffee.’

Taglist - @casnextdoor @jaysdimples @belliebelle @pinkcherrybombs @sweetjellyfishland @blushingatyou @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue @somewhereinthestarss @k-brownsugar @namsona17 @taejinxkoya @notsooperfect @zae007live @its-hopes-world @shina913 @bri-mal @piecesofapril11 @kissme-ornot @toriluvsfics @agustdmwah @lochness-butmakeitsexy @petalsofink @definetlythinkimanalien @masterpiecejoonie @gcintia @danietoww04 @roguesthetic @rjsmochii @amymikaelson @hello-kittyy @mschievous247 @onlythehobi @deliciousdetectivestranger @daddypkj @callmemadhatter @rkivecenter @codeinebelle @creolesoul2seoul @nochelunaxx @serendididy [closed]

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Part 30 - Finale [R]

Part 30 - Finale [V]

Part 30 - Finale [E]

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#bts aus #bts au fanfic #bts namjoon #bts au #bts au fic #bts angst #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x oc #rm bts #bts rm x reader #rm fanfic #rm fic #bts namjoon fanfic #bts namjoon x reader

[al-hekima-madara-blog]

This post is so refreshing thank you ! I've never been a Minato fan, I've always seen his choice of putting a demon inside his first son as an act normally associate with those of... a villain first category. If you know Black Butler, Dororo ect... but I've never put his act next to those of the Kazekage !

Naruto and Gaara were on purpose written like a mirror of each other. Same destiny as Jiinshuriki, one turns good and the other one turns bad until he's saved by the hero. Problem as usual with Narutoverse : the Inconsistency ! And this time I'm gonna talk about the value system in Naruto. As a shonen it's very important, the hero must reflect those high values : friendship, loyalty, kindness, generosity, resilience, empathy ect...

On paper Naruto is suppose to be this hero moved by the most noble and generous motivations. But the more you read the story the more you realise that intrinsically Naruto doesn't really have any of those he's mostly very egoist : being acknowledge by everyone included those who doesn't care like Sasuke. Systematically any subversive actions done by those uplifting the Will of fire will always been justify by a higher need to protect the village at all cost. Literally tomorrow Naruto is raping someone or eating a baby alive (God forbids), they will find a way to explain that it was the only way to prevent konoha from being engulf by a volcanic explosion. You think I exaggerate? but it's the tiresome and absurd explanation they gave us to justify Uchiha's ethnic cleaning and most readers think it's unfortunate but perfectly fine.

So I was chocked when I realise that Gaara's father is often called one of the worst father of the year for two reasons : making Gaara a junchuriki, and trying to kill him a multiple time when he was getting out of control.

But when Konoha's founder is ready to do the same it's alright. To protect children from war, better to kill my own child if necessaries :

And by the way in Boruto, Naruto now an Hokage is contemplating the same idea and if not him, Sasuke will kill his son if he's getting out of control (we're back again into this Shadow Hokage/ Light Hokage nonsense where the loser is serving the winner. It's so sad that Sasuke is reduced to be Naruto's personal garbage holder. And I'm so proud Madara saw through the scam, resigned and gave the dirty job to Tobirama.

So seriously why did we all hate Gaara's father already? He did to his son exactly what Minato did to Naruto with a twist he makes him orphan of both parents while he could have avoid it. He did what Hashirama had sworn to do, what Itachi did, what Naruto should do, and what Sasuke is now ready to do. the Kazekage protects his village from Ichibi being out of control, taking into account Gaara did kill many people in suna.

For this reason most popular Konoha enthusiast are really hard for me to feel close to on top of the list Hashirama, Hiruzen, Minato. With the exception of Tsunade, Kakashi and Sasuke who are for me victims and broken by this system. This opportunism in the storyline is annoying specially when you think it targets a young public. Genocide is ok, harassing people is ok, toxic relationship is the epithome of love Sakura/Sasuke, murdering is family is also ok no real consequences. They never held accountable for nothing. No lesson needs to be taken from the hero from all that have happened in the past. But trying to reform a system who broke so many lifes? Oh Lord ! Burn to hell or repent till the end of boruto time.

While villains offers a lot of solution to improve the system. That's their role after all, being an opponent is being an opposition that force the hero to defend and revaluate his paradigm and improve it if needed.

Pain emphases the absence of empathy in Konoha, how self-centered is their politics.

Tobi/Obito pushes in purpose the shinobi system to its limit to bring into surface their hypocrisy and their own perversion : Shinobis needs war to prosper. When they said they want peace they blantanly lie. War makes their life meaningful.

Akatsuki is the natural product of this perversion. They are pyromaniac firemen and get profit off the chaos. And some members like Deidara and Hidan find joy and euphoria in murder.

Madara kindly propose to annihilate that sh**t system once and for all lol

Dark Sasuke is actually the only one who did a synthesise of all protagonist. Pro and cons. while it's not his job, he's not the hero and he offers an alternative solution.

What did Naruto propose in the end? Except the mantra believe me I'm the messiah. I mean seriously what did he brings new to the table after 700 chapters? At least Hashirama brings a village for what it's worth. How fundamentally different is Narutoverse since the first chapter to the last one?

Those reading Boruto knows that absolutely nothing change. Don't be blinded by neons, skycrappers, subway, and burger kings in Konoha, that's just cosmetic. But the darkness overshadowing the village that Madara was talking about in vain, did not move at all. And the Otsutsuki's plot is a perfect way to divert attention from this ugliness. Mmh? Shinobi system? child soldiers? Ame village promise? Oroshimaru still playing with kids? Konoha public responsibility in Uchiha downfall? Ao a veteran of the 4th turning villain (and an other one !) disgusted by the shinobi system? After chakra now using technology for killing more people?

OH LOOK WHITE ALIENS ARE DESCENDING FROM THE SKY! WE NEED EVERY ONE, WAR CRIMINAL, INCLUDED TO HELP US FIGHTING THEM, BELIEVE IT! BELIEVE IT!!!!

And the circus must go on.

#Narutoverse inconsistency #a very long and grumpy post #it's so annoying because it's literally not hard to hire an assistant whom sole job is being sure everything makes sense #in cinema it's called a script supervisor #he is the guys maintaning the continuity throughout the movie #being sure for instance that you don't have the actor's starbuck glass in the middle of a medieval film #even fans will do it for free if they are really stingy #Bc in Naruto it went under the radar but in Boruto it's just wild and OOC every pages

[yoosungdaddy1]

1st Day Broken Boy Eren x Reader

" Drink Drink Drink Drink" The crowd cheers as you three swallow shots like water. Your balance completely thrown off falling into Armin arms.

" Yo Eren You good!" Armin shouts with you in his arms. You couldn't really tell what was going on. You continued to dance with everyone in the group setting leaving no one out but Eren and Annie.

" Come on loser why are you so far!" You shout at them as they danced farther from the group. You was still high and daisied. You grab Eren's arm it suddenly being yanked away from you. You turn back to see Annie holding him in her grip

" Bitch he's not gonna dance with you." She says stone cold. You were to blazed to give her a reaction. All you could do was look at Eren who seems just as high. You start to laugh at him as he laughs back both of you high as hell. You walk back to the group leaving them in the distant. It was already 1am and you all had class tomorrow.

" We should get going. I'll ride with Sasha since she's in my building, Jean you Connie take the girls back. We'll bring them their keys at class tomorrow" Armin shouts. You were to high to remember the remaining night but you somehow woke up in your bed the following morning . It was 7am when your alarm went off, your head killing you. What the hell happened last night you thought rubbing your forehead before going to get ready. After about a hour you was completely dressed already 8am. Your 1st class was at 9am building 3 Mr. smith and you last class ended at 3pm professor Hannes. That name struck a nerve. You had walked out your room and into the living room. You assumed Eren was still sleep. Was it okay to wake him, you thought imaging all the annoying things he could say.

" He'll get over it." You mumble shaking your head walking towards his room door when you the dorm door opens behind you.

" Eren!" You shout in shock.

" What are you doing?" He ask closing the door.

" I thought you was sleep. I was gonna wake you." You respond as he walks past you wearing the same club clothing

" AH I was out last night you missed me." he smiles peeping his head through the door shirtless. You smile annoyed at his cocky response.

" I slept like a baby." You respond Walking to the kitchen for a quick snack.

" Don't leave without me! You have Mr. Smith biology. We have the same class!" He shouts as the shower starts. You ignore what he says, chowing down your cereal. 30 minutes passed and you're scrolling through your phone on Instagram you find Connie's page then everyone's else and you decided to follow. When Eren finally comes out. HIs hair dripping wet on his shirt.

" Get up we're gonna be late " He shouts pushing you out the door. You both sprint to class and make it 5 minutes before the bell. Upon entering the room was filled with students not any you recognized.

" No one else takes this course?" You ask following Eren to his seat and sitting next to him.

" Nope just me and now you." He sighs pulling out a note book. The teacher walks in. He looks to be in his mid 30s, blond hair blue eyes about 6ft 3inch, demanding homework and proceeding to introduce you to the class. You stand up as people whistle at you.

"MY name is y/n pleasure to meet you all!" You shout before sitting down. Eren looks at you his hand holding up his head. Not saying anything He gives you a copy of the current lesson syllabus.

" copy that It'll help you understand most stuff." He whispers to you.

" Thanks." You respond. After reading three chapters of the human brain and three hours later class was over.

" I don't think I understood a single thing." You sigh sinking into you chair. Eren looks at you helplessly gathering his things.

" Wow you really are prettier in person." A boy says as his group of males followed.

" HUH? " You ask confused you had never seen the boy or his friends before.

" Oh we know Connie he Posted you on his feed last night at some party. You looked amazing even now" The boy blushed holding his phone out.

"Thank you. " you chuckled nervously. Eren stood up ignoring the crowd that formed around.

" Can I have your number." The boys asked. You chuckled overwhelmed and irritated.

" Sorry but you're making my boyfriend uncomfortable" You gave a forceful smile pointing at Eren next to you. The boys apologized to you and Eren before leaving.

" You're not funny" He chuckles side eyeing you.

" Yeah Yeah see you at home!" You shout running out the classroom and rushing to the cafeteria before your last class in a hour.

" Y/N over here!" Jean shouts sitting with Armin and Connie.

" How you feeling?" Armin aske closing his math book.

" You were out off it." Jean laughs showing you pictures from last night.

" I don't even remember how I got home" you squinched your nose, scratching your head, placing your bag beside you.

" Oh I think Eren took you to bed. When we go to your room he answered it." Connie mumbles posting pictures on his feed.

You didn't say anything, but it made no sense since he wasn't there this morning. He must of left out again. you thought. The bell had rang and it was time for your last class of the day with whom you shared with Mikasa, Historia and Armin.

" Y/N over here" Armin waved signaling you a seat by him and Mikasa.

" How you feeling ?" Mikasa  ask. You shoved your shoulders.

" Having two classes a day was great but they were so long." You whimper.

" Tell me about it. " They agreed.

professor Hannes was the physics teacher, she was a beautiful older women, she had long brown hair and black glasses. She passed out all the notes and homework granting you a due date for the make up work on the current lesson. Armin allowed you to copy all his notes during class so you could review later. When the bell finally rang Connie insisted on going back to his dorm for a movie night. You wanted to go but you had some much to catch up on you couldn't. When you got to your dorm you could already hear giggles at your front door. Annoyed you shut you eyes fully prepared. When you opened Annie was in the kitchen gathering snacks to take back to Eren's room. You Ignored her presence, but her glaze was chilling cold.

" You're still here!' She shouts at you.

" Bitch I am tired and don't feel like dealing with your sorry ass today." You giggle throwing your hands at her not even looking at her.

" You want me to believe your just his roommate. How many times have your tried to fuck my boyfriend." She says  approaching you moving closer to your face. You burst out with laughter trying to spare her feelings.

" If I was fucking him you would know."  You respond continuing to laugh at how insane she sounded. You turned your back to enter your room, being pulled down to the floor by your hair. She pounces on top of you catching you off guard with ever blow. You knee her in the crouch causing her to jump in pain. You hoped off the floor and begin throwing punches knocking her to the ground. With all the commotion Eren runs out his room. Pulling you off Annie who's now bleeding through her mouth and nose.

" What the hell is wrong with yall!" He shouts looking at you and then her.

"Get your bitch! Before I do" You shout at him entering your room door and slamming the door behind. Your blood was hot you wanted to go back and beat his ass too. You decided to run a cold shower. After your shower you noticed a cut above your eyebrow.

" That crazy bitch." You mumbled. You made your way out your room and into the kitchen looking for food. It had appeared she had left and the rooms were quiet.

" I ordered a pizza. " Eren whispers behind you leaning against the wall.

" Good for you." you smile not caring. He grabs  your arm turning you around.

" You have a cut." He touches your eyebrow.

" Yeah from your bitch!" You shout slapping his hand away from your face.

" look I'm sorry I didn't think she would attack you." He sighs annoyed.

" Fuck you both!" You shout returning to your room. You didn't care who fault it was. You was filled with anger when you heard a knock on your room door.

**

TO READ AHEAD MORE CHAPTER ON WATTTPAD STORY TITLE "BROKEN BOY EREN X READER @nowstreaming01

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