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#na jaemin
hyuckswoman · 2 days
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text imagine- asking nct dream what they would do if another guy asked you out
pairing: nctdream x reader
genre: fluff
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notes: ARGHHHHG JUST NOTICED i wrote “did someone asked you out” instead of did someone ASK you out GOD i am RIPPING my hair out i HATE making mistakes in english and i’m hoping no one will notice EVER or else i’m KILLING myself (i’m a tad bit dramatic)
also posting like four hours earlier just cuz i was too excited to waittt i’ve been so focused on down bad that i haven’t posted a text imagine in a minute and i missed it lol (it’s my fav thing to read (especially @/ohmygs-blog ‘s posts) so i also rlly like writing them)
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nctsworld · 3 days
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SMOOTHIE // GROUP SHOTS
FOR @chldmrk
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raspberriesoda · 2 days
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paranoia » njm + ljn
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genre | smut (mdni!!) jaemin x afab!reader x jeno
word count | 3k
summary | an innocent game of paranoia with your friends while on a ski trip makes you realize that maybe you never knew you wanted to fuck your boyfriend jaemin’s best friend. and maybe, your boyfriend is okay with that.
warnings | smut, swearing, alcohol consumption, threesome, unprotected sex but he pulls out, established relationship with jaemin, jeno is shy and a little bit of a perv ig?, dom!jaem sub!jen basically, cuckolding, lots of pet names from jaemin he’s a sweetie pie
a.n | this fic was purely self indulgent lmaoo, when i would go on choir ski trips in high school we would always play paranoia in the hot tub at the resort (no nomin threesome though unfortunately ugh unfair) and my bestie and i had major brainrot one day a few years later and uhh this was born!
also if anyone doesn’t know what paranoia is, basically you get a group of friends and sit in a circle, one person whispers a “who in the group is most likely to” type question to the person next to them so the rest of the group doesn’t hear it, and then they answer it out loud. if the person who asked wins rock paper scissors the other person has to reveal what the question was, but if they lose then the question remains a secret (i added the caveat that if you lose and you really don’t want to tell you can take a shot as a safety)
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“ooohhh,” haechan muses, his hand scratching at his chin. he glances around the circle of his friends surrounding him in the hot tub, eyeing everyone very intently and contemplating the question ningning had just whispered in his ear.
“probably renjun,” he answers after some thought.
“renjun??” ningning gapes. “my money was totally on mark.”
“shut up! you’ll give it away!” haechan hisses.
the pair turn to each other and present their fists. after three slaps to their hands, ninging lets out a ‘ha!’ when her two fingers snip at haechan’s open palm.
without missing a beat, haechan reaches into the middle of the circle, snatching one of the pre-prepared shots sitting in a slot in a little yellow floaty.
“you loser!” ningning yells. “was it not you who said you’re a pussy if you chicken out when i took a shot?”
“cry about it.” haechan throws the shot back down his throat and tosses the little plastic cup behind him to clatter on the wet tile. suddenly ningning grabs haechan by his shoulders and in one swift motion his head is completely underwater. his arm holds his fruity blue cocktail high in the air so as to not spill it, but it still sloshes around as he flails, frantic bubbles rising up to the surface. jisung reaches forward and grabs the floaty to pull it away from the chaos and keep the shots from dancing across the water.
haechan resurfaces when ningning lets him go, coughing dramatically and wiping the water away from his eyes. “my drink! my drink!” he sputters.
you giggle at the antics of your drunken friends, but its difficult to give them your full attention when jaemin is pressed against your left side. his right hand glides across your thigh under the hot water, dangerously close to the bottom of your white bikini.
he’s paying no mind to the game. his nose is pressed against your neck, his breath feeling cold against your skin in comparison to the hot air around you. you swat at his hand when his thumb brushes against the fabric between your thighs; jaemin has never been one to shy away from public affection, especially when he’s tipsy, so you’re the one tasked with keeping him under control. you find that it's hard to care that much though, considering that even before the game began you were already three shots deep. jaemin just chuckles, lifting his free hand to brush your wet hair from your shoulder and places a hot kiss behind your ear.
you turn to look over at him, your head tilting back and to the side so your lips brush lightly against his own as you move. it's snowing, the night sky completely clouded over, but the heat from the hot tub makes the puffy white flakes dissolve in the air before they can touch the water, and they fizzle away as you watch them land in his hair. jaemin catches his bottom lip between his teeth, a dazed and loving smile matching the way his glossy eyes look at you in the winter air. you lean forward just a bit to meet him in a kiss. he sighs happily, leaning in closer to deepen it.
the game has made its way down the circle and someone grabs your attention by telling jaemin that it’s his turn. he chases your lips when you pull away, your face flushed upon remembering you aren’t alone, all the while he seems unphased.
without looking away from you he hums in thought, watching as the condensation clinging to your skin rolls down your chest. he brings a hand up to cup your ear and whispers his question.
“who’s most likely to fuck you better than me?”
even in the steamy air, the blush that rises to your face is unmistakable. your eyes widen, making a devilish smile appear on his lips.
“ohhh look at her face!” karina says coyly. “must have been a spicy question!”
you’re too stunned to speak. you’d never been conscious of it, but apparently you knew the answer to this question before even being presented with it.
your eyes then flicker over to scan your group of friends; everyone’s eyes are on you and all of a sudden you feel like you’re a second from overheating.
“you’ve gotta answer, baby. its part of the game,” jaemin teases, snapping you out of your thoughts. the smirk playing his features is mischievous; his hand slyly finds its way between your legs again, and when his fingers slip under the band of your swimsuit and press roughly against you, you blurt out your answer without being able to stop yourself.
“jeno!”
its clear everyone was under the impression that the question presented to you was intimate, and a series of surprised and boisterous hoots and hollers erupt all around you. jeno laughs nervously from a few spots down the circle, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. you swallow hard. it's too late now to wonder if you should have just kept your mouth shut.
jaemin pulls your attention back to him. your eyes are apprehensive when they meet his; he immediately takes notice of your change in demeanor, and he gives you a sweet, reassuring smile. when you smack your hands down in sync, he waits just a second to see your fist still clenched, and he slips two fingers out of his to let you win.
“that’s cheating!!” haechan whines from across the hot tub. “you saw her play!”
jaemin just presses a soft kiss to your wet cheek and drapes his arm around your shoulders. “cry about it.”
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the next morning, you wake up to the sounds and smells of breakfast being made. through the dehydration and dull headache of your small hangover, what you’d said the night prior runs rampant in your head.
you feel a strange sense of guilt gnawing at you. jaemin acted no differently than normal following your confession, but you can't shake the feeling that you’d upset him. it was his best friend's name you’d said after all, so you aren’t quite sure why he hasn't at least brought it up again.
the dream you’d just awoken from involving said best friend didn't help settle your nerves either.
you shuffle out of the sheets and walk into the kitchen of the small condo you and your boyfriend are sharing for the weekend. you take a seat on one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen island, tapping your fingers on the marble countertop as you watch jaemin from behind him. he hums to himself, dropping ingredients into a sizzling pan.
“jaem?” you start. he spins around, and he grins at you.
“good morning, my love,” he greets you, crossing the space and leaning down to kiss you.
“are you mad at me?”
in retrospect, it's a stupid question; he hadn’t given any indication that he was upset with you at all, but your worried conscience outweighs your common sense.
jaemin’s smile falls, a look of confusion replacing it. “of course not, baby, why would i be?”
“because of last night,” you mutter, your shoulders slumped.
jaemin takes a seat on a stool across from you and pauses to think. “i don’t remember you doing anything last night to make me upset, babydoll.”
“i mean, like, what i said in the hot tub.”
he blinks at you. after a second, his face lights up in realization. “what, about jeno?”
you nod, lowering your head in shame. jaemin chuckles, placing a warm hand under your jaw to bring your eyes back up. his thumb brushes against your burning skin.
“baby, why would i be mad about that? i asked you the question in the first place.”
“because he's your best friend.”
“so? as his best friend, i know better than most that he’s attractive,” he jokes. you’re honestly confused as to why he's so casual about it.
“i um- i had a dream about him last night.”
when he lifts a brow and tilts his head, you reach up to tightly squeeze his hand that still lays on your face and scramble to clarify. “but it didn't mean anything jaem, i promise! please don’t be mad, please, i really would never do anything like that-“
“baby, shh, its okay,” he cups your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks together. heavy, anxious breathing fills your chest. “i love you and i trust you, i promise i’m not upset with you, sweetheart.”
a sigh falls, your worries dissolving into the warm air. jaemin presses a kiss to your forehead. an idea seems to pop into his head just then, and he smirks.
“besides, there's no one i'd rather share my girl with than my best friend anyway.”
heat rushes up your neck again. “share?”
“well yeah, if you’re comfortable with that. i’d love to help my pretty baby bring that dream to life for a night.”
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there's snow piling on the sill just outside the bedroom window, but jeno’s forehead still glimmers with a light sheen of sweat in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
as you and the girls were on the slopes earlier in the day, jaemin pulled jeno aside to talk to him once he knew you were on board with his idea. jaemin had always known jeno thought you were pretty, it was in the way he looked at you and spoke a little softer to you than most. but it didn't bother jaemin; after all, who could really blame him? jaemin had fallen in love with you for a reason.
needless to say though, jaemin’s proposal left jeno completely shocked. he really tried to hide his crush on you so as to not upset anyone; losing his best friend over it wasn't worth the risk and he saw how in love you were, he would feel like a monster if he did anything to ruin that. so learning about your little crush on him made his heart flutter in his chest.
he would have to be an insane man to decline this offer.
so now, you kneel in front of him on yours and jaemin’s bed, your bare knees digging into the plush of the mattress. you’d just showered after your long day of skiing, and the lingering scent of vanilla has jeno reeling already.
“are you nervous?” you ask him. your shorts are riding up, disappearing behind the hem of your thin white tshirt. your hair is still damp, and the wetness seeps through the fabric, making the top of your chest slightly more visible.
jeno gives a hesitant nod, a quiet laugh slipping through his shy smile.
“me too,” you admit, matching his timid demeanor.
jaemin catches your eye from his spot by the window, the ice clinking in his frosted glass as he stands between the sheer curtains.
“she's a good girl, jen. she’ll do what you tell her, right baby?”
you turn back towards jeno and give him an innocent nod. jeno feels embarrassed by how hard he already is just from your sweet doe eyes and the way you puff your lips up in a little pout. you lean forward on your knees, your fingers gripping the sheets. your elbows push your chest forward and jeno has to remind himself he doesn't have to force his gaze away this time.
“tell me what you want, nono,” you coo. jeno swallows hard.
“show me what happened in your dream.”
you obey immediately, crawling forward and situating yourself on his lap. your fingers trace ever so delicately up his abdomen and chest; you can feel how his muscles are tense under his shirt, but when you dip down to press warm, feathery kisses to the side of his neck, the strain fades away almost instantly. you grip his shoulders and rock yourself against him. his fingers dig into your hips and he shudders at the soft, slow friction.
jaemin watches you intently, leaning his weight on his arm against the perch of the window, and he lifts his glass to take a sip. this brand new view of you absolutely captivates him; you look so.. so pretty it makes him twitch in his sweat pants.
with your lips still attached to jeno’s neck your hands find their way down his waistband. you tug at the elastic of his basketball shorts, reaching in to palm him over his boxers, eliciting a low groan that vibrates against your lips. his head falls back and his eyes flutter closed.
pulling away you scoot back enough to pull the fabric away from his waist, watching as his cock springs up and out of his shorts. you keep your gaze locked with his as you grab him by the base and drag your hand slowly up the shaft. jeno whimpers as you pump your fist up and down, squeezing every time your fingers reach the tip.
you lift yourself up and stand on your knees that sit on either side of jeno’s lap, your chest almost pressing against his face as you use his shoulders for balance. he has to suppress the moan that rises in this throat when you shove your shorts and panties off your legs and sink down onto him without warning.
your wet hair sways in front of your face as you bounce slowly up and down on him, adjusting to his length. you’re so warm and soft and you grip around him so well that jeno feels delirious; he might not be able to last long.
your lips suddenly mesh with his and he feels like he's on cloud nine. jeno’s tongue flicks into your mouth and he feels you dig your nails into the back of his neck, tugging at his hair. you whimper into his mouth as jeno kisses you like his life depends on it.
suddenly your hair is tangled in jaemin’s grip and your head is yanked back, your lips pulling away from jeno’s with a wet smack and a loud cry is ripped from your throat. your head falls back onto jaemin’s shoulder and an earth shattering whine echoes through the room. jeno feels embarrassed by the heavy groan he can't help but let out, until jaemin looks at him with a knowing smirk.
“you like that, jen? she’s very vocal.” jaemin’s free hand reaches up to squeeze the base of your neck. “isn’t that right, baby girl? you make such pretty noises when you feel good, yeah?” you nod, reaching a shaky arm up and behind you to scratch at jaemin’s shoulder. you let out a trembling whimper.
“you wanna show jen how good i can make you feel, huh?”
your swollen lips press together; a strangled ‘mhm’ is all you can manage.
jaemin then pulls your hips towards him, a sticky wet sound making you blush as jeno slips out of your folds. the empty feeling doesn't linger for long, however. jaemin replaces him immediately, slamming his hips up into you and hitting the spot that makes you crumble every time.
your face looks so beautiful to jeno in this moment, scrunched up in pleasure. jaemin’s hand still grips your hair to tilt your head back as he rams into you, his face buried in your neck leaving messy purple bruises across your skin.
jeno thinks he might just cum untouched from the sight.
one of your hands reaches out to grip jeno’s cock again in an attempt to aid him in just that, but jaemin is fucking into you so mercilessly that you can’t manage to keep up a steady pace. so jeno grips your hand in his, guiding your arm up and down. tears begin to spill through your lashes and you see stars behind your closed eyes. jeno kisses up your jaw on the side opposite jaemin, making his way up to lock his lips with your own once again.
“ah, a-ahh hah.” you begin to babble and whine and your kiss becomes sloppy. jeno knows you’re close. he begins to pump faster to reach the height you’re at, and as you clench around jaemin’s cock and scream out through your orgasm your head falls forward to rest on jeno’s shoulder. with a humiliatingly loud moan jeno cums with you, sticky thick ropes shooting out and painting your thighs a milky white.
jaemin rides you through your orgasm, and when you start to whine from overstimulation, he pulls out and let’s you fall back on his chest. your vision is blurry, your breath is labored. in jaemin’s warm arms you decide that staying completely conscious would be entirely too difficult, so you allow yourself to drift off.
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later that night, you lay in bed between both jaemin and jeno, your exhausted body having been cleaned up and taken care of by the pair of boys. jeno is out cold behind you, snuggled up into your back and snoring softly.
jaemin is settled in front of you. your arms wrap around his neck as you kiss him, pressed up against his bare chest. his fingers trace along your side as he hums on your lips, moving slowly and tenderly along with you.
he grabs your chin softly in his fingers, pulling away from the kiss gently. you smile dreamily as his thumb brushes your bottom lip.
“did your dream come true, baby?” he asks, his voice breathy.
you sigh. “it was even better.”
“better?”
“of course, you were there.”
its rare that you fluster jaemin, but his eyes light up at your words and you swear you see him blush in the dim light. he grins at you, leaning down to connect your lips again.
“wait,” you say suddenly, stopping him. though its only been a short while your memory is foggy, and you realize you don't remember jaemin reaching his own high. “jaem, did you not-“
somehow, jaemin reads your mind. “don't worry about that, baby girl. i wanted you to feel good tonight.”
“noo jaem that’s not fair to you,” you whine, begining to slide your hand down, but he catches it.
“we’ll wake jeno up if you do that, baby,” he whispers. you glace over your shoulder, noticing how jeno is basically spooning you, his face buried in the fabric of your sweatshirt between your shoulders and his arms circling your waist.
you smirk, turning back around.
“why not let him help, then?”
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hyuckieblr · 1 day
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🐰🐱
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sooniessoulmate · 2 days
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nct dream texts : you text them their name
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qtenthusiasm · 2 days
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mark, going over donghyuck's resume: okay, so right here, it states that you're creative.
donghyuck: yes.
mark: okay.. may i know what you create?
donghyuck: problems.
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snoopymins · 1 day
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we're all reaching out to find another hand | na jaemin
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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!
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playlist: tomorrow is closed—nothing but thieves • do you realize??—the flaming lips • who we are—hozier • drowning—woodz
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masterlist
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“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.
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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. 
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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. 
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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.
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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. 
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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. 
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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.
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“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.
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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. 
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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. 
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“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. 
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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.  
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“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.  
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“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?
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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. 
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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.  
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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.”
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Grocery bags dangle from your fingers as you fish out the key to Jaemin’s apartment. The TV is on, playing a sitcom. Three heartbeats—and another on the balcony, Dali having his dinner—ring out. Looks like Ms. Na and Jeno found their way here. Good. You’d texted Jaemin in warning and had heard his pulse skyrocket as soon as he read it. You had already shot into the sky when he texted you saying he was okay—that he would be okay. With great reluctance, you held back on going home and instead ran out to pick up the ice cream as promised. 
Considering they’re all still here, Jeno and Jaemin talking in Korean, the former laughing at something and the latter joining, too, you assume it went as well as it could. 
You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose, then step inside. Your boyfriend is on his feet before you’re even fully inside, taking the grocery bags from you. Instead of the usual kiss in greeting, he takes your hand, squeezing, brown eyes shining with a newfound energy and warmth. You pretend to use him for balance as you pull off your shoes, just to keep holding his hand. 
He introduces you to Jeno, an embarrassing amount of affection dripping from his voice when he says your name and introduces you as his girlfriend. Jeno doesn’t seem to be aware or suspicious of anything, thankfully, and kindly greets you back. Ms. Na is another story entirely. Emerging from the guest bathroom evidently refreshed, though her eyes are still red, she appraises you carefully. 
According to Jaemin, though he never tried to purposefully dig into your identity, because he ‘paid an embarrassing amount of attention to you prior to getting together’ he had noticed you, both when you’d pop into the office for lunch with Kun and Lina, and that one time when he ordered from Sleepless Bites. It’s not like he made any hard conclusions but—there was a sense of familiarity, even if you carried yourself very differently in each identity. 
With the timing and the fact that Supergirl spent enough time around Na Jaemin to be noticeable by them, truthfully, you probably should’ve spent the night with Kun and Lina. Just to let their memory—her memory—of you weaken a little bit. But you can’t leave Jaemin alone for this. Even if they’ve apparently reconciled, at the end of the day… you have to be here for him. 
Even if Ms. Na is looking at you intently, dark eyes gleaming with familiarity. But she says nothing about it, simply shaking your hand, hers warm in your grip.  
“How long have you known each other?” 
Jaemin glances at you. “For a while now. Almost a year, right?”
“Eight months,” you confirm. 
She squeezes your hand, giving you a look you aren’t quite sure how to decipher but one that doesn’t alarm you, anyway. “I’m glad you were here for him.”
You smile faintly as Jaemin looks away, embarrassed. “Glad to be here.”
She lets you go. Jaemin waves for her to sit down, then heads for the kitchen. You follow him. 
“So…?”
He sets the bag on the counter, then pulls out the cartons of ice cream. You take them, opening the freezer and finding places for them. 
“Well, three years of radio silence isn’t going to be fixed in one good night.”
“But…?” Because there very much is a but here. Even if you’d been able to smell the salt of tears shed when you came in, there is a visible weight that has been lifted from his shoulder’s—from Ms. Na and Jeno, too. Not quite as desperate as they appeared earlier. They’d perhaps prepared for the worst—that Jaemin might turn them away for one final time. He had done the same—that neither his mother nor Jeno would take him back. 
“But,” he goes on slowly, smile forming on his lips, “it’s a start.”
You are unable to stop a stupid grin from forming on your lips. 
“It’s a start—a great start—you’re exactly right—I’m so proud of you, you know—mmpf!”
He crushes you to him, kissing you long and hard, like he’s trying to steal the breath from your lungs. Which is, unfortunately, not physically possible for you as a Kryptonian. Actually—as nice as this is, his hands on your hips, lips warm against yours—
You gently push at his chest, a reminder about air. One that he needs because you swear, it’s like he’s trying to beat you at holding your breath, but again—human who needs air to breathe and live, Kryptonian who technically doesn’t (but admittedly breathing has become a habit for you, one that’s uncomfortable to shed). 
Jaemin doesn’t budge until you push a little more and he finally pulls away. 
“Your lungs are going to shrivel up and die if you keep doing that.”
He smiles and kisses you again. “That’s not medically possible.”
“Well, that’s where you’re headed if you keep that up.” 
Forehead against yours, eyes shut with a content smile, his shoulders shake with laughter. You lean into him, enjoying the warmth of him, the feeling of his arms around you, heart beating in his chest. 
Things are going to get better. They already were, even without this impromptu visit from his mother and being able to reconcile with her—and Jeno. It’s like you said—he’s making friends at work, getting along well with Kun, Lina, and Jay, even Maria loved him to bits when she met him for the first time last week. You’re making friends, too, going to games with Jisung and then going out to eat afterward with him and Chenle. It's not like you were some kind of ghost before this—you enjoyed yourself, you were content, you didn’t have much yearning for anything else, but now that you do, you’re happier. You feel more grounded. Present. There’s more to hope for, to look forward to. You know Jaemin feels the same way. No longer just going through the motions but actually planning for the future. 
You’ve even had a few late-night conversations about whether he wants to go back to school. He’s surmised that med school simply isn’t for him but—that’s not the only healthcare position that exists. As it happens, Metropolis University’s nursing program is one of the best in the country and there are scholarships he can apply to to help with tuition. As for you, you still quite enjoy your work at Sleepless Bites but there are still a lot of things you want to try and that Jaemin happily encourages you to do so. 
Like you said. There is so much more to hope for and look forward to now. 
It is this, you think, that your parents wanted for you. 
Exactly this.  
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mins-fins · 22 hours
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OH FUCK YOU CUPID! [PREVIEW].
❝may the best man win!❞
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SYNOPSIS: where resident "cupid" zhong chenle wants to cause mayhem, and maybe start a fight too, so he sets up three of the most competitive guys he knows with none other than you. now— they are at each other's throat trying to get your attention, and also score a date with you.
PAIRING: lee jeno, lee donghyuck, & na jaemin x male!reader
GENRE: university au, romantic comedy, sort of matchmaker au??, actually theres angst too, three stubborn boys fight over a very confused one, 00z (besides renjun) going insane over a MAN
WARNINGS: swearing, explicit language, unrealistic romantic situations, childish behavior, somewhat possessive behavior, mentions of sex but no smut, mentions of drinking, an abuse of italics, lots of date crashing
WORD COUNT: 1.5k (preview) | est. 12k–15k (full fic)
NOTES: if you can forgive me for not updating for like two days, take this as my little apology 🙁 yeah so this spawned out of ANOTHER draft i began that hasn't been touched since december, but i reread it and i just sort of changed up the synopsis and love interests!! yeah anyway this is isa's multi-pairing debut, but this is also only a preview, the real thing is much more messy! i can't promise WHEN it's going to come out because i genuinely do have a lot going on.. but it is halfway done! um yeah tysm for waiting for me!! alright bye😖
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YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN CONFUSED LIKE YOU ARE NOW. when you heard a knock on your door, accompanied by the sound of two muffled voices bickering behind it, you expected it to be one of your classmates, chenle and jisung coming to ask for another stupid favor, or your lab partner coming to get extra notes for your project. you usually don't let people into your dorm after six pm, mostly because after six pm is time you spend strictly studying, and you do not need distractions when you're gonna be up all night losing sleep.
but no, none of that, you guess you aren't that good at predicting your fate.
when you open the door, rubbing your eyes, which hurt from the hours you spent staring down several biology papers, you pause at the sight before you.
there are three boys there, two of them going back and forth whilst one stands silent between them. their arguing must distract them enough that they don't notice you standing in the doorway, staring at the two of them like they're crazy.
"um".
why do you say um? maybe the general confusion of the situation is what makes your brain short circuit in that very moment, but you don't exactly have any actual words you can say. there is no reason these three very attractive guys should be at your doorstep at this time.
as quickly as you utter that word, you regret it, because the two formerly bickering guys turn their heads right towards you, gazes focused on you and only you.
suddenly, it feels like all of your senses heighten, your hands become sweaty, your breathing seems to become louder, and your face heats up to the point that your sure steam is going to start pouring out of your ears.
of course, you recognize the three at your doorstep, but the situation still doesn't click for you.
on the left is na jaemin, resident pretty boy na jaemin, the two of you had a political science together in your sophomore year, and while he did always seem to want to be more than friends, you chalked that up to his habit of looking like he's in love with all of his friends. his flirtatious words and romantic references never meant anything to you, because he's like that with every other pretty guy that goes to your school.
in the middle is lee jeno, class crush lee jeno, you know him because of a get together renjun forced the two of you to be apart of way back in your freshmen year, and while jeno is nothing short of beautiful, he's nothing like jaemin. jeno is less obvious in the romantic department, of course he has so many people falling at his feet, and you can't blame them. he's gorgeous, a true work of art, and the two of you have been told on certain occasions that you'd be a great couple, but nothing ever seemed to come out of that.
and on the right, lee donghyuck, star student lee donghyuck, always the top student, always wins the awards, you unfortunately know him the best out of the three, considering the two of you spent all summer together. it didn't go as well as you wanted it to, some things happened between the two of you that you don't feel like explaining right now. you haven't had a genuine talk since school began, both of you trying hard to erase that little summer fling away from your minds. you think he might be a little insane, much too smart for everyone's own good, but you can't look past his ethereal beauty either.
so what are these three doing on your doorstep on a school night?
before you can ask that exact question, donghyuck answers it for you.
"i'm here to take you out on a date".
you almost collapse onto the floor.
jaemin's eyebrows furrow, and he's quick to turn and glare at the older. "no you're not!"
"yes i am! i got here first!"
"you did not! and even if you did y/n doesn't want to go out with you—"
"i suggest you watch your tone, na".
you blink, dumbfounded at the news bestowed upon you. the two continue their back and forth argument, and your face only heats up more as it dawns on you that they're arguing about you, about taking you out on a date.
you don't know how you stand your ground.
"you too?" you barely manage the words, feeling as if you were about to pass out at any second, and you point your index finger at jeno, the most silent of the bunch.
he only nods. "i was hoping saturday..?"
"that makes no se— wait, you were hoping WHAT!?"
jaemin's screech is enough to make the once stone cold jeno flinch. a look of offense crosses the older lee's face, and any tranquility he had disappeared in an instant. "y/n and i are going out saturday".
"says who!?"
"says me?"
"he didn't even agree to your offer" donghyuck glares daggers at jeno, who imitates his gaze. he's pissed, and so is jeno, and so is jaemin, all three of them are pissed. "don't get so confident".
"it doesn't matter" jeno answers like it's a matter of a fact. "he likes me more than he does you".
"oh yeah?"
"yeah he does" jeno whispers as he leans closer to donghyuck, the words a taunting mantra to the younger, who looks seconds away from punching him. "he wouldn't go on a date with you even if you offered him a hundred dollars".
"you should really watch what you say".
"really? i'd love to see you even try and land a punc—"
"who sent you three here?"
your question is enough to get the two to stop arguing, and they slowly move away from each other. jeno pokes his tongue against the inside of cheek, and donghyuck just crosses his arms, an eye roll accompanying his action. jaemin gives the two a judgmental glance before focusing all of his attention on you again. "chenle".
"chenle?"
"well chenle told me—"
"chenle didn't tell you anything".
"how are you so sure? if i remember correctly, you said you weren't into y/n" jaemin grits his teeth, eyes pointed at donghyuck, who scoffs, humored by the words.
"since when? i'm the only one hear whose ever done anything with y/n, you're too busy around with other guys and jeno's too much of a coward to confess".
"please, coward? if you're so in love with y/n maybe you should've told him that instead of ghosting him, that's pretty cowardly behavior".
you watch the three begin going back and forth, absolutely speechless. why are they fighting over you? why did chenle tell them to come here? why does this have to happen right now?
"i— um, shit uh" you awkwardly chuckle, hoping you don't sound as pathetic as you feel. "maybe we can chat about this tomorrow yeah? yeah! right, um, goodnight!"
you don't think twice before slamming the door on their faces, locking it behind you. you slide down the door and collide with the floor, face red, thoughts all over the place, and only one sentiment echoing in your mind.
you are going to murder zhong chenle.
"great job, hyuck, you scared him off".
donghyuck finds jaemin's audacity hilarious, so hilarious he even laughs. "i scared him off? if anything jeno did!"
"i didn't do anything" jeno argues, he really doesn't how the younger is speaking to him at the moment. "your just mad y/n's gonna end up going out with me instead".
"woah woah, who said that?"
"i mean.. we all know".
"whose we?" donghyuck challenges. "because, and don't take this personally, you couldn't even confess to the guy before this, what makes you think he'll want to go on a date with you?"
"you know your really getting on my nerves right now".
"okay okay you two" jaemin curses in his mind, how did he end up being the most sensible of the three? "don't start anything physical, it's y/n's choice at the end of the day.."
"which is why it's stupid of donghyuck here to think y/n wants to go anywhere with him".
donghyuck rolls his eyes again, but instead of looking at jeno this time, he looks at jaemin. "no, he's right, it's y/n's choice, and i'm gonna do everything to make sure i'm the one he's with on saturday".
"get over yourself" jeno remarks, glancing over at your door. "your not going to end up with him".
donghyuck hums, a snicker added onto it. "alright then, watch me prove you wrong".
"i'd love to see you try".
jaemin looks between the two, oh this is bad, this is very bad, but he isn't about to let them be able to take you out before him.
"may the best man win, then" jaemin gives the two overly aggressive pats on the back before turning around and walking the other way.
he doesn't care, he's getting that date.
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yessunsunist · 1 day
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[240327] Spotify Kpop Twitter Update
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taexoxosgf · 2 months
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NA JAEMIN FIC REC LIST
s, smut | f, fluff | a, angst
This list is a compilation of some of my fave jaemin ff <3 a lot were on my old recs so feel free to reread!
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after you [ fuckboy!jaemin x fem!reader ] s,f,a
cat & mouse [ na jaemin x jaehyun's sister!reader ] s,f
cherry girl! [ twitch streamer!jaemin x fem!reader ] s,f
talk to my skin [ friends with benefits au ] s
unforgettable [ bassist!jaemin x fem!reader ] s,a
by the window [ voyeurism, neighbor au ] s
strawberry cough , (pt.2) sour tangie [ plug!jaemin x fem!reader] s,f,a
on the rebound [ shooting guard!jaemin x fem!reader, college au] s,f,a
subtle [ established relationship, summer vacation au ] s,f
besties (gone sexual) [ best friends to lovers ] s,f,a
upon your invitation [friend!jaemin x fem!reader, ft. nct dream, vacation au ] s,f
rock me [ fuckboy!jaemin x hairstylist!reader ] s,f,a
backseat chronicles [ streetracer!jaemin x fem!reader ] s,f,a
persimmon problems [ fratboy!jaemin x fem!reader ] f,a
veni, vidi, vici [ popular!jaemin x mark's sister!reader ] s,f
blur. [ exboyfriend's bestfriend!jaemin x fem!reader ] s
two nights, one you [fuckboy!jaemin, one night stand au] s,f
the walls are thin [ roommate!jaemin x fem!reader x roommate!jeno ] s
hush. [jaemin,haechan, jeno x fem!reader ] s
that '90's show [actor!jaemin x pa fem!reader ] s,f,a
pretty girl. [ alpha!jaemin x fem!reader ] s,f
thin walls. [ roommate!jaemin x fem!reader ] s
cookie jar [ stepbrother!jaemin x fem!reader x stepbrother!jeno ] s
one of a kind [strangers to lovers au ] s,f,a
go there with you [ roommate!jaemin x fem!reader ] s
34+35 [ established relationship ] s
parents are home [ secret freak!jaemin ? ] s
memories bring back you [ ex!jaemin x fem!reader ] s
into you [ friends to lovers au ] s,f
what she doesn't know [ mom's boyfriend!jaemin x fem!reader] s
worth it. [ first sleepover au ] s,f
quiet down [ established relationship, semi-exhibitionism ] s
4K notes · View notes
jenosbigtoe · 14 days
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mdni. nsfw 18+
pairing: na jaemin x reader
warnings: cockwarming, making out, unprotected sex, clingy bf jaem
im ovulating rn and i get so horny for jaemin specifically when im ovulating like yall dont get it 😭😭😭😭😭😭
“you know you’re my baby, right?” jaemin is almost suffocating you at this point, laying his beefy body right on top of you while he wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles his face into your neck. his legs are tangled with your own underneath the mess of the sheets. he peppers little kisses on your collarbone while you giggle into his hair. “and i love you forever, my baby.”
your heart flutters at his affection. “yes jaemin, as if that’s not the fourth time you’ve told me already today.”
he picks up his head to give you an exaggerated pout. “okay say you love me then.”
you roll your eyes and press short pecks on his lips. “i- kiss love- kiss you.”
before you can pull away again, he holds your chin to deepen your kiss. you moan when he sucks on your lip, biting it lightly with his teeth. you always love when he does that. he uses his other hand to cup your cheek gently while you loop your arms around his neck to caress his soft brown hair.
the air in the room grows heavy and the tension thickens as he continues to kiss you passionately, like he can never get enough of you. with his legs still intertwined with yours, he starts to lightly rub his crotch against your thigh. you can feel his cock harden beneath his sweats as you roll your hips up to meet his.
he pulls away from your lips with a wet smack, a lustful gaze in his half lidded eyes. “sit on me baby, let me feel you.”
you give him a cheeky grin and lift up at his shirt to expose his toned abdomen. he chases your lips again with a bright smile on his face, kissing them hungrily for more. he lifts you up and places you on his lap with ease, never breaking away from your lips for even a second. his hands explore every inch of your body, groping at every bit of exposed flesh from your thighs to your tits. with your legs wrapped around his waist, you slowly peel every layer of clothing off your body until your bare cunt is rubbing on his hardened cock through his boxers and you leave a wet stain on the material.
he pulls his boxers down and his cock springs out, hot and red and leaking with precum at the tip. when you reach down to stroke his length, you struggle to wrap your hand around it. his cock is fat and veiny, ready to split you open.
he groans at the contact. “fuck, baby, i need you to sit on it. right fucking now. can you do that for me?” he wraps his larger hand around yours to guide your strokes up and down his length, his cock getting impossibly harder with every stroke.
you give him a sly look. “of course, baby. anything for you.”
you sit up to guide his needy cock to your entrance, letting the fat tip tease your hole. your cunt starts to drip on his cock as his cock rests just outside your hole. you pause, wanting to see him get all needy and antsy for more action. he pouts. he was going to let you take control but it seems you just want to keep teasing him.
he suddenly grabs your hips to hold then in place and bucks his hips upwards, sheathing almost half of his length inside your little cunt with a single thrust. you both moan at the feeling of your gummy walls stretching around his thick cock.
“f-fuck,” you hiss, trying to adjust to his size.
you’re still so tight despite being so wet and ready for him. he can’t get enough of the way you feel around him, clenching around his length and dripping on his cock. he leans forward to give you another sweet kiss on the lips. “ready, baby?”
when you nod in affirmation, he guides your hips to slowly sink the rest of his length into your tight cunt. he bottoms out when you can finally rest your hips back onto his. you feel so stuffed, full of his cock as he reaches deep in your cunt and pressed up against your cervix.
“fuck, let’s just stay like this, hm? you just feel so good for me, baby.” he coos into your ear, tickling the shell with his warm breath.
when you whisper a soft yes, he pulls you closer to his chest so he can wrap you into a bear hug. he has to shift his hips so you can rest comfortably on top of him, causing his cock to jerk inside of you as you gasp from the feeling. his tip is kissing your cervix, reaching deep to the entrance of your womb from the sheer length of his cock.
you stay snuggled on his chest, burying your face into his bare chest. he’s so warm and soft, you think to yourself, as his arms hug you close to his body. his hot cock is still nestled deep inside of you as your cunt flutters around his thick length, making you feel so full and content. he presses a sweet kiss to the top of your head. “i love you. you’ll always be my baby forever.”
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hyuckswoman · 20 hours
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30. bigheaded
previous chapter masterlist
notes: i have not only my spanish final but a spanish presentation tomorrow that i still do not know... instead of studying i was making this dumb chapter so i hope you guys enjoy it (if not i'll come find you and threaten you or smt)
ALSO, not everybody never telling me that i could post more then ten pics in one post..you guys are FAKE
taglist (open): @imsiriuslyreal @iscocohere @simpforarmihn @replayenthusiast @lovm4rk @youreintheclubb @polarisjisung @sour-chaos @jising-jisang-jisung @aerivrs @multifandomania @tiddygang2020 @roseangelxfuma @skepvids @morkiee @yangasm @artstaeh @pussyslayerhd @bacons-thighs @bugcattie @leefullsun @jkslvsnella @alethea-moon @marvelahsobx @haechansbbg @katsukis1wife @m1dn1ghtv1olet @winuvs @n0hyuck @whats-my-question @jaehyunastico @hibernatinghamster @user7520 @starwonb1n @lostinneocity @miniature-tragedy
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midmourn · 2 months
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you storm out after a fight
♡ nct dream ﹒ gender neutral!reader genre angst warnings language and just general warning for angst note if yall have any requests let me know 🫶 ( library )
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lavandiors · 27 days
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( 📁 making you feel comfortable. by na jaemin _ ⭐ O1O1 )
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where jaemin shows you that he can eat you differently, changing your opinion about orals.
𓍯 . ݁ ✦ ݁ . ─── pairing. na jaemin x fem!reader. genre. smut (+18, minors dni), fluff, established relationship. warnings. soft sex, oral (f. receiving), clit play, use of nicknames (princess, angel, etc.), handholding in sex, many kisses.
lily notes. well, i'm really not very good at smut and i write this from my imagination, so, i'm sorry if it's not much or it's very soft (?) but i'm doing it from my comfort zone!
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it wasn't the first time you felt Jaemin flex, your head lying on his firm chest allowing you to hear his heart. his heartbeat racing and his body seeking comfort.
his arms fluttering around you every time he moves. you thought he was uncomfortable, so you stood up, abandoning your place on his chest and looked at him.
"are you uncomfortable, jaem?" you asked him, showing your dimples. jaemin frowned in confusion, but shook his head. it wasn't you who kept him in that state.
well, yes.
but it was about something else.
you brought your warm hands to his and took them. you smiled, just like jaemin. your smile was mercy for him.
your eyes dug into his soul "so what's bothering you?" one of your hands let go of his, leaving a bit of hair behind his ear. he felt nervousness permeate his body, but you. god, you, you made him feel so comfortable, he couldn't resist.
his cheek twitched against your hand, moving his head to kiss you, he sighed, allowing you to feel what was circulating through his lungs between your palm.
“it’s just” he began, staring into your eyes for trust. and found her "why did you never let me eat you out?" he asked slowly.
the question didn't faze you. you and jaemin were open to each other's tastes, and his warm smile was always the one given when you talked about sex. after this, it was one of his many romantic connections.
your worry subsided slightly and jaemin could tell “ah, yes” you said, moving closer to jaemin so you could rest your head on his chest again. his strong arms wrapped his body around your head, kissing your head.
“i’m not a big fan of oral” you replied “i haven’t had good experiences, that’s just it” you tried to dispel any insecurity jaemin might have had.
you weren't afraid of orals, you weren't afraid of jaemin and you wanted to let him know that all he made you feel was a swarm of butterflies with the slightest sigh in your ear.
jaemin lowered his head and turned yours away, searching your eyes fiercely “can you tell me about your experiences, angel?” his warm smile and his lips against every muscle of your face let you know you were safe with him.
you closed your eyes when he kissed your eyelids. "it was very rough, very forward, it wasn't what i expected. you know i like it when it's slower," you whispered to him.
his lips landed on yours, his forehead against yours. “then let me show you that i can do it better. that i can do it the way you like it.” his voice, comforting, soft, slow. he didn't want to pressure you.
you completely trusted jaemin, your experiences with him were unique, they were what you were looking for. he gave you what you wanted, the way you wanted.
you looked him in the eyes again, wanting to convey to him that his request was not uncomfortable, that it was something you wanted. you nodded.
jaemin smiled, kissing your nose and forehead. “just let me do all the work, doll” he whispered in your ear as he picked you up in his arms to place you on his lap.
his soft kisses found a space between your neck and jaw, making a slow, wet path as he laid you flat on your back on the couch, your legs spread out to his side and him in the middle.
his hands found space between your back and hips, sliding gently, up and down you without abandoning his kisses on your neck. his path advanced, your lips being his destination.
you sighed when his warm hands found your sleeping pants, nodding when you felt him stop for permission. with one hand, he lift your hips, sliding your pants and panties out of the way.
his hands squeezed your bare hips, you felt him stretch his legs and slowly descend, leaving one last kiss on your lips.
"don't worry, princess, you're always safe with me." it was true, you knew it.
when he was level with your bare stomach, his lips slid untouched to your hips, where he nibbled and kissed one, while massaging the other, he repeated this many times until he made you sigh from the mess in your stomach.
your clit slowly rubbed against the fabric of his clothing every time he moved, making you uneasy. his lips reached below your navel, continuing with the kisses and bites. his hands did sweet dances on your hips between squeezes and massages.
“here we go, love” he murmured against your stomach, tracing a path with his tongue until his face was between your legs.
his sudden warm breath hit your cunt, making you shudder. his lips stopped between your inner thighs, kissing every part of them.
jaemin had been waiting for this moment for so long, but he had never tried it for fear of intimidating you. and now, that he had your glistening cunt in front of him and your perfect figure in rapture, he knew he would do it more often.
you felt the cold on your hip when his hand left that space and looked for your hand, giving you comfort. when he found it, he made sure to intertwine their fingers and caress your knuckles with his thumb.
and his lips pressed against your superiors, sending an electric shock from your stomach, down your back, to your ears.
“jaem..” you sighed, squeezing his hand lightly. you were liking it as much as he was, and even though you had him shooting his hips against the couch, your scent felt like the best in the world.
a sweet, vain one entered through his nose when he couldn't let go of his need and pressed his nose against your cunt, making circles on your inner lips.
you moaned shamelessly. his soft, sliding tongue near your center hit every ecstasy of his body, the hot air coming out of his nose hitting your clit hard, desperate to give you more.
it wasn't the same as the bad experiences you had. jaemin always made you feel like you were in heaven, like your body was worshiped by believers to a goddess. you were his goddess, his temple, his belief. you were delicate for him, soft and untouchable.
it didn't take long for his tongue to find your center, plunging it into an exhaustive excavation from top to bottom, side to side. his nose was now causing circles on your clit, finding your pleasure.
your moans became frequent, causing jaemin to grind his hips further and further into the couch. he was crazy. his tongue had increased the pace when you squeezed his hand.
you were looking for more, and he gave it to you.
his face was now buried in your cunt, it was ecstatic. your soft walls accommodated his tongue as he massaged. he dug it out, but before you could complain, he shot from the bottom up, nibbling lightly on your upper lips.
you were a mess of soft moans, his tongue making big and small circles on your clit, preparing you. your legs were already shaking around his head, his nose was buried in your juices, but he still couldn't stop.
you squeezed his hand tightly and moaned when he, as if it were an apple, lingered on your cunt and licked your clitoris like ice cream, burying his face again in his paradise.
your hips moved seeking his tongue, desperate for more. his mouth surrounded your clit, licking and sucking.
“my beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispered, running his trembling thumb over your hand. he send waves of pleasure, a friction of his vocal cords and his teeth.
you couldn't contain those butterflies any longer, and you let them out on his face when he buried his tongue again at your entrance.
jaemin enjoyed it. every second of your orgasm on his face. he had your taste on his tongue, after loving him so much, giving you what you were looking for, teaching you that no one, ever, would make you feel like him.
he delayed everything you gave him, leaving one last kiss on your cunt and making his way down your stomach again, he pressed his lips against yours, letting you taste your taste.
his agitated and ecstatic breathing hit your face "i will never hesitate to give you a good experience, baby" his wet lips murmured on yours.
and with his kisses and caresses, he seals his sincere pact, that he will never leave or allow you not to enjoy. because he will take care of you and as long as he lives, he will give you what you need until you are satisfied.
because you were his angel. and what his heart needed most was to love you.
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© LAVANDIORS | do not copy, translate or steal my works.
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hoshieeyewrinkles · 2 months
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• Nct dream as bad boys falling in love with you. •
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♡ Notes. Alt. When you are the good girl who fell in love with them.
♡ Cheesy as hell.
♡ stereotypical bad boy and good girl.
♡ Fluff. Fluff. Fluff.
♡ Reader is innocent and sometimes a dumbass
♡ Not requested [ requests are open tho. Pls go through my pinned post before requesting]
Mark
~ randomass bad boy
~ spots you during recess in the hallways.
~ could not stop thinking about you after that, your cute keychain hanging off your bag, the little giggles you let out with your looser friends as he calls them. All had him going crazy
~ waits in the same hallway everyday even though he doesn't have any classes there, only to glance at you.
~ grins like an idiot after you shyly smiled at him once.
~ "you are such a creep, mark." "shut up haechan"
~ he finally asked you out one day after some great encouragement from his friends ( haechan threatening him to ask you out or else he will) . Was nervous that you might get scared because of his eyebrow piercings and bad reputation.
~ was surprised that you accepted, looking at him with doe eyes and a cute grin. He fell harder before he could even process your reply.
~ his life improves because of you. Your pouts and little scoldings you give him for not wearing a helmet or coming late. It all made him change as he avoided everything bad to make you happy.
~ "I'm sorry angel, I didn't mean to come late. Don't be mad please" Screaming.
Renjun
~ certified tsundere
~ found you so annoying at first. Why did you have to finish all the work at time and be such a good girl?
~ and why the fuck did you have you have to walk around with your gaze down? Can't you look forward for fuck's sake?
~ everything you did kinda annoyed him at first and yet he couldn't understand why he made sure no one bullied you or laughed at you.
~ glares at anyone who looks at you for long time.
~ "she is so fucking annoying, walking around cutely with that stupid banana milk like tf" "renjun you are in love with her"
~ realises he has a crush on you. Panics. Gets more annoyed.
~ walks you home one day making you confused. Carries your books. Sits beside you in every class you guys share. Lends you his leather jacket when you are cold. Brings you banana milk everyday.
~ you're confused but you can't help but feel all giddy in your stomach when he acts like that. You give him a cupcake one day.
~ he stared at it the entire class. He is not gonna eat it. He'll preserve it forever.
~ you pecked his cheek one day to calm him down as he ruthlessly punched a boy after he made fun of you
~ pulls you into a kiss in front of everyone.
~ chuckles so sweetly when you blush. You take his bruised hands in yours worriedly all while he stares at you as if you are his entire world. (Which you are)
~ "No one's ever gonna hurt you, princess. I love you so fucking much."
Jeno
~ Bad boy next door
~ you are his neighbour. All he does is blast loud music with his friends creating ruckus in his backyard. His parents are always out of town.
~ you are the new girl who moved next door with your strict parents.
~ he watches you watering your plants everyday. Notices the little glances you threw at his way and how you stammer to reply when he waves hi at you with a lazy smirk on his face. "Whatcha looking at sweetheart?"
~ he finds so you so fucking adorable.
~ throws away his cigarettes whenever you catch him smoking, you don't mind but he doesn't want to scare you. So he tries to change his appearance, hides his tattoos and piercings.
~ frankly, he doesn't understand why tf he cares so much about what you think but he can't stop thinking about you. Especially after you gazed at him with the softest eyes when he came home bruised. Asking him to come inside your home so you can bandage him.
~ he knew you had very present and strict parents (something which he can't relate to) yet you still took the risk to call him in.
~ he straight up confesses to you one fine day when you were aiding his bruises (a little routine between you guys when your parents aren't home)
~ he climbs through your bedroom window even if your parents are present. He doesn't give two fucks. All he wants to do is see his angel. "I haven't seen you since yesterday princess, let me have a look please"
~ you accept his confession without hesitance and reassures him that you don't care about his appearance and he doesn't need to change himself.
~ he falls in love with you harder than ever, god forbid if jeno even sees a scratch on you. You're his little treasure, his everything. He will fight against the world for you, will jump in the fire for you.
~ "come on baby, don't scold your nono pls" a true Samoyed.
Haechan
~ resident's bad boy.
~ has the most gaze ever, looks like he is the scariest person alive but is actually a little tease.
~ don't think he doesn't throw punches tho, beats the shit out of people just for leaning on his bike.
~ spots you in the midnight carrying a tub of ice cream in your hand, walking out of the supermarket. Yeah he thought you were a dumbass to walk alone at midnight.
~ tries to ignore you but fails when he spots creepy looking guys following you. They start to corner you and haechan sighs before stepping in.
~ takes out his pocket knife and the guys starts sprinting away. Haechan turns back expecting you to look at him with fear but was surprised to find you staring at him with jaw open and flushed cheeks. "what the fuck are you? A damsel in distress?"
~ he kinda roasted you but you didn't care, shyly thanking him. He scoffs before asking you to hop on his motorcycle.
~ drops you home and asks your name. He chants your name in his mind after that.
~ you were pleasantly surprised to find him near the same supermarket the next day, turns out he has his little garage there. "What's up princess? wanted to see me again, yeah?"
~ after that he looks forward to your little meet ups. He lifts you up and puts you on his motorcycle seat while he fixes the engine. Mentally gushing at how cute you look with your little brain trying to understand what he is doing. "Yes this definitely looks like a donut princess"
~ lets you ramble about the books you read and even tries reading them so he can talk about more stuff with you.
~ confesses to you on a random thursday under scorching heat near his garage. Kisses you so passionately when you smile at him, not needing to hear any other words.
~ "Princess, you got some grease on your nose." Literally will do anything for you.
Jaemin
~ weirdass bad boy
~ sells weed and anyone can tell that he is a high mf all the time.
~ you were dared by your friends to buy weed. (They tricked you to buy it for them)
~ you nervously went near Jaemin who sells weed in the basement of some sus building.
~ he looked so scary at first glance but gave you the sweetest smile once he looked at you.
~ he knew you were too innocent and nice to buy this shit so he tried to talk you out. Finds you so adorable as you stammer to reply. Eventually you didn't buy because he convinced you. "Good girls don't do such things, sweetheart."
~ Jaemin later wondered why he didn't let you buy it when he could have gotten some good cash but something inside him just melted when he saw your big orbs.
~ after a few days you were pressurized again by your fakeass friends to go inside his basement while they waited outside. Jaemin was surprised to see you again but the disappointment on his face was real when you asked him for weed again.
~ he goes out of the basement and gives the deadliest glare at your friends who then proceeds to run away.
~ "what did I tell you last time princess?"
~ you became friends with him after that and he protects you all the time. Picks you up and drops you home. Makes sure no mf comes near you.
~ eventually he stopped doing all the shady shit, though he didn't change his shady appearance because duh he is a bad boy. He did it all for you cause you deserve a good person and even though he is not one, he will try his best to be one for you.
~ takes you to ice cream dates every weekend and one day you confess to him. He went quiet for a few moments before looking at you deep in the eyes and gave you the same sweet smile again.
~ is the most clingy and softest boyfriend ever. So protective and treats you as if you were made of glass.
~ "No doll, don't lift such heavy things. You will get hurt, go sit there and let me do it."
Chenle
~ didn't even know people considered him bad news. He thought everyone loved him.
~ he is a brat, does what he wants and gets what he wants. Frankly just enjoying his life in the most rebellious way as possible.
~ he does illegal car races and that's how he finds you there among all the rich brats, though you weren't one. You were just here to accompany your friends.
~ realises he never saw you here before. Comes over and tries to flirt with you but was surprised to see you acting all shy and nervous.
~ knows you weren't meant to be here "You shouldn't be here in places like this unless your family is influential enough. Let me drop you home cutie"
~ drops you home in his sports car and asks for your number.
~ at first he just wanted to flirt around with you but days went by and he couldn't stop thinking about your little nerd talks.
~ you were such a breath of fresh air in his life. He didn't even want to take you to his car races because it's full of shady people and you are his sweet angel who shouldn't be in the eyes of such people.
~ but after you gave him your puppy eyes, he just couldn't refuse "Alright princess, don't talk to anyone and just stay here with jisung."
~ comes to you after every race he wins and you confess to him.
~ "what do you mean? I thought you were already mine?" Asksksk he genuinely thought you guys were
~ kisses you passionately after every race he wins.
~ he never thought he would want to settle down in life but he can't stop thinking about you as his bride, you are his future and his final dream.
~ "Do you even realise how precious you are to me?"
Jisung
~ the most quietest and minds his own business type of guy.
~ you were the one who developed a crush on him first after seeing him in the hallways with his leather jacket on and a small smirk on his face while talking to his friends.
~ all he does is hang out with his little friend group and beats people who annoy him. he was very mysterious tho.
~ you pass by the same hallway everyday to see him. You were sure he didn't even know you existed but you were so wrong.
~ he noticed your shy glances and cute nature everyday. He just ignores you because he feels he is bad news for you.
~ yet he feels himself smiling at random times thinking about your pretty smile. "Fuck she is so cute"
~ realises he should stop and one day gives you the iciest glare making you think he finds you annoying.
~ so you stop passing by the same hallway and don't look at him anymore.
~ he feels shit because he didn't mean to scare you. Asks for advice from his hyungs. They hollered and cheered because he finally developed a crush on someone. "Our jisung finally grew up awwww" "hyung please shut the fuck up"
~ he doesn't have a crush tho. He is straightass in love with you.
~ one day comes to you with a bouquet of roses and confesses in the most nervous tone ever.
~ your both faces were in the same colour as the roses. So cute omg
~ after that day you were known to be jisung's girl and everyone knew better than to mess with you.
~ you guys are the most cheesy and disgustingly cute couple. Often the target of his hyungs teasings. "I love you angel." "I could have lived my entire life without hearing those nicknames." "Haechan hyung please."
~ you tutor him sitting on his lap everyday while he nuzzles his face in your neck. "Stop kissing me ji"
~ "I'm sorry love, you are just so fucking adorable"
[That's it I have fed your guys delusions enough for today]
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karinasbaby · 7 months
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℘ 𝟑𝟒+𝟑𝟓 - 𝐍𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍 나재민
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❝ 𝘾𝘼𝙉 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔 𝙐𝙋 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏? 𝙁𝙐𝘾𝙆 𝙈𝙀 𝙏𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝘼𝙔𝙇𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏? ❞
PAIRING: na jaemin x fem!reader
GENRE: smut - oneshot (mdni) (17+)
WC: 2.9k
WARNINGS: unprotected sex, degradation/praising kink? belly bulge, pet names (angel/baby/sweetheart/pretty girl) also reader gets called slut so, jaemin has a daddy kink,making out, hickeys, marking kink, jaemin has a big dick, cervix fucking, choking, oral (f & m), multiple orgasms (and rounds for multiple hours), creampie and 69 ofc just pure filth really.
SYNOPSIS: in which jaemin decides to finally return back home after spending an entire day at practice (with a surprise).
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𝟏𝟎:𝟎𝟎 𝐩𝐦.
jaemin finally decided that it was officially time for him to go back home, to his favorite place, to his lover’s arms.
unlocking the door of your shared house he stepped inside, exhaustion radiating off his body as he lazily walked towards your bedroom, knowing that you would be there waiting for him.
𝟏𝟎:𝟒𝟓 𝐩𝐦.
your soft groans made his heart flutter as jaemin finally was able to penetrate your mouth with his tongue after multiple feeble attempts that ended with him pinching your waist till you finally gave him permission.
you could feel warmth pooling in between your thighs, you without doubt missed him and your body for sure did as well. your back arched into his touch when you felt his cold fingers trail low, past your underwear till it landed between your dripping folds
“missed me that much, sweetheart?” jaemin whispered to your lips before chuckling.
𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟎 𝐩𝐦.
the sounds of skin slapping accompanied by the wet squelching sounds your cunt made was enough to push you over the edge as your body trembled beneath his hold for the second time that night.
you moaned into his neck as he held your legs apart, allowing him to reach deeper and deeper till his tip was pressing against your cervix before allowing himself to spill all his seed inside of your warm welcoming walls,
𝟏𝟏:𝟑𝟎 𝐩𝐦.
you relished in his soft moans, whimpering against his length when his hands trailed behind your head to grip on your hair, pulling you closer to his hips.
jaemin loved seeing you in this state, on the floor next to his legs and your knees were bruised from scraping the floor for too long, your hot warm body coated in sweat at the heat of the room and because of just how needy you were. he loved seeing you breathless as you tried taking his enormous length inside of your tight little throat.
the tears that were twinkling along your waterline were released to trail down your cheeks allowing your face to glow even more after you felt his tip pressing against the back of your throat, you pulled away slightly once you felt an uncomfortable amount of pressure pressing against your throat, quickly distracting him by pressing your hot tongue against his base going upwards till you began circling his raging tip around your tongue,
“you’re so good to me angel.” jaemin moaned out, throwing his head back when you began taking his length back inside of your mouth, sinking down till your nose was touching his pelvis, gagging slightly when jaemin began moving your head up and down his length, thrusting his hips forward facefucking you.
he groaned breathlessly at the feeling of a mixture of saliva and pre-cum coating his abdomen, he could feel his release building up in his body, how the coil in his lower stomach was only tightening, begging for release, just begging to fill your pretty little mouth up.
you could feel how your warmth by now was sticking against your inner thighs, you could feel how you were close to your climax with no attention to your pussy at all, the sight of jaemin with his head thrown back while sweat beads were rolling down his neck, jaw-slacked as whimpers and moans left his throat were enough to help you reach your release.
tilting your head downwards, you quickly began suckling on one of his balls, your hand giving attention to the other one while you kept rubbing down his length, with your wrists aching you trailed upwards to stroke his length and the change in movements resulted in jaemin’s body trembling beneath your touch before he couldn’t hold himself back and release in your hands and land white ropes all over your face and chest.
𝟏𝟐:𝟏𝟓 𝐚𝐦.
jaemin’s hands gripped your waist tightly, caressing the skin lovingly every now and then as he guided your hips downwards allowing you to sink completely in his length, it was usually rare for him to allow you to ride him, not because he didn’t like it, he actually loved it but he was so used to taking control in bed that he never really got the chance to experience you taking control.
so who was he to decline such an incredible offer when you asked him if you could ride him till sunrise with your beautiful eyes gazing at him lovingly?
“you’re doing so well for me, pretty girl.” jaemin praised softly, his hand trailing upwards to tuck your hair behind your ear before caressing your cheek, his thumb trailed downwards slowly brushing against your lower lip while he looked at you with the same look in your eyes, filled with utter adoration and love.
one thing that jaemin for sure loved about you riding him was how he was able to admire your facial expressions, your facial expression when you sank down slowly on his length stopping midway as tears welled in your eyes unsure of how to fit his entire length in, your facial expression when you finally were able to roll your hips in a way that made his length brush against your sweet spot perfectly and your facial expression when he grips your hips before thrusting his own upwards
“taking daddy’s cock so well, you love it don't you angel?” jaemin continued whispering, slowly matching your rhythm with bringing his hips upwards to meet your own, he leaned down to your neck while his hands went upwards to softly massage your breasts leaving mewls of his name escape your mouth, your back arching against him pushing your chest towards him even more, his kisses trailed down till it finally reached one of your breasts.
still softly thrusting his hips upwards, his warm mouth wrapped around your nipple slowly, rolling and biting the hardened nub before letting go and continuing to tease your chest till he could see soft red marks littered around your breasts, and the sight of jaemin so focused on marking your chest was enough to make you spill on his length for the nth time that night.
𝟏:𝟎𝟓 𝐚𝐦.
jaemin was softly nibbling at your lower lip, drowning in all the moans that left your mouth as he focused on making his fingers reach deeper inside of your plush, warm walls.
your body was hugging his own very tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck tightening every now and then as you felt your release approaching closer, your lips by now completely swollen and cherry red from the amount of times that you connected your mouths to distract you from the unbearable pleasure washing over your body from in between your legs.
you were whimpering his name against his mouth when he positioned his thumb over your clit, rubbing slow circles around the bud in a teasing manner but he was sure that if he changed the pace you would undoubtedly reach your orgasm way before he was planning, so he distracted you by leaving love bites all over your neck, softly biting your ear, licking up your jawline and sometimes down towards your collarbone so he could delay your orgasm but god was he so wrong when you were about to orgasm for the fourth time since he sank his fingers deep into you.
𝟏:𝟑𝟎 𝐚𝐦.
the vibrations that your mouth sent down his length that were caused by his tongue sinking deep inside of your hole made jaemin moan loudly against your soaked cunt, his hips bucked upwards inside of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat almost making you reach your limit as he paid attention to how his fingers were disappearing inside of your hole while his mouth was sucking on your clit.
jaemin loved the way your thighs were trembling against his head, the way you tried to pull away from his grip when he began overstimulating you only to no avail as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist not allowing you to move an inch, you were busy with paying attention to how your hands were massaging his balls softly at the same time your wet mouth was wrapped around his rock hard length which still surprised you as to how he still wasn’t tired.
you moaned with his cock stuffed deep inside of your mouth when you realised that jaemin was teasing you by tilting his head to the side to bite your inner thighs while his fingers were still sinking deeper inside of you, quickly lifting your head upwards you began circling his raging hot tip with your tongue, running your tongue along his slit before pressing down on it harshly making his body jerk beneath you, “oh fuck- baby oh my gosh-“ jaemin moaned loudly as you kept this routine of deep throating his length till your nose reached the base before sliding upwards and teasing his slit with your tongue, sometimes being generous enough to kiss the tip lightly making his thighs shake.
jaemin quickly regained his senses after the electrifying sensations travelled up his spine, quickly suckling on your clit while he inserted three fingers deep inside of you, reaching the spot that had your legs shake completely.
𝟐:𝟏𝟎 𝐚𝐦.
jaemin’s palm landed harshly against the soft flesh of your ass making you bury your head deeper in the pillow, attempting your hardest to silence your moans while his tip kept abusing the opening to your cervix, with your face buried in the pillow and your ass lifted up in the air, pressing your ass against his hips harshly, skin slapping sounds resonated through the room, his hand that was distracted with leaving his hand prints on your ass was by now massaging the red skin softly, satisfied with the mark that he left while his other was pressing against your lower back, arching you even deeper.
jaemin kept up with his rapid pace, only making the slapping sounds louder with each thrust, the headboard hitting the wall loudly, but that was none of your concern as jaemin was reaching balls deep inside of you.
his head was thrown back while his hair was messily disheveled, baby hairs sticking against his sweaty forehead as he only focused on the way his length was completely disappearing inside of your squelching opening, the way multiple hand prints were visible on your flesh that jiggled with every harsh thrust of his
“you like that don’t you, my little slut? having daddy’s cock stuffed so deep inside of you, hm?” he asked while laughing, he leaned forward before gripping your hair, pulling your body towards his, his chest coming in contact with your arched back,
“horny sluts like you deserved to be fucked so hard till the only name they can remember is their daddy’s, am i right baby?” he whispered in your ear as his arm wrapped around your neck, only pulling you closer to him while his other hand began teasing your nipple, twisting and pulling till tears were spilling down your eyes while you were whimpering that satisfied him.
“look at you angel, so fucked out from having my cock buried so deep inside of you, such a good slut for me” he spoke to you, his hand that was teasing your breast trailing down till it pressed against your lower stomach making a choked moan escape you, “you feel that angel? you feel the way my cock’s so deep inside of you?” he said as his hand was trailing around the evident bulge in your lower stomach, the feeling of his fingers applying pressure on it made your eyes roll back while you were nodding wordlessly at the way he was speaking to you.
“has anyone fucked you like i have angel?” jaemin questioned, already knowing that he wasn’t about to get an answer since you weren’t really in the state of forming coherent sentences, pushing your body down against the pillow, jaemin’s hand sneaked down your waist before his fingers found your clit and began rubbing rapid circles around the aching bud.
you cried out at your body’s over-sensitivity, your legs trembling as your orgasm washed over your body completely only leaving you a whimpering mess while jaemin never faltered his thrusts.
𝟐:𝟓𝟎 𝐚𝐦.
jaemin hugged you tightly against his chest, while you tried collecting your breath from the aggressive sex marathon you both just had, jaemin’s fingers were trailing up and down your spine as your head rested against his chest, the soft sounds of his heartbeat almost lulling you to sleep before jaemin decided to softly tap against your cheek,
“didn’t think that i was done with you now did you angel?” he whispered quietly, his lips leaving a trail of kisses from your temples till your neck, you whined at the feeling of him moving again, you were already exhausted, you just wanted to fall asleep in your lover’s arms yet he still had no intentions of sleeping.
“we have a long day ahead of us sweetheart” he said.
𝟑:𝟏𝟓 𝐚𝐦
and jaemin truly does stay true to his words because currently he was buried balls deep inside of you while you both laid on your sides facing each other, your face was buried in his neck, leaving soft kisses around his neck, along his collarbone while he slowly pushed his cock in every now and then, it was half cockwarming half lazy fucking but as long as you were in each other’s embraces then nothing mattered to you anymore.
jaemin was cradling you in his arms, drawing imaginary shapes all over you hips, your waist and even your back only pushing you into a more relaxed state, how was he expecting you to stay awake when he also put you in a state like this?
“min i feel sleepy, can we please sleep?” you asked softly, your eyes closed as you felt like you were a blink away from completely surrendering to a very anticipated and welcomed slumber, “feeling sleepy huh? how about i wake you up?“ jaemin said stopping all of his movements of rolling his hips slowly in and out and you already knew that you fucked up.
𝟒:𝟐𝟎 𝐚𝐦.
your chest was pressed against the wall as you moaned shamelessly while jaemin pounded into you from the back, the warm water showering down both of your aching bodies only excited you even more to reach your climaxes, jaemin’s hand snakes up towards your neck, gripping it tightly knowing that you love the feeling of his big hands being wrapped around you while his tip was kissing your cervix.
you were moaning his name loudly, your knees almost buckling in if it wasn’t for the support of jaemin’s arm wrapping tightly around your waist as your legs gave up on you hours ago.
setting an animalistic pace with thrusting his length inside of you, it made even more lewd sounds coat the bathroom since now water was added into the mix, you were only able to moan as you felt his fingers tightening every now and then, jaemin felt the familiar knot in his lower abdomen only enticing him to fasten the pace,
gripping your hair softly he slowly pulled you back, making your back arch as you faced him while his figure towered yours, holding on the wall for support while jaemin connected your mouths, groaning at his taste coating your mouth entirely as he sucked on your lower lip, his thrusts were reduced to delicious circular rolls of his hips pressed flush against your ass.
with the slow pace you could feel every protruding vein running along your walls as he thrusted deeper, you lost your mind entirely when you felt jaemin suckling on the tip of your tongue while sinking his cock deep inside of you, “daddy- i’m about to- i’m so close- please” you whimpered against his mouth when you felt that jaemin wasn’t planning on fastening the pace and staying in this slower one till you orgasmed.
“please go faster daddy-“ you mewled but it was all helpless, all you felt was jaemin’s thrust getting rough and harder but not faster.
“i know you can cum like this too, angel” he groaned in your ear, and he was right, because at the feeling of his hands brushing against the swell of your breasts before guiding down and wrapping his arms against your waist tightly was enough to make you gush around his dick while you cried his name out, jaemin following soon after you with pressing his tip against your cervix and shooting his load into your womb.
𝟓:𝟎𝟓 𝐚𝐦.
jaemin’s tongue toyed with your clit, the feeling of your hands gripping his slightly damp hair only made him want more, to continue teasing you till you came undone on his mouth, “please- isn’t this too much? i’ve lost count of the amount of times i’ve came daddy please- let us go to sleep” you cried out, moaning loudly when you felt him insert two fingers inside of your abused hole, he only slightly chuckled at your words before pushing you to lay down on the countertop,
“what a careless wife, you’re not allowing your husband to enjoy his breakfast? i’m heartbroken yn” he replied before continuing his work in between your legs, he loved the sounds of your lustry tired moans and broken mewls only pushing him to drag out more pretty sounds from your pretty little mouth,
“for the love of god, you haven’t even proposed yet?!” you squealed out when he began brushing his fingers against your g-spot making your vision go completely white and you released all around his mouth and fingers,
“well i’m glad to announce that your patience has paid off!” he spoke while laughing before lifting his head and finally coming face to face with a shocked you that was only staring at the way his hand was holding a small velvet box that appeared out of thin air.
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A/N: karinasbaby debut?? no fr this is just a pre-release i decided to post cuz i was actually planning on making a debut with a heeseung one shot in october but here’s this :D
p.s feedbacks & reblogs are appreciated + my asks are open so please do spill any thoughts u have ! <3
p.s 2 this was proof read but if u see any typos pls ignore & if i missed any warnings pls do tell me.
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