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#professional hair care advice

rapunzlesbundles · 5 months

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Rapunzle’s Bundles

Website: www.rapunzlesbundles.com

Rapunzle’s Bundles specializes in premium virgin hair products, offering a diverse range of hair extensions, including straight, curly, and body wave styles. Established in 2018, the brand is renowned for its luxurious hair care solutions, including professional-grade flat irons and lashes. Emphasizing hair care and maintenance, Rapunzle’s Bundles provides expert advice on bundle care, ensuring longevity and style. Their product line caters to a variety of hair care needs, making them a go-to source for anyone seeking to elevate their hair game.

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neodermatologist23 · 14 days

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looking for online consult dermatologist

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deepestnightcolor · 1 month

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Oml I love your writing, I just binged all the Sam fics! I saw you take requests for Harvey 👀 any chance for a “confidential check up?”

Hello, dear anon!~ Thank you so much for both the compliment and request. This was my first time writing a full-blown Harvey fic - and I hope I did suffice :D

Thanks for your request, and thank you so much for your time and love! <3

ᴀ/ɴ: as I said, this is my first time writing a Harvey fic and I am still sick, so I hope it will suffice!!

PS: I hid two Easter eggs this time. >:)

PPS: maybe 2,5, one being a slight nod at @sashiavi >:))

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Harvey (SDV) x afab!reader

ᴡᴄ: 4194 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: medical misconduct, unprotected sex, light nipple play, seductive reader, Harvey's a little insecure.

☾ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴅʏ ☽

A secret that you'd never share? Simple and carnal, your secret was. Primitive, even. You had only made the appointment with Doctor Harvey to finally wrap the man around your finger.

You had tried it fair and square at first, you seriously had! Coming by whenever he had time, bringing him little gifts you were sure he'd like; trying to engage him in conversation.

However, Harvey always seemed so busy, so professional. Telling you to take care and stay healthy and giving you advice on how you achieve just that. Always looking out for you, always gentle in his words and behavior. And by Yoba, it made you want to break him even more.

Also, what better way was there to implement your plan than to catch the little lamb where it felt the safest and most confident? Of course, it was a little unfair, pretending you needed his help and skills to treat an injury, but then again you did. Just not in the way Harvey would expect. He had loads of chances to get the hint, but nothing had worked. Not even when you had fished out the shortest skirt possible out of your closet and wore it with a top that left barely anything to one's imagination, accidentally falling on your knees right in front of Harvey, showing off those lace panties of yours. No, that hadn't worked either. Harvey had let out a gasp that made you believe you had finally done something to him, just to rush to your side and ask if you were okay. If you needed help, if you were dizzy. Fuck did you want to cry out that you were dizzy for him, his touch. Instead, you gave him a sweet smile, fluttering your lashes at him as you told him no, you were fine. But thank you so much, Harvey!

You had scrambled to your feet and made your way back to the farm with your head hanging, and that was the point you decided it would probably need to be all or nothing.

“So, what brings you here today? Maru only noted that you requested to see me. I hope you didn't hurt yourself?” Harvey asked, scooting closer on his rolling chair. You were already propped up on the table, smiling sweetly at Harvey.

You had picked out an excellent outfit for the day, if you were allowed to say so. A blouse that was easy to open up and discard, and a skirt that seemed modest enough yet was nothing but of the mere purpose of covering up your lack of panties. And you were hurting. Terribly so, even. For him.

“Nono, Doc. I just, you know. I've been feeling some kind of way. Under the weather, you might say.” You leaned forward a bit now, running your fingers through your hair before twirling a strand around your finger. You were met with a pair of green-brown eyes, so full of consideration and empathy. It made you want to just sit on his face and make him spill all of his care onto your sweet pussy until you could feel it in every part of your body.

“I see! And how does that show? Do you have a headache? Do you feel more tired than usual?”

So sweet and caring, Doctor Harvey. Too cute to not bite.

You let out a sigh as if you were contemplating, biting around on your lower lip. “No, that's not it. I don't know how to describe it, it's…embarrassing.”

The doctor looked up at you again, putting away his notepad now. He gave you a sweet, genuine smile. A hand landed on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"There’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. This is a safe, confidential space; nothing will leave these walls.”

Go on, little lamb. Step right into the trap.

You leaned back a bit, pushing out your chest now. “Well, it's my chest. It's been so…so tender lately.”

A hum. That's all you got. A hum. Or so you thought. Because if you looked closely, you could see more. His moustache was twitching as his eyes flickered down to your breasts. Harvey was a professional, though. He quickly cleared his throat, nodding at you.

“Alright, I will glad- I would be happy- let's take a look, shall we?”

It took a lot from you to not break out in a grin; having the man break out in a stutter like that? It definitely was a step forward.

“Yes, please.” You needed to pretend to be innocent now - you didn't want to scare him away, after all.

Your fingers were quick to unbutton your shirt and your upper body was already bare before the doctor could even properly turn back to you. For a moment, his motions seemingly stuttered to a halt, his hands still clasped together from rubbing the disinfectant on them.

His moustache twitched again as he approached you, taking a seat on the chair again.

“Alright, my hands might be a little cold from the disinfectant, but I should be quick.”

Fuck, you hoped that he wouldn't be. You gave him a nod and what you hoped to be a shy smile, pushing your chest towards him a little.

And then, finally…Fucking finally you felt tender fingers on the soft skin of your breasts. It left you breathless for a moment, helpless as he traced the curves of your tits so expertly.

The moan falling from your lips really wasn't an accident, but Harvey, dear sweet Harvey, decided to let you off the hook. Ever the gentleman, wasn't he?

“Did that hurt?” He asked, his eyes flickering up to you, gently squeezing the flesh again. This time you looked straight into his eyes as you moaned, licking your lips. “No, it just…tingles,” you grinned, eyes following Harvey's dropping hands with dismay.

“Well, I did not find any lumps or irritations that could explain the tenderness. Did any lifestyle changes happen? Or perhaps a new medication?”

Pretending to be thinking, you swung your legs back and forth. One of your feet got in contact with his shin, slowly tracing upwards only to slide down again.

The man’s face was stoic, eyes trained on your face with a stern look.

Yet again, the twitching of his moustache betrayed him.

The thought that you hadn't responded yet reeled you in a little: “No…Well. Maybe kind of? You know…I've been having, well. Thoughts about someone. Thoughts about them touching me, wanting me,” you began, your foot wandering to his knee.

“Could that be it?”

A blush had spread on his cheeks now, and Yoba did you love to see it. He picked up the notepad and quickly jotted something down, then nodded.

“I assume that could be it-”

“And what do I do about it, Doctor? It hurts, after all.”

Immediately, his attention is back on you completely. “Hurts? Where?”

A vague pointing to your body made Harvey's hand reach out, touching your stomach. “Here?”

You shook your head, letting your foot wander down again. “Lower.”

His brows furrowed now and he let his hand slide towards your abdomen. “Here? Are they cramps?”

Again, you shook your head.

“Lower.”

He was hesitating now, looking up at you with an uncertainty you had never seen before, and it felt like another small victory.

“Could you…uh. Point me to where it hurts?”

Click - the trap was snapping shut.

It didn't need many words; you opened up your legs without an ounce of hesitation, revealing your cunt, all wet and ready for the doctor. “There.”

Harvey swallowed thickly, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. Words that wouldn't have him lose his license. It wasn't like he hadn't seen genitals before - much more than one would expect from a small town like this - and he had never been affected. So why was his throat dry now? Why was his heart pounding like this?

“It's getting like this whenever I see handsome men like you, what could that be?”

“It’s getting like…what?” by now he was thankful that he was able to get some words out with his head feeling as light as it did right now.

“I dunno…wet?”

His eyes went straight back to your pussy, staring at it. You were wet. And you looked delicious. But he was a doctor. A professional. He had done so much to be where he was right now!

“Oh! That…uh. That…it- well. It stems from attraction. It's so..so sexual intercourse can happen more easily, you see. All natural. There's no need to worry at all.”

He was pulling back, this damn professional. Even though you could see that you were getting to him. “But…isn't there a remedy?”

Harvey wanted to just sink into the ground. His head still felt light, and he could feel his pants tighten - he had been mesmerized by you ever since you had introduced yourself. And of course, he had noticed your attempts to catch his attention - he wasn't stupid, after all. Yet Harvey had promised himself. Promised himself to not get too involved anymore. And now you were here. Exposed, and seemingly ready for him. So close but- he had to be strong. Be a doctor.

“Well, for one…You could do some self-care. Masturbation is quite healthy for the human body and mind.”

Like hell he'd recommend you to have sex with someone else, not even someone like him could be so professional. You called him handsome after all, for crying out loud!

“Oh! And…how does that work?”

Your patience was running thin now, but you felt like you were so close to having him where you wanted him, despite him being so oblivious. His face was motionless now as he stared at you, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He was obviously looking for words.

“I-”

“Come on, Doctor Harvey. You're supposed to help me, aren't you?” You cooed, interrupting the clouding thoughts before they could really rain on him.

“But- that is the thing. I am your Doctor-”

You didn't answer him right away, your hand wandering to your clit first, giving it a gentle flick.

“And what if you prescribed yourself to be my remedy? I think you're the only thing that can help me,” you moaned.

The groan coming from his direction certainly wasn't professional anymore. A hand, now warmer than before, settled on your thigh. “You said it hurts here?”

Before you could look where his finger was pointing you could feel the pad of it trace through your wet folds.

“Exactly,” you breathed, spreading your legs a little further.

“I can't see much,” he murmured, his cock twitching painfully in his pants. “I'd need to clean you up first before I run some more tests...is that okay with you?”

The bobbing of your head was enough for Harvey to finally break down.

He leaned forward faster than he would have guessed from himself, his fingers spreading your folds, and by Yoba, you were wet. All the more reason to examine you closely, wasn’t it? Keeping you healthy wasn’t bad, after all. It was his job. And if that was what it took, he would oblige – for the sake of medicine, of course. Not because of his throbbing cock and the desperate need to taste you on his tongue; not because he was salivating from the thought alone.

His tongue slowly slipped out of his mouth, a sliver of hesitation lingering in the air. He could see your hole contract when you thought him close, he could see the shivers making the muscles of your thighs twitch whenever his hot breath hit the wetness of your cunt, and yet…wasn’t this wrong? Had he somehow taken advantage of you?

“Harvey, fuck, please?” A small rock of your hips followed your words. Urging him closer. He could smell you now, and holy life, did you smell good. Lured him right into taking a deep whiff, as if he didn’t know he would get drunk on you immediately. Yet he did know and he willingly took another deep inhale. The impatient whine above him caused his eyes to flicker up to your face. You looked down at him, your lower lip tugged between your sets of pearly whites. No words needed to be spoken, and yet Harvey still followed your order.

His tongue slowly slipped out of his mouth; eyes glued to your face. He wanted to see how you would react to that first contact, wanted to see if you felt as hot as he did right now. His pants were really straining against his aching erection, his zipper pressing against the shaft through his boxers. He was pretty sure those were wet too by now, with all the pre-cum he had been leaking. He finally pressed the muscle against your entrance, licking a flat, thick line upwards. And he took his time doing it; so much so that it had your toes curl and your thighs close in around his head. The brunet was quick to react, though, one hand holding your leg open, while the other busied itself with spreading open your pussy for his hungry tongue. His licking had become faster now, but precise enough to avoid your clit. He was, after all, only cleaning you up now, wasn’t he? Still, that didn’t mean that his hot tongue licking up whatever you gave him didn’t make you moan for him. How long had you been thinking about this? Having Harvey between your legs, in any which way he would have offered? Too long. And now he finally had his head buried between your thighs, licking and sucking you up like a starved man offered a meal after ages of going hungry. His tongue licked up and down, from one side to the other, but he still ignored your hardening clit with apparently the same professionalism he had ignored your advances before.

He gave your lips a light suck, then sunk his tongue deep inside of you. A groan left his glistening lips, eyes shut tight while he lapped at your walls eagerly, trying to get as much of you as possible into his mouth. “Harvey, oh fuck, right there,” you breathed, hand flying in his hair to hold onto the strands between your fingers tightly, giving a tug that was harder than you had intended it to be. But that only seemed to spur the male on more, his face burying deeper, tongue and lips working in unison now. And by Yoba, he had never tasted anything this good; so sweet, so…you; and you were addictive.

Your hips bucked upwards for him, if to grant him easier access or just because you couldn’t keep them down anymore, you didn’t know. You didn’t really care, either. Harvey’s moustache rubbed against you in a way that made your head spin, his lips sucking on you while he circled his tongue within you made your whole body tense. Even when pussy-drunk he seemed incredibly precise, knowing just where to brush past, when to suck and when to lick.

You weren’t able to do much anymore, just hold onto his hair and wait for the sweet, sweet release to wash over you and in turn, Harvey’s tongue.

It was close; you could feel it in the ripple down your spine, in the way you clenched around him, you could feel it in the pit of your stomach, too. You were dangerously close to the edge, and one well-placed flick would push you over. You were ready for it; the string of moans that left your lips were dirty, raw, carrying all the words you couldn’t form anymore.

You awaited the feeling of your orgasm crashing over you, not to suddenly feel empty and cold after being engulfed in the warmth of his mouth. But Harvey was standing now, his face wet and his glasses fogged up from the heat that had reached the cool surface, and yet you knew that he was staring right at you. You opened your mouth, but you didn’t trust your vocal cords just yet, so all you did was letting out a confused hum, to which the brunet in front of you smiled.

“You are all clean now- I believe you are ready for further tests.”

Fuck, you were. More than that. By now, you really felt an ache in your body, and the only remedy was there, right in front of you, fumbling with the buttons of his pants. His hands were shaking, enough so for you to lean forward, popping the button open for him. The doctor let out an awkward laugh, moustache twitching from the embarrassed rumble that went through him. “Sorry,” he whispered but quickly switched gears when you pressed a kiss to his lips. The taste of you mixed with his spit made you whimper, the appetite for him only growing within you. You wanted to help him tug down his boxers as well, but instead of fabric, you were met with the soft skin that had been hidden beneath until now. Your throat went dry; you just had to pull away and look at him. He was big, tip coated in a layer of pre-cum, his shaft girthy.

“Harvey, please,” you stammered, leaning back on the table so he could lean over you more easily.

The brunet followed you like a well-behaved lamb, leaning in again to kiss you. You could feel the tip of his dick against your entrance, slowly pushing forward. The stretch the head of his penis caused made your eyes roll back, excitement for the rest of his girth stretching you bubbling inside of you.

Harvey, ever the gentleman, took it slow. Rutting inside of you, centimetre after centimetre, eyes fixed on your face for any signs of pain and discomfort. He brushed your hair to the side to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how good you felt, how wet you were for him, and holy Yoba, did he ever feel anything like this before?

You had to admit, at first, the stretch did hurt a little, but with both him being so tender with you, so gentle, the pain quickly turned into a cloud of lust and despair. You wanted him, and you weren’t afraid to show him anymore. “Harvey, oh, for fuck’s sake, fuck me.”

A twitch, and then a shove that made him bottom out inside of you. A groan from him bled into the moan that tore from you, but that didn’t make Harvey pause. Not anymore.

His thrusts were shaky, unsure at first. He was just so adorable, wasn’t he? His eyes searched yours as if to ask for approval, as if to make sure he was doing this right, and it made your heart swell within your chest.

“You are so good to me, Harv,” you whispered, shamelessly letting your moans slip for him. The brunet’s eyes lit up, and he pushed his hips forward faster, more eagerly now.

Smiling to yourself, you let your head lull back. Harvey’s dick felt so good within you, filling you out with clumsy thrusts that steadied the more confidence he felt. Your back arched in as the brunet found a rhythm that seemingly fitted both your tastes; fast strokes that reached deep within you. The little grunts that left his slightly swollen hips only added fuel to the fire, only made you want him more.

Your legs hooked around his soft hips as he fucked into you with quick thrusts, body working with him to get him to go harder, more ruthless. Lucky for you, Harvey was a quick learner. Dick now fucking into you harder, red tip still pounding as deep as he could go.

The man’s face was a mix of pleasure and astonishment as if he wasn’t able to believe this was really happening to him. You just felt so damn good around him, walls clinging to his hot cock, sucking him off with each thrust. If he had a say in it, he would have never left your sweet pussy again, keeping his dick buried inside of you, thrusting into you whenever he deemed fit.

The moans and whines of his name that filled the examination room made his vision blur; his balls incredibly tight all of a sudden.

“Harveeey,” you gasped out, your hand reaching for his in an attempt to hold onto something again, fingers gently brushing along his knuckles before intertwining. The brunet above you was panting now, his hips never stilling as he fucked into you. His eyes, however, weren’t focused on your face anymore; they had fallen onto your tits that were bouncing oh so nicely for him with each of his thrusts. He just couldn’t help himself; it was too tempting – his head dipped down, teeth catching one of your pretty pink nipples, nibbling on it just to suck it into his mouth moments later.

You could feel the feeling start to grow inside of you again, your orgasm approaching you, even though you didn’t want this to stop yet. You didn’t want this to end just now, now that he was filling you up so perfectly, cock sliding against your squishy walls with such ease; you didn’t want his balls slapping against your wet cunt to stop just yet, you wanted, no, needed, more.

As if hearing your thoughts, Harvey picked up his pace just a little more, his mouth switching to the other nipple to pay it the same amount of attention. The squelching sound of the wetness between your legs was to die for, just like the feeling of his orgasm hot in his veins.

You just felt so deliciously good, better than any neat whiskey ever could have, and it made him go crazy. He felt hot, he felt like he was just about close enough to heaven to feel it, but not quite there. The bucking of his hips grew more desperate as he chased his orgasm, going hard and deep inside of you while his mouth busied itself leaving hickeys on your bouncing tits. The insecurity from before had vanished, and the groans, the begs, the whines, the praise, all coming from you was enough to keep it away.

“Harvey, I am- fuck, I am so close-“

He would have answered, had he been able to. But he had basically gone mute, aside from the whimpers and groans, as well as high-pitched moans that dared to tumble from his tongue. Instead, he just nodded at you and did his best to pick up the pace some more. It was just so hard with you sucking around him so nicely, drooling all over his dick. So hard to focus when he could feel you shake beneath him, making his body ache for the final push.

The bite to your tit he gave you, combined with his deepest thrust yet was enough for you. You squeezed his hand tightly, your toes curling and your back arching in as finally allowed the release to flow over you. You cried out his name, your sweet, pretty cunt spasming around poor Harvey, who was, admittedly, both absolutely pussy-drunk and empty-minded.

His breathing now came in forceful, laboured pushes, and if he had ever heard a patient breathe like that, he would have sent them straight to bed and run endless tests on them. But this – this was nothing but the sheer hunger for one person.

He suddenly slammed forward once more, his back arching in as he moaned out your name loudly, penis twitching as he came inside of you, cum painting your walls white. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to not lose focus, his mouth hanging open as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your legs were quivering with each thrust that sent shocks up your spine from the overstimulation that slowly started to nag at you.

Panting, the brunet tried to keep himself from crashing down on top of you, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. His eyes were still hazy as they took in your fucked-out expression. You looked ruined but also completely…satisfied.

Your hand was still shaky as you reached up to let it run down his flushed cheek, a smile on your lips. “That definitely helped, Harv,” you whispered, voice slightly more hoarse than it had been that morning.

Harvey cleared his throat, and after a moment or maybe two – maybe also three, he just felt so good inside of you – pulled out of you, shaky legs carrying him over to the sink where he wettened some paper towels to clean you up.

“I am glad I was able to help.”

Disappointment settled in your stomach. Was that it? Did he just go back to his professional self like the table beneath you wasn’t drenched in your wetness and his cum?

“But I need to run a few more tests. I think home visits would be best; I’d need different surfaces and times.”

Click. Two lambs had fallen for the trap

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moonastro · 28 days

Text

Juno persona chart

ASC in the signs

what is a juno persona chart? looking into juno persona chart gives more detailed insight of how the relationship and marriage overall of you and your spouse will be like. it also describes them in a sense as well. The Greek Goddess Juno is described to rule over love and marriage and hence why the asteroid is looked into for that theme.

the asc is our appearance, what we look like and how we are as a person outwardly. in the juno persona chart it symbolises how the couple within the marriage may be seen as, what aesthetic they give out and how they look together,

reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.

aries asc: when you get to know this couple, they are very comforting and very caring people, they allow everyone into their life and know the meaning of treating their guests right. they can seem to be very work work work however they do try to make time to spend time with their family and friends. they may be very mature with their finance and may even manage their finance professionally. on aesthetic wise, they are quite independent so you may see one without the other most of the time because the couple always have their own work to do. at first glance, this placements spouse may have noticed their drive, car, anger, eyebrows, head (hat, headband, hair, hairclip etc), their quickness, their vulgarity.

taurus asc: the couple within the marriage can be viewed or known as someone who were meant to be together, they have an indescribable bond that others cant seem to figure out. their family life may be well known, or even their families may be well known for example, this placements father may own a big company or this placement in law are famous investors and so forth. on the outside people may know them form social media, as they may also post a lot of their social platforms that allow them to grow a big platform on the internet. may also have lots of friends that support them and can be known for having lots of connections to people. at first glance, this placements spouse may have noticed their voice, accessories on neck, necklace, singing, their stubbornness, their beauty, their accessories in general, their glam.

gemini asc: the couple may be seen as very artistic looking in terms of wearing trendy accessories , style may be quite trendy and may also wear matching clothes. the couple may be recognised by their calm aura, may speak very softly to each other may speak very low tones with one another which makes others very curious of the couple. may be perceived as someone spiritual and very lucky. this couple may treat others in a very friendly and approachable way and always trying to include everyone in evens. always know how to have a good laugh also. at first glance, this placements spouse may have noticed their voice, their limbs, their communicative style, their knowledge, their sibling, their car, their social platform.

cancer asc: this couple are seen as very busy and chaotic, very independent and may be seen as quite energetic. they may portray a very nurturing aura when this placement first encounters other people and when people get to know them very well they are the mediators and love to listen to everyone and tell them their side of their story. may be known for their voices and the way they talk, perhaps this placement has a healthy way of communicating with one another and others notice or they just give very good advice and people just just come to this placement for advice. at first glance, this placements spouse may have noticed their chest area👀, their intuitive aura, their protective response, their comforting nature, their family, their roots, their heritage.

leo asc: the couple may be viewed as childish, may fight in public since taurus(throat) is in the 10th house (public eyes), may not care what others see and just act what others may view as immaturely. this couple may just get everyone's attention but may be because of difference in culture and religion (5th house of recognition in sag of culture). this placement keeps their home and family life a secret, they like to talk but keeps their personal life quite hidden and personal. spouse may notice this placement first because of their alluring appearance and may notice this placement because of it. at first glance, this placements spouse may have noticed their confidence, hair, their good heart, their fun nature, their child like appearance, their ability to stand up for themselves.

virgo asc: the couple may be seen as neat, organised and well assembled. when together they may be viewed as quite serious and may be seen like they are always on work mode. with 12th house leo, may be quite secretive, not a lot of people may see them or not even know that they tied the knot. may not even know that they are together or married, this asc with 4th house in sag, love to explore and learn about one another are very intensive about what the other has to say new about themselves, they love to keep discovering new things about one another. their families may have some cultural difference or the couple may have just grown up with different moral value. they may be known on social platforms as well with gemini sitting in their 10th house of public eyes. they may also be highly educated and may bring unexpected knowledge. at first glance, this placements spouse may notice their routine schedule, their pets, their good hygiene, good groomed hair, neat ironed clothes, may notice the little details.

ex. venus in 1st, may be glamourised about routine, routine may bring fulfilment, schedule may be aesthetic and may bring pleasure to both parties.

libra asc: this couple are quite loving and express their love and sensuality in public for others to see. they don't care who sees them because all they care about is the person that they love. this couple may find success on social media or get attention when in big crowds, they are the main character when it comes to a very big audience, in fact they may be very skilled at that. at first glance, the couple are very harmonious together, their aesthetic is very pleasant to look at and at that, this couple may get a lot of stares or double glances. at first glance, this placements spouse may have noticed their beauty and artistic representation whether its makeup, their perfume, their actual art, their fashion style, their soothing voice and so forth. may have noticed how graceful they are, may notice their skin also, may be very shiny and well cared after.

scorpio asc: this placement seems to catch attention from the public quite often. with leo in 10 house, they may act very bubbly, childish and love to have fun together. at first glance this placements spouse may think that they seem hard to read or even intimidating but when you see them doing their thing you get to see them enjoying themselves. they may also think they are quite mysterious and sexy. can seem to be someone that likes the occult and has been through many setbacks. when getting to know the couple at a personal level they may be quite detached from the idea of sharing things about their family to one another or they may be worried that the other may think differently of them if they tell the truth so they may hide their personal things for a while. this may cause frequent arguments and trust issue from time to time.

sagittarius asc: the couple may look like they are always having fun and you see them always laughing and smiling when they are together. the couple may be seen as quite cultural or culturally different, perhaps this signifies that its a biracial couple or couples that are different culturally. the couple may also seem quite normal in public, however they may receive criticality from outside eyes, lots of expectations from this couple also. when getting to know each other, it may feel like fate, every new thing the couple learn about each other they get a spark where they're like' is this fr'. like serious butterflies in the stomach because all the 'consequences' don't feel like consequences anymore. at first glance this placements spouse may notice of how open minded, fun, free, lucky, culturally different, educated they are. may also notice how tall, spiritually inclined, spontaneous, well travelled they are.

ex. pluto in 1st may have total different morals, cultural difference may bring transformation, here to break generational cultural setbacks.

capricorn asc: couple may be appreciated and respected and may be seen as so themselves. very well mannered and very respectful to one another. however, others may avoid approaching this couple as they may seem unapproachable or intimidating, they may seem very mysterious and others don't dare confronting this couple. also their day to day life is very busy and they may be perceived as self-centred as they may prioritise their schedule over making plans. if you get to know this couple, they are very independent and will say what they mean, will never tell what is not true and lastly can act quite immaturely. behind closed doors they love to freely talk to one another, without needing to worry about their public image, they may also argue over very little things assumingly from the pressure of the public eyes or career. at first glance, this placements spouse may have thought that they are very career motivated and very business minded, very mature and may even be older by far.

ex. neptune in 1st, may portray a dream like aura, may portray an illusion on their outward characteristics, may act completely different than what they put out for others to see.

aquarius asc: are seen as quite closed off, they may not like to be approached by other people. they may be known for their sexiness though, like they are a very powerful couple that just arrive with a bold aura. at home the couple love to chill, order food, and just relax with a homey atmosphere surrounding them. they love the practicality and they simplicity of life behind closed doors. at first glance, they may seem quite unfamiliar and something new for each other, at first meeting the couple may find each other quite conventional and unique.

pisces asc: these individuals are rather very well known with their free like nature, you see them moving and about all the time. at first glance the couple within the marriage may noticed each other as glamorous or just that they look good whether its style wise or actual appearance wise. this placement may also project how when at first meeting they may have imagined things with one another, a bit like meeting someone in a dream. people may know and talk about this placements siblings and may know about their home life but this placement may not know about that others know. however this couple love to talk with one another and learning from one another, communication is a staple in this marriage for sure. are very fun and portray a very humorous aura to the public, can be seen as the fun or funny couple that likes to never stay still always on the go and doing and exploring something, you never see them at their house. at home though they are very comfortable wherever they stay and fit in and make it according to their comfort.

thanks so much for reading!!🌼

#juno persona chart #astro observations #ascendant #astrology signs #astro #astrology observations #astro community #astro notes #astrology community #astro placements #future spouse

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hypewinter · 9 months

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Jason had been sitting in his living room, maintenancing his weapons when a circle appeared before him. It was big and swirling. It's hue very much akin to the sickening green of the Lazarus pits. He quickly realized the circle was in fact a portal as a teen stepped out of it. The teen wore surgical gloves and a mask over what appeared to be a hazmat suit. His hair was silver and seemed unaffected by gravity. Worse of all though, were his eyes that were that same damn color that Jason had long since grown to hate.

Jason grabbed two guns that were not currently taken apart and aimed them at the boy, taking a menacing step forward as he did so. "Who are you?" he growled. "What do you want?"

To his surprise, the boy didn't threaten him or gloat about some massive plan already under way. He didn't even offer some sort of vague, cryptic advice. Instead, the teen actually took a step back, covering his nose with one arm while putting the other up in surrender.

"Don't come any close!" he yelped. "The stench is already bad enough from here."

Jason blinked. What? "Excuse me?" was all he could utter.

The boy turned away slightly and dry heaved. "Ugh, so nasty."

Jason was having trouble figuring out what was going on. Even with his detective training. "Did you- did you just call me nasty?" he finally managed to splutter out.

The boy turned back to him, his eyes crinkling in utter disgust. "Uh, yeah. What else would you call a flea infested rat?"

"Flea infested-" Jason squawked.

"Listen could you just come with me so that we can get all of that taken care of asap," the boy said, gesturing towards Jason.

Regaining his composure a little, Jason tightened his grip on his weapons. "Hell no! I'm not going anywhere with you until you start explaining."

Despite having two guns pointed at his head, the teen only let out a deep sigh.

"Fine, have it your way." He replied, stepping towards Jason. The vigilante heard the kid mumbling, "You can do this. Think of it as handling a stinky baby. A very disease infested stinky baby," as he got closer and closer.

Jason fired off a warning shot next to the kid but the boy didn't even flinch. Fine, Jason thought. We can do this the hard way. He aimed at the boy's knee cap and fired. Only for the bullet to pass right through him. The boy neared him before picking him up like an unruly kitten. Jason went limp as he officially stopped processing what was happening. How the hell had this kid managed to lift him so effortlessly?

He didn't put up a fight as the boy turned around and led them both back through the portal, his arms outstretched as far away from his torso as possible. Jason's mind had just barely started to process information again when this weird furry, horned creature appeared in front of him.

"Ah Great One! You've returned," it said.

"Yeah yeah just hurry up and take this from me before I throw up!" the teen replied, setting Jason down and distancing himself.

The creature fixed the boy with a stern look. "That is not how we treat patients, Great One. Need I remind you? It was you who wanted to be my apprentice and all that entails. That includes treating our patients with the utmost professionalism. Regardless of your personal feelings."

The teen actually had the nerve to look sheepish, maybe even a little guilty. As if he hadn't just spent the last 5 minutes mercilessly insulting Jason.

The two continued talking for a time and Jason was more than happy to let them. It gave him time to process what the hell he was looking at and with any luck, they would let slip some crucial information. Instead however, they ended up discussing more about whatever this apprenticeship was before the weird looking creature turned back towards Jason.

"Apologies for the rudeness my apprentice has shown you," he said.

Jason muttered out an 'uh huh' in response.

The creature clapped his hands. "Now then, shall we get you examined?"

Examined? Jason staring blankly at the creature. Then he stared at the teen, hoping to gleam any info from their facial expressions. Nothing. And of course he did have his comms or his sos signal on him. Great, just great. What an absolutely craptastic situation he found himself in. He'd be sure to come back and haunt Bruce this time. Maybe even Dick. He swore that much.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #winter's tales

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lovewitchtarot · 4 months

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future spouse pick a pile

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading; take what resonates, leave what doesn't. Never use tarot readings for medical or legal advice, and for the sake of legality, don't act on anything that could potentially hurt you or others because of a tarot reading. Don't take this reading or any others too seriously. Remember, this is for the collective, not just one person.

pile one

random attributes of you or your spouse: fire sign, summer (summer birthday or when you two meet), light skin, dark skin (could also be olive or tanned), green (eyes or a favorite color), long hair, and blond or light brown hair (could be dyed).

numbers and letters for pile one: a,x,t, and 4

have you and your future spouse already meet? yes! you and this person could be from the same culture, heritage, or religion (or spiritual belief). they highly value family and traditions they are quite literally a "family man (or woman)"

personality and relationship with this person: this person may be a perfectionist, and this at times can hold them back because they are afraid of failure and making mistakes. They may abandon projects because of this. This person has to work through this. You may help them realize that it's okay to not always be perfect and help them heal their wounds, and at the same time, they'll help heal yours. Before this person heals themselves, it may cause you two to have a falling out or a rough patch because they may push you away out of fear, but you two will work through and come back stronger than ever. In this relationship, you will be treated like a queen or king. This person loves to care for and nurture you; they are very gentle with you, especially when you are sick or not feeling 100%. You may have met this person through mutual friends, and in the future, you two will share friends, and you will be close with their family, and they'll be close with yours. You two will celebrate together a lot. You'll celebrate huge milestones and little everyday achievements. This person will really lift you up and cheer you on. This person is very creative; they may be an artist of sorts, and they'll bring out your inner artist as well. You will be this person's muse; they'll make art about or for you, and they will love to look at you because, in their eyes, you are the most beautiful thing they have ever seen. You two will celebrate many ups and downs. You will help this person with grief and loss, and they will help with yours too. This person will bring lots of stability to your life, both emotionally and financially. This person literally makes the impossible possible; they can manifest anything into reality without even trying. You two will have a family together, but it may take some time and it may not be easy, but you two will be loving, caring parents.

pile two

random attributes about you or your future spouse: light skin, summer, winter, spring (you could have birthdays in these seasons or you could meet during this time, you could also meet during a vacation maybe on a vacation to celebrate yours or their birthday)

numbers and letters: v,a,i,t,6,7,2,4,

have you met this person? no you have not but you will meet with the next 3 years possibly sooner.

how you meet: you will meet this person after going through a loss of some sort maybe a messy break up on your end or theirs you will provide support for them or they will provide support for you.

personality and relationship with this person: this person is brave and eager; they may be adventurous and outdoorsy; they may play a sport for fun or professionally; I can also see them riding horses or bikes. You two will go on hikes and adventures as dates. You two may go to the park for a picnic, or you may go to the beach to relax; they love the outdoors. This person really brings out your inner child; they themselves may be playful and full of life. This person does have the downfall of taking on too much at once; they overwork themselves and don't take time to take a break or relax; they are constantly on the move. Before you two met, they had battled with an addiction or extremely bad mental health, but they put in the work to get better. They may have done this for or because of you. This person brings stability into this relationship; they are definitely a level-headed person, and they help to balance you out. This person is also very creative, and they see the beauty in the mundane. It is very important to be patient and wait for this person instead of being with the wrong person, because, trust me, this relationship is definitely worth the wait. This relationship is quite literally a gift from the divine, and you will cherish it forever. This person is definitely your twin flame or your soulmate. I see you having two kids with someone and really loving them. I think you would really love being a parent, and it would give you fulfillment in life, whether you think so right now or not.

pile three

random attributes about you or you future spouse: medium to light skin color, medium hair (length or color), brown or green eyes, brown hair, short, older than you, extraverted, spring and winter

numbers and letters: 8,6,9,3,5,i,v,u,o,a

have you met this person yet? no you have not expect to meet them soon within 6 months.

how you meet? you two meet at a busy place could be a party of sorts or just a get together. it'll be crowded which may not be your scene but they thrive in that type of environment and you may be mesmerized with how well they get along with everyone and how effortless it is for them to talk to people.

personality and how they are in the relationship: this person may seem like a player at first, like they aren't ready for a relationship yet and like they don't want to settle down, but don't worry; in the long run, you two will have a steady, trustworthy relationship. You made this person realize that there's more to life than partying and going out every night. You made them realize that they want genuine love and to have an actual relationship. This person has healing energy, like being the therapist of a friend group or being good with kids or animals. You and this person are strong. You have both had hard times at times, and sometimes, especially in this relationship, it may take willpower from both sides. You and this person are yin and yang, black and white; you two balance each other's energy 50/50. This person is also everything you have and everything you have ever dreamed of, quite literally. You may have prophetic dreams of this person, or you may sit and daydream about them and your relationship with them. You may have some trouble opening up to this person and being sensitive, but don't worry, you will work through this and open up to them, even if it takes time. This person has authority; they are strong, stoic, and protective. You will have many decisions in this relationship, and your spouse may even consult you about their decisions and choices. Don't let fear hold you back. Don't hide in your fear. Take the leap and do big things. You or your spouse may be very psychic, especially at a young age. You and this person had past life connections, and your souls are tied together in a way; they may be your twin flame or soul mate. I don't see you having kids, but you could always adopt pets or even adopt later down the line.

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1for5 · 1 month

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perks of having a basketball player mom.

paige bueckers x reader

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂🏀

your mom is a “cool mom”. she’s a very successful person. from being a basketball star in her high school to being scouted to uconn for her skills, and to being drafted the wnba.

she played with indiana fever, and stopped playing at 26, as she met your dad and had dreamt of a family. many people didn’t like her decision of stopping basketball, but as she will get better salary at a different field she’s also good in (marketing), and since she wanted a family, she didn’t care about all the negative comments.

she had a good career in basketball, but a woman can change her dreams. people should always be supportive of the goals women have, even if a woman wants to create a family. let women be happy!

2 years later, she had you. you grew up to be very different from your mom. you hated basketball, it’s not a sport where you excel. you excelled in ballet as all parents do, they placed you in a ballet class at the age of 3. you loved doing ballet ever since, and your parents supported you in every step you took.

as a shining ballerina, you’ve been studying in college at the julliard school. you started 2 years ago, and now in your junior year of college. you’ve been training hard to become a professional ballet dancer.

college has been really stressful for you, but luckily it was the last week of march, which is the start of spring break for you.

you book a flight to cleveland that week, as you’re parents are there to see your family friend. as a uconn star, your mom has been friends with uconn’s basketball coach—coach geno. coach geno has been your mom’s coach during her senior year in college, and has been family ever since. coach geno was your mom’s figuratively “cool uncle.”

you arrived at cleveland, and texted your parents that you’re on the way to your hotel. when you arrived, your parents were estatic to see you, asking you many details about your recent week.

after having a conversation, your parents invited you to eat dinner with your family friend. you said yes, and everyone started to get ready.

you and your parents headed to the restaurant, and saw coach geno at the entrance waiting for your family.

“its coach!” your mom said. “hey kiddo! glad you guys are here, glad to have you guys support our team.” coach geno shaked hands with you and your father. your mind began to think.. support? how..?

“how are you coach geno?” you asked, as your family and coach geno settle down on a table. “doing good! your parents haven’t told you this yet, but I’m actually here for a uconn final four game against iowa, and I’ve got tickets for you and your parents. you want to come?” coach geno explained.

so that’s the support he was talking about. iowa also rang a bell in your mind, many of your classmates in school are obsessed with an iowa player. caitlin clark? you think.

you haven’t really watched a basketball game for so long, but the basketball spirit is always fun. you answered a “yes” to coach geno. your parents, especially your mom, were very excited to come to the game. you all then had a good time eating lunch.

fast forward to the following day, which was game day. your mom wanted everyone to wear a uconn clothing. she gave you a “vintage” dark blue baby tee that has uconn at the front. you paired it with a white ruffled skirt and rubber shoes.

it was 9am, and geno was advicing your family to come at the basketball stadium by 10am as he wants the team to introduce your family to the team, especially your mom, since she was a uconn player.

you were doing your hair, a simple half ponytail, and your mom asked you and your dad if you were both ready to leave.

your dad hasn’t really gotten ready yet, and your family just decided to leave at 9:30am. this gave you more time to get your makeup done and prepare your belongings.

after getting ready, you and your parents travelled to the stadium. geno met your family at the front of the stadium, which was already packed with fans. people were also talking about your mom being there, many of the people trying to get a glimpse of a wnba star.

geno then guided you guys inside of the stadium, which had both iowa and uconn media teams getting ready for their interviews and commentaries. walking past them, you and your family made it to uconn’s designated locker room and waiting area.

you see uconn’s women’s basketball team, who were all very excited to meet your mom.

“you know who this is ladies, and with her are her family. that’s her husband and daughter” coach geno introduced you and your dad to the team as well.

everyone were saying their “hello”s, and after your mom having a small chit chat with the team, she and your dad were hungry.

“coach, there are many food stalls around the stadium right? im famished, ill eat first, ill come back after” your mom stated, fixing her belongings.

“yeah there’s a lot! no problem.” coach geno smiled. “hey y/n, you wanna come with us or stay here?” your mom asked. you were actually already talking to a member, nika, and was enjoying the conversation.

“can i stay here mom? i still feel full since i ate leftovers from last night.” you asked, your parents nod and told you to keep safe.

after your parents leave, the team got more chaotic as time passed by. you just continued chatting with nika.

“so, any hobbies?” nika asked, while offering you a small pack of doritos she got from a table. “well.. i would want to do ballet for a living.” you responded, accepting her snack offer.

“no way!!! do you do it as an extracurricular after school?” she said with an excited-and-suprised-at-once tone. “well, i study at julliard so, i do ballet for my studies basically.” you explained.

“you do ballet? that’s so cool! i cant even do a split!” kk butted in the conversation, with the others following.

everyone’s attention is now on you, all asking about how julliard works and your accomplishments. they were all just weirdly looking at your doritos, but you shrugged it off. they were probably all just craving it.

you then got to learn more about the team, how they were scouted, and their current training process and such. you loved everyone in the team.

kk is funny and kind, ice is sweet, aubrey is fun, nika is down to earth, and paige is friendly and sickeningly attractive.

those were just some of the team, and you were very enthusiastic to learn more about the others too.

“so, has your mom ever taught you basketball?” paige asked, her attractive voice and pretty face catching you off guard.

“oh uh, not really. her and dad play all the time though.. and i usually watch. not into basketball but i maybe know a thing or two.” you answered, your cheeks flushing.

“well that’s too bad, i wanted to see you hoop.” paige replied while spinning a basketball. kk then got it. “well i want to see paige do 10 pirouettes, you should teach her y/n.”

paige and y/n chuckled. “i would matic fail. y/n would not want to be friends with me anymore!” paige answered.

after about an hour of more chit chatting, it was now time for warm ups on the court. you were bidding your goodbyes and giving everyone a goodluck.

“i better see you shout chants y/n! ill wave at you when i see you!” paige said, tying her shoes. “bet you i will.” you smiled.

you then approached nika one again. “i will definitely shout whenever you score. goodluck nika!” you gave her a small hug.

“thank you y/n! had fun with you today! ill search you on instagram later. enjoy your doritos!” nika reciprocated your hug.

lastly, you approached coach geno, thanking him for letting you stay and told him goodluck. he thanked you back and gave you directions to the entrance of the stadium.

you then left the room, making your way to the entrance where your parents texted you to meet at. you then looked at the doritos once again, and saw a note.

you’re cute. can i take you out on a date?

if you would like to, don’t hesitate to text me

+01-NNN-NNN-NNN. <3 paige

you smiled hard, you can’t believe that the person you were secretly eyeing on was eyeing you too. well if it isn’t the perks of having a basketball player mom.

#paige bueckers #uconn huskies #paige bueckers fic #wlw #paige bueckers x reader

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ask-maxie-boy · 1 year

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Goonion's Ghoul (Part 3) [dp x dc]

(A/N we switching the official name of the goonion to The First Universal Henchmans' Union. Just makes sense, thank y'all for the advice)

(Parts 1 & 2: here) (Part 4: here)

"Before we begin, I'd just like to clarify a few things. Mainly, can I ask for your preferred name?"

"Is that a joke?"

"Well, I figured it would professional to come out and call you Mr. Cobblepot, but seeing as we're talking about a... certain aspect of your enterprises, I wasn't sure you wanted your legal name in the records. The Union takes confidentiality very seriously."

Oswald Cobblepot looked down at the scrawny boy in front of him. This was the guy that had Eddie shaking in his boots? He tapped the ashes off his cigarette into the ashtray, and scoffed. "Doesn't matter to me, as long as you remember who you're talking to before you open your mouth."

"Of course! As you wish, Mr. Penguin."

There it was. That smile just a bit too wide, just like Riddler had said. Oswald Cobblepot wasn't an amateur, he wouldn't let something like that throw him off balance. "Alright, kid, lets cut to the chase. Whats this all about a Union?"

"Oh, Mr. Penguin, I had thought you heard! The First Universal Henchmans' Union is a recently formed collective of working class freelance goons, henchmen, and grunts of all different colors."

"Hweh! And what do I care if a bunch of simpletons wanna have a party together?"

The kid's head tilted, a sickening crack! ringing through the room. Just for a second, its eyes seemed to glow.

When you deal with bats for so long, little things like that don't sway you.

"If they're so little to you in your mind, then surely anything they might ask of you shouldn't be that hard to swallow?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop, as the thing's face tried to imitate inquisitiveness.

Good. The Penguin likes it cold.

"You can toss away the whole intimidation shtick, boy. I didn't get to be where I was by bending over to every ignoramus who thinks they can get me to do what they want."

When you deal with Bats for so long, you start to pay more attention to little expressions. The way the shadows suddenly fall onto the boy's blue-eyed, black haired face as he tilts his head downward makes The Penguin's flinch, just for a moment.

"I promise you sir, the Goonion is a very real, and very serious organization."

Cobblepot sneers, cigarette holder angling upward, as he taps his umbrella on the ground. "I pay my people well. My lounge is up to code, too. You don't have a damn thing on me, and here you are trying to pull the wool over my eyes. Well listen here, boy, you don't run an operation like this in Gotham without knowing fear. Fear is watching every shadow, looking for the pin pricks of light. Fear is the cracking of bones in the room over as you know the jig's up. Fear is watching Gotham's shadow spawn appear from the darkness, promising the only thing he wont do is kill you. You're way out of your league if you think I'll bend to such a cheap trick."

When you deal with Bats for so long, you learn to keep your eyes open. You keep track of exits, you look for little disturbances, keep your ears ready for even the softest sound.

You pay attention to that little voice that says you're being watched.

"Mr Penguin, do I need to remind you just who these 'simpletons' are? They're the men who carry your goods to and from your lounge. They're the ones who rig up the Riddler's bombs, traffic weapons in and out of the city. What happens when deals go south, when plans are canceled partway though?"

When you deal with Bats for so long, you watch the shadows. They practically live in them, entering and exiting like they're made from the stuff. Anything that might give away their position.

The shadows are dancing. Pulsing with something even darker than Gotham. He swears he can hear the sound of a bat gently hitting someone's hand. Distant laughter, not natural, almost forced.

"You know, Mr. Penguin, The Joker is easily one of our worst offenders. One of his more interesting complaints is the lack of security in regards to chemicals. See, he doesn't really care much if there's missing inventory, or what happens after his plan, as long as there's enough for what he needs." A vial flutters between its fingers, eyes almost bored as a forked tongue slides between sharpened teeth. "I wonder, where does it all go?

Eyes, green as emerald and as bright as the sun burn into Ozwald's. A grin stretches wider, wider, quite literally from one ear to the next filled with jagged teeth. "Do you want to find out?"

...~☆~...

"...My... smoking habits."

"Yeah, honestly. Its like you said. Most of your stuff is up to board, and your workers are fairly happy. Its mainly just an issue for henches with asthma, though secondhand smoke isn't something most people enjoy."

"You did all that over my cigarettes?!"

"its fairly understood that the Iceberg Lounge is not a smoke-free area, so you can do as you please there, but when it comes to abandoned warehouses or other places of business, we ask you please refrain from smoking."

"I can't believe this."

"For what its worth, the goons understand its part of your whole outfit, and are willing to compromise. We have a list of alternatives that visibly resemble a lit cigarette, and will fit in your holder, but wont actually release any smoke..."

@akikkobara @thegatorsgoose @addie-lover-of-stories @apointlessbox @screamingtofillthevoid @semiprofessionaldumbass @sailor-goddess @malice-of-the-sunrise @savaton @spikedlynx @emergentpanda-blog @starlightcat04

#this post dedicated to thoth #dp x dc #dc x dp #goonion #dpxdc #dcxdp

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sh0tanzz · 2 months

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Who in riize do u think would like a partner who’s slightly older/younger than them, like a year or two age difference? N then who do you think would prefer someone who’s older and has more life experience? (Basically kinda in a who would want to be taken care of by their partner vs them being the one to take care of their partner type of way)

hmmmmm this may be a bit controversial I fear

RIIZE OLDER VS YOUNGER based on astrology~

reminder this is based off of MY opinions of their birth chart placements + aspects and is not exact fact unless I knew them myself and I am not a professional astrologer 🤍

Older

Seunghan

a lot of people think Seunghan would have a younger s.o but ngl..he'd probably like someone more older or at least a person that has more experience/more mature. I say this because the things he'd want the most I feel like he'd expect or more easily get from someone older. He wants someone that would be independent + confident in their place in the relationship, has experience in life in general (including partying/vices), and ngl he might want more tasteful luxury gifts so lowkey sugarmama/older gf vibes 😭.

Anton

I don't think he cares about age at all bc his chart doesn't indicate physical attributes minus the stereotypical feminine things (bouncy healthy hair, sweet perfumes, pretty nails) but I feel like he'd be best suited with someone older yk..like that would be best for him. Reason being, personality wise he wants someone mature, ambitious, independent, doesn't need to be babied/taken care of 24/7, can guide him, financial stable which is something you expect from a more mature/older person right ?

Middle Ground

alright ikik all my babygirls are wondering wtf Sungchan and Eunseok are doing here instead of the younger category but..walk with me....🤫

Sungchan

50/50 bc I feel like he can get what he wants from either age group. He has a cancer moon + leo venus so he may like reciprocity and for him and his s.o nurture or be attentive with each other OR he's ok with taking care of a younger/immature s.o & would be fine with being taken care of by a older/mature s.o. He likes someone to be educated, lowkey a little wiser and put together BUT he likes to wear the pants and be the lead/doting counterpart of the relationship. I just think he can get what he likes from either group and he probs is into cap risings.

Eunseok

Eunseok..probably just doesn't care LMFAO. As long as you're tall, hot, confident and charming he's all in. IM KIDDING OFC . but he can adapt to either relationship trope. He likes someone with a mature seductiveness thats independent and gives good concrete wise advice..BUT he also likes someone thats goofy and surprises him and has a teasing "hard to get" aura to them. So imo he'd go after either one as long as they were compatible with him.

Younger

(crazy I know)

Sohee

Sohee is typically the one being doted on and seen as the "cute" one and I just think he'd want to explore outside of that trope through his partner (sag venus tings). Plus I'm ngl Sohee's big 6 placements and his sun/uranus + mercury/mars aspects makes me feel like he'd feel kinda slowed down or restricted with an older/overly mature/serious partner. This is about to be contradictory ik but I feel like it’d be easier if said older partner had a more immature “cute” image

Wonbin

Wonbin probably likes...cliche dynamincs ngl..his taurus mars makes him feel more driven to the traditional/stereotypical dynamics yk so he's the masc and provides like the typical "oppa" type shit ykwim. Plus his Pisces Venus probably makes him idealize that type of stereotypical trope more. I also feel like an older partner would make him feel a more serious sense of responsibility and scare the shit out of him 😭😭.

Shotaro

Shotaro has a capricorn venus and I said in one post his ideal type could go either way and transition between being more playful+immature or sophisticated+mature I feel like he currently likes immature/younger partners (see how he dotes on Sohee/Anton the youngest members) but in the future would prefer someone more mature because that's just what I typically see in cap venus men,,they start with one ideal type and the older they get they switch to the other.

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blue-jisungs · 3 months

Text

ACTION!

author's note. first fic of the event!!! thank u so so much @slytherinshua for making this cute banner<3

genre. crack, fluff, coffee shop au, non-idol

word count. 1048

summary. movie major!vernon decides to confess to you, lead by an impulse (and a rush of caffeine)

as creepy as it sounds, vernon has been watching you. not in a stalker way, of course, but it just so happened that you both liked the same cafe.

and you shared the same classes, like literature. and you both attended the movie club. and! he sometimes saw you on the gym when he went to accompany work out with mingyu.

he realised this a while ago – he has a serious crush on you.

he adored the way you always painted your nails with a glittery nail polish, the way your h/c hair fell on your arms perfectly. you also had amazing taste – not only he loved your fashion style but also during the club discussion about movies, he realised you both share the same taste in movies. and tropes… and favorite directors.

or when, like right now, you chewed on a straw while your gaze was stuck in your laptop. the almost coal-black coffee looked sweet as hell when you drank it.

letting out a deep sigh you put the plastic cup away and rested your chin on your hand, looking out of the window to observe passers-by. the pleasant chatter of the people inside the cafe made it really easy to space out.

vernon failed to notice that he let his hand lie on the keyboard, his essay turning into a bunch of incoherent letters.

suddenly, the door opened and a gust of cold wind sneaked inside causing you to turn around.

oh shh– you looked his way, don’t look–!

maybe it’s the day he should confess? you live once, no? he already asked his friends for a piece of advice – chan said to leave it, jeonghan insisted to go for it.

vernon sighed, grabbing his stuff and packing his belongings. careful enough not to nudge the empty glass after his cappuccino and plate with the rest of a lemon tart, he put his precious laptop covered in stickers into his bag. drumming his fingers in thought against it for a moment, he precisely weighed his options.

whatever, he’ll try. the worst you can say is no. besides, he once described emma watson as “a bit foreign, eyes beige and hair darkish-blondish”… so, props to teenager vernon for being so creative but he won’t be so corny now. hopefully.

maybe… i think i’m in love with you and you just gotta let my love adorn you. no, too poetic. and he’ll sound like a weirdo. no, no.

vernon ordered an americano (extra shot, extra ice, make it nice) and grabbed it, taking a deep breath. casually walking up to you, he cleared his throat.

“can i?”

your eyes tore away from the window and a cute smile appeared on your lips, brightening your face.

“sure, vernon. sit down, i wasn’t being productive anyways” you nodded and moved your laptop to make some place.

“y-you know my name?” he stuttered before plopping down. here goes his coolness…

“yeah, seungkwan introduced us. and we share classes together” you nodded, observing how the gears visibly turned in his head.

“would you like to be a part of my movie?” vernon suddenly blurted out and he felt as if the whole cafe turned quiet. no chatter, no rumble of coffee machines working and glasses clinking. just you, him and silence.

the tips of his ears reddened but his features remained calm.

“what? dude, i know you’re a cinematography major but i’m no professional” you scoffed and started chewing on your straw again.

“no, like… that was stupid. wh… you know what i major in?” vernon was, yet again, taken aback. you nodded, taking a sip of the black liquid. the ice cubes in your cup bounced off the plastic walls when you stirred it.

“vernon, you’re a friend of a friend. if course i know. you know my major too, so…” you let out an amused laugh and it was the most angelic sound he’s ever heard “but is the movie like a project?”

“no… just… y’know how everyone crushes emrata, emma watson or like, emma stone?” he named all the emmas he could, seeing that clearly you were confused by his words “and you… you’re just like everyone’s favorite movie”

“what the emmas have to do with that though?” you blinked, apparently ignoring his previous sentence.

vernon let out a shaky breath and looked around the room. couples, students, businesses men in a hurry. everyone surrounded by the smell of freshly grounded coffee beans in the air.

“that you’re way prettier than all of them combined. and i used to have… no, let’s not go there. i keep making weird parallels to movies but what i wanted to say is that i have a huge crush on you” the boy said, fiddling with his thumbs and missing the way the straw fell out of your mouth. his eyes kept scanning the people in the cafe, afraid to meet your gaze “if you don’t know, let me explain girl. hmm, so what i mean is that saying you’re perfect is not enough…”

you scoffed at his adorable awkwardness. his iced americano began to drip on the table long ago, a small puddle of water forming around it.

“vernon”

“even if it doesn’t work, it’s okay…” he shrugged, looking like he was talking to himself at this point rather than to you.

“vernon…”

“we’ll probably fight from time to time but we’ll overcome it like it’s nothing–”

“chwe hansol!”

his gaze snapped up, eyes widening.

“not the government name?! sorry. what were you saying?” vernon rose his eyebrows and then blinked slowly. oh he’s such an idiot.

“you’re so cute” you snickered and leaned forward, resting your chin on your interlocked hands “sure, let’s give it a go. action! as they say on movie sets, no?”

“wha… are you serious?” vernon couldn’t believe this. it all happened so quickly and very impulsively… and… it happened for real.

“one hundred percent serious, you movie nerd. i thought you were cute ever since i joined that movie club… so why not?” you nodded gently and saw a white smile bloom on his lips.

“i… i kinda can’t believe it. but so… y/n, may we go on a first date then? movies?” he asked excitedly, whipping out his student id “i have discounts!”

main masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu

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blissfullyecho · 1 year

Text

some spring deep cleaning ideas for your apartment 🤍

today i’m focusing on deep cleaning my apartment because i completely forgot spring started on monday lol. my advice: always give your space a good deep clean at least 2-4x a month (or more, who cares) and always deep clean every season.

clean blinds

clean windows

sweep balconies

clean mirrors

organize under the sink (kitchen + bathroom)

clean inside drawers

move furniture and sweep/vacuum/mop underneath

strip wash your pillows

repaint over scratched walls + patch up holes

organize closet

mop inside the closet

laundry + fold and put away

change ac filter

change water filter (refrigerator)

pest control (i have it included in my rent but because i live in a semi-tropical environment, i do have crawlies come in sometimes so i buy my own pest control and make sure i place it inside and outside)

deep clean litter box

disinfect doorknobs and handles

clean makeup brushes

clean garbage cans and trash cans

wash bedding

dust ceiling fans

clean base of plant pots

wash/clean your sneakers

put your backpack in the laundry

throw away expired food

organize important papers

get rid of wasp nests outside

dishes

oven cleaning

clean garbage disposal

new air fresheners

fresh air from keeping windows open (turn cleaning fans on so the air can circulate)

wipe off computer, phone, tablet, and tv screens

scrub toilets and bathtubs/showers

put things back where they belong

spray and wipe off washer and dryer

sweep floors, then vacuum (i have hardwood all over my apartment and i still vacuum because it’s easier), then i mop (pine sol is amazing— i love the scent).

put in maintenance requests if needed

clean dryer vents

wash sofa cushions and pillow cases (even on throw pillows)

wash mildew off shower liner

get hair unclogged from drain

clean out your car

refill anything like pens, water bottles, etc.

steam clean carpets

have a professional come and clean rugs

clean welcome mat

replace lightbulbs if needed

toss, donate, and keep clothes in your closet and dressers

happy spring

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unstablenoodle · 22 days

Text

Just graduated, and I’ve been dragging myself by my hair through the last 4 years. here’s advice if you’re new to college:

Basic advice:

Make friends in your lectures. You will know some of those people all four years, and some of them are better at this than you. You’re still capable, but there’s always a bigger fish and you should make that fish into a study buddy

Get a job at a food court/ campus restaurant. You get a free meal, which might be your only one for the day if you don’t have a meal plan. Work can also be a mental break from academics.

Abuse office hours. Annoy your TA. make them scared to see you. TA’s are tired grad students and you won’t have a formal relationship with them: they are students too.

Study advice:

Flash cards are for review and rote learning only. 15-30 minute power review sessions for things you already know. If you’re going over familiar shit, do it in short, repetitive bursts.

Be the bitch with annoying decorative notes. Make it a game, it’ll force you to look at the material more. I will say though, make sure you decorate with purpose.

Those friends you made in lecture? That’s where you get the big studying done. If you’re going for a higher 4 hour long study sesh, bring other people. They know things you don’t and vice versa, so you can fill in the gaps for each other. This type of studying is for unfamiliar or confusing material.

Big study sessions usually only happen a couple weeks out from exams at most. Before exams, your homework is your main means of studying.

Just go to the lecture. I don’t care if it’s at 7:30 am, go. Participation points could be the difference between a B and a C.

TI-84 graphing calculator

Pub chem

If a professor, for some ungodly reason, says you aren’t allowed to work on the homework with other people, fuck that guy.

Your $168.99 textbook is likely a free PDF online.

Date someone who fills in your gaps. I dated an engineer I met in a physics class and it worked beautifully.

Mental health (my advice on this is very specific):

Basic advice: drink water regularly, eat vegetables, exercise. You know all this.

Stay far, far away from any substance called a “study buddy” or something like that

Get a hobby. Actually. Something to do in your free time to keep you from going insane. I personally like knitting and drawing, but it can be anything. I’d say avoid something involving technology because it’s easy to fall into that for hours at a time. Do something that engages your hands and your brain. You might not be creative, but creativity is good for you. Your painting looks like shit? The benefits you have reaped from its creation are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Good job.

If you are having any kind of hallucination (visual, auditory, presence, etc.), seek professional help immediately. I have lived half my life with the feeling of eyes on me and the presence of people who aren’t actually there and never tried to fix it because I could “work around it.” Just go get help. Hallucinations can also be a symptom of neurological issues and physical illness.

OCD and disorders involving psychosis are aggravated by stress. Your classes will stress you out. Disorders like this are scary and debilitating, so you absolutely need to be in therapy, possibly on medication. They also tend to be episodic, so you may have periods of recovery where your life quality improves. Do NOT be fooled: you still need to be in therapy even if you feel good. Preventative measures are the best measures!!

Social:

Get a job. Work friends are funnier and way more entertaining than any other kind of friend

I recommend a group of 2-4 people you chill with regularly. Movie night with them once a week (barring exam weeks and extenuating circumstances)

Talk with your roommates at least occasionally. It’s no fun living with total strangers.

Do not start smoking cigarettes. A lot of people are repulsed by the smell and it clings to you.

Hygiene. Mainly you should smell good. You don’t have to go crazy with an expensive perfume/ cologne, but shower and always have a decent scent. Also try not to wear stained clothes.

Not sure how useful this is, but it’s the first thing I could think of. I’ll come back and edit if I think of more.

#studybrl #studyspo #university #college #studyinspo

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withclawandvine · 7 months

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katsuki thinks he's probably in love with his administrative assistant. he can't say for sure, but he spends an awful lot of his time in the office distractedly sneaking glances, and every time he hears that bright, "good morning, dynamight, sir!" he kind of feels like he's going to hurl. it's the nauseating combination of elation at the excitement in your voice — you must be happy to see him — and the disappointment at the sound of his hero name. so professional, distant.

he's complaining about it to the idiots he calls friends over a round of drinks — a decision he already regrets. especially when shitty hair opens his dumb mouth to ask if he’s tried talking to you. and not just about work stuff.

he thinks about it all weekend — do you think he's rude if he's only bossin you around? do you see it as bossing? would you like it if he just... talked? what would he even say??

and after an immediate and decisive failure on monday morning (in which you chirp, "good morning, dynamight, sir!" and he just nods like always) katsuki throws himself into his desk chair, opens an incognito tab, and types: how to start conversations into the search bar.

(you might even steal a glance at him, as you often do, and wonder privately at what he's working on — his face is awfully red)

so when you pop your head in to ask if he's decided about that charity gala next month, he goes for it. and... well, he's never been good at this kind of thing and until now, he's never cared. you tilt your head, clearly waiting for his response but all that's going through his head is how lovely you are.

it reminds him of tip #2: start with a compliment. but obviously he can't just come out and say that. it'd probably make you freak out and report him to HR. so he'd have to go with something... milder. or maybe he should forgo the compliment and try #6: ask for advice.

as he's weighing his options, he remembers that the first tip was to project positivity and figures maybe he should smile?? one time kaminari told him he had a nice smile, and to this day, katsuki isn't sure if the dunce was pullin his leg or not.

it feels... odd — his cheeks are stiff, his teeth feel too exposed. he's too distracted by that to really think about what he's saying. "'m gonna make a donation, but do you think it's worth goin? you're very ..... sensible." there. #6 and #2 done.

now if only you weren't looking at him like he'd just jumped up on his desk and started doing an irish jig. he can't quite hear your response over the blood rushing in his ears so he just nods and thanks you, and pretends to check his email. when his office door closes, he lets his head fall onto his desk with a dull thud. what the hell was that??? SENSIBLE!?!?!?!

he spends most of the rest of the day avoiding looking in your direction and contemplating doing a tenure in the states after all.

he does not expect you to come back into his office and present him with not one but two tickets to the charity gala. he stares down at them, trying to make sense of it, and then it clicks — what you’d been saying when he asked your opinion on the event. … and these kinds of things are more fun if you bring someone.

shit. not only had he agreed to going to the damn thing but now he has to find someone to…. he looks at you. that soft smile on your face — a real smile, not a pained grimace — and his stomach flips. but surely you wouldn’t want to come to some stuffy party with him.

#YES !! YOU DO !!!!!!#this played in my head like a movie while listening to 'ballad of a homeschooled girl' by olivia rodrigo #everything he does IS tragic #he just…. never cared about getting someone to like him until now. until you #ahshdkwloj i want to squish him #mha #bakugou x reader #my writing: mha

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lattaeyongs · 2 years

Text

sugar pt. 2 (jjh)

original gif

↳ pairing: jung jaehyun x reader

↳ word count: 14k

↳ genre: ceo/single dad!jaehyun, secretary!reader, friends to lovers!au, fluff, slight angst, smut

↳ summary: They say it’s lonely at the top, especially for Jung Jaehyun, owner and founder of Jung Industries. As a single dad who just wants to be the best father to his daughter, he realizes that you make his life a little sweeter when you’re by his side.

↳ warnings: explicit sexual content (oral, penetration, thigh riding, dirty talk, rough dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, daddy & sir kink, spanking, reader has big boobs, implied use of birth control, etc.)

↳ a/n (1): read part 1 here. not necessarily required to understand the second part since most events in part 1 are explained here, but i highly suggest you do so.

There was a line between personal and professional life.

In a matter of seconds, you crossed that line after Jung Jaehyun, CEO of Jung Industries who is also your boss, asked you out on a date. Well, that line was sort of crossed after you attended his daughter's seventh birthday party and even after you became good friends with him while working so closely with him as his secretary at Neo City Tech and at his startup, Jung Industries.

It has been one week since his daughter Yeona's birthday party, the Saturday that Jaehyun arranged for you to go on a date together. Tonight, you would be dining at The Sunset, a hot new restaurant that opened downtown a few months ago. Apparently, there was a waiting list, and patrons that made reservations three months ago are only now able to dine due to the popularity this place has gotten for its delicious cuisine. But apparently, Jaehyun made a few calls and was able to squeeze you both in on such short notice.

You and Jaehyun weren’t the go-grab-a-beer-together type of friends, but more of a working-together-in-a-friendly-way arrangement. You gave him advice about managing his professional life because you knew his schedule and his personal life intimately as a part of your job, and that was how you got to talking. Never had you once seen him outside of work, except for that day that you babysat Yeona after her babysitter had to cancel last minute and then Yeona's birthday party. There was a part of you that always noted how handsome he was, how beautifully sculpted his face is, how his hair kisses his forehead in a way that makes him look like the boy next door, not the CEO of a huge, successful company.

But sometimes to you, he seemed like the boy next door, with the prettiest smile and the sweetest, honey-like voice.

So you have a tiny crush on your boss, and your boss may have a tiny crush on you, thus asking you out on a date. Many people have been in your position.

It took every fiber of your being for you to not squeal with giddiness when you see Jung Jaehyun at your doorstep, looking as gentlemanly as if he's going to pick you up for prom. Jaehyun wears a gray suit, designer, a white, pleated dress shirt at the neck, and a red rose is in his pocket, fresh. His hair looks clean and washed, and he wears a pleasant smile on his face. He holds out a hand after admiring how you look; you're wearing a red dress that hugs your figure, one that has thin, red straps and a sweetheart neckline.

"We're matching," Jaehyun notices in a sheepish voice; this was completely not planned. But you can’t help but notice Jaehyun’s voice; that wasn’t the type of voice that CEO Jung has, but tonight he's not CEO Jung, but just Jung Jaehyun, a boy who likes a girl.

You and Jaehyun walk arm-in-arm out of your apartment, careful not to make eye contact with people nearby, who are speculating that the guy you're with looks suspiciously like Jung Jaehyun.

In a visitor parking spot is a white Kia, an older model that wouldn't be immediately tied with a rich CEO. Jaehyun opens the door for you. "My lady," he says dramatically, with a jubilant smile. You smile as well, rolling your eyes at Jaehyun's joking chivalry, and Jaehyun gets into the driver's seat. The two of you make the thirty-minute drive downtown, and Jaehyun takes another ten minutes to find parking.

In the crowded streets, people are busy with their own business to notice the two of you together, and you successfully make it to The Sunset.

This is where the fun begins.

There's always paparazzi around here due to all the high-profile clientele, and you told Jaehyun that he didn't have to do this, that you would be perfectly happy doing something more lowkey like grabbing a beer, but Jaehyun insisted that you deserve something nice after serving him for so long and for so well.

Ignoring the stray flashes you can see reflecting through the window as you wait in line for the hostess to match your name with the reservation, you observe the scenery. The room is filled with warm tones, browns, oranges, burgundies, and clean whites and off-white. Not a single thing is out of place; not a single table cloth has a stray fiber and not a single inch of the hardwood floors is not freshly waxed. Such opulence is something you never thought you would see for yourself, only through a window or in a movie.

"Jung for two," Jaehyun gestures to the hostess. She smiles as she drags her finger across the old-fashioned reservation book, meant to give the place an old-timey, classy vibe, and when she sees the matching name, her eyes light up.

"Yes sir. This gentleman will take care of you," she briefly looks at an older man wearing formal pants, a dress shirt, and a vest, who takes you up a flight of stairs

The table that the waiter leads you to gives you a view of the other dining customers and you are next to a large window, which shows the city at night, beautifully lit. You stare in awe.

"Been living in this city for ten years, and the view never fails to strike me speechless," the waiter interjects when he notices you staring. You meet his gaze bashfully.

"Yeah," you agree, a lippy smile on your face. "Everything just feels so small after seeing such a view," you comment astutely.

When you and Jaehyun sit down on the soft, velvety chairs, the waiter changes the subject.

"Back to the food," he hands out laminated menus.

He waits as you two scan the menu for something to eat. Even after looking at The Sunset's website, you're still not sure what you want to order. Half of the meats offered, you never tasted in your life.

"What do you suggest?" You ask wistfully, trying to sound cool as if you're not at a loss about what to order.

"I absolutely love the creamy spinach stuffed salmon in garlic butter," he says, the light in his eyes dancing as he gives this suggestion, happy that someone wants his opinion.

"I'll have that," you smile.

Jaehyun looks up from the menu, looking sure of himself. "I'll have the roast beef tenderloin," he says courteously.

"Rare or medium rare?"

"Medium rare," Jaehyun replies as if his order is practiced. Of course it is, given how many fancy dinners he must have attended as CEO, dinners that you arranged.

The waiter acknowledges, writes it down on a small pad, and walks away. A few feet away from you and Jaehyun are another couple, taking turns exchanging kisses over the dining table. Another couple on the first floor, which you have a view of from your high position, laugh politely, with smiles on their faces, yet affection brimming underneath. You and Jaehyun remain stiff in your places. Usually, you both are able to exchange playful banter no matter the situation, but there is only awkwardness in the air.

The question that is bugging your mind: where do you both stand in your relationship?

Despite how high you are, you still manage to see flashes from the ground outside, from cameramen zooming in. Although Jaehyun has dealt with being a celebrity for a long time and has thus gotten used to being watched, you haven't, and your nervousness can be felt on the other side of the table.

"Y/N, I just want to thank you again for your services. You have managed to keep me afloat all these years, and I would never trade you for the world." Jaehyun's eyes look serious as he says these beautiful words, but he doesn't reach for your hand, only offering you a consoling smile.

"I should thank you for being a really great boss," you chuckle. "How many employers take their secretaries out to dinner at the hottest restaurant in town?" You say, your heart breaking a little as you avoid calling this excursion a date.

Jaehyun smiles, and by this time, and not long after, dinner is served. The waiter comes back with full trays in both hands, carrying them on his forearms as waiters do in the movies.

You're a bit disappointed with how small the serving is. Although the tray is large, it was mostly meant for the presentation of the dish. There were only a few pieces of stuffed, flavorful salmon in the center, on top of rich, green leaves.

You don't let your disappointment show.

"Bon appetit!" The waiter says with a playful glint in his eyes. "Let me know what you think." He shuffles away, leaving you and Jaehyun alone again.

Jaehyun's portion is also pretty small, and he takes his fork and knife and starts digging in after he puts a thick, white napkin on his lap. You imitate him.

The cheese and spinach give a fresh and umami flavor to the dish, but you're not sure how you feel about the slimy salmon. Only occasionally did you eat seafood, preferring something simple like chicken or lamb or potatoes, and the feeling is unfamiliar in your mouth. Sure, the meat is well-cooked, but the salmon taste wasn't for you despite how the waiter raved about it.

At how slowly you're eating your food, while Jaehyun is more than halfway done with his pork tenderloin, he gives you a cheeky smile.

"Don't like the food?"

You're shocked by Jaehyun's sudden words. You didn't think you were so transparent, but noticing how only one of the four salmon pieces is gone, you realize you weren't doing a good job hiding your distaste.

You feel a little bad that Jaehyun will be picking up the bill on a meal that you're not finishing, so you force another piece into your mouth, a tight smile on your face.

"I like it," you say in your most convincing voice.

Jaehyun titters. "Y/N, you wouldn't even fool a two-year-old,"

You laugh, deciding to come clean. "Okay fine. It's not that I don't like the food but that I'm not used to it. When I was younger, chicken tenders were a delicacy," you say fondly, remembering your childhood years. Your parents were middle-class, hard-working people, and growing up without lots of money to spare meant you weren't eating medium-rare tenderloin or stuffed salmon.

Then Jaehyun understands. He puts down his fork and says, "How about a run to the convenience store? I'm really craving instant ramen." Before you can argue, Jaehyun calls for the check.

"What did you think, miss?" The same waiter asks. You manage to pop two more pieces in your mouth, revolted by the slimy taste.

With a forced smile, you report, "It was good." You even give a thumbs up, which makes Jaehyun almost laugh on the spot.

The waiter is oblivious to these signals. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." He eyes one last salmon piece, and you quickly pipe in before he can ask you about that.

"The flavors were so rich, like a storm! I think I need a break," you try to save.

You're thankful the waiter doesn't ask too many questions, and he leaves you both after taking your dishes, fetching you the check.

After Jaehyun pays, you both stand up, and Jaehyun's hand is at the small of your back, leading you through the crowded streets. Some people start asking him for a comment about Jung Industries’ high stock prices, and he successfully avoids them, but you know the real questions they have are about you, the mystery woman who it seems that Jung Jaehyun went on a date with. Jung Jaehyun, who has been so busy with work that he barely dates, is seen with a strange, unknown woman, not even a socialite or an heiress.

You both are able to lose them by the time you are in the parking garage, and Jaehyun quietly pays before getting out of there and landing head-first into city traffic.

"I know a good place on the outskirts of the city," you say. Jaehyun nods, and you give him the directions.

The convenience store parking lot is practically empty by the time you and Jaehyun arrive, except for the employees' cars. When you walk into the store, it's as empty as you thought, and the bell on the door dings, signaling your presence. The girl at the front desk meets your eyes for a millisecond before going back to reading her magazine. You're glad she didn't look too hard; she's probably seen weirder at this hour.

So here you are with your boss, the CEO of Jung Industries, completely overdressed and about to buy instant ramen. Not exactly how you thought the night would go.

Jaehyun starts pushing a cart and you both read the signs hanging from the ceiling, labeling where everything is, and you both are scanning the aisles until you find the "microwavable food" section, where you turn. You drop five packets of instant ramen, and go to the nearby "sandwich meats" section, grabbing some pork wrapped tightly in plastic. Then, Jaehyun suggests that you get chicken tenders, for old times’ sake. You oblige, heading to the "frozen foods" section and grabbing two boxes before getting to the checkout. To avoid recognition, Jaehyun hangs in the aisles, giving you his credit card to check out the food at the counter. You do as he says and check out without any problems, and Jaehyun meets you outside the store

"Let's go to your place," you suggest. "Surely all this food is too much for ourselves to eat," you say.

"Yeah," Jaehyun agrees. "Yeona likes chicken tenders."

You and Jaehyun hop into his car after loading the food into the trunk, and you start driving back to his penthouse. After parking in the attached garage underground, you and Jaehyun lift a bag and carry it into the lobby, taking the elevator into his penthouse.

When the door dings and the elevator opens, you're instantly met with Yeona, playing chess with Mrs. Kim. No wonder Jaehyun thought she was the best babysitter for Yeona.

"Daddy! Y/N!" Yeona shouts, completely forgetting about the chess game and running to you both. Jaehyun drops the bag and kneels down to hug his daughter. You do the same when Yeona gives you a tight hug as if she hasn't seen you in ages.

"Hi Yeona, how are you?" You ask.

"Great now that you and Daddy are here. Mrs. Kim and I were playing chess, and she says I'm a natural!" Yeona says excitedly, looking back at her babysitter. Mrs. Kim has a soft look on her face as she looks at Yeona before standing up and talking with Jaehyun for a few moments in a hushed tone. You don't hear any of what they say, deciding to keep your attention on Yeona.

"Your daddy and I brought some goodies," you say, holding up your bag. Yeona looks inside curiously and gasps at the chicken tenders. "Yay!" She squeals. "Can we have them now?"

"Of course." You lead Yeona into the kitchen and arrange the frozen food on the toaster oven tray, watching as Yeona gazes with wide, excited eyes. Jaehyun joins you guys after Mrs. Kim leaves.

"Having fun without me?" He asks with mock hurt.

"Yes." You giggle. "Have you heard of a Jung Jaehyun?" You ask Yeona.

Playing along, Yeona shakes her head. "Nope, never."

"Well, I guess if there's no Jung Jaehyun, then I guess there's no ramen," Jaehyun has a playful disappointed face as he holds up his plastic bag with the ramen and meat.

"Of course I know a Jung Jaehyun," Yeona says now that the ramen is in danger, and you and Jaehyun laugh.

The laughs dissipate after Jaehyun finds a large pot and fills it with water. As he waits for it to boil, the chicken tenders are done in the oven, but not well-cooked enough, so you set the toaster again, much to Yeona's disappointment. After the second time you cook the chicken tenders, they are well-cooked and crunchy, after you had a taste test, of course.

In a few minutes, the ramen is done after Jaehyun poured all five packets inside and stirred, watching the fused ramen noodles separate in the boiling water.

Since your job is practically over, you decide to open the pork and start searing it on a pan. Jaehyun makes sure that Yeona doesn't eat the chicken tenders too early.

You take a knife and a cutting board and cut the meat into strips before putting them on the oiled skillet and hear the meat sizzle. You flip it over after adorning the pieces with spices, and wait until there is a nice char. Then you put the pieces on another plate.

"Now we can feast!" Jaehyun says, and Yeona squeals happily. Jaehyun takes out three plates, and you distribute the ramen on the plates, sprinkle the pork, and then add three chicken tenders for each person.

All three of you have the same thought and make a beeline for the couch. Jaehyun tries to find the remote, but Yeona finds it first, turning it to Peppa Pig

"Aw shucks!" Jaehyun says, careful not to use a curse word around his daughter.

You both sit around, watching for a few moments as Yeona explains the story (she has seen this episode before). You and Jaehyun listen intently until Jaehyun interrupts.

"Sweetie, I'm going to use the restroom, but why don't you talk to Y/N? I'm sure she's very interested." Jaehyun gives you sort of an evil look, and before you can narrow your gaze, Yeona looks at you with joy in her eyes.

She continues explaining and talking about her favorite characters, and after a while you both fall into silence, eating your ramen and chicken tenders.

"Y/N, can I ask you a question?" Her voice sounds oddly serious to your surprise. She looks from the TV, where she sees Peppa, Mommy, and Daddy Pig with George.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Are you going to be my mommy?"

You almost drop your spoon in shock. In the scene on screen, Mommy Pig and Peppa are hugging, and of course, you know why this question is cropping up.

"Why would you say that?" You ask, in your most gentle voice.

"Because you and Daddy went on a date. Doesn't that mean that you're gonna get married, and you're going to be my mommy?"

You chuckle at how innocent yet logical Yeona's remarks are. "Your daddy and I like each other a lot, so we went on a date just to get to know each other a little more." You reason. "I'm not going to be your new mommy just yet, but we don't know what the future holds."

At the end of your monologue, Yeona looks crestfallen.

"Everyone else at school has a mommy. They make the best food and come to all the school events." She pauses for a moment. "Why don't I have a mommy?"

You take a deep breath. You're not sure how to handle this. The topic of Yeona's mother has always been a touchy subject for Jaehyun. Recently after Jaehyun took in Yeona when he was at Neo Culture Tech, you asked about Yeona's mother and what happened to her, and you were received with the coldest look. 'She's dead' you recall him saying. 'At least, dead to me.' The words send an icy shiver down your spine. You're not really sure if she's dead or alive or if Jaehyun has any contact with her. After that, you decided to never touch the subject again for the next eight years. From what you know from organizing his schedules, Jaehyun hasn't been officially meeting with her.

Before you were stuck with answering that question, Jaehyun reappears from the bathroom, and you silently thank him.

"Hey look, daddy's back!" You swiftly change the subject. Yeona receives him with the same excited manner that she has, but there is a darkness in her eyes that you think you're the only one that notices.

One thing's for sure: Yeona hasn't forgotten this conversation.

Just like Yeona, you haven't forgotten the conversation either. On Sunday, you were pondering the events of your date. After eating and helping Jaehyun clear the plates since the maid went home early, you decide to take a cab home rather than let Jaehyun or his driver take you home. On Sunday morning, you got a text from him asking if you got home safe.

All of a sudden, you feel like everything is moving too fast between you and Jaehyun. His daughter asked if you were going to marry him. Sure, kids say the weirdest things, but there's something you cannot shake from your interaction with Yeona.

She's becoming too attached to you only after you have been with her a couple of times. You never really thought about what dating Jaehyun would be like, only crushing on him from the distance. Imagine if it doesn't work out. Can Yeona take it if she becomes more and more attached to you? Are you ready to be a step-mom? These questions might seem like they are really in the future, but it doesn't hurt to think about them now.

On top of all that, you just saw an article from the Daily Star, a trashy celebrity spotting magazine, and the headline reads "Jung Jaehyun on a date?" It shows a picture of you and Jaehyun at The Sunset and at the convenience store. You guessed the cashier was more attentive than you thought. Of course, you knew that the paparazzi and celebrity sightings would be a part of your life if you dated Jaehyun, but now that it has really happened, you suddenly feel anxious, watched. Not to mention if this becomes office gossip, where your reputation will suffer more than Jaehyun’s.

All of this stuff sounds romantic in the books and the movies, but they were definitely not what you expected it now that you really thought about it.

You decide that the best course of action is to maintain a strictly professional relationship with Jung Jaehyun, as much as your heart hates it.

On Monday morning, you quietly slip into work, taking your place at the desk outside of Jaehyun's corner office. You resume taking calls and adding events to Jaehyun's calendar as if nothing at all happened this weekend, and thankfully, no one has approached you about the article in the Daily Star. You're ready to put this all behind you.

As you sip the coffee you have in the flask that you brought, a figure enters your field of vision. You look up to see a woman in a white blazer and matching pencil skirt, wearing a silky blouse under her blazer. She wears a heavy opal necklace and matching earrings, and her hair is in a tight ponytail. You stare at her for a few moments longer than you should without saying anything, swearing that this face is oddly familiar.

"How can I help you?" You ask the woman. She looks about Jaehyun's age, and she clutches the purse hanging from her shoulder, expecting that you were just supposed to let her in just because she was standing there.

"I need to see Jung Jaehyun," she says.

"Name please?" you ask politely, opening up Jaehyun's calendar on your computer. She looks like she could be a client.

"I don't have an appointment," she says tersely. You stare at her, puzzled.

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Jung won't see anyone he doesn't have a previous appointment with." As you finish your sentence, you can see Jaehyun approach you from across the hall from the bathroom, where he took a five-minute break before he was arranged to be in a meeting.

"Y/N," Jaehyun says. His face pales at the sight of the woman in front of you.

"I was just saying that you don't see anyone without an appointment-"

"It's okay," Jaehyun says quickly, his gaze not leaving the woman. He gestures for her to open his office door, and she does; Jaehyun follows in suit.

You find the whole interaction weird, and the way that she looked so familiar also struck you, but you don't let yourself get too lost in your thoughts. As you continue with your work, you can hear muffled, angry voices inside Jaehyun's office.

Slowly, you turn around and face Jaehyun and that woman. Jaehyun is tense as he claws at his desk angrily, and he grits his teeth as he responds to the woman. She looks as though she is pleading, but Jaehyun is having none of that. In a few minutes, the argument ceases, and before Jaehyun and the woman can accuse you of eavesdropping, you turn around as if your attention for the past few minutes has only been to your work.

The woman bursts out of the office and huffs, walking away with anger and disappointment.

You've never seen Jaehyun this angry before. Right now, it seems as though he is having a personal moment, so you take the time to leave your desk, go to the break room, and grab a cup of black coffee, his favorite. You knock on his office door, with a weak smile on your face as you hold up a black coffee for him. Jaehyun curls his finger to gesture to you to come in.

When you walk in, you start to feel uncomfortable. "I brought you a coffee." You say. You step forward to place it on his desk. "You need to be in a good mood before you meet with Huang Shipping, Co." You say, laughing, but it was a harsh sound from your throat.

"Thanks," he says. Clearly, there is a lot on his mind.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You ask without thinking.

Jaehyun doesn't respond for a long time, so you think it's your cue to go.

As you turn around, you hear Jaehyun speak.

"That was Yeona's mom." You stop in place. Yeona's mother, the subject that Jaehyun never wants to talk about? You turn back to face him, shock laced in your expression. You wait for him to keep talking. Indirectly, you're doing your job – you're giving him an outlet to express his feelings before his meeting. But it better be quick because the representatives from Huang Shipping are notoriously on time, and that meeting is in five minutes.

"Yes, Yeona's mother. Kwon Yeonjoo," he says with relief, finally letting go of the secret he has been keeping for so long.

"Kwon Yeonjoo," you murmur to yourself. It was a name that sounded eerily familiar.

Sensing your thoughts, Jaehyun continues. "She was a corporate lawyer at Neo Culture Tech, second in command to Go Hyungwon. Brilliant legal mind," Jaehyun says, his expression impossible to decipher, full of regret, longing, and admiration.

"We instantly hit it off when I was chief analyst," he says, smiling as he remembers the fond memories. "We constantly were hooking up outside of work, so HR wouldn't get on us. Fraternizing was a fireable offense. Then she told me that she was pregnant."

"I was only five years out of college, and my career only just started. I couldn't get married so soon or have a child. And neither of us wanted an abortion either. So Yeonjoo had Yeona. I was under the impression that she would give Yeona up for adoption because she wanted to further her career, to become head lawyer at Neo Culture Tech, or start her own firm. And if she was a mother, she knew she couldn't do that. But," Jaehyun chuckles ruefully, "apparently she already decided that I was to be Yeona's adoptive parent. She didn't want to give up her child to a stranger."

"And you took her in." You finish the story. Jaehyun nods. So much you didn't know behind the scenes in Jaehyun's life, the person you have been working with for eight years. You used to see Kwon Yeonjoo occasionally around Neo Culture Tech when you were in the break room or heading to the bathroom; your paths never really crossed since she was in a completely different department than you, but also probably because Jaehyun was keeping their relationship under a tight lid.

"Yeonjoo asked if she could become more involved in Yeona's life. I," Jaehyun pauses, "lost control. I just," Jaehyun's lips flatten into a thin line. "She hasn't been involved in Yeona's life for seven years, and suddenly she wants to act like those seven years didn't happen. Where was she when Yeona needed her?" Jaehyun's voice is raw with emotion. "You know what Mrs. Kim was telling me on our date?" Jaehyun asks, more rhetorically. "Yeona apparently asked her who her mom is."

You gulp. You decided that you would keep your encounter with Yeona a secret.

"I think you should let her get involved in Yeona's life." You say suddenly. Jaehyun cocks his head.

"It isn't fair to Yeona to never know her mother just because you don't want her to meet her. It feels petty," you say boldly.

Rather than getting mad at you for rejecting his anger, Jaehyun smiles.

"This is what I always liked about you Y/N. You're not scared to give your opinion." At the compliments, you smile. Jaehyun doesn't say anything for a while, looking pensive.

"You're right. Every child has the right to know their parents." Jaehyun nods, all traces of anger gone from his face. Behind you, you notice two Chinese men, standing by Jaehyun's office. You quickly rush out and welcome them in.

Getting involved in your boss's personal problems? So much for a professional relationship.

From what you were able to gather, Yeona has been regularly meeting her mother on Sundays, supervised by Jaehyun. Things have been peaceful for the past two months, and thankfully, Jaehyun has not been asking about another date. He has been pretty busy with meetings from various suppliers, so he has not been able to address the way that you are distancing yourself from him.

But one day, you are unable to keep your mouth shut and work only as his secretary. It was a Sunday, a day that Yeona would be meeting with her mother, and when you answered the door, you were surprised who you saw.

"Jaehyun?" You ask. You feel a little embarrassed at what you are wearing; just some sweatpants and an old T-Shirt. You were planning a night in before you started the week again tomorrow, and you were expecting to be alone until tomorrow morning.

“What are you doing here?” You blurt out. Jaehyun isn’t wearing a designer suit, but a gray hoodie and some light-wash jeans. He swings his car keys around his finger, biting his lip as he tries to find a good explanation for why he is at his secretary’s doorstep on a Sunday night.

“I let Yeona’s mom take Yeona to her city unsupervised for the night and is dropping her at school tomorrow morning. I don’t really have much work to do, so I thought we could…” Jaehyun trails off, shrugging his shoulders. His eyes are crinkled as he flashes you a friendly, dimply smile.

A second date. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath when you suddenly feel the urge to take a deep breath.

“Oh,” you say, a bit more despondently than you thought. Jaehyun came all the way here to be with you, and although you don’t owe him anything for showing up at your house unexpectedly, you could use the company.

“Come in,” you say, a bit nervously. You step aside, and Jaehyun walks inside. You’re a little embarrassed about how messy your apartment looks, with an old pizza box still lying in the kitchen and a bunch of clothes and blankets hanging on the couch. Quickly, you scoop your clothes into your arms and smile.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, going to your room. You drop them on your bed and look into the mirror hanging on your wall. You take your hair out of the loose-ish ponytail it is in and run your fingers in your hair to quickly comb any unruly strands. You straighten your shirt and realize that there’s a sauce stain. You curse to yourself and go into your closet, grabbing another T-Shirt. After a few moments of analyzing your appearance, you come out of your room and see Jaehyun in your living room, eyeing the pictures of your family hanging on the wall.

“Do you want anything?” You ask, afraid that you were interrupting him.

“Just some water, thank you,” Jaehyun says. You go into the kitchen, get a cup, and fill some water into it. You hand it to Jaehyun, who is still observing your family photos.

“Sorry it isn’t mineral water and just plain old tap water,” you chuckle. After years of knowing Jaehyun, you know that he only drinks mineral water.

“That’s okay,” Jaehyun responds, a small smile on his face. A moment of silence ensues between the two of you.

“You know a lot about me and my life, but I don’t really know anything about you or your family,” Jaehyun says.

You knit your fingers over your stomach, the same pose you have when you’re reporting to Jaehyun at the office.

“Because it’s my job to know about your life, and I’m just your secretary,” you say formally, despite how informal the current occasion is, given your setting and your outfit.

“You know you’re not just my secretary,” Jaehyun says impulsively, turning his gaze to you; he is searching your expression, wondering what happened to the girl he went on a date with a short two months ago.

You feel uncomfortable under his powerful gaze, so you clear your throat in an attempt to regain control of the situation.

“Want to watch a movie or something?” You ask, changing the subject. Jaehyun nods, and he follows you to the couch.

“Should I make popcorn?” You ask.

“Sure,” Jaehyun replies. You go back into the kitchen and open a cupboard where you keep the microwavable popcorn, and you pop it into the microwave for two and a half minutes. You open the microwave to a steaming bag, and after a few moments, you pull open the bag, pouring the contents into a bowl. You appear back in the living room and place the popcorn between you and Jaehyun.

Jaehyun looks disappointed, only for a moment.

You grab a blanket off the couch and spread it across your lap. Jaehyun takes another blanket and does the same. Taking the remote from the coffee table, you turn on the TV.

“What do you want to watch?” You ask politely.

“What’s there?” He asks.

“Let’s see,” you say a little awkwardly. You open your Netflix account, anxious that your boss, the man who is giving you employment, is looking at what is suggested for you or what you have watched recently, but you take a deep sigh and open your “watch later” list, which after filibustering for ten minutes, made you realize that you would be more productive browsing the shows Netflix recommended you. Finally, you both agreed on a documentary about otters, and you start the show.

Periodically, you get some popcorn and check your phone, but your attention remains primarily on the documentary as you try to forget that your boss is sitting beside you in a sweatshirt and jeans, watching an otter documentary – not exactly where you thought your Sunday night would go! It seems as if the film is the last thing on Jaehyun’s mind as he stares into the side of your face longingly, but he masks his looks as he takes a few pieces of popcorn at a time, using it as a chance to look at your face.

When the forty-minute documentary is over, the popcorn is long gone. Jaehyun takes this as a chance to put the popcorn bowl on the coffee table, and he scoots closer to you.

Your heart is racing with newfound fervor as you can feel the heat from Jaehyun’s body radiate. It’s as if you can feel the disappointment in the air as Jaehyun wishes for you to be less distant, but he just doesn’t know the extent of it all. You’re not doing this because you don’t have an insane crush on him, but because there are repercussions to your actions, especially if your crush is the CEO of Jung Industries who has a young daughter already.

Jaehyun turns to face your cheek, one leg hanging from the couch and the other folded. You try to ignore him, fiddling with the remote.

“I think there’s a lion documentary by this same documentary maker–” Your dialogue evaporates from your tongue as Jaehyun grabs your wrist. Now, you’re forced to look at him.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Jaehyun asks directly. You weren’t ready for such direct confrontation, searching your brain for a professional response.

“I’m not ignoring you. I do whatever you ask at work–”

Jaehyun’s hands are suddenly at your waist as he presses you against the couch. Your breath catches in your throat.

“We’re not at work.” He murmurs. The space between you both is alarmingly low. No more words need to be said to convey the way Jaehyun feels about you right now. You can feel your pussy lurch with arousal; Jaehyun has never been this close to you.

“You should know better,” you say softly. “We need to think about the consequences. About our futures.”

“I’ve been thinking about the future for so long,” His breath hits your skin. For the past four years, all he was thinking about were ways to make Jung Industries more successful than it was. Jaehyun took a loan from his well-off parents to start his own company, one of his oldest dreams, and if he wasted their hard-earned money, then he would never forgive himself. He hadn’t the time to think of love or relationships, especially since he wanted Yeona to have a steady life. But he can’t just ignore his manly urges, manly urges that have been festering slowly for eight years. “I want to think in the present.”

With that, he seals your lips with a kiss. You don’t want to keep kissing him, you want to pull away and tell him that if your relationship flourishes, you’re not ready to be a step-mom, or that CEOs shouldn’t be making out with their secretaries, but you don’t care either. All these years of pent-up sexual tension between you both is released as Jaehyun brings you onto his lap, and you can’t help but feel warm and blissful at this moment. Your bodies are pressed up against each other as Jaehyun readjusts his position and lies down on his back on the couch, and not for a second does he let you go, forcing you on top of him. He brings his hands down to your clothed butt and gives it a squeeze, and you moan in Jaehyun’s mouth at the feeling of his firm, confident hands. You can feel his length grow against your upper thigh as your bodies readjust. Jaehyun’s hands slip under your shirt, caressing his body. You straddle his thigh, your pussy throbbing at how it’s brushing his jeans, how close you are to his length.

“That’s hot,” he mutters before kissing you again, nibbling on your lower lip. He takes his time with you; it’s been driving him crazy to see you come to work for the past eight years, to see you in a tight blouse and pencil skirt that highlighted your womanly curves and not touch you at all. He wants to feel all of you, and he wants to feel you now.

Jaehyun slides you out of your T-Shirt, leaving you with a tight bra and your sweatpants. He plays with the clasps of your bra, but you move away, getting off of his body after you feel a sinking feeling in your gut. This feels wrong. This wasn’t just making out anymore, you realize as Jaehyun’s hands grip your naked waist, looking up at you hungrily.

“Jaehyun, we should really think about this. How am I supposed to come to work every day now?” You ask breathlessly. Your breasts bob as you pant, and Jaehyun’s gaze doesn’t leave your chest as he eyes it shamelessly.

“The same way you’ve been coming to work for the past eight years.” Jaehyun has you trapped in his arms as he leans over slowly and pins you down. He brings his lips to the shell of your ear. “Only this time, you’ll know what my cock feels like.”

Jaehyun doesn’t let you second guess him when he slides off his jeans, throwing them down, leaving you to see his white underwear, an erected, aroused member poking through.

“You see,” Jaehyun murmurs, “You’ve been doing this to me. I think you should pay.” You watch Jaehyun’s eyes as he drinks in your body lustfully.

You can’t keep your eyes off of his massive erection as your body is in between his legs. You realize that you want him, no matter the consequences; you can feel your being become ensnared with lust, all sirens of reason becoming quieter.

“Turn around,” Jaehyun commands in that CEO voice you’ve been hearing for years that suddenly makes your pussy feel tight with arousal. You bend your leg a little, and your knee meets his dick gently.

“Make me,” you say defiantly, a confident smirk on your face.

Jaehyun gets off the couch and without hesitation grabs your arms. Forcefully, he turns you around as if you weigh nothing, and your chest is pressed against the couch cushions. In one fell swoop, Jaehyun kicks off his underwear, and you can see a flash of white hit the ground. Jaehyun’s fingers grasp the waistband of your sweatpants and underwear on your hips and pulls it down to your ankles, removing it effortlessly and throwing it away. You whine as Jaehyun repositions himself on top of you, your body between his legs, his hands gripping your ankles and moving up your calves, your thighs. He can feel wetness on your bare pussy.

“Wet so soon?” He murmurs in your ear. You nod, and Jaehyun forcefully takes off your underwear and throws it carelessly. “I’ll take care of that later.” Jaehyun squeezes your bare ass affectionately. He is in absolute control, and he loves it. The dominance he feels in the office with the way everyone works under him isn’t enough, and he needs to establish his dominance in sex, his dominance on you, who have been making him horny for years behind closed doors.

You’re not at all prepared for the way Jaehyun thrusts you from behind. You scream so loud that you’re pretty sure that your neighbors heard you.

“One thrust for every year you’ve worked for me. Two,” he continues. You squeal out in pain at how rough he is, at how tightly his hands grip your skin, at how he shows you no mercy as he satisfies his erection, his craving to make you as submissive as a child. You thrash around, but with the way Jaehyun is perched on top of you, he can have his way with you.

“Four,” he counts. He takes off his sweatshirt and it lands on top of his underwear. He takes off the shirt under his sweatshirt and flings it over the couch; he is completely naked.

“Five,” continues methodically. His hands are on your back as he has a good view of the clasps of your bra, and he unhooks them. He cleanly brings the straps down your shoulders and your arms, and after he removes it from your body, he yanks the article of clothing from under you, throwing it on top of his other discarded clothes.

“Six.” His fingers become the barrier between the couch cushion and your stomach. They trail up your hot skin until he squeezes your breasts. You feel hysterical at the pleasure that’s coursing through your veins.

“Seven, eight,” Jaehyun finishes counting, yet he doesn’t stop.

“You cheated,” you whine feeling his continued hard thrusts. Jaehyun doesn’t let go of your breasts, only leaning in closer, and bringing his lips to your ears.

“No, I didn’t. I make the rules, darling.” You’re screaming with pleasure, and you start to feel dizzy with the way he is groping your breasts, rubbing your nipples, and thrusting into you, all at the same time without a break.

“Call me Mr. Jung,” he mutters into your ear. “Then I’ll stop.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Jung,” you say obediently.

“Nice bonus,” Jaehyun says. He relaxes his grip on you as you turn around as a means to face him. Jaehyun is completely naked, and you don’t hurry as you gaze at his bare body. Jaehyun is somewhat of a working-out aficionado, so his arms are muscular, and his stomach is toned. The sheer power that you’ve been imagining under his dress shirt at work is no longer a fantasy but something completely real as Jaehyun is naked in front of you.

His dick is dripping with fluid, and as you watch this, Jaehyun roughly takes your hair. You yelp as his grip doesn’t slacken until he lies down on the couch and brings your head to his dick.

“You know you want to do it, my dirty little slut,” he says. You carefully place a hand on his thigh as you wrap your lips around his cock, sucking whatever is left. You gulp the whitish fluid down obediently, and you can hear Jaehyun moan. The foreign sounds from your boss make you hesitate as you suck his cock, but Jaehyun spanks your ass.

Hard.

“More, baby, more.” He continues to groan at the pleasure of your lips on his cock, and after a few minutes of sucking, you unwrap your lips from his cock, a few drops of his fluid dripping on your chin. You stare at Jaehyun with wide eyes, eyes that are ready for Jaehyun to command.

“Good girl,” Jaehyun mutters in a raspy voice. You both sit upright as he pets you. “Don’t you think it’s time for me to return the favor, baby girl?”

You don’t say anything.

“That’s not the answer I was looking for.” Jaehyun pries open your legs as he dives in, deliciously squeezing your thighs as he brings his mouth into your pussy, kissing it. This was the same dominance that ran a huge company that Jaehyun brought home with him, and you want more.

You giggle at the sensation of someone’s lips being at such an intimate part of you, and you loosely wrap your legs around his neck. You feel wetness trickling down your thighs, and Jaehyun laps it up. You can’t stop yourself from laughing and moaning as hard as you do at Jaehyun’s rough tongue on your skin, steadily licking.

Jaehyun’s done eating you out, and he forces you against the arm of the couch as he starts kissing your neck. You feel his dick rub against your leg rhythmically as he nips and sucks your neck, and your breasts bob under his chin as you pant, your back arched. He squeezes your thighs so hard that you think that you’re going to wake up with bruises tomorrow morning. Jaehyun enjoys manhandling every single part of you, touching you as if he’s never going to touch you again. He hasn’t dated in so long, and that’s because he’s only had eyes on you, on your firm ass as you walked around the office oblivious to your own sexual power.

The rage at how he didn’t fuck you sooner consumes him, and Jaehyun brings his hands back to your breasts. Your back is arched over the arm of the couch as you feel Jaehyun’s hands once again, at how his thumbs brush your breasts. His lips let go of your neck, and he feathers you with kisses along your collarbone, down down down.

He brings his face close to yours, continuing to massage your breasts. Your waist is between his legs as his dick crushes your lower stomach.

“I’ve waited a long time to do this.” Those tight blouses that your closet was full of, God those drove him crazy. The neckline was deep enough to still be considered modest for work, but he could still see some cleavage from your perky breasts. If he was lucky, the office was chilly, and your nipples would stick out of your shirt.

Jaehyun buries his face in between your breasts, leaving long, open-mouthed kisses on the hot skin as his face kneeds the delicate flesh. His face slowly moved to the nipples, which are proudly sticking out now with enough arousal. He sucks your nipples, his hand finding a way in between your legs. He gently traces designs on your legs with the wetness from your pussy, and it takes him a good three minutes for him to start sucking at your other breast.

“Why are you so obsessed with my boobs?” You giggle at the feeling of Jaehyun’s teeth gently nipping at your full breasts. Fourteen-year-old boys are less obsessed with breasts than Jaehyun is with yours. “It’s so childish.”

Without a rush, Jaehyun stops sucking on your other breast and brings himself close enough that his bare chest touched your breasts. The feeling was intoxicating, your hard nipples against his skin.

“Are you calling me a child?” Jaehyun asks.

“N-No, Mr. Jung,” you stutter.

Jaehyun runs with your hesitation and sticks his first and middle finger into your dripping cunt. You scream an ear-shattering scream.

“Mr. Jung! Sir!” You say, trying to appease Jaehyun.

“That won’t help you now, girl,” Jaehyun says in a sultry voice. “If I want to do something, I’ll do it.” He sticks his fingers into your cunt over and over again, and it feels like you’re drowning in a pool of pleasure.

Suddenly, you don’t feel hard fingers, but you feel Jaehyun’s fleshy, aroused dick. You gasp at the feeling of Jaehyun inside you again.

“I wanted to look into your eyes this time, baby,” He says. “Can you keep focused on me?”

You nod, whimpering again. Jaehyun’s brown eyes are lustful as he thrusts his dick into you over and over again, and you can feel him fill you up inside, compared to the last time, where he was only releasing pent-up sexual desire.

You have a hard time keeping your gaze fixed on him as he pleasured you, so Jaehyun grabs your face, holding your cheeks with one hand.

“Y-You’re so big,” you groan. The walls in your pussy trap around his dick, as if forcing him to squeeze his cum inside of you.

“I know babycakes,” He murmurs. Jaehyun leans in and kisses you, and this is a messy, open-mouthed kiss as he takes your lips inside his mouth. Jaehyun is dripping all over your couch, spilling his seed all over your stomach and your thighs, but you don’t care, you just want him in you over and over again.

“Mr. Jung,” you whine, “more. Please. I want more.”

Jaehyun does as he is asked, and it feels so delicious to have Jaehyun’s seed inside of you. You’re so dizzy from lust that you can’t stand the feeling of Jaehyun not touching you.

“Jae, Jae,” you moan as he continues to thrust.

“It’s Mr. Jung. I told you a million times,” Jaehyun smacks your thighs hard.

“Mr. Jung, Mr. Jung sir,”

To get a more powerful thrust, Jaehyun separates from you, and you whimper.

“It’ll only be a second.” He takes you by the legs and drags you in a way that you are completely flat on the couch. Jaehyun now straddles your hips and thrusts himself inside of you.

“Mr. Jung,” You whine, your vision becoming hazy. He needs a place to put his hands, and what’s a more apt place than your squishy breasts?

In between your middle and ring finger, a bulbous nipple protrudes from Jaehyun’s hands. From the sheer feeling of it all, you can feel yourself climaxing, your vision turning black despite your eyes being wide awake. You feel cups and cups of cum leave your pussy and moisten the couch.

“I can’t,” you whine. At the glazed look in your eyes, you’re orgasming, and after a few moments of leading you to complete ecstasy, Jaehyun stops. Slowly, you return back to Earth, back to the completely naked Jaehyun and completely naked you. You feel your cheeks flare up.

You don’t know how you let this happen but at the same time, you know exactly how this happened. Immediately, you want to kick Jaehyun out and hide in your room in shame after having sex with your boss, but suddenly, you hear a loud crack of thunder and aggressive rain pattering against the windows. From the look of the roads, pools are collecting in divots; It’s been like that for some time, but you haven’t bothered to notice until now.

You shudder. You didn’t want to send Jaehyun home in this bad weather, yet at the same time, you feel too embarrassed to see him right now.

“Y-You can stay the night,” you say. “I heard thunder, and I don’t want you to go home in bad weather. You have an important interview tomorrow.” You crack a smile, forgetting that you’re completely naked. Jaehyun hears your words, but his eyes shamelessly remain on your shapely body, your big breasts, how small your waist was compared to your ass.

“Yeah.” Jaehyun says, finally looking you in the eye.

“So, do I sleep on the couch?” Jaehyun asks. It’s stained, and you look at it bashfully, at how much cum you both spilled. You make a mental note to put the couch covers in the wash later.

“No,” you say softly. “You can sleep on my bed.”

“With you?” Jaehyun asks hopefully. He comes closer and caresses your naked back. His cheeks are against your collarbone as he stares at you in a soft manner.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun sits upright and you kiss him with passion, the passion that you tried to hide for so long, the passion that’s been lying dormant since you’ve been working for him.

“One night.” You murmur against Jaehyun’s nose. “Tonight, I’m completely yours.” There was no point in trying to pretend that these sexual feelings that you had for Jaehyun didn’t exist anymore. And if he was going to spend the night anyway in your apartment, it was like the heavens above wanted you to spend even more time with Jaehyun.

You’ve already dug a deep enough hole for yourself the second that you stopped fighting against Jaehyun’s kiss. And there was only one way to get out of this hole.

You weren’t going to like it, and Jaehyun wasn’t going to like it, but it was the only way.

That night, you and Jaehyun indulged in fiery, passionate sex. Jaehyun was in you more than he was out of you, and that wasn’t a problem. Your bedsheets were soaked by the time the pale rays of the sun penetrated your windows. Jaehyun is still fast asleep, and it would be one hour before his alarm would go off.

Carefully, you displace his arm that is slung over you, and you put on your slippers. You’re sore and completely naked, but since no one else is awake, you pad out of your bedroom and into the living room. In the mild morning light, you can see bruises forming around your neck, around the rest of your body as Jaehyun bit you and bit you as a way he could claim you as his little slut, at the way he tightly clawed at your flesh as he forced his member into your throbbing, dripping cunt.

You want to keep reliving the night, reliving Jaehyun’s open-mouthed kisses and his hands kneading your soft breasts like dough, but you stop yourself, shaking the thoughts away as if they were pesky flies. You don’t take the time to sift through the pile of discarded clothes and take the first thing, which is Jaehyun’s shirt he wore under his sweatshirt.

Your apartment is a bit chilly this morning as you find your laptop on the kitchen counter. But first, you make yourself a pot of coffee.

With the bubbling sound of coffee brewing, you take a deep breath, find a mug from the cupboard, and pour black coffee.

This morning, you needed especially strong coffee, you think as you take a seat.

You open Microsoft Word on your laptop and place your fingers on the keys.

Dear Mr. Jung,

I thank you for the years of employment you have given me as your secretary, and I value the professional friendship that we have kindled. Unfortunately, we must part ways, and you know the reason why. My parents have taught me to be a professional, and due to the nature of some of my actions and yours, I am unable to maintain the professionalism that I strive to maintain at any job that I hold. At 5 PM today (8/15), my resignation is effective.

I hope we can meet again under different circumstances.

Your’s truly,

Y/N.

After you press the period and space key, your resignation letter feels complete. The words needed little re-drafting – they were vague enough so that any nosy people at HR looking at your resignation letter won’t know the true context to your letter: although, it can give them a pretty good idea. But as long as it’s not written blatantly, like ‘I am resigning because you came over to my apartment, and we had some of the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my entire life’ will completely tarnish your’s and Jaehyun’s reputation. It’s better that you and Jaehyun now can at least deny sexual relations.

“You made coffee?” Jaehyun asks in a tired voice. His alarm hasn’t gone off yet. The scent of coffee must have woken him up from a slumber. He’s completely naked, and you try not to look, closing your laptop abruptly before Jaehyun has the chance to see what you were doing.

Jaehyun saunters into the living room, looking for his shirt, only to find out when he looks a little closer that you’re wearing it.

Jaehyun has a cheeky look as he approaches you sitting down by the kitchen counter.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Jaehyun chuckles in a deep, manly way. You sniff him.

“And you used my shower.”

He bends down and kisses you on the lips. He nibbles your lips as he brings his hands to your waist, bunching his shirt in one first and squeezing your thigh with another. You stand up after indulging in his sweet, soft lips.

“Hey, I only said you had the night,” you say weakly.

“It’s not fair,” Jaehyun gripes. He presses you against his body and fondles your butt. “I want to be with you every night.” Jaehyun picks you up and places you on the kitchen counter. Now, you’re at eye-level with him as he holds your neck gently, sucking on your soft, cherry-flavored lips lustfully. His hands get bored of your neck as he moves his lips there, licking the purpling bruises; he grips your waist, holding your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. You can feel his dick in between your legs, and you can already feel your pussy starting to get wet, how it begs for Jaehyun to come in you once again.

This was a slippery slope.

“I’m going to shower,” you say abruptly. Before Jaehyun can say or do anything else, you scurry to the bathroom and strip of Jaehyun’s shirt before hopping in the shower and rubbing bodywash on yourself. When you’re done, you take Jaehyun’s shirt and put it in your room with only just a towel on your body. You change into a high-necked blouse and pencil skirt, your purse slung over your chest.

After fifteen minutes, you reappear into the kitchen. Jaehyun is sitting at the dining room table, playing with his fingers.

“Should I make breakfast?” You ask kindly after you pull away, in a disarming voice that didn’t give away any of your future plans.

“Absolutely. Does it include you?” Jaehyun flirts. You roll your eyes.

“No. We have to get to work soon,” you say, looking at the microwave clock. You should be changed and ready to leave your apartment in fifteen minutes.

“Oh, right,” Jaehyun’s voice sounds deflated as he gazes at your figure, wearing your regular uniform of a blouse and a pencil skirt, but of course, this was a high necked blouse that hid any of his markings. Of course he had been thinking about how it would be like to go back to work, with the secretary he banged sitting outside his door. He just didn’t think it would be this soon.

Jaehyun didn’t even realize that you were scouring the fridge for something. “I have milk. Maybe we can have cereal.” You say to yourself.

“Sure,” Jaehyun says. You whip your head around to face him. “We do need to get going soon.” You nod, grabbing a cereal box from the pantry.

“Fruit Loops?” Jaehyun asks.

You wrinkle your nose at him in good humor. “It was on sale.”

Without another word, you and Jaehyun eat two bowls of Fruit Loops between you both.

“By the way,” you tell Jaehyun, who is now wearing the pants he discarded in your living room last night. “Your shirt is in my room.” Your tone didn’t mean to seem cold, but slowly, you were turning on ‘business professional’ mode in your brain.

Jaehyun nods in response and goes into your room. You take this as the perfect time to email your resignation letter to yourself on your work email so you can print it out later.

Before Jaehyun can ask you what you’re doing when he comes out of your room, you close your laptop loudly. Jaehyun stares at you quizically.

“Just checking my email.” He seems to believe you.

You leave five minutes before you initially plan on leaving. Jaehyun takes his white Kia back to his penthouse, and you wait for him in the front passenger seat as he goes to find a suit and fix his hair. He comes back out and sits in the driver’s seat; he’s probably opted out of his driver taking him to work so that he doesn’t know about the situation with you.

You’re thankful for that consideration.

The two of you make the fifteen-minute drive to Jung Industries, and Jaehyun parks his car in his designated parking spot.

You don’t know what sparks you to do what you do right now – maybe it’s the finality of the resignation letter burning a hole in your purse. You’re doing what you’re doing because you care about both your careers, but that’s not necessarily what your heart – or pussy – wants.

After both of you unbuckle your seatbelts, you grab Jaehyun’s wrist. You climb over the parking brake and spread your legs so that Jaehyun’s legs can fit in between. Your skirt is hiked up to your waist, and you kiss Jaehyun one final time.

You pull away, but Jaehyun doesn’t let you go for long. He grabs the back of your head and shoves your face in his, and he messily kisses you. At the way your face changes its angle while kissing Jaehyun, trying to taste every milimeter of his lips, your body shifts against his, your back gently hitting the steering wheel, but the animalistic urge in you doesn’t mind. Jaehyun lifts up your skirt, and your ass is sticking out as he gropes your butt shamelessly.

You can already feel yourself starting to get wet at the way Jaehyun’s dick becomes aroused at this activity, and you pull away. Your breasts are tucked under Jaehyun’s chin as you sit on his lap, shifting to feel his erected member against your pussy one last time.

“I thought you said it was only for the night.”

Your index finger traces his lips. “I felt bad leaving you hanging like that his morning.” You feel confident in your lie.

“You’re so sweet,” Jaehyun murmurs. He lets his hands slide up and down your bare thighs one last time before he looks around. At this point, everyone has already clocked in for work, so the parking garage is practically empty.

Jaehyun opens the door. “You go first. I’ll join you in twenty minutes.”

It’s the end of the work day. 4:58 PM. In two minutes, you will officially be leaving your post as secretary to CEO Jung Jaehyun. After using the printer, you haven’t left the letter at his desk because you’re afraid that Jaehyun will see the letter before 5 PM and confront you about resigning. In a way, you weren’t being fair, but this was for both of your well-being.

Seven minutes have passed, five minutes after you have quit your job. Since Jaehyun is away at an interview with TIME magazine, he won’t be back for another thirty minutes. That gives you enough time to drop the letter at his desk so that it won’t get lost in all his papers and leave Jung Industries for the last time. You knew that he would first try your apartment when he saw the letter, so you planned to go to the lake on a long-needed vacation. And if Jaehyun tried to call you, you wouldn’t answer his calls. By the time you got back in town, Jaehyun would have found a new secretary and would have forgotten all about you; he must only have had sexual urges around you because you were friendly and well dressed, prancing around him for eight years. It was the perfect escape plan.

You follow the first part of your plan: you drop the letter on Jaehyun’s desk. Then, you packed your desk using a small trash bag you found; despite working for Jaehyun for eight years, you weren’t fond of having personal possessions at your desk.

Then, you took the elevator with other people who were leaving work.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan until you saw Jaehyun on the first floor of Jung Industries talking with the doorman. You freeze. The TIME interview was supposed to last longer!

Jaehyun, after finishing his conversation with the doorman, starts walking to the elevator. You make a run for the bathroom on this floor. As you watch him wait for the elevator, you don’t move a muscle until you see him get inside and the doors close.

You then scan your keycard for a final time and walk out of Jung Industries. The parking garage is on the other side of Jung Industries campus, and it was about a five-minute walk. If you walked fast enough, then Jaehyun might not be able to intercept you.

You’re walk-running in your platformed shoes as you head to the third-floor parking garage where you parked. It was a reserved spot just for you, but before you can open your car, you hear someone calling your name.

“Y/N!” A breathless Jaehyun shouts. Your fingers are nervous as you click the unlock button of your car, but before you can get in, a hand snatches your keys, putting it in his suit pocket. There goes your perfect escape plan.

Jung Jaehyun is standing in front of you, his hair windswept and his suit wrinkled. You’re pretty sure you see a dirt stain on his socks.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Jaehyun asks. He holds up a crumpled piece of paper, your folded resignation letter.

“Exactly what it says,” you say stiffly. “I’m resigning.”

“No you’re not,” Jaehyun says.

“Jaehyun, I can resign whenever I want.”

“Then who’s going to be my secretary?”

“HR will find you a new one,” you say. To Jaehyun, this seems like blasphemy.

“A new one?” Jaehyun echos, confused.

“Yeah, a new one,” you reply. “I’m just your secretary.”

“You very well know you’re not,” Jaehyun says pointedly. “Y/N, when I asked you on a date, you seemed thrilled. When we went on said date, you were thrilled.”

“I’m allowed to change my mind.”

“Don’t lie to me,” With his free hand, Jaehyun grabs your wrist and pins you against your car, crumbling your letter and throwing it on the ground. You’re glad no one here is able to witness this.

“I’m not lying to you.” You argue.

“Then yesterday,” Jaehyun brings up. “What was that?”

“I indulged a bit. I realized I was wrong, and I can’t work for someone that I had sex with!” You whisper-exclaim.

You take a deep breath, composing your thoughts. “It’s the most professional thing to do. It won’t look good for you or me if we ever date. I realize that now.”

“I don’t care about professional,” Jaehyun says. “In the papers, it looks like I haven’t dated after eight years because I am so focused on my career,” Jaehyun says. He tilts your chin upwards, forcing you to face him. “While that’s a part of the reason, it’s also because of you.” His voice becomes quieter. “After me and Yeonjoo craashed and burned, I only wanted you.”

“Can I tell you something?” You ask Jaehyun. He nods in acknowledgment. “On our date, Yeona asked me if I was going to be her new mom,” you say. “I-I don’t know, I sort of freaked out after that. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be a step-mom or even a recurring maternal influence in her life. She’s a sweet girl, but I…” You lose track of your words.

“So that’s what changed,” Jaehyun murmurs.

“And then I thought about my reputation. And yours. What if people think that I’ve been sleeping with you for years?” You ask. “If anything, my reputation will suffer more than your reputation.” You laugh wryly.

“If that’s the case,” Jaehyun says, “then I must really not know you at all.”

You look at him, confused.

“I only know the strong, independent Y/N that doesn’t care what anyone thinks, not even me.” Jaehyun smiles a dimply smile. “If she loved something or someone, then she would dive headfirst into the chaos.”

“Love?” You ask dumbly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jaehyun asks. He laughs. “You’re so oblivious, it’s adorable. I’m so, completely, utterly in love with you Y/N.”

It’s as if the world just… stopped. Jaehyun, a big fish in the corporate sector, is in love with you? His secretary?

“The question is,” Jaehyun asks slowly. He takes both your hands in his. “Do you love me?”

You think. Of course, you had sort of a crush on Jaehyun; who didn’t with his good looks! Many publications even recognized it, calling him the most handsome CEO. You admired how he was able to run a Fortune 500 company and raise a daughter and be in her life. You admit that he’s a great kisser. You love how he treats you as his equal despite you being his secretary, you love how there was barely ever an awkward moment in your relationship. You love his voice, you love how kind he is to his employees, you love how he’s a hard worker despite being born into money, and he never gives up.

You do, in fact, love Jung Jaehyun.

“I love you too,” you say. You look into his eyes, his beautiful eyes that you just want to keep staring at until the world ends.

Jaehyun pushes you against your car and steals a famished kiss from you. He puts his knee in between your legs, and you loosely sling your arms around his neck as his nose bumps into yours at the different angles he’s kissing you, making sure he fully kissed your plush lips.

“You’d make a great stepmother,” Jaehyun murmurs against the shell of your ear.

“Should we take this somewhere else?” You ask, noticing the way Jaehyun snuck his hand under your shirt.

“Sure.” You and Jaehyun decide to go to the closest place you can think of: Jaehyun’s office. It’s in a secluded part of Jung Industries, so any people working late wouldn’t be able to see you or hear you. Plus, people still thought he was at the TIME interview, which means less people would be by his office now.

Today, that works in your favor because no one in other departments will be around for another forty minutes.

You and Jaehyun manage to keep your hands off each other as you take the elevator into his office. Only a few people see you, and it was commonplace for either of you to be around each other. You and Jaehyun walk to his secluded corner office, and when he closes the heavy glass door, his gaze is pinned on you, sultry and lustful.

You weren’t leaving this room until Jaehyun fucked your brains out.

Every step Jaehyun takes, you take a step backward until your butt meets a wall. Jaehyun shrugs off his expensive suit jacket and throws it to his desk, displacing some papers. He takes a few steps back, observing you as if you’re a specimen in a science experiment.

“Strip.” He says.

“Wha–” You’re at a loss for words.

“I said strip.”

“Y-Yes sir,” you say hesitantly.

You bring your hands to the buttons of your blouse, eyeing Jaehyun as you do; the building could be on fire, and Jaehyun’s penetrating gaze would still be on you.

You feel a little anxious at how he’s staring so intently, waiting for the show to start.

“Don’t be shy,” Jaehyun says in a sultry tone. “You know you want Mr. Jung to take care of you.” He bites his lips, and all you can think about is how you want him so badly.

You first kick off your platform heels, standing barefoot in front of him. Then you unbutton your silky, white, high-necked blouse. Jaehyun stares lustfully as he gets a better view of your cleavage, your red bra bleeding through your cami. You pull off your cami, leaving Jaehyun to ogle your full breasts. You take the zipper of your pencil skirt in your hands and pull it down, and you let it fall to your ankles.

You pull of your underwear, and unclasp your bra, revealing your naked breasts. Jaehyun stares as if he hasn’t been groping, gripping, biting, kissing, and spanking your body in the last twenty-four hours, and he eyes the light bruises starting to form from the hours and hours of rough sex, evidence that you’re his and only his.

He’s more turned on than ever before.

“On your knees.” He says. When your knees hit the carpeted ground, he curls his index finger, instructing you to him.

“Crawl.” He says. You crawl like a child who hasn’t learned to walk yet. Jaehyun watches as you do so, watches how your breasts bob up and down, how your ass moves. Your head is inches away from his dick when he tells you to stop. He undoes his belt and throws it on the ground. He lets his unbuttoned pants fall to his ankles.

“Suck,” He points to his erected penis, and he leaves you to take off his underwear. You suck like you’ve never sucked before.

Jaehyun’s groans at your innocent lips around his cock, and he massages your hair.

“Good girl.” He says in between moans. He has a warm look on his face mingled with lust.

“You’ll continue to work for me, right?” He asks.

You nod, your legs folded under you as you look up at Jaehyun in complete submission. “Yes, Mr. Jung,” you say obediently, knowing it’s the answer he wants to hear.

“And you’ll never quit?” He asks softly.

“Never Mr. Jung.” You shake your head violently.

“Good. But just in case you do,” Jaehyun looks down on you. “This is what you’ll get.”

His hands grip your shoulders as he forces you down on the ground. The couch in his office is only a few feet away from you, but he wants you on the ground, wriggling under him as your waist is in between his legs; he wants to express his full power.

Jaehyun holds your wrists above your head with one hand as he pins you down, watching how you look meek under him. You struggle a little at his strength, but you’re no match for Jaehyun. With his free hand he grips the sides of your clit and pinches it. You think you’re seeing stars in your vision as Jaehyun’s fingers become forceful, bruising such a delicate area of your body.

You’re screaming uncontrollably in pain and pleasure, but Jaehyun puts his palm to your mouth. “Do you want everyone to hear how much of a little slut you are for Mr. Jung?”

You shake your head.

“Then you better keep quiet, baby girl.” Jaehyun brings his head in between your legs after he holds your thighs apart. He rubs his face against the hot skin of your thighs, and you shudder and moan loudly at the pleasure. Suddenly, Jaehyun’s teeth sink into your meaty thighs, and you scream shrilly.

Your shrill voice is muffled under Jaehyun’s hand, and he narrows his eyes.

“You want the whole world to know that you’re Mr. Jung’s pretty little toy.” He stands up and grabs you, forcing you against the glass walls of his office.

Your breasts, stomach, and legs are squeezed against the glass as Jaehyun starts possessively biting the side of your neck, leaving fresh bruises to cover the bruises from last night. You whine loudly, and that is when Jaehyun starts thrusting from behind.

Stars and flashes enter your vision as Jaehyun does this thrusting, groping your waist tightly, his knuckles hitting the glass as he starts to squeeze your bulbous breasts. Jaehyun has the ultimate power, and you can’t think of any other way you would have it.

You moan loudly, turning into wails.

“That’s right, let everyone hear. Let them come this way and think you’re a little slut who’s good for Mr. Jung.”

“Mr. Jung, sir!” You whine. You’re silently praying that no one sees you like this, so weak for the man most people (including you) call “boss.”

Jaehyun bangs you against the sturdy glass. He stops for a moment to untie his tie and drop his dress shirt onto the ground. He turns you around and grabs your deliciously thick thighs, forcing you ass to rub against the glass as Jaehyun holds you up. The wall makes a loud squeaking sound, but the throbbing in your ears, the obsession with Jaehyun groping you, was louder. You wrap your legs around his waist and sling your arms around his neck as you kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, with more fervor and passion than you felt like you’ve never felt before.

You tilt your head every few moments to snatch Jaehyun’s mouth into yours, at the pleasuring feeling that Jaehyun’s hands are giving you as they wander around your body, moving up your abdomen, squeezing your breasts, shoulders, then wrapping around your neck.

The act of choking you isn’t what gets him off but that he can at any time.

Jaehyun forces you down a little, and your cunt is wide open for him to force his dick inside. You gasp at the sudden sensation of his dick fully inside of you – not mere thrusts to enforce his power. You can feel him fill you up, feel the bliss if him inside of you.

“You’re not leaving this office without a baby in you.”

“No sir Mr. Jung,” you say. “I want a little Jaehyun.”

The stars in your vision return as Jaehyun’s seed brings you to climax again for probably the twentieth time in the past twenty-four hours.

“Fill me more,” You say breathily. At the way your walls close around Jaehyun’s dick you want to scream again at the pleasure, but you only let out a few weak moans.

At the glazed, ecstatic look in your eyes as his seed flows in you, Jaehyun can tell you’ve reached your limit and reluctantly pulls out. He lets you go, and you stumble, so he carries you bridal style, back to his desk. You feel sleepy – you barely got a wink of sleep last night with how much Jaehyun pounded into you, and you can’t help but feel that you’ve overextert yourself now.

“Jae,” you murmur softly. Jaehyun smiles a soft smile, showing his dimples. This was the Jaehyun you fell in love with, the Jaehyun who’s romantic and sweet and hard-working.

“Yes?” He murmurs, dipping his face into the crook of your neck. He moves his face along your collarbone and leans down to plant his face in your breasts, giving your chest loud smooches.

“Nothing,” you pant softly. You couldn’t express in words how much you loved how Jaehyun was dominant, in his work as a top CEO and in sex. The bruises on your skin are starting to show, evidence of his rough handling that felt so delicious, that you suddenly feel like you can’t live without.

“You’re still my secretary, right?” Jaehyun murmurs, his lips still between your breasts.

You giggle at the sensation of Jaehyun’s face buried in such an intimate, womanly part of you. But Jaehyun made you feel like a woman who was in love with a man.

“Mmh?” Jaehyun hums in a throaty voice, still waiting for a response.

You couldn’t think of working for someone else, now that you think about it. All that was on your mind after Jaehyun gave you the sex that has made you feel the giddiest you’ve felt in a while was resigning, but you didn’t know what you were going to do after that, truthfully. Maybe send your resume to some places, but you weren’t sure.

Now, you were ready to embrace the love that has been wrapping your heart for eight years like vines on a tree, slowly, without you knowing it was love. You relish the fact that you know a Jaehyun that no one else has ever met, a Jaehyun that you want to hang on to.

A Jaehyun that you still want to work for. Sure, it would take some getting used to, to show up to work, seeing the man who banged you from front and behind, who ruthlessly yet deliciously grabbed and groped you from lust as if you were a play-thing, but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to leave him, to not see him every day in his crisp suits, even though you could still date if you quit being his secretary.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m still your secretary. That notice was invalid,” you say professionally, which is jaring compared to the situation you’re in. Jaehyun has his chin mounted in between your breasts as he stares into your eyes.

“Good.” Jaehyun says in his brisque CEO voice. “I don’t have to teach you again what happens if you quit.” With that Jaehyun moves his face to kiss you, a long loud kiss as his nose bumps into yours.

He sets you down on his desk after he pushes some papers away, spreading his legs to trap your knees. He holds your waist as he stares into your eyes, a soft, loving look on his face before he presses his forehead against yours.

“I think I broke a record,” he says in a deliciously deep voice. “Most times to bang secretary in a twenty-four hour period.”

a/n (2): thank you so much for reading! this was way longer than i expected it to be, and the series isn't even over here! hopefully, i will get around to writing a third part. let me know what you think in the comments or in an ask! don't be shy!

#nct #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct smut #jaehyun smut #nct reactions #nct 127 smut #nct au #ceo au

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snoopymins · 2 months

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

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

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

wc: 26k

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

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

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

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

masterlist

“This is happening too often.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Of course you don’t. You never do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s still dangerous.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

I’m used to it, you want to say.

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

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

“For thirty seconds—”

“Thirty seconds is all it takes!”

“I swear to god, Jaemin…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah…”

“I can do it.”

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

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

“Hey.”

Renjun ignores him. “—can finish it. I’m sure you have more important—”

In the time that it takes for him to say the word important, you scoop up the can of paint and the brush and finish painting the wall white. The breeze hits in the next moment as you settle yourself back in front of them, smiling.

“—work…” he trails off, blinking a few times as he gazes at the now-white wall. Jaemin crosses his arms and turns a critical eye over it, as if searching for mistakes.

“Hope I didn’t miss anything,” you joke.

Renjun stares at you, looking a little starstruck all of a sudden. “Can I get a picture with you?”

You grin. “Sure.”

The shutter of the camera on his phone is loud as he takes a selfie of you two.

“Thank you so much… I really appreciate it…”

“Of course.”

Ten miles away, a fire alarm goes off. If you try hard enough, muddle through enough of the scents in the air, you can smell the building smoke.

You lift off the ground. “I should go. You two be safe.”

“Thanks,” Renjun says earnestly. “You, too.”

You wink and rap your knuckles against your chest. “Bulletproof. But thanks.”

You’re off in the next second. Despite the distance between you in the next handful of seconds, the thump of Jaemin’s heart lingers in your ears.

He has a steady heart.

You arrive at the burning apartment building just as he speaks.

“Really?”

You clear the first floor.

“She’s Supergirl,” comes Renjun’s grumbling response. “She’s cool. You aren’t going to make me feel bad for geeking out a little.”

Second floor.

“Hmm.”

“Don’t Hmm me. What about you, huh?”

Third floor.

“What about me?” Jaemin asks coolly.

Fourth floor. A teenager studying, a babysitter and a toddler, an elderly couple, a sleeping man. A fire truck and ambulance draw near, sirens piercing in your ears. You focus on the heartbeats leftover and underneath that, the conversation happening ten miles away.

“You know, I thought Hyuck was exaggerating when he was talking about your sleuthing.”

One more room left. The fire originates from here. You feel the heat of the flames but you’ve also felt the heat of the sun, so you dive in without fear. In the corner of the kitchen, a little girl and a Malinois puppy huddle together. A beam crumples and part of the ceiling caves. You catch it before it can crush them. The little girl, teary-eyed and helpless, gazes up at you with nothing short of relief.

Finally taking a breath, you hold it for one second as you toss the ceiling to the side, then release it as you take the girl and her puppy into your arms. Little hands and claws cling to you.

You get them out.

There are no casualties. A few burns, smoke inhalation, but no casualties. Katie, the nine-year-old girl you saved, inadvertently started the fire trying to cook for her mother, a janitor at Metropolis General pulling fifteen-hour workdays to pay the bills. She only wanted to do something nice for her. You text Kun and Lina about it, to make sure nothing bad happens to either of them because of it. Unlike them, there is only so much you can do as a civilian. Same with Supergirl, as officials deem you an outsider when it comes to these kinds of issues—useful only to pull people from burning buildings and to stop alien invasions.

During this, Renjun and Jaemin’s conversation has gone on unimpeded.

“Sleuthing,” Jaemin is saying, “sounds incredibly unprofessional. I’m a journalist. And Donghyuck is always exaggerating. I don’t even talk to him and Mark, you know that, right? Where are they getting their sources from?”

“Your headlines,” Renjun deadpans. “And the fact that every major story you’ve published in the last four months have featured Supergirl in some way or another, usually with a footnote—a footnote, Jaemin—about how you had your ass saved from certain death by her.”

“I have a word limit, alright?”

“You’re insane. Totally insane.”

“I love you, too, Renjunnie.”

“Where’s that ladder at? Get on it. I’m going to push you off.”

Jaemin’s laugh is warm in your ears.

You ignore the weight that forms in your chest and head home for the day.

You first met Jaemin when he was about to be shot. Specifically, shot by the Russian mafia for getting caught poking into their drug trades. The mobster had pulled the trigger. Bullet released from its chamber, aimed to kill, to ensure the things Jaemin had learned would never see the light of day.

If it were anywhere else, they’d likely succeed. But this is Metropolis. You can push your limits. Bullets can fire and you can still save someone.

It was close, though. Fired in an instant, Na Jaemin had not flinched but had instead braced, refusing to show fear to them. Very noble. Very impressive. Nonetheless—unnecessary. You pulled him out of the way and didn’t hesitate to take down the mobsters, either, tying them up and leaving them outside the dingy warehouse—because it’s always a warehouse these guys use to kill people—for the police to grab.

Then you went back to Jaemin and let time resume. Off-balance and disoriented, he stumbled right into your arms. Some initial pushback. But the fight left him just as quickly when he realized who you were, wide eyes taking in the symbol on your chest.

“It’s okay,” you had said to him gently, your hands on his arms. “You’re safe now.”

The adrenaline was quickly leaving him, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird in your ears, blood pumping, fear still tangible.

He had put up a good front in front of those mobsters. He really had. But it wasn’t good enough to fool you. But—that was perhaps the point. You were you. Supergirl. You weren’t just anyone else witnessing a vulnerable moment. That’s why, you think, for a few minutes, he was willing to let his guard down. You remember the way he shivered, one of his hands balling up the material of your cape.

“You’re safe now,” you had repeated and finally, it seemed to sink in. Or rather, what had kept him going finally gave out.

You helped him sit on the floor, kneeling beside him, keeping a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s your name?” you remember asking him gently, regaining his attention.

You remember him looking at you, really looking at you, the emotions in his dark eyes, revealed to you, reeling from the situation he had just been in. He had, in that moment, reminded you sharply of yourself. It was a discomforting thought, but no less true.

“Jaemin,” he had told you quietly, an accent curling his words faintly. “Na Jaemin.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jaemin. I’m Supergirl.”

“I know.”

You had smiled, because you got that a lot when you said it, but there was something else that was… charming about the way he’d said that, so knowingly. And after that, after the police arrived and he was seen to and the story broke in the papers, his name underneath it, the moment had stuck with you. It usually doesn’t. You have an excellent memory and nine out of ten times you can recognize someone you’ve rescued but they don’t… linger with you.

Not in the way Na Jaemin did.

Then, one month later, you got a tip about an illegal arms deal involving two heavy-hitter players in Metropolis. When you arrived at the hotel it was taking place at, you bumped straight into Jaemin.

“Oh, you’re here,” he said when he saw you.

“Jaemin?”

He had only pointed at the men with machine guns advancing on you, said, “They’re trying to kill me,” then ran the other direction.

“The exit is the other way—!”

“I’m not done here yet!”

“Now, wait a second—” Your response was drowned out by gunfire. Bullets pelted you and clinked to the ground. By the time you handled them, delayed by your confusion over Jaemin’s decision, he was gone.

Well, he was in the stairwell, going down, and you could hear his heart, thumping quickly, less fear this time and more determination. But since he wasn’t in more danger, you decided to handle the gunmen first.

By the time you were finished with that, a few sounds from the basement gained your attention. When you ventured down, you found a stash of weapons far larger than expected, a knocked-out mobster, and Jaemin, with an abandoned crowbar near him and a split lip, snapping pictures.

“I’m not helpless,” was the only thing he had told you.

That set the tone for the rest of your relationship.

For the better and for the worse.

Blue-and-red lights flash rhythmically in the night. Coming up on three days of no sleep, it’s just about a siren’s call to close your eyes and drift off right there.

You do get energy from the sun—yellow suns specifically, and in this case, Sol, the star which makes you what you are—and can go longer stretches without having to eat or sleep than if you were under a red sun or if you were a regular old human, but at one point, you do need it and you are rapidly approaching that threshold.

It’s why you just about miss Jaemin.

“What happened here?”

Your head whips to the side, to where he now stands, gazing out at the scene, eyes tired, button-up and slacks rumpled, like he was sleeping at the office when he got the tip. He probably was. He shouldn’t, you’ve told him too many times to go home and rest. It’s not good for his health… though when he asks why you care, you say something lame about him getting slow because of it. Which is true and just as concerning but emptier without a pretext. But if you included one, you think he’d be even likelier to ignore you. He’s like that. You don’t know why. You wish you did.

Something cold slides into the loosely curled fingers of your hand. Your fingers close around it reflexively.

SNAP.

You blink, dropping your eyes from his face—now facing you—to your hand. Ink pools in your palm, staining your skin and the shattered bits of the pen, too. On the ground lies the other half of the pen.

“That,” Jaemin says, “is a terrible reflex.”

“I zoned out.”

“You were looking straight at me.”

“I zone out while looking at things and people sometimes,” you say defensively. “It happens.”

“Right,” he says doubtfully.

You wipe the ink on your hand on your cape, then reach up to dig the heels of your palms into your eyes. Colors starburst in the darkness of your eyelids. When you reopen your eyes, they feel ten times heavier.

“I’m just tired,” you mutter. “It is and isn’t a reflex. I’m just very good at subconsciously categorizing whether the thing in my hand is fine to be crushed or if it’s soft and fragile.”

“Soft and fragile.” His tone leaves much to be desired.

“Humans are. So are puppies. And cats. And other animals. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Hm.”

“Can’t tell you, either, by the way.” Referring to his initial question. What happened? An amateur bank break-in. Boring.

“Yes,” he says. “I figured.”

He always does this—if you’re the first on the scene and he’s second to follow, he’ll ask what happened and you’ll tell him the same thing: Can’t tell you.

“Why come out here knowing the answer is always going to be the same?”

A shrug. “Why not?”

You chuckle tiredly. “Touché.”

“You should go home and sleep if you’re tired.”

It’s childish, but you can’t help but reply, “You should go home and sleep.”

It’s dark, but you can see everything. Nothing is hidden from your sharp eyes. Neither is the way his lips twitch into a small, amused smile that he turns away to the police car parked near you.

“I will. Eventually. But between the two of us, I think you’re the biggest liability. Only one of us can destroy ten city blocks if we lose focus mid-flight.”

“I saw the mural,” you say instead of responding to that. “It turned out great.”

“Renjun is a great artist,” he agrees, and you think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him express that kind of admiration for someone.

A jaw-cracking yawn forces itself out of you at that moment.

“Seriously,” Jaemin says, exasperated now. “Go home.”

“Only if you do.”

“Only if I do?”

“What I do isn’t limited to just danger, you know. Although one could argue a sleep deprived human is dangerous—you know, the statistics—”

“No statistics.”

“Fine. But being moderately invested in your health and wellbeing, which does admittedly center around making sure you don’t die—”

He clicks his tongue. “It’s never that serious.”

“It’s always that serious, Jaemin. Anyway, as I was saying, it also includes ensuring you get an adequate amount of sleep.”

“Alright,” he says with a big sigh, like you’ve asked the world of him. And knowing him and his sometimes workaholic tendencies, it likely is. But nonetheless, you’re pleased that you’ve gotten him to agree to this much.

“Alright,” you agree, lifting from the ground. A warm summer breeze ruffles your cape. “Get home safe, Jaemin.”

He gives a lazy wave of his hand. You chuckle quietly and then, you’re off.

As previously mentioned, you consider Jaemin—and Kun and Lina and any other person involved in investigative journalism, or really any kind of journalism—to be much stronger than you. Not quite in the physical sense but more in that… doing what you do, you learn to focus on the silver linings, on the hope, on the possibility of a better future.

Now, obviously, is not quite that time. Not with the legislature that comes out every six months talking about whether to make superhumans register with the government—a bad decision, if it isn’t obvious—and then the other bills that come out about every three months about whether ‘Kryptonians are really necessary on earth.’ This typically involves something similar to a superhuman registry, though with a little more hostility and an open threat of death by Kryptonite or, if you’re lucky, a nuke (since that won’t kill you—not permanently anyway, it might scatter your particles a bit but you’d come back together eventually).

This is in addition to the many other issues this country and this world has. But you cannot give up that easily. And the truth of the matter is, being Supergirl already exposes you to the countless injustices of the world. Doing investigative journalism on top of that, you think, would ruin you completely.

This realization has caused its fair share of guilt, though Kun and Lina agree that it takes a different brand of strength to do what they do and that you shouldn’t force yourself to do something that will only make you suffer in the long run.

You’ve suffered enough, Kun once told you quietly.

So have you.

Yes, he had agreed. But I wasn’t alone.

Yes, you had thought. That did make quite a difference.

What do you do, then?

You bake. Specifically, you bake and do deliveries. Sleepless Bites specializes in late-night cookie deliveries. Its main demographic is college students, stoners, stoned college students, insomniacs, and the occasional sleep-deprived parent. It works well with your hectic schedule but can also provide some much-needed structure when you feel more Supergirl than you.

Most often, you work the night shift, baking the cookies and then delivering them. There used to be someone else with you, specifically the delivery driver (while you did the baking), but Jisung, the kid you’d worked with, wasn’t totally happy about working these shifts since they, obviously, messed with his sleep schedule. He’d fallen asleep one night and you felt bad about waking him up since he was also a student at Metropolis University. So you decided to take care of the delivery on your own. Only to end up nearly mugged at gunpoint.

You didn’t let it happen. Obviously. You came back safe and sound with the money and your tip, but the whole incident put management in a tizzy, mostly over concerns that you’d, you don’t know, sue them or something. And poor Jisung felt so bad about it, too. You were able to use it to your advantage, though, insisting you can take care of yourself and their profit—as evidenced by you coming back unscathed and that mugger getting arrested—and thus, they should return Jisung to the day shift and leave you on your own.

It sounds a bit crazy, you know, but they were greedy enough that they agreed easily, which means you have much more room to work with in terms of potential incidents during your shift where Supergirl is needed. Sleepless Bites is also only half a mile from the Daily Planet, so you occasionally get orders from Kun, who has an insatiable sweet tooth when he’s pulling all-nighters.

So, one warm summer evening, when an order pops up on the computer screen, delivery address listing the Daily Planet, you assume it’s Kun again. A smaller order than usual this time; he usually gets two sugar cookies, two chocolate chip cookies, and two peanut butter cookies. This one only asks for two oatmeal raisin cookies and one snickerdoodle cookie, as well as an order for a large coffee—also a first. But you assume he’s branching out, so you think nothing more of it.

You get the coffee made, the cookies warmed and tucked into the box, then reach for the order sticker.

Then you see the name.

Na Jaemin.

Identity is a tricky thing. For all beings of the universe, for all humans, and for you. You are you but you are also Supergirl. Or better put—Kryptonian. To those who do not know the truth about you, you are a human. Like to Mark and Donghyuck. You are a simple delivery girl. Human. Not extraordinary.

To those who only know you as Supergirl, you are just that—Supergirl. An alien. An ally, but also potentially an enemy. Someone to politely work with but also someone to fear. You smile and shake the mayor’s hand while knowing he has an under-the-table deal with the federal government for a stash of Kryptonite, to be used in the scenario in which you decided world domination better suited your interests than saving people.

The pool of people who really know you is a small one. Kun. Lina. Their son and your nephew, Jay. Kun’s adoptive mother, Maria Qian. And… that’s it. Most of the time, you can cope normally with this. You don’t have a lot of friends—any at all, actually—which means there is not much risk for exposing yourself. And Supergirl isn’t in the business of making friends, either. Well, she was, until…

This is what happens when those worlds get too close to each other. You’re standing outside of the Daily Planet, a fifteen-story glass building in the heart of downtown Metropolis, feeling like you’re about to throw down with Darkseid (this bad alien guy who tried to colonize earth a few years ago). When in all actuality, it’s just Jaemin. Normal and relatively harmless Jaemin.

You have your ball cap on, a simple black one with Sleepless Bites in white stitching, then your glasses, a pair of black unremarkable frames. You know it seems like a flimsy disguise. But according to Kun, half of the disguise banks on the fact that most people don’t want to accept that a Kryptonian, much less Superman himself, is standing in front of them. That Superman is the quiet and polite journalist Qian Kun, who is sometimes easy to miss, especially since Superman is a figure that is impossible to miss.

It is something of the same with you. But Jaemin isn’t just anybody on the street, he’s…

Well. It doesn’t matter.

Not many people are left in the building. The janitorial staff is finishing up their nightly cleaning duties. A few journalists burning the midnight oil. Or perhaps the poor interns enlisted to proofread for them. And Jaemin. His heart is easy to pick out in the onslaught of noise all around you. You resist the urge to use your X-ray vision and look through the layers of wall and plaster in front of you to spot him.

You take a deep breath that you, biologically speaking, don’t technically need but helps soothe a bit of your nerves anyway. Your heart, though, pounds erratically in your chest. It feels impossibly loud to your ears, nearly drowning out everything else. You’re never usually this nervous around him but—being around him as Supergirl is easier because the roles are known and played. He is the persistent journalist that gets himself into trouble. You are the superhero tasked with getting him out of it.

But you as you are right now? Nothing for it. This is… no man’s land.

The glass door swings open. A sleepy-eyed Jaemin emerges, ushering a familiar burst of warmth in your chest. Oddly assured at the final sight of him in front of your eyes, you step out of the delivery car, meeting him halfway.

Clearing your throat and praying he’s tired enough not to focus too much on your voice, you ask, “For Jaemin?”

You meet his gaze for a moment, then avert your eyes to the sticker on the box of cookies, listing his order.

“Yeah.”

You trade him the box of cookies for the twenty-dollar bill, ducking your head as you start to thumb out his change.

“Uh, that’s…”

“Keep the change,” he says. “Your tip.”

“Thank you.” You flash him a quick customer service smile, then as you start to turn away, you add, “Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

“Thanks.”

You’re turned away before he is, striding for the delivery car. It takes him exactly two seconds before he himself turns around and starts heading for the doors again. Two seconds in which you clearly feel his gaze on your back. Two seconds is only an eternity to you, though; to him, a human, it’s fleeting—nothing.

It’s nothing at all.

In your six years operating in Metropolis—having started at the age of eighteen—you’ve had a number of journalists attempt to unveil your identity to the masses. Many of them used the defense that that’s what the point of their job is. Lina Dhar-Qian, the first and only journalist to ever figure out a superhero’s identity (not that anyone else knows but, you know), disagrees.

It’s not that they don’t have an obligation to do those things, it’s more that, well, most of them wanted to do it for the inevitable acclaim that would come with revealing such a fact about a… controversial figure within the world. Though Maria Qian, Kun’s adoptive mother, always believed public opinion would be split in half. There would inevitably be those who see it as a good thing, mostly those who are suspicious of Kryptonians and would rather see them leashed much tighter to the US government rather than the UN (both for the sake of potential uprisings but also—and this is the part they hate to admit—so that they’d have such a powerful backing against whoever they deemed the enemy that day).

But then, she would insist to you, Kun, and Lina, the other half would see it in a negative light—a breach of privacy, a wrongdoing against you and Kun, who have worked so tirelessly for this city and this world, swooping in during natural disasters, minimizing the time and effort for search and rescue. So, maybe someone like Huang Renjun, whose mural depicted you so warmly, seeing you as you are, for as potentially harmful as that may be.

It is… nice to have someone see you for the thinking and feelings being that you are, rather than an untouchable, larger-than-life alien deigning to help out a lower life form. You won’t try and say that it isn’t. But again—whether it’s good, is another question.

Nonetheless.

Attempts to reveal your identity are old hat. You are used to them. You know how to deal with them. There’s a habit, you’ve noticed, for new additions or transfers to the Daily Planet; quite a few of them take it upon themselves to try and reveal your identity and prove themselves to the newsroom at the same time. They never succeed, of course—laying low like you do with your job at Sleepless Bites gives you a significant advantage in comparison to Kun, who oftentimes relies on coincidence to cover himself. But it happens. The editors never quite dissuade them, either. You imagine, to them, the chances are low but never quite zero. So, why not? They’re happy to watch these guys run in circles chasing their own tails.

It’s a bit cruel, in your opinion, but what do you know?

This is all to say, shortly after Jaemin’s arrival in Metropolis and after your first and second meeting, he gets, not a gentle nudge, but a full push into chasing down your identity. Admittedly, it also comes on the tail of him exposing a few drug rings in the city and the officials caught up with them, so you figure it is equal parts wanting to watch a newbie spin his wheels but also maybe he could figure it out.

And this all happens right in front of you, one day. You took lunch with Kun, who had subtly complained about not seeing you recently and not knowing what was going on with you.

“There’s never anything going on with me,” you mumble to him, spearing a piece of chicken into your mouth. The two of you are crammed into his cubicle, which, as always, looks like a tornado just came through, papers strewn over his desk, PC tower wheezing and working overtime with an unfinished Word document running behind fifty-something tabs on Chrome.

“What about that guy you work with? Didn’t you hang out with him recently?” he asks, eating a sad-looking salad but not seeming to notice that fact as he hones his focus on you.

“Jisung. I was going to. A basketball game at Met U, his friend plays for them. But the night of we got called out for those wildfires in California, remember?”

“Ah,” he says, grimacing. “I remember. It took days to get the smell of smoke out of my suit. And hair.”

Movement to your left. Crinkling brown eyes peer over the cubicle wall. “Taeyong kept complaining it smelled like burnt popcorn in here.”

You laugh. Kun chuckles, too.

Grinning, Lina comes around to lean against the opening, arms crossed.

“Jay’s been asking about you,” she says. “Let us know when you’re off. He’s dying for a sleepover and we’re dying for a date night.”

“Don’t tell him it’s a date night. He’ll insist I need to patrol so that nothing bothers you two, and that he also needs to come with me because leaving him alone otherwise would be child neglect and in that case, having him help out would be ‘convenient, but also educational.’” You give them both a flat look. You figure most nine-year-olds are generally a little bit conniving, but you’re also very certain his parents play a role in that.

Kun jabs a thumb at his wife. “He gets that from her.”

“Actually, if I remember correctly, that’s technically all you.”

You pretend to throw up. Kun smacks you with a bound stack of papers and Lina laughs.

“Oh, Lina, there you are! You know Jaemin, right? One of our newest? He did that piece on the comptroller.”

You can’t see them from your corner in the cubicle—Joey, the editor always getting on Lina’s nerves, or Jaemin—but you can tell the former is strong-arming the latter next to him, who keeps shifting on his feet, obviously uncomfortable.

“Right. That was a good one.” She doesn’t hold back the respect in her tone.

“Thank you,” comes Jaemin’s quiet reply.

“I was just telling him—if he could use those investigative skills for Supergirl, that would be great, wouldn’t it? Although Superman’s invulnerable—heh—” Kun makes a face, and you smile down at the stack of papers in your lap “—to any and all attempts at his identity, including yours, and you’ve been working his beat for a long time, I figure Supergirl’s free game, isn’t she?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Lina says passively.

“Oh, come on.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Joey. I’ve been working the, as you say, Superman beat, for over a decade. If I haven’t figured out his identity yet, then I think Jaemin’s chances with Supergirl are just as low.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot.” Joey is looking at Jaemin now. “Give it a shot, rookie, and see where it gets you. She’s rescued you twice now, hasn’t she?”

“Really?” Lina asks.

You feel Kun’s eyes on you for a moment before he averts them to his sad salad. Jaemin reluctantly—so very reluctantly—affirms this.

“Does that change anything?” Joey asks her hopefully.

“No,” she says mercilessly. “Supergirl saves hundreds of people every day. Statistically, there are bound to be some journalists she saves and there are also bound to be repeats. No offense, Jaemin, but I wouldn’t consider you overly remarkable in her eyes.”

“None taken,” he quickly says. “I completely agree.”

“He needs to stand out,” Joey says, taking her words as some kind of suggestion of action rather than the clear dismissal that it is. “Of course. That’s it. Thank you, Lina.”

Joey, once again physically strong-arming Jaemin, turns them around.

“That’s not what I meant,” she mutters under her breath.

You don’t say anything and neither does Kun. You’re both still listening.

“What I think you need to do now is most likely try to get within her proximity. You know what I mean? Show up where she is. Establish a rapport like Lina has with Superman. You know, I get where Lina was coming from, if she can’t figure out his identity, then who can? But it’ll be different with you and Supergirl.”

“And by that you mean…”

The sound of a hand meeting clothing. Joey must’ve finally let him go and clapped him on his shoulder just now.

“You don’t need me to say it, do you? Our female interns haven’t been able to keep their eyes off you since you came here. And Supergirl is, well, a girl. You get me?”

Crunch. Kun bites roughly onto a piece of lettuce.

“Maybe,” Jaemin says at last. His voice is tight, obviously discomforted. “Excuse me, I should go… Taeyong wanted to see me about something…”

“Think about it!”

Jaemin grunts and you can hear him striding away quickly, mumbling something in Korean under his breath.

You pull your focus back to the cubicle, shaking your head. “Well, that was fucked up.”

“Maybe Superman should give him a visit…”

You kick him. He curses lowly, pain flashing across his face.

“Don’t do that. That’ll gain too much attention. And I can take care of myself…”

“Of that, I am aware. Wouldn’t be entirely selfless, either. A few weeks ago, he said my writing was too bland. Jerk.”

“Droning,” Lina says. “Not bland.”

“Is there even a difference?”

She shrugs, then turns to you. “Anyway, I didn’t realize that, hm, Supergirl had saved Jaemin.”

“He mentions that in his article…”

“You read what he wrote?”

Your eyes dart between your pseudo-cousin’s shocked face and the eyebrow raise Lina is giving you.

“Wh—yes? Why is that so surprising?”

Kun and Lina look at each other, then back at you.

“I did read it,” she says next. “Well, skimmed it. Still. He’s got a lot of potential.”

“He does,” Kun agrees, setting aside his salad. “He reminds me a bit of Lina, actually. Cape chasing and all.”

She looks at you. “Kick him again, would you?”

You kick him again.

“Ow…”

“He’s not cape chasing, I think,” you murmur. “In fact, the second time we met, he seemed more than happy to prove that he didn’t need me.”

“He’s got something to prove,” Lina says. “I don’t exactly blame him.”

“Not at the expense of his life, though,” Kun disagrees.

You make a sound of agreement.

She wiggles her fingers at you. “You two. The exact same. In any case. Is this a foreseeable problem for Supergirl?”

Considering how persistent he seems, how he, as Lina says, seems to have something to prove… maybe so. You’ll simply have to be more careful and try to avoid him.

“No,” you say. “I don’t think it will.”

They give you lingering looks but don’t bring it up any longer.

But the thing about Jaemin is that, once he’s got an idea in his head, he won’t let it go, come hell or high water. And the thing about you is that you’re prepared to handle people trying to dig into your past. From journalists to amateur sleuths to the government sending satellites to try and track your flight paths and pinpoint your home (or as they’d call it, ‘base of operation’ or some really dramatic shit like that).

So, for the next couple weeks, you do your job as you normally do, with perhaps a little more vigilance than usual for spotting journalists. With, of course, the caveat that if you do end up getting tailed or cornered or something like that, you know precisely what to do to throw Jaemin off your tail.

This all comes to a head when a LexCorp research and development lab explodes. Messing, as usual, with things that are best left alone. You and Kun are both first on the scene, ushering out scientists and immediately clocking the radiation; not high enough to evacuate the entire block, but high enough to have the labs sealed and a perimeter set up, with only those with the proper protection allowed in and out.

You’re already not looking forward to having to rinse off at the end of the day when Kun puts you in charge of the back entrance while he does a little more digging. You’re a potential guard against any errant employees or otherwise people sent to do LexCorp’s dirty work and clean up the mess before the authorities can get their hands on it, but also against those who might be interested in poaching whatever goods they’ve got.

At some point in the evening, you floated up from the ground, crossing your legs beneath you as you watched the back entrance. It gives you the perfect vantage point to spot a very familiar Na Jaemin creeping around rubble and taking pictures. It’s only when he gets too close to the entrance do you say something.

“I really wouldn’t.”

You partially expect for him to be surprised at your entrance—he is not. A small flinch initially, but he recovers quickly, like he was expecting you.

“I knew it,” he says.

You lower yourself to the ground. “I’m sorry. It’s just not allowed—it’s dangerous in there if you don’t have the proper equipment and the mask helps but—”

“I’m not talking about that,” he says, waving a hand. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to go in. I really don’t want to, either. Lina’s got this story handled and I’ll be honest, I’m not interested in subjecting myself to that, even for the sake of justice.”

You cock your head. It is perhaps safe to say this is your first at length conversation with him and right off the bat, what an interesting thing to say. For the sake of justice, huh? Maybe you two have more in common than you think… Plus that stunning show of self-preservation, after Lina’s initial insistence, is a nice change of pace.

If you don’t consider the fact that he might be planning to figure out your identity and expose you to the rest of the world, you’d soften a lot on him.

As it currently is…

“Then what are you interested in, Jaemin?“

He looks at you for a moment. It is a moonless night and back here, there is minimal lighting, the power having been blown out from the explosion. You know you must be hard to make out but for you, you can make him out easily.

His dark hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it all night, and there are deep bags beneath his eyes—deeper than before, than the previous times you have seen him. Like he’s been toiling about something.

But when your eyes meet his, you see nothing but determination there.

It makes you falter for just a second, wondering, perhaps, if he’s already pulled the rug out underneath you, if he’s figured it out. It shouldn’t be possible, he’s never seen your civilian identity—been in proximity, yes, but he didn’t see you, did he?

“Who are you?”

Huh.

“No one’s ever asked me so bluntly,” you say. “Kind of a nice change of pace. But you know I can’t answer that, don’t you?”

“I know. I don’t really care, either, to be honest.”

And the crazy thing is, he’s telling the truth. That, or Na Jaemin is a professional liar and knows how to control his pulse. But you don’t think this is that.

“Is that so?”

“It’s a waste. A waste of time, of effort. There is no use in chasing a mystery like that.”

“No?”

“No. The only thing I want to know,” he says, gazing steadily at you, “is what that means.”

Jaemin points at your chest—specifically, the symbol on your chest.

“It’s not a letter,” he adds. “I know that much. You’re aliens, why would you use the English alphabet? So, I figure, it’s a symbol. It means something to you.”

“To Superman,” you add gently, because the symbol is on his chest, too.

“I don’t care about him.”

You pause, not quite sure what to say. Everyone cares about Superman. They love him. They revere him. Or they hate him completely. Either way, sometimes, a lot of the time, it becomes your problem. Which is not to say you have a problem with Kun. You don’t. But what he does reflects on you.

But this is…

You smile. “Na Jaemin, you are the strangest being I’ve ever met.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” you say, and you mean it, too.

A pause, a moment of understanding passing between you two, like before now, you’ve been working on two different wavelengths. You suspect, that though you now seem to be on the same one, you’ll still be on opposite ends, but nonetheless…

“It means hope,” you tell him softly. “This symbol that we wear, that I wear, it means hope.”

“Hope,” he repeats, more to himself than anything else, gaze clinging to the symbol for another minute before he looks back at you. “I understand. Thank you.”

It’s earnest. Genuine. And you can also understand that he does not intend to make this knowledge public. He can and it likely wouldn’t hurt but he won’t.

Jaemin takes a step back, his objective now completed.

One last glance, then he turns and leaves. You watch him until he disappears around a corner, no longer in your immediate field of vision.

And the next day and over the days after that, nothing happens. Nothing comes out in the papers about you or Kun. Jaemin keeps his unspoken word, just as you thought he would.

“But… how do you really know there’s nothing there?”

“Jay, kiddo, I told you. Jupiter is a gas planet. Beneath the surface is just—wait for it, gasp—more gas.”

Jay Dhar-Qian, your nephew, purses his lips, brown eyes focused on the Jenga piece he’s pulling out of the tower of them.

“But have you ever gone in?”

“Well, no, but again—”

“So, you don’t know. Mom says firsthand experiences are important in the field—”

You laugh. “Of journalism! And, yeah, some of science, too, but humans have come up with plenty of solid theories about space without going out there and exploring because they don’t have the means to. The one about Jupiter being a gas planet? Unfortunately, very true.”

“I think you need to go in there and see,” he says decisively, setting the piece he pulled on top of the tower. “Then get back to NASA.”

“Oh, they’ll love that, I’m sure. Your dad and I regularly break multiple laws of physics, you know, which bothers them enough. They won’t be happy to hear their theories about gas planets being disproven.”

“Facts don’t care about feelings,” he mumbles, folding his arms on your coffee table and watching you pull out a block at the bottom.

Though, you have to pause that way you can laugh. He smiles faintly at the table, which isn’t quite the reaction you expected from that; you don’t let him know that, however, resuming your task of pulling out the Jenga piece from the middle section. You set it on the top.

“I guess,” he goes on, finger tracing a scratch in the wood, “I’ll only really believe it if I see it. So… when I get my powers, let’s go see it, okay?”

Ah.

Jay Dhar-Qian, the first of his kind, Kryptonian and human—your nephew for all intents and purposes, even if you aren’t technically biologically related to Kun.

This can, as anyone might imagine, come with baggage.

But you don’t touch on that yet. “There are spacesuits, you know. We could just get you one of those. If we ask NASA very nicely, they’ll probably give us one.”

“That’s not as fun,” he mumbles.

You don’t say anything, watching him reach for a piece from the second row from the bottom. He pokes it out oh-so-carefully but the tower wobbles precariously, then falls in a crash. A few Jenga pieces tumble off the edge of the coffee table.

He slumps back against the couch. “I lose.”

“Jay…”

“I know what you’re going to say. It’ll take time, no one like me has ever existed before, we don’t know anything about how I’m growing or how my powers will develop since I’m Kryptonian and human. I have invulnerability but it doesn’t even stay on all the time. I scraped my knee the other day, you know? It was embarrassing. I just want to be like you and Dad…” He ends his tirade of frustration by knocking his head against the edge of the couch, glaring sullenly at your popcorn ceiling.

You purse your lips, thinking for a moment. This has been a growing concern for him—and for Kun and Lina as well. Less so that they wanted Jay to even have powers in the first place and more so that Jay seemed to be vying for his powers for some misguided wish of belonging. You know that sounds harsh, especially since belonging might be even more critical for him, with one foot in the world you live in and another one in a dead one, but despite that, or perhaps in spite of it, you—and Kun and Lina and Maria—fully believe that Jay will be able to feel at home here, powers or not.

He wants to prove himself, you think, and considering the shadow that his father does cast—consciously and subconsciously, because the world needs it, but his son doesn’t—as well as your reach, though you’d hardly consider yourself as weighty as Kun is, well, it is a lot of pressure. Pressure you and Kun have never subscribed to him, to be clear, but some that he feels, nonetheless.

It’s a lot for a kid. You know very well what that feels like.

“Jay… you are the best of us. But that doesn’t mean you need to go out there and carry the weight of the world. You don’t need powers. You don’t need anything.”

He leans his head on your arm, and you are suddenly aware of how small he is next to you, little scamp that he is.

“I wanna be like you guys, though. I wanna help people.”

You curl an arm around him. “There are plenty of other ways to do that. I promise. And we’ll help you find them. Alright?”

He mumbles his assent, curling further into your side; you’ll coax him out eventually with the promise of ice cream and his favorite movie but for now, you let him hide from the rest of the world. And because when you do that, he does respond, and after a bit of time, he’s back to his old self again, you don’t linger too long on the issue. It remains in the back of your mind, poised to be brought up again next time you see Kun and Lina, but in the present moment, you decide that for now, Jay is okay.

For now, as you will find out, is not good enough. Because the next day, when you wake up—he’s gone.

Chronologically speaking, you are older than Kun. By a solid ten years, in fact.

His parents were friends with yours. And so, you vividly remember the day he was born. At ten-years-old, you were not too interested in this red, wrinkly-faced baby, who could only cry, sleep, and eat. And when you were sent off, with the instructions, among other things, to look out for who was essentially your cousin, Kun, you were very much older than him.

But then there were issues with the ship itself, and space is unfathomably harsh, and time and gravity are even worse, so, when you landed on earth at the age of sixteen, you did find your cousin—coming up on more than a decade of Superman, married, with a kid.

Those first few years were, as one can imagine, difficult. But you really would not trade it for anything in the world. And with Jay, in many ways, it feels a lot like finally fulfilling the wish of your mother. You couldn’t take care of Kun, not in the ways she had envisioned, because his adoptive parents, the ones who found him in a cornfield in Smallville, Kansas, Yuzhe and Maria Qian, had already done so. But you could—can—take care of Jay. So, you do.

People don’t know about him—they don’t know that there is another Kryptonian on earth, much less the son of Superman. And if they did? You are certain the thought of Superman—a Kryptonian—reproducing in any way would make the government implode on itself.

So. When you wake up the next morning to find Jay missing from your sofa bed, you panic.

It’s not like him, to do things like this, especially when you don’t find a note or anything. He may be invulnerable (occasionally) and raised with the optimistic kindness of Kun and the eagle-eyed shrewdness of Lina, but he’s still a kid.

You inform Kun as soon as you realize it, already forming a list of spots to hit—places familiar to him, like their apartment, his school, that fro-yo spot on Elderberry—and your cousin affirms your plan and promises to head over, since he and Lina are on the west coast for a convention. He’s mostly calm, too, which helps your panic but not quite the bundle of guilt in your chest. Still, you figure that can be addressed after you find your escapee nephew.

Then—you hit the streets. You get more than one complaint from pedestrians as you fly through the city a little faster than usual, wind whipping behind you and glass windows rattling in your wake, jostling coffee cups and papers and whatever else is light enough and unlucky enough to be caught in your path.

But as you continue to fail to find Jay and Kun does, too, having gotten in ten minutes after you set off, your initial panic returns and you care more about finding Jay than your speed.

Nightmare scenarios keep running in your mind, varying from him being abducted by any number of entities, government and not, for experimentation, to his flight suddenly developing and him panicking and leaving the city and landing in another continent, or hell, off planet entirely. You keep them to yourself, though, refusing to burden Kun even more as you can see his patience start to wear thin.

So, while he pauses to regroup with Lina—also worried out of her mind—you run through the city again.

Their apartment. His school. The Daily Planet. The fro-yo place. The—

“Supergirl!”

Your body stops before your mind processes it. Mostly because, instinctively, you recognize the voice.

“Jaemin, I’m sorry, I really don’t have time—”

“Are you looking for a kid?”

Jaemin is unbothered by the whip of wind as you flash over to him. He does, however, seem curious.

“Where?”

“Here.” He looks to the side, and you do, too. A new apartment building still under construction looks back at you, a hole in the fence right in front of you.

You duck through without a word. And like always, Jaemin follows you.

Heartbeats are hard to use on their own as locators, there is simply too much feedback, but they are familiar, nonetheless. In the present state that you are, you couldn’t make an effort to even try picking it out. But Jay’s heart pounds quick. You can hear his breathing, faster than normal, small whimpers impossibly loud to your sharp ears. You’re on the fourth floor before you know it. You hear Jaemin curse under his breath, left behind on the first flight of stairs, shoes thumping on the steps faster now.

You tune it out as soon as you spot Jay. Using your X-ray vision, you peel back the only layer between you, the door of a maintenance closet, where he’s curled up in the corner, face buried in his arms. Jaemin is on the second flight now. Still far enough for you to kneel in front of the closed door, flattening your palm on lacquered wood and whispering Jay’s name.

“Tell me what’s wrong, kiddo.”

“There’s—too much,” he says, voice strangled. “There’s too much.”

“Too much?”

He curls further into himself. “The world is too big.”

Looks like you were right. His powers—his senses only, maybe X-ray vision, too—developed overnight or just a few minutes ago.

“Make it smaller,” you say softly.

“How?”

“Focus on my voice. Pretend… it’s an island. Out in the ocean. Can you see it? Look hard, Jay. I know you can find it.”

As you speak, you can sense the shift in his focus as he tries to do as you say. His breathing is still quick but lesser than before, same with his heart.

Finally, in a trembling whisper, “I can see it.”

You reach for the doorknob, speaking as you turn it, as the gears turn and move, “Then swim toward it, kiddo.”

He sucks in a breath when you open the door, but you can see the tension starting to seep out of his body. Slowly, he lifts his head from his arms, but his eyes are still screwed shut. You open your mouth to tell him to open his eyes.

Then, Jaemin comes in. Your body moves before you can process it, shielding Jay’s face from him, because Kun and Lina have brought him to work countless times and you don’t know if Jaemin’s ever seen him. The tension returns to Jay in an instant. It sets you on edge for a reason you can’t quite articulate, your hand shooting out behind you. Jaemin stops in his tracks at your signal.

“Who is that?! Who’s—”

“It’s okay,” you quickly soothe. “It’s alright. He’s just a—a friend. It’s okay.”

“No… no…”His pulse picks up. So does his breathing.

You utter his name under your breath, unheard to Jaemin’s human ears but easily audible to Jay’s newly sensitive ears.

“It’s okay, I promise, nothing bad is going to happen—”

“No, no,” he cries. “There’s too much—it’s too hot—I don’t know what—”

Red begins to glow beneath his eyes. Then they open.

His heat vision is new and unlearned. Because of that, it burns the hottest it can go.

Your suit is built to mostly withstand what you can withstand. The freezing cold of space, nearly absolute zero, and the burning heat of the sun. But a Kryptonian’s heat vision can be as hot as the surface of the sun. Hotter, if anything. Concentrated as it is, it shreds through the fabric at your arm, thrown over your face as you moved to intercept its path, which had been aimed right over your shoulder.

So, Jay’s heat vision burns like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

You feel it tear through your skin, blood pooling, dripping onto the floor. If you keep letting it hit you, it’ll do worse, split your forearm open like a sieve. But Jay is past the point of coherency. Nerve strikes don’t work on you—Kryptonian physiology is very different from a human’s under the surface—but you bank on the very human part of Jay’s DNA to work in your favor, and as you rush forward, gritting your teeth at the white-hot pain of his heat vision burning into your skin, you find it works well on him.

He slumps in your arms in the next second, heat vision flickering out, eyes fluttering closed. For a moment, you just breathe, cradling him to your body. Your left arm trembles from the pain.

As you watch your blood drip onto the concrete floor, crimson on dusty grey, all you can think is this is the first time in a long time that you’ve seen your own blood. The slow intake of breath behind you reminds you of Jaemin’s presence. His pulse is a little unsteady, breathing the same. At that moment, it sinks in for you—what he’s seen.

He knows this is another Kryptonian.

Shit.

You reach up to unclasp your cape and wrap it around Jay, using it to keep his face hidden.

“Kun,” you whisper. “Kun, I have Jay.”

You know he hears you because in the next second, you hear the unmistakable boom of the sound barrier breaking from his path. And in the second after that, with a sharp gust of wind that makes your wounded arm throb, he’s behind you, a hand on your shoulder. You stand. He shields you and Jay from Jaemin.

“Your arm—”

“I’m fine. I’ll… be fine. His powers—I don’t know what he has entirely, but his senses and his heat vision are definitely there.”

He takes Jay from your arms. “Alright. And…” The way he trails off in combination with the way his gaze slides left leaves an open and urgent question about Jaemin’s presence.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Be careful,” he says quietly, and you know he also realizes the weight of the situation. How quickly south this can go depending… Depending on Jaemin. One last lingering look, then Kun is gone.

And Jaemin is still there. Looking at you, eyebrows knitted together. The absence of your cape is noticeable. A missing weight on your shoulders. You feel like a turtle without its shell.

“Jaemin, listen…” Your heart thunders in your own ears. In that moment, you feel a little like Jay must’ve, overstimulated and knee-deep in panic because of it. “You just—you have to understand, I… we…”

How do you say this? How do you tell him? Should you even tell him? Can you spin this in a way that doesn’t reveal Jay’s parentage? You’ve never really… lied to Jaemin. You don’t lie. You just… don’t tell him things. He once asked if you had a job and you said yes. He asked what and you said, Nothing interesting. And that was—is—true and he left it at that.

You clench and unclench your hands. The movement sends pain rippling through your forearm, still bleeding onto the floor. You make an absent note to clean up the blood before you leave.

It’s like you said. The world would lose its mind if they found out Superman had a child. That he had a child with a human. That there was another Kryptonian here—one with powers, no less, one who, if the rest of his powers develop, will come across as more Kryptonian than human.

People don’t think of Superman and Supergirl as people. As your average everyday Joe. That is the point of this persona. That you aren’t and you help people because of it. But that’s as far as people’s patience will extend. Most think you and Kun don’t even live in Metropolis proper, that you two hide away and only come out during crises. No one wants to consider the fact that Superman—an alien—might be walking among them.

You don’t want to think badly of Jaemin, but you know well that this changes things drastically, maybe enough to have him reconsidering his position in relation to you.

“He’s… Don’t… He’s just a kid,” you say weakly. “He’s just—a kid. Just a kid.”

Realization flashes across his face. “I’m not going to say anything,” he says. “I never was.”

Your shoulders drop in relief. “Thank you.”

He shifts on his feet, frowning, teeth digging into his bottom lip for a moment before releasing it. “Why—I would never… I mean. He’s just a kid.”

“I had to be sure,” you whisper. “Because it’s—it’s different. With the kid. He’s… People would do a lot to kill him or experiment on him.”

He nods along slowly, understanding. An odd silence unfolds between you two; this is new territory entirely and the newness of it leaves you both uncertain of your places.

Jaemin blows out a breath. “You don’t have to tell me anything but… is he… yours?”

“No! No, no, he’s…” You stop, swallowing. “You have to swear not to tell anyone, Jaemin.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“He’s Superman’s,” you reveal quietly. “And I’m—Superman and I are like family. The kid is like a nephew to me.”

“And his mom…”

“She’s human,” you admit.

His eyes widen. It’s not entirely surprising that that is the thing that surprises him the most and less so that Superman had a kid. Humans have such a hard time compartmentalizing the thought of Superman walking among them, much less a Kryptonian being involved with a human in that way. But, to you, even in the beginning, it wasn’t anything to scrutinize. Interspecies relationships are alive and thriving outside of earth and your time in space gave you great insight into that. More than that—well, the Kryptonian dating pool is kind of… small, for obvious reasons.

“So… his powers…”

“He’s the first of his kind,” you murmur. “We had no idea how he would develop. We still really don’t. Today… they developed. We weren’t prepared. But he’s not dangerous. I mean—he needs to learn control. But that’s it. Control for us is easy.”

He nods slowly, gaze dropping to the floor thoughtfully as he mulls over your words. You figure you two are out of dangerous territory, but it still makes you nervous.

Eventually, his gaze returns to yours. “I won’t say anything. I promise.”

You close your eyes, sighing. “Thank you.”

“You’re hurt.”

Reopening your eyes, you glance down at your arm; the wound runs lengthways of your forearm, still weeping, though it’s slowed significantly, blood starting to congeal.

“I just need sun. That’s all.”

Although, because it’s from heat vision, it’ll take longer to heal, which won’t do. You might need to go off-planet and get closer to the sun. A sun. NASA doesn’t like when you and Kun get too close to Sol.

Movement from Jaemin regains your attention. You watch as he shuffles closer, digging through his messenger bag for something. You aren’t sure what until he pulls out a small first aid kit.

“No, Jaemin. Keep that for yourself—”

“You’re bleeding everywhere,” he scolds. “It’s a biohazard.”

“I promise I’m not carrying any extraterrestrial or inter-dimensional diseases.”

“Even so. It should be covered up.” He pulls out a roll of gauze, closing the distance between you. You find yourself raising your arm to him without prompt. You can never really say no to him.

Gently, he winds the gauze around your arm. You grit your teeth at the pain that throbs through your arm.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

He nods, putting the roll away. You glance at your arm, gauze neatly wrapped around your arm. Blood is already starting to dot through the fabric. You really need to head out and get this fixed.

“I should go,” you sigh. “Thank you again. Really. For everything.”

He rubs the back of his neck, almost bashful. “You’re welcome…”

“Get home safe, please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you, too.”

You’ll be just fine. Eventually. All that’s left now is the aftermath.

In the summer, Smallville, Kansas is hot and dry. But at night, the heat is less blistering and more soothing. After spending the last few hours in the freezing cold of space, it’s nice against your skin, warm air blowing through your hair as you fly for the Qian farm on the outside of town.

Your arm is fully healed, thanks to the time hanging out halfway between Sol and Mercury—as far as you think you could go without making the NASA people twitchy. You stopped by your place in Metropolis to pull out a replacement suit—flying without your cape makes you uncomfortable—and a set of clothes. Clothes that you change into as soon as you get close to the farm.

The house comes into view. An invisible weight peels from your shoulders. You sigh. There is only one place on earth where you get to be yourself—get to feel like yourself. That is the Qian farm.

Kun meets you at the porch steps.

“How is he?” you ask immediately.

“Shaken but alright.”

His eyes flicker to your arm in the next second, a clear question in the action—an action that must go unspoken, since Jay’s superhearing has obviously kicked in and neither of you want to make him feel bad if he’s listening in—which he most likely is. You would.

You raise your arm for him to look at—the skin is healed, unmarred, as if nothing ever happened. Nodding, he clasps a hand over your forearm, squeezing gently. You pat his hand.

Kun tilts his head. “He’s in his room. Have at it.”

The screen door slams shut behind you. In the kitchen, freshly washed dishes sit on a drying mat beside the sink; you can smell the remnants of whatever they had for dinner. In the living room, the TV is on, playing reruns of soaps that Maria and Kun are fond of watching together. You greet Maria, then head further in, finding Jay’s bedroom.

You knock gently on the closed door. “Kiddo? Can I come in?”

Waiting a moment, you get no response, though you know he’s in there. You can hear him breathing, hear his heartbeat, which has picked up its pace out of nervousness.

“I’m coming in.”

His bedroom is full of everything that makes Jay, well, Jay. Dark blue walls, a solar system hanging in one corner, Star Wars and Star Trek posters decorating the walls, LEGO sets decorating his desk and dresser. Your shoe nudges a baseball. It rolls underneath the desk.

On the twin bed, Jay is nothing more than a lump of planet-themed blankets and sheets. Dusty, a black and white Border Collie, lifts his head from where he lays at the foot of the bed, curled over Jay’s feet underneath the blankets.

You sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out a tentative hand to what should be his head. “Jay?”

Quiet for yet another moment. But then, he shifts, covers tugging down slightly for his hair and eyes to be revealed. He still doesn’t look at you, though.

“‘M sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you are, kiddo. There’s nothing to forgive.” He was forgiven even before it happened. You know what it’s like to deal with the onslaught of the powers, of the ways in which the yellow sun fuels you differently than a red sun does. Especially to have them develop here on earth, where there is so much noise.

A small shake of his head as he stares determinedly at the footboard, away from you. “I could’ve—could’ve killed you.”

Sighing quietly, you kick off your sneakers and bring your legs up onto the bed, turning onto your side and pulling Jay closer to you.

Leaning your head on his, you murmur, “I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“You don’t—”

“Maybe, if it had been anyone else. That… is the truth of our powers. We can really hurt someone—each other, but also, more importantly, humans. That’s the truth, Jay. There’s no sense in denying it. You can hurt someone if you aren’t careful. But what happened today was an accident. And no, that’s not really an excuse, but that’s for us, for your dad and I, because we know our limits. You don’t. Your powers just developed, there is no possible way you could know the ins and outs about controlling them. I don’t want you to be hard on yourself because of this. I’m fine. I’m completely okay. All you need to do now is learn to control them and your dad and I are going to be there every step of the way, okay?”

“Okay.” His voice is small. He curls into you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You squeeze him for emphasis.

After that, he relaxes bit by bit. At your feet, Dusty rearranges himself to lay his snout over your ankle, now splayed over both you and Jay, snoring lowly as he snoozes. Downstairs, Lina is humming to herself as she digs through the freezer for ice cream. Kun is pulling down bowls from the cabinets and Maria is flicking through the channels on the TV. Outside, crickets chirp and the cicadas sing in the summer night.

That’s what you like most about Smallville—aside from being able to feel the most like yourself, it’s quiet in a way Metropolis rarely is. But you would miss it eventually, the noise, the sound of thriving life.

You wonder where Jaemin in. What he’s doing. Hopefully staying out of trouble.

The sound of your name brings you out of your reverie.

“Hm?”

The initial melancholy that saturated the room and atmosphere has mostly disappeared; what has replaced it is still calm and a little solemn, but now tinged with a new curiosity.

“I know,” he starts haltingly, clearly a little bit nervous, “that I still have a lot to do with controlling my powers… and they haven’t even all developed… if they develop…”

“It seems likely that they will,” you muse. “But what you have now is still nothing to scoff at.”

“Right… so… when I do learn to control it… can I go out there with you and Dad?”

“That you’ll have to bring up with your parents, kiddo. But…”

“Yeah?”

You chuckle at the thinly-veiled excitement in his voice at the prospect of bringing you into this to convince his parents. To him, you are the fun aunt who lets him stay up and watch TV on school nights, and his parents are the ones who are happy to put their foot down and kill his fun. Jay idolizes you enough to never really consider that you would wholeheartedly agree with his parents if they decided that this wasn’t an appropriate avenue for him to explore. And technically speaking, it isn’t, not right now, not at this age. Things could, however, change as he gets older. But you’ll leave that up to Kun and Lina.

This, however, is not about that.

“Don’t get too excited. I’m leaving this in your parents’ hands and if they say no, kiddo, you’re gonna have to listen to them.”

He wriggles a little impatiently in your hold. “I know, I know.”

“But… if they say yes, I need you to remember something.”

“What?”

Sighing, you lean your head against his. “It’s okay to quit.”

He stills next to you. “…Huh?”

“It’s okay to quit. If you change your mind… it’s okay to quit. It’s okay to run away. You know that, right?”

He’s quiet. Confused. Mostly about where this is coming from or because the thought of giving up is inconceivable to him. He doesn’t know what it’s like. But to be honest, there is a part of you that knows that if Kun and Lina agree and he, at one point, emerges as another figure alongside Superman and Supergirl, he won’t give up. No matter what. Jay is so good. So kind. And not that either of those things cancel out if he quit, but even if it is hard—and it will be, is your point—he wouldn’t give up, he’d force himself to see it through—like you do sometimes. Like his dad does sometimes, too.

A hero’s temperament, Maria once called it. Nonetheless. The way you see it, you and Kun have something of an obligation to help earth. But Jay, the next generation, the best of humanity and Kryptonians, does not need to bear the weight of this burden if he doesn’t want to.

“Okay,” he says at last. “I understand.”

You squeeze him tighter and say nothing more during your time with him. It’s only when he dozes off a few hours later do you slip out of his room. Lina and Maria are in the living room, the former working on something on her laptop, the latter doing a crossword puzzle and watching TV. Outside, the night sky is clear of clouds and full of stars. You join Kun on the porch, leaning against the railing.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he admits after a long moment of silence.

“It had to be said.”

“It did,” he agrees. “But it… never really crossed my mind—our minds—to say something like that to him.” Guilt lingers in his voice.

You watch the corn stalks sway in the breeze. “Most wouldn’t.”

“We’re not most.”

“No,” you say quietly. “But that gives you leeway. It’s fine that you didn’t say it because I did and truthfully, I think if you say something like that, too, it’ll make him wonder if we doubt him. In that case, either he doubles down or gives up entirely.”

He plants both hands on the railing, blowing out a breath.

“I sort of want him to give it up,” he admits very quietly in Kryptonian. “He doesn’t need that burden.”

“No… he doesn’t.”

Falling back into silence, together, the two of you watch the corn stalks sway in the breeze, stars twinkling at you.

“Supergirl!”

You don’t always stop for people calling your name. Sometimes, it’s a clout grab. Sometimes, someone is trying to throw acid on you. But if you recognize the person’s voice and if you have the time, you’ll stop. So, when Huang Renjun calls out to you when you’re passing by the community center where you first met him, you stop.

“Oh,” he says, blinking when you go down to him. “I didn’t think you’d stop.”

You smile kindly. “I recognized your voice. How have you been?”

“Good, good. And, um, you?”

“I’m alright, thanks. So, what’d you need?”

He gets hesitant here and you aren’t sure why. Biting his lip uncertainly, he scratches his head, clearly thinking something over. In his chest, his heart beats at an unsteady pace, one that’s enough to concern you.

“Is something wrong, Renjun?” you ask, concerned, mostly for his wellbeing—is he in trouble?

“No, no, no,” he says, waving his hands. “I’m sorry—I’m fine, I promise. It’s just… ah, I called you because… an artist in the circle I run in put up this mural and he knew I’d met you and he wanted me to tell you about it… but I’m not so sure it’s a good idea now…”

You cock your head. “Why not?”

“The mural is—well. It’s… good. Just not…” He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“I’m not naked, am I?”

“No! God, no, I wouldn’t—”

You laugh. “I’m kidding!”

He closes his eyes, exhaling a laugh. “Seriously?”

“So long as I’m not naked or otherwise depicted in a weird sexual manner, Renjun, I don’t care. Where’s the mural?”

“The bar’s in hell, you know that, right?”

“I’m well aware. But I take what I can get. Tell me.”

“Right…”

He tells you the address—still very reluctant to do so, for reasons you aren’t sure of. Outside of being sexual in nature—which he vehemently denied—you can’t imagine why he is hesitating so much. But before you get to grill him for more details, you get pulled away by something on the other side of the city. Kun ends up beating you to it, though, as when you arrive, the robbery at the jewelry store has already been taken care of, gunmen disposed of, hostages rushing out. You do a bit of damage control, then get ready to leave when the police and ambulance arrive. Then you spot a familiar face in the crowd.

“Jaemin.”

He turns. His eyes flicker to your face, then to your arm—your left forearm, where you’d taken the hit from Jay a few days ago.

“Good as new,” you say when his gaze meets your again.

He nods, fingers fiddling with the camera hanging around his neck. He inhales, opening his mouth to say something, then stops, glancing around. Ah. Too many ears.

“Renjun told me about a new mural of me,” you tell him. “It’s a few blocks from here.”

Jaemin nods and in the chaos of the scene, the two of you slip away unnoticed.

This is a more residential area, so the further from the scene you get, the quieter and emptier the streets get. You know no one is following you, either, so you feel free to say: “My nephew is okay, if that’s what you were wondering.”

“It was.”

“He’s alright. He’s got a steep learning curve ahead of him, but I know he’ll do fine.”

“And… Superman… is he okay with me knowing?”

“He trusts me, and I trust you. So, yes.” There’s a small stutter in Jaemin’s pace, one that goes unnoticed by you as you realize the mural is just around the corner. You step around it, curious to see what had Renjun so nervous and reluctant.

When you see it, you understand.

Jaemin stops as soon as he realizes what it is, disbelief palpable, while you slowly walk to the center of it, gazing up at the painted bricks.

Jaemin’s scoff is harsh. “Why the hell would Renjun tell you to check this out?”

“To my understanding, his friend—or, well, he never said they were friends, just that they ran in the same art circles, but anyway, he said the painter was bothering him to tell me about it. I can see why. This is… really nice.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Why? Because you think it’s untrue?”

You look back at the mural. Muted dark shades of blue flow into darkness, with you in the center, on one knee, a sphere of midnight blue, swirling white, green, and brown on your shoulders, braced by your hands. Despite the gravity and the weight of your task, the look on your face, eyes closed, is serene.

The message is clear.

“Are you that dramatic?”

“Jaemin,” you say softly. “You and I both know this isn’t about dramatics. This is what I am. This is what we are. Me and Superman.”

“No, it’s not,” he argues, with a stunning amount of gall as usual, but you’re used to it by now, no longer surprised by the things Jaemin is willing to do or argue for if he feels strongly enough about them. The fact that you’re the topic of it is what surprises you, however. Why should it matter to him?

“You’re… you. And that—” he points at your chest, at the symbol there “—you said it means hope. How is this hopeful? It’s just… miserable. Inevitable.”

“Now who’s the dramatic one?” Despite the tease, your words are gentle.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s what humans need. You know that.”

The way he purses his lips tells you he knows that very well. Yet it still seems… almost upsetting to him. You can’t imagine why. This is—well, perhaps a bit dramatic, but no less true. This is what you were saying. You and Kun have a responsibility to earth, to humans, on behalf of Krypton, on the behalf of your people. To help them. They will stumble and they will fall but one day, they will stand in the sun with you. You know this with everything inside of you.

And yet… Jaemin looks so…

Something takes over you. You’re closing the distance between you two before you realize it.

To tell the truth, outside of saving him, you try to keep your distance from him. Out of all the planets you’ve visited and the people—beings—you’ve seen, Jaemin is by far the prettiest in the entire universe. Up close, this fact is made a thousand times more debilitating for you. But even as your pulse skyrockets, warmth flooding your chest and face, you hold steady like you always do.

Your hand lands on his shoulder before you can stop it. The heat of him seeps through the fabric of his button-up, searing into the palm of your hand. Humans are much warmer in comparison to you and thanks to your senses that are heightened with the power of Sol, everything feels that much more intense to you, including this. This is the first time you’ve ever touched him outside of pulling him out of the way of a bullet or something. It’s not physically possible for you to get dizzy, and yet…

“This is presumptuous on my end,” you say quietly, lips quirked. “And truthfully, I would rather not know that fact and pretend that you do actually care about this—me (like I said, presumptuous)—but this is how things are. This is how they have to be. Humans can’t handle us in any other capacity than this one—solemn figures with a… responsibility to the sanctity of earth and humanity. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Jaemin looks at you, brows still knitted together. His eyes are such a dark shade of brown—darker on the edges of his irises before lightening a bit further in. Still dark. Still endless—easy to get lost in. And you’re very good at getting lost.

You step back. Hand falling from his shoulder, your skin tingles from the imprint of his body warmth; it leaves you quickly, leaving the palm of your hand oddly cold. You flex your hand idly and look away.

“I should go. Don’t give Renjun a hard time about this, please?”

His quiet, “Fine,” shouldn’t surprise you but it does. He’s not usually so mellow like that with you. But you aren’t complaining about it now.

“Thank you. I’ll… see you around.”

He doesn’t say anything. You turn, meandering a few steps away from him so your take off won’t jar him too much. His gaze remains on you, burning into you. Until you’re thousands of feet in the air, you feel his gaze on you and wonder when you became so attuned to it.

There are a few things you don’t like about earth. Nothing big, mind you. Not, like, humanity itself or something. If anything, you’re quite fond of them. Much fonder than you used to be. But earth has its quirks. You’re not overly fond of thunder. It’s too loud—and you’re not exaggerating. It leaves your ears ringing sometimes. The constant shift of the tectonic plates isn’t something you like that much, either. Krypton didn’t have tectonic plates. It’s part of the reason you had so many issues with the core, towards the end.

But you digress.

On that end, earthquakes aren’t your favorite things in the world, either. They happen a lot, constantly, little ones that are unnoticeable to anyone but you and geographers with the equipment to sense them. And even then, you experience them on a different level.

But you have another reason. They make you feel so… useless. All you can do is wait them out. Intervene in the moment, but you can’t stop them.

The earthquake that happens in California the next day is a prime example of that.

You heard it, of course. Loud and thunderous beneath the surface of the earth. Seconds after it hit, you and Kun were pinged about it for search and rescue. This is where you try to do everything you can to help.

You and Kun beat the search and rescue aid being sent in from the rest of the world, but you run point with the local aid. You work through the night, shifting through pieces of rubble and glass, pulling out people. You always breathe a sigh of relief when they emerge okay. You can hear their heartbeats, of course, hear when a destroyed building has no survivors, no life, and must quietly redirect the locals to other buildings that do for aid, while others will work on finding the bodies.

It’s hard, though. It’s so hard. You would think that after doing this for six years, after everything you have seen, even before you came to earth, it wouldn’t be hard. You are no stranger to suffering, to pain, to death. You watched Krypton die. You watched your people die. Your father, then your mother.

Earth was, is, a second chance. This is your home, too. And for these people, they’ve lost virtually everything. They’ll get back up, Kun reminds you. They always do. If there is anything that they are, they are resilient. You know that. And you do. But it’s still hard. The tight, brimming hug a woman gives you after you rescue her from a building on fire nearly brings you to tears, holding her to you as she sobs her thanks.

You work hard for the next two days. From dawn to dusk. You and Kun have worked on the scene of enough natural disasters like this that aid knows to rotate their workers, but it’s still a lot on them. By the third day, you and Kun are working late into the night, late enough that dawn is already approaching. Your next mission is a partially destroyed skyscraper, the other half still standing with people still trapped inside. It’s tricky because the building is too unstable. At that point, they call on you and Kun directly, right before it’s set to give out so they can make a last-ditch effort to get the people out.

You work in tandem, diving in to hold it up yourselves while workers rush in and pull people out. A boy cries and refuses to move from his friend’s body, curled up in a ball in the corner.

“Go!” you yell at the worker. “I got him—go, get out of here now!”

Kun utters your name in a question.

Metal groans and rumbles, the infrastructure seconds away from giving out—not enough support, even with you and Kun there. You strain against the weight of it, glass, and concrete, and metal bearing down on you.

“Go when I say,” you order.

One second, an eternity, then, “Okay.”

You meet the boy’s gaze. He looks no older than ten. Like Jay. Like you, when Krypton died.

“Go.”

You move exactly when Kun does, diving for the boy, wrapping your arms around him as the building finally collapses on itself. Knowing that if you stay here, you will be buried, and it will be that much harder to get out, to get him out safely, you go up. Curling yourself around him, making sure to cover his ears, you rip through metal and glass and concrete as it falls on you. It bounces off harmlessly on your skin, but you know it is very much not the same for the boy in your arms, so you keep him shielded as best as you can.

You keep rising up and up and up until—air. Debris and dust swirls around you. Beneath you, the building gives its last breath, crumbling to the ground. You can hear the wind whistle as Kun moves people out of the way. The clamoring of others further down the street as they watch with bated breath. In your arms, the boy’s trembles. But his heart thumps soundly in your ears, lungs expanding with each breath he takes. You smell no blood in the air and when you ease your grip on him, using your X-ray vision, you find no broken bones, either.

“Where are they?” someone calls.

Wind whips against you, Kun pushing out a current to dissipate the debris and dust swirling around you and blocking their and your vision. You lift your head. You finally glimpse the people on the ground, and they see you, too. Their cheers are thunderous. The boy jolts at the sound, sniffling, and finally lifting his head and looking at you.

“Are you okay?”

Sniffling again, he looks at you for a moment, then, slowly he nods.

No one was able to save Krypton. You. Your parents. Your friends. Your people. Earth was always, first and foremost, a safe haven.

You’ll go to earth, your mother had told you when there was no hope left, when she had no choice but to send you away. They’ll take care of you. Your parents hadn’t ever left Krypton. What they did have of earth were mere snapshots. But they had faith—implicit faith in the possibility of a kinder life with a people who would accept you.

On some days, it feels like this wish is nothing more than a fantasy. On others, you know with everything inside you, it is true.

But your parents had believed in them, in humanity, in earth, their final hope for you. A safe haven.

Your powers, the mantle of Supergirl, the legacy of Superman, were an afterthought. But still remnants of that faith. You will always believe in humanity, in the fact that goodness is intrinsic to all beings, and this includes them. They will fight and they will hurt but you could never possibly lose faith in them, in the prospect of a better tomorrow, and when they needed help, when they needed saving, you will always be there for them.

But… as you touch down, passing the boy to the arms of his sobbing—grateful, so grateful it hurts your heart and makes your throat tight—father, people clapping you on the back, thanking you, cameras on you, pictures being taken, Kun’s face in your peripheral, a little sad but mostly proud, happy, you find yourself thinking of Jaemin.

Even as Kun tells you to go home for a few hours and rest, since you’ve mitigated most of the serious damage from the quake. Even as you leave, the sun rising on San Francisco, which moves higher and higher in the sky as you fly east. It’s mid-morning, with clear skies and a hot day ahead in Metropolis when you arrive.

You find yourself landing on a rooftop of a building directly in front of the mural Renjun painted. The one you complimented him on all those weeks ago. You still stand by what you said—it is… warm, in a way that many depictions of you are not. It shows you mid-flight, a clear blue sky behind you, smiling down at something or someone, hand raised in a wave. It is seemingly so mundane but the warmth in your gaze is real and tangible. Enough so that, you imagine this truly must be what you look like when you wave at people while flying.

The door to the rooftop creaks open. Jaemin’s heart is steady in your ears. Something inside you unwinds at the sound. You continue to gaze at the mural as he walks over to you. The air shifts when he’s close to you, body heat tangible only to you, vestiges of vanilla and vetiver shampoo tickling your nose.

You look at him. If hearing his heartbeat soothed the bundle of emotions in your chest, then seeing his face finally, for the first time since the quake hit, makes you relax. It’s only been four days and his face is ingrained in your memory but it’s nothing like seeing the real thing in person—the messy strands of his dark hair, the dark brown of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the swell of his cheeks, the pink of his lips.

In your chest, your heart skips a beat.

He drops his gaze, flipping open the flap of his bag and digging for something. Plastic crinkles. Something white peeks out from his bag. He pulls out a single wipe and lifts it to you. You step closer. An unspoken answer or perhaps an unspoken wish, one he seems to have no quarrel fulfilling for you in this moment.

The wipe is cool against your cheek, clean smelling. Jaemin’s touch is heart-achingly gentle.

“You’re dusty,” he murmurs.

“Thank you.”

A minute shake of his head. He gently drags the wipe over the swell of your cheek, underneath your eye. His heart is beating faster now. Still a sweet song to your ears.

After a minute, after moving the wipe to your other cheek, he says, quietly, “You are right. We need you. We need Supergirl. It’s just…”

“It seems bleak. But it isn’t. Not really.”

“Isn’t it?”

You smile. “Atlas… his duty was a punishment. This is a responsibility that can fall to no one else but my cousin and me. But it is one I accept gladly.” You reach for his hand, cradling it in your own; your thumb grazes the back of his slowly, savoring the feeling. “And more than that… I am not alone. I have a family, Jaemin. I have people who I love and who love me. I have kind strangers and even reckless but passionate and good-hearted journalists,” and you dare to squeeze his hand here, watching as the furrow between his brow softens and his gaze does the same thing, “I believe in the goodness of humans. This is not a punishment. Not to me.”

The wipe in his hand flutters to the ground. He turns his hand, until your palms are pressed together. A moment, then he tugs. In the next second, his arms are around you and yours are around him.

You’ve felt the burning heat of stars and supernovas. It’s an out-of-control kind of heat, a wild kind; the reality of the harshness of space, but one you can survive, albeit with mild discomfort. Humans, in spite of this and in spite of their tripled vulnerability, seek out such things—wish to explore interstellar space on a mission of curiosity and exploration, even if it might hurt them.

Jaemin’s embrace is nothing like that. Searing, yes, because of the differences in your temperatures, the sensitivity of your skin, but this is the kind of heat you sink into, that soothes you, that comforts you; the kind you could slip away peacefully in. Your heart is pounding now. You hope he can’t feel it but since you can feel his—hear it, too—pounding away in his chest, you know he can feel yours, too, pounding in wild tandem.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. You know. He understands.

“No, no, I got it, Kun. The mom seemed a little surprised to see me, but it wasn’t an issue.”

“Great. Thanks for doing this, by the way. I would’ve picked it up but it’s my turn to cook dinner tonight and I got a late start…”

Setting Jay’s Spider-Man themed backpack to the side, you quickly change into your suit, having flown that way to Jay’s friend’s house to grab his backpack for him.

You hear Jay’s voice from the receiver next, your name in a question.

Kun hums an affirmative.

“You can play with my Jenga if you want!”

You chuckle, setting off, coasting higher than you usually do to avoid people seeing you and your cargo.

“Thanks, kiddo. Appreciate it.”

“Dinner’s almost done,” Kun says to him. “Go wash up, please.”

A soft huff. “If you want to talk to her alone, you could just ask, Dad…”

A snort escapes you unbidden.

Kun sighs but it’s fond. “Okay, I need to speak to your aunt alone and you need to go wash your hands.”

“Okie dokie!”

Never mind that ‘alone’ no longer existed for the three of you anymore, but according to Jay, it was quite easy to phase out the extra noise and just focus on whatever he’s doing so as to not overwhelm himself or encroach on anyone else’s privacy. It’s a very Kun thing of him to do—and say. Not that you don’t try to do that, but you also lack a social life, so, you admit to being a bit nosier than he is and sometimes shamelessly listening to people’s conversations.

“What’s up?”

“Have you… seen Jaemin since yesterday?”

You frown. “No? What happened yesterday?”

Yesterday, you weren’t even on earth—you were up in space, fixing something on the International Space Station at the request of NASA. Too treacherous of a job for the astronauts on board and too big of a problem to be left alone for the time being. So, they’d asked you. You actually had a quite pleasant conversation with the astronauts on board. You had to decontaminate afterward—deadly rays from the sun and space and all that—so you only got back to Metropolis late into the evening, showering, eating dinner, then promptly crashing.

“You hear about Congressman Wilkins?”

You did in fact hear about Congressman Wilkins—the US House Rep for Metropolis. Newly elected. Apparently, he’d spent almost a million of the campaign funds he received on personal expenses like private jet flights, vacations, and a new house. When the story broke, he tried to leave the city and the police chased him down. He ended up in a nasty accident with a fuel truck and died. The truck driver barely made it out, too.

“Well,” Kun goes on, “Jaemin was the one to break the story that morning, after tipping off the police. He was there on the scene, too.”

Your flight slams to an abrupt halt. “Is he okay? Did—”

“He’s fine. Physically. It’s just… I don’t know. I just have a feeling…” Kun sighs. “With this stuff, sometimes, well, a lot of the time, you feel a sense of responsibility. Even if it’s not really your fault.”

“…Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Okay. I’ll… see him.”

“No pressure, really, I’m thinking I’m gonna talk to him on Monday, anyway, but—”

“No,” you say. “I should. He’s… I should.”

“Alright. Take your time with Jay’s backpack, then. He doesn’t need it until Monday.”

“Right, yeah.”

The call ends with a click. You tuck your phone away, grip tightening absently on the backpack, one strap slung over your shoulder. Downtown Metropolis glimmers ahead of you in the late afternoon sunlight; the sun will be setting soon.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and focus. In a city of five million, on a planet of seven billion, Jaemin’s heart is easy to pick out. You let it guide you to the roof of the Daily Planet.

“Mind some company?”

The distant look on his face melts away when he looks at you. Slowly, he shakes his head. You close in. The wind that ruffles your cape ruffles his dark hair, loose over his forehead today; you’ve never quite seen him this relaxed, in jeans and a t-shirt. Something about it makes your heart pick up. You swallow down the feeling and let your feet touch the concrete of the roof.

Dark eyes slide to the backpack slung over your shoulder, eyebrow raising in a silent question.

“Nephew’s,” you answer, only a little bit embarrassed. “He forgot it at a friend’s house.” Setting the backpack down between you, you sit beside him; the nearest buildings are not tall enough for anyone else to see and Kun has long since looped the feeds of the cameras up here that way he has a place to change in and out.

He hums, then returns his gaze to the yellowing horizon. The silence that falls between you is not an awkward one, exactly, but something is there that unsettles you. Since your… moment on the roof in front of Renjun’s mural, things have been better, if not a little odd, between you two. New footing, you figure. Not that you were ever really annoyed or exasperated with Jaemin’s penchant for trouble (though you’re sure you can’t quite say the same for him with you), but your dynamic had, more or less, always been set in stone. Things are different now.

You’re still trying to figure out if it’s a good different or a bad different. For now, he seems so melancholic that you stow away those thoughts and reach for Jay’s backpack.

“Wanna play Jenga?”

Jaemin blinks at you. You don’t waver in the face of his bewilderment, suddenly quite sure this is the way to go for this.

A second passes, then he nods slowly. You waste no time in pulling out the container of Jenna, pushing Jay’s backpack behind you and dumping the Jenga blocks in the space between you. You start fixing the tower of Jenga blocks one by one.

When it’s halfway finished, Jaemin asks, “Why don’t you use your speed to do it?”

“Less fun.”

“Really?”

Pursing your lips thoughtfully, you keep your eyes on the slowly growing Jenga tower. “There’s something to be said about taking your time and enjoying it. Even for the boring stuff. I mean, when it comes to washing dishes, water doesn’t do that great with super speed, so that’s kind of null, and sometimes, I don’t want to deal with folding my laundry that slowly, but most of the time…” you shrug. “I take my time.”

“Sounds mind-numbing.”

You laugh softly. “It’s… really not. Life already passes me by so quickly—I have to take my time.”

“Isn’t it the opposite?”

You finish the tower and look up at him with a smile. “You go first.”

Mouth flattening into a line of displeasure at you not answering his question—you would, but it’s not about you right now and that topic… well, you don’t sense it would help him right now—he moves anyway, letting out a big breath, then reaching for a block in the middle. He pulls it out cleanly and sets it on the top of the stack.

You go next, taking your time as you pick one out from a little bit towards the top end and set it beside his. For a few minutes, that’s what you do, going back and forth, pulling out blocks from the body of the tower and stacking the top. It’s your turn, aiming for a block in the third row from the bottom—the most treacherous move thus far—when he next speaks.

“I’m fine, you know. If that’s why you’re here.”

“It is,” you say. “And it’s fine if you aren’t, too. What Wilkins did was terrible, but he didn’t deserve to die. But that he died at all, that everything happened yesterday, wasn’t your fault, either. He’d have panicked regardless of whether the story was broken or not because I’m quite sure any other journalist would shake it out of some cop while it was going down. Maybe it would’ve been you, maybe it would’ve been Lina Dhar-Qian. Who knows? But I have a feeling the outcome would’ve been the same, anyway.”

You successfully pull out the block. But you have an advantage with your powers. You can sense the slightest of movements and adjust accordingly; stop if it trembles, keep going if it’s stable. Jaemin, terribly human, for the better and for the worse, does not have such an advantage. He aims for a block from the second to bottom. You sense the tremble before it happens; he only gets it halfway out before it tumbles.

Sighing, his fingers curl around the block still in his palm. “He had a family.”

“Yes, he did.”

“This isn’t what I wanted to do when I decided to work here.”

“Why did you?”

Jaemin looks out at the Metropolis skyline, wind ruffling his hair, looking startlingly, heartbreakingly, lost.

“I was in med school, before I came here. In Korea. One of the best—and the most expensive—programs in the country. My friend was in the program, too. The first two years were for the basics, for the textbook stuff. Then, in our third, we started clinical training. I had expectations for what it would be like, what the students in the years above us would say to us, what the advisors said, and the professors said. But it was nothing like that. It was… it wasn’t what I thought it was.”

You stay quiet, watching him.

“The way they did things,” he says quietly. “It was just what was on paper—the disease or the problem that brought them here. Find a solution and fix it. Or don’t, and let them know. Then your job is done. It wasn’t… kind. It was brutal. It was ‘reality,’ they said. People started to drop the program. My friend held on. But I could see… he and everyone else was fine with letting go of whoever they’d been before we started in order to become the best of the class. I wasn’t.”

He finally turns to look at you. “I thought I could do it differently. But it wasn’t what they wanted. It wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to help people. I wanted to be there for them. They told me it was impossible to do that, that I’d end up killing myself by caring too much. I still don’t know if that’s true, but I did know that I couldn’t keep going like that.”

He lets out a sigh. “You have no idea how hard my mom worked to put me into school. And just like that, when it got too hard, I wasted it. I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t face anyone. I took the first flight out of the country and ended up in San Francisco.” The snort he lets out is derisive. “Didn’t know any English but I knew my way around a camera and started doing photojournalism for a local newspaper. I still wanted to help people, you know. It wasn’t until I started seeing what the journalists did—what Lina Dhar-Qian did—that I realized that was another way I could do it.

“So, to answer your question—I want to help people. I have to. What happened yesterday wasn’t that. It was the furthest thing from it. He may have been an idiot with his campaign funds, and the people he scammed deserved to know what he was doing, but he also didn’t deserve to die.”

No. He didn’t. Jaemin lets out a shaky exhale. You wonder if he’s told anyone about this since it happened. You have the strongest, heartbreaking feeling that this is the first time ever. The sun is starting to set now, washing everything in gold.

“Do you know how old I am, Jaemin?”

Confusion seems to bring Jaemin back down to earth as he frowns at you, clearly thrown off by the abrupt topic change but willing enough to go along with it. “I… No. I always assumed you were around my age.”

“I am, technically. But I’m also technically around thirty-five.”

His eyes widen. You can’t help it—you laugh.

“Just listen. Technically, I am around that age. But physically, biologically, mentally, I’m your age. During my… travels to earth, I ended up too close to a black hole. The gravity around black holes is so strong, it stretches the fabric of time and space—slows it down. What was an hour near the black hole—a terribly long and boring story, I assure you—was… ten years on earth. The rest of my trip here took even longer on top of that. When I left Krypton,” you swallow past the burst of pain in your throat; you rarely ever say its name out loud, there is no good reason to; reminiscing about it makes Kun feel bad and that makes you feel even worse, “my cousin, Superman, was just a baby. But he had left before me. And when I got here, he was a grown adult.”

Jaemin takes in your words quietly, eyebrows furrowed.

You push past the emotions, trying for a small smile. “So, going back to your earlier question—it’s not the opposite.”

“What is?”

“Life does pass me by quickly. I wish it didn’t. Rao, I really do. But…” you lift a hand, sun rays painting your skin warmly, “as long as Sol fuels me, I’ll have no choice but to sit back and watch my life and the life of my family pass me by. Same with the rest of the world. Time will touch them. But it’ll leave me alone.”

You drop your hand, shaking your head slightly. “I won’t be alone. But in some ways, that’s worse. And who even knows what’ll happen to my nephew? For now, he ages like a human boy, but… I don’t know if he’ll live long enough to see his family—his mom—die. And I don’t know if I’ll have to watch him die, either. If his father will have to watch him die.” You sigh. “And no parent… deserves to watch their child die.”

Jaemin is still beside you. You look at him.

“Time is cruel. But there is nowhere else I’d rather be than here. I watched my planet and my people die. I watched my father die. I know it’ll kill me when my friends and family pass away. But at least I had the time with them—an entire lifetime, hopefully. That’s why I like to take my time.”

He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

You take his hand. “I’m sorry, too. For yesterday. And everything before that.”

He looks at your adjoined hands, frowning. “I made my choices. I need to live with them.”

“Do you?”

“I’ve already wasted one opportunity. I can’t waste this one.”

“It sounds like this is a punishment for you, then.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why haven’t you spoken to your mom?”

“You don’t know that I haven’t.”

You squeeze his hand.

Jaemin sighs. “And disappoint her more? I don’t think so.”

“Is she the reason why you want to help people?”

A slow nod.

“Then I think you might be doing a disservice to her by thinking that,” you say gently. “By all means, take what I say with a grain of salt—I know nothing about her and it’s definitely not my place but… oh, I don’t know. I’m—I watched my father die. I know my mother died after she sent me off to earth. It’s not fair to you to use my life as a comparison but really, Jaemin, I would…” You swallow, throat painfully tight, eyes stinging. “I would kill just to have a few more minutes with them. Anything. I miss so much about Krypton. But I miss them the most.”

His hand loosens from yours. Then his thumb swipes over your cheek, catching a tear. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. You sigh, composing yourself, then start to pick up the fallen Jenga blocks, putting them away. You figure you’ve reached your quota of meddling in his business tonight. Putting the container away and zipping the bag up, you stand. Jaemin follows.

“It’s not presumptuous.”

His words stop you short and you look at him, eyebrows furrowing. “What isn’t, Jaemin?”

“What you said before,” he says, looking at you. “When we saw that mural. Not Renjun’s. The other one.”

The memories of that day and your talk with Jaemin slingshots to the forefront of your mind.

“This is presumptuous on my end. And truthfully, I would rather not know that fact and pretend that you do actually care about this—me (like I said, presumptuous)—but this is how things are.”

“You should know that,” he says. “It’s not presumptuous. It’s really not.”

“I’m starting to see that,” you admit with a soft laugh. “But thank you for telling me directly anyway. It’s nice to hear. While we’re on the topic of saying things that need to be said, there’s something else I want you to know.”

Jaemin looks troubled for a moment before the expression is put away and he nods for you to go on.

“It’s pretty implicit that I’m there for you, even if you aren’t in physical danger, but, inside that and out of it… if you need anything, you can call me. I will come.”

“Call… you?”

“I’ll hear you,” you say and it’s then that he understands.

The weight of his gaze now is too much. You look away, coughing. “I… just need you to know that, too. If you call me… I’ll come.”

Saying it out loud changes things. A tension that wasn’t there before lingers in the air. But you had to say it. He cares. He felt the need to emphasize that. He should know you care, too.

(Not just care, either. There’s a lot more behind it. You know that. It’s been a slow growing thing but—from the start, Na Jaemin did not leave you alone. He lingered with you, even when he seemed to not want anything to do with you. In that space, he’s grown on you—or rather, you’ve started to see him for who he is.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. But it’s not bad. Not bad at all.)

“Get home safe, alright?”

You don’t wait around for his response, lifting off the ground, breeze catching your cape. Again, as you leave, you feel his gaze on you until you’re out of his field of vision, swallowing down the longing in your chest.

“You didn’t have to do it tonight, you know,” Kun says when he steps onto the balcony of his and Lina’ apartment.

“Maybe I just wanted to steal your ice cream.”

You pass him Jay’s backpack, following him inside, closing the balcony door behind you. Water runs in the pipes, Lina humming in the shower, Jay sleeping soundly in his room. Kun leaves the backpack near the front door, then beelines for the refrigerator, opening the freezer. Too lazy to change out of your suit and knowing Lina’s rules about suits on the couch, you slump in a chair at the small table in the kitchen.

He sets down a carton of your favorite ice cream in front of you, along with a spoon, then sits down across from you, with a carton of vanilla for himself. You pop off the lid of the carton and dig in. You didn’t have ice cream on Krypton. No cows of any kind at all, actually. Great what humans have invented with dairy products. Really.

“So… Jaemin.”

“Mm, he’s alright. Sort of what you thought he’d be feeling like, but we had a nice talk about it, so I think he’ll be okay.”

Kun chuckles quietly. “I didn’t doubt that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then?”

He just looks at you with a small, knowing smile.

“Kun.”

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

“Sure you aren’t.” You sigh. You know what he’s getting at and truthfully, you see no point in denying it, either. But the consequences of it are something else entirely. You can’t just think about yourself here. Not for this.

Kun leans back. “What’s stopping you?”

“This.” You gesture a hand to the apartment. Lina’s laptop open on the coffee table, drafts stacked next to it marked up with red pen. A book with a bookmark sticking out the top. Jay’s drawings pinned on the walls. “It’s not just about me.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not, Kun. If—if I tell Jaemin who I am, it’s going to be so much easier for him to realize who you are, too. Not even just easier—it’s inevitable, that he finds out.”

“I know,” he says. “And that’s fine. But it is just about you because I trust you and if you trust Jaemin, I know you’re trusting him with everything. So, there’s no reason to worry.”

The worst part is—you know he’s right. You shovel more ice cream into your mouth to avoid answering right away. Because, if there is that, then… what next? Do you even know if Jaemin really truly likes you? Enough to consider seeing you that way? You aren’t under any impressions about the way some people view you—you do good things but you’re not like everyone else at the end of the day. Not human. Not normal. Not to mention the danger he’d be in if he associated with you.

“I have experience with this,” he says next, tone thoughtful. “Saying I’m the precedent sounds a little conceited, but I think in this regard, it is, well… true. I went through what you’re going through. Like realizing that I’d have to give everything up to her. But, it was more than that. It was wanting to. It’s not impossible to date as simply you and avoid telling whoever they are about what you are and what you do.”

A soft look crosses his face. “But I didn’t want to settle for that. Maybe, for some time, but then it would come down to whether I would be okay with, essentially, living a lie or breaking things off. With Lina… the thought had crossed my mind, especially because I knew her just as well as Qian Kun as I did Superman, but the thing was… I wanted her to know. Does that make sense?”

You nod.

“But,” he goes on, “your case is a little bit different in that you know him better as Supergirl than you do as yourself.”

“It doesn’t change it,” you say quietly. “I do want to. Tell him, I mean. I think I’d want it even if I knew him as myself and not as Supergirl. I guess now, it’s a little more imperative that I do, because it’s not even remotely sustainable to date him as Supergirl. And even if it was, I wouldn’t—I don’t want to do him that disservice.”

Kun has a soft, proud look on his face that makes you look away.

“You don’t need my help,” he says. “You don’t need my permission. This is yours. All of it. You’ve got it. If you want it, that is.”

Warmth floods your face. You don’t answer that.

Want it? You want it with everything inside of you. Every cell and every atom. It is selfish, though, even despite what Kun says, because he may be okay with revealing himself, but the danger Jaemin would be in shouldn’t be understated.

But… it’s like Kun said. He is the precedent. And if you look at him and Lina now… It would be more than worth it.

For you, that is. For Jaemin? That… well, that’s the question, isn’t it?

It’s so much easier to think about these things in theory than it is practice. You know this, because the next day, you see Jaemin during one of your patrols and when he waves at you, you sort of… panic.

You wave back, of course, it would be impolite not to, but there is this one painful second where you hesitate and you know that he definitely probably noticed and when that knowledge finally sinks in, you cannot get out of there fast enough, making a frantic mime about something going on to him (nothing is going on, obviously), then booking it out of there.

It is, truthfully, humiliating. It’s not how you wanted it to go. What is it, one may ask? Well, you aren’t sure of it yourself. But just because you had that conversation with Kun, just because the possibility is suddenly on the table—it shouldn’t change anything in the meantime. If anything, it is imperative that nothing changes until you try and parse out what he might potentially feel for you.

The thing is—Jaemin is so… impervious. It��s hard to figure out what might go on in that pretty head of his. Feelings of this nature are even more so. The solution is obvious, then, that you should ask him—but that’s… not easy, either. Feelings are not easy.

Regardless of that issue, though, you do want to try and be… well. Normal around him. And about him. It’s hard but surely not impossible. You can be normal around a guy you like. You can!

So, a few days later, when you see him again, that’s your main objective. Well, actually, it’s in the middle of a search for some guy with a gun, street filled with mild panic, officers trying to get people inside, you and Kun trying to find this guy before something happens—because something always happens—and Jaemin is not really cooperating.

“Jaem, you really have to get inside—”

“I will,” he says, yet he has a hand latched belligerently to your cape, quite literally on your heels as you scan the buildings surrounding you. “But I just have one question—”

“It really can’t wait?”

He’s downright petulant when he says, “No.”

“Jaemin—”

He presses on. “What you said—when I said it wasn’t presumptuous for you to think I care, and you said I’m starting to see that—did you think I didn’t like you?”

Nothing, you’re getting nothing, is this a false alarm or is the guy gone? On the other end of the street, you hear Kun say, “I’m getting nothing.”

You mutter the same, then redirect your attention to Jaemin. “It’s not like you’ve ever been very forthcoming with me—which is fine. I know there’s the issue of your own capability, which, I know you can take care of yourself, believe me—”

“That’s not—”

This is a terrible time and place to have this conversation but—so be it.

“It’s alright, lots of humans have that issue, they don’t want to be seen as weak—which, there’s nothing wrong with, but nonetheless, I wouldn’t ever call you weak, or better yet, believe you need to be taken care of like that. Obviously I have to step in sometimes but in most others, you can take care of yourself. It’s just for my own peace of mind that I like to ensure that. And then there’s the, well, what I am and how others perceive me—”

“I am not others—”

Any other day and you would laugh at the indignant tone. “Well, no, not anymore, but in the beginning, you know, I get it—”

He’s tugging on your cape; you think it’s more out of indignation than wanting your attention, but you stop and turn anyway. The hot August sun beams down on you. Sweat beads at his hairline, hair slightly mussed from it and from what you can assume was him running his hands through it. His eyes are dark and unhappy. Not unhappy with you, though, you don’t think.

“No, I don’t like that—I’ve never not liked you because of what you are, I don’t care that you’re not human, why would I care about that?”

“A lot of people do,” you remind him semi-patiently.

“I get that, but that’s not me. I don’t care, I’ve never cared.” He’s quite impassioned about this. More than you thought he would be. You still aren’t sure what the purpose of this conversation is, either. You suppose, in some ways, it matters, but you’d hardly hold it against him. Most people would be leery. That’s fine. That’s just the way of the world. This world.

“I was… gruff with you, not necessarily because I didn’t like you. It’s just that—” the steam he had before is finally running out; he runs a rough hand through his hair, eyes looking anywhere but you.

“What?” you ask softly. The sudden smallness of this moment is out of place, standing on the sidewalk of the street, police cars crowding it, Kun and the officers still searching, still coming up empty. He really needs to get inside—you need to him inside. But right after this. You need to hear this first and you think… he has to say it.

“I was like that with you… because you reminded me of myself.”

You go very still. Jaemin’s gaze meets yours. Though slightly pained and more than a little embarrassed, his eyes are softer than before.

“The way you were… what we’ve gone through is in no way comparable. You lost everything. But—despite that…”

You don’t know what to say. No, wait, you do—you want to say he’s like that, too, despite what he thinks of himself, and you have the strongest sense that he thinks he’s some kind of… failure, for the decisions he’s made, and you don’t think this is true at all. Despite stumbling so much, he still believed.

You open your mouth to say this—knowing inside you that this is a terrible place and time to have this conversation, yet all the more important, especially considering his apparent sense of urgency to make it clear that he never disliked you, a thought that makes your chest fill with warmth.

But you don’t get to. You hear the bullet before you see it. Time slows down, but not as fast as it needs to. Whoever shot it is close. All you can do is move Jaemin out of the way and deflect it yourself.

Your hands are still on his shoulders when everything comes back into play, when the shot finally registers with the humans, officers unholstering their guns, ducking for cover. He flinches, shuddering, but not jarred since you only moved him a few inches to the left.

“What—”

Any kind of response to him gets stuck in your throat. Your vision blurs around the edges. Heat spreads through your shoulder. You touch it instinctively. Something slick and warm coats your fingers. You look at it.

The sight of blood on your fingers shocks you. No, you’d—you moved Jaemin out of way, didn’t you?

He’s looking, too, eyes wide. “Hey…”

Oh. It’s your blood. The bullet is made of Kryptonite.

Your vision swims. Your legs buckle but Jaemin catches you, lowering you both to the ground. A bullet whizzes past you. He curses up a storm.

Your senses go haywire, sounds blurring in and out of your ears. You can hear everything in the city in one second and in the next, all you can hear is your own heartbeat, pounding in your ears. You feel weak, washed-out; you’re shaking, chest stuttering with each breathe you take, as if your lungs are fighting the air you breathe.

“Hey, hey! Bring her in here!”

The sun is too bright. You close your eyes. The swaying motion makes you nauseous, like your heart is trying to crawl up your throat. Everything starts to fade in and out. Something presses against the bullet wound hard. A tiny thrum of pain that had started in your shoulder, kryptonite poisoning your cells and atoms, amplifies from the pressure—the actual hole in your shoulder combined with the effects of kryptonite against you.

Voices overlap, panicked, harsh.

Bile threatens to rise up. You swallow it down.

“—doctors or nurses here?”

“I need—”

A stuffy heat envelops you. Fingers brush against your cheek. You can’t hear Jaemin’s heartbeat. Why can’t you hear his heartbeat? All you can hear is what’s happening around you. This is what you used to be like—on Krypton, underneath the warmth of a red sun, rendering you effectively human.

“Okay, I’m going to—”

A hand—Jaemin’s, you know this intuitively—touches yours for a brief moment and a squeeze is all the warning you get before the tweezers go digging into your flesh.

A fire eats at your shoulder, in your skin, in your bones, in the tendons and muscles. The flames spread, into your chest, into your belly. All you can hear is the pound of your heart, beating so hard it feels like it’ll shred itself to pieces. It’s killing you, poisoning you. It hurts.

“—not breathing—”

“—hospital—”

Darkness creeps in on you, an alluring embrace that you sink into.

And you’ll do anything to take the pain away.

You wake feeling empty.

The feeling of the pain, the kryptonite, eating away at you from the inside out is imprinted in your memory. When you sit up and move your arm, you expect pain—but get nothing instead. It’s fine. You’re fine.

“I know,” comes your cousin’s quiet words. “It’s jarring, isn’t it?”

He shuts the book he was reading, setting it on the side table. You’re in your apartment, in your bedroom, out of your suit and into a t-shirt and pajama pants.

“Weird,” you mutter, hand sliding beneath the collar of your shirt. Your fingers find the spot where the bullet was, ghosting at first, some odd part of your brain fearing pain, but then you press down and feel nothing but the fleshy give of your skin, muscles and tendons beneath. It’s fine. Not even a scar left behind, skin still smooth and unmarred.

You drop your hand back into your lap, turning to look at Kun. “Jaemin?”

“He’s fine. Safe.”

You relax at that, allowing yourself to ask the big question. “What happened?”

He crosses his arms, jaw clenching for a moment before saying, “Merc. Refused to say who hired him, though we can probably make an educated guess. Not happy that we—I—couldn’t get a solid answer out of him, although the police were able to get half a million from him—the incentive he was given, with the other half delivered presumably after he did his job, which, luckily, he didn’t.”

“Only halfway,” you muse. “Fair to call it a lose-lose, I think. Guy’s in jail, no more money. And whoever hired him is half a million out. Though I guess if you’ve got a million laying around, ready to be spent on a poor attempt to kill us, then maybe that part doesn’t matter so much…”

Kun says your name, exasperated.

“Sorry. Too soon?”

“You passed out and lost a lot of blood,” he says. “Yes, it’s too soon.”

“Speaking of,” you turn, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed. “How long have I been out for?”

“Five or so hours. Had to get that kryptonite out of your system even after they removed the bullet.”

“They?”

“Doctor at the cafe you were in. She was the one to do it. I got you out of there.”

You frown. “The bullet—”

“It was with Jaemin. I… had a feeling he’d defend it with his life, so I left it.”

You wrinkle your nose, not quite on board with the prospect of him defending anything with his life, even for that kryptonite bullet.

“He’s fine,” Kun says, watching your face intently. “Handed it off to Lina, who will dispose of it through the proper channels.”

You nod, taking a deep breath, reacclimatizing yourself further. A lot happened, but you feel… okay. Thanks to Sol, anyway. And if you’re okay… well. You have something to do next, don’t you?

“You’re gonna go to him, aren’t you?”

“Do you think I shouldn’t?”

“No,” Kun says. “I think it’s about time.”

You chuckle softly. “I don’t disagree with you.”

Especially because—you remember vividly what you and Jaemin had been talking about before you got shot. You can’t imagine how he must feel now. Rao knows if you had to watch him get hurt… You cut the thought short and stand. The wood floorboards of your apartment are cool underneath your bare feet. Kun stands, too.

“Be careful, please.”

You get the sense he isn’t just talking about your physical well-being here. But… you don’t know. You don’t think Jaemin is going to be the one to break your heart tonight.

“I will be.”

He kisses your head, squeezing your arm. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Tell Jay and Lina I say hi.”

“I will.”

Kun sends you a smile, then he’s gone. You really don’t want to get suited up tonight—not to mention your main suit, which is folded neatly on your dresser, courtesy of Kun, you’re certain, has a bullet hole in it and is still stained with blood. You have a backup, an older version, but—you don’t want to come to him as Supergirl. You want to go to him as you. Yourself. So, you leave it there and grab one of your hoodies, slipping it over your head.

Then—you’re gone, too.

Metropolis is quiet at midnight. Skyscrapers shine in the night, clouds hanging low, turning lights into blurred smudges. You rise above the clouds, finding a pocket of space. The clear midnight blue sky stretches out ahead of you, full moon beaming down upon you. Ahead of you, a plane that just took off parts through the clouds, lights blinking on the wings. You follow it east until you come upon a familiar neighborhood, diving through another open space between the moving clouds. The moon and the clear sky disappear as the ground appears.

A familiar heartbeat echoes in your ears. Calm and steady. You swallow down a burst of emotion, pinpointing where it is, picking out which apartment is his when you come upon a five-story brick building.

You land quietly on his balcony. The curtains over the sliding door are drawn, leaving you to hesitate—no one likes hearing a knock on their balcony doors and it would be just your luck that you might scare Jaemin into an early grave by doing that—

A sudden sound.

“Holy shit—”

A dark grey cat with yellow eyes jumps onto the balcony, slipping through the metal fencing. Without pause and without fear, it hisses at you, back hair standing sharply on end.

You hold up your hands. “Woah…”

The balcony door slides open quickly. Jaemin pokes his head out, doing a double take at the sight of you.

“Hi. Your cat doesn’t like me.”

“He’s not mine,” he says, stepping out, can of Fancy Feast held in hand. “Dali’s a stray. I have no idea how he keeps getting all the way up here, but I figured I might as well feed him while he’s here.”

He sets the can of food on the ground. The cat—Dali—hisses at you, ignoring Jaemin’s quiet scold in Korean (then English), and dives in, eating for a moment, looking up to hiss at you again, and then going back to eating. You watch him warily.

“Out of everything,” Jaemin says, bemused, “a cat is what scares you?”

“I have great respect for cats as creatures, that’s all. Also—I’m invulnerable but my clothes aren’t.”

He shakes his head. “He won’t do anything. He’s… all hiss, no bite.”

“Ah.”

Jaemin glances around, then reaches for you; you suppress a full-body shudder as his hand, so very warm, wraps around your wrist, tugging lightly. “You should come inside.”

Rendered speechless by the sudden contact—and him initiating that contact—you have no choice but to nod and let him pull you inside. The curtain flutters back into place when he closes the sliding door again. You kick off your sneakers, leaving them by the door.

“So,” you start, ignoring the racket that your heart is making in your chest right now, “you’re okay, right?”

Jaemin gives you such an incredulous look that you have to suppress a laugh. “I’m okay? You’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“Yes? I mean, in fairness to myself, it was a… very stressful situation that we were in earlier—”

“You were the one that got shot.”

“…It doesn’t happen often, is the thing. At all, actually. That was my… first ever brush with kryptonite, if you can believe it. Superman tries very hard not to let me get exposed to it. Not really for the reasons you would think, either—I mean, yes, because kryptonite bad but that’s not really fair when you consider that he gets just as affected as I do but, um, it’s because—Krypton.”

“Krypton?”

Jaemin’s wearing cat socks. Space-themed. Space cats.

You chew on your bottom lip. “The core was unstable. Too much energy, nowhere to go. Argo City was the only one to survive, protected by its own atmosphere that my parents had helped create years before simply as an environmental measure. It helped shield us from the full force of the blast, but… not enough. People still died in the initial blast. But then afterward… the parts of Krypton that were left, what we stood on, was… poisoning us. It was kryptonite. It killed my father first. Then the rest of the people in droves. I managed to escape it; I don’t know why. Didn’t matter anyway. It was going to kill us. It did.”

Jaemin’s apartment looks lived in, you think. He’s struggled with so much and yet, he seems to have made a home here despite that. You two really are the same, aren’t you?

“My mother didn’t want me to die,” you say quietly. “Even though she was starting to get sick from the radiation, she managed to pull together a ship for me, one last final shot for me to survive. I didn’t want to leave but I had to. So… my memories of Krypton in its final days aren’t great, you know? The sickness, the death. I’d gotten lucky and I’d never felt the effects of the kryptonite, there, and even here, at least up until now because… I think because he didn’t want me to know what it was like for them. For my parents. For everyone else.”

“I’d do the same,” Jaemin murmurs. “You shouldn’t have to know that kind of suffering.”

You shrug. “That’s life.”

“But not all of it.”

His hand is on yours now, palm sitting against your knuckles, thumb rubbing idly over your wrist.

Your lips twitch. “See?”

“What?”

You look up at him, meeting his eyes, wondering when he got so close. “You’re like me, too.”

“You think so?”

“I do. You still believe—you still have hope, despite everything. Just like me.”

Begrudgingly, reluctantly, you know he does. You get the sense that it would go against everything in him to lose that hope.

“Your influence, probably.”

You reach up to push lightly at his chest. “Own it, Jaemin.”

He chuckles. “Alright. Sorry.”

You shake your head.

“So…” You glance back at him, tilting your head as his previous smile falters a bit, a more serious look coming onto his face. “You’re… okay.”

Reluctantly, you let go of his hand, reaching for the hem of your hoodie to pull it over your head. He takes it from you, tossing it over the back of the couch a few feet from you. You push up the sleeve of your t-shirt, pushing it as far back as you can to reveal the skin of your shoulder, the area where the bullet hit, where a scar should be but is not, skin fully healed.

“Good as new.”

He stares and you get the feeling he’s remembering what it looked like more than anything else.

You don’t move when he lifts a hand, staying perfectly still as his fingers hover over the spot where, a few hours ago, you were shot and bleeding from. You can feel the heat of his hand even with that, swallowing. The action itself is fine. So is the area. But you don’t quite anticipate what it would feel like to have his hands anywhere else other than your own hands. At the first brush of his fingers, your arm twitches.

He pulls back, looking guilty. “Sorry—are you still—?”

“No,” you quickly say, warmth flooding your face. “No, it’s—it’s completely healed, promise. Doesn’t hurt. I’m just. Um. Super senses… heightened touch… sort of… sensitive to that… in general… Not really used to anyone other than my immediate family touching me just ‘cause no one really… as Supergirl, you know, the perception of me and my… alien-ness. Doesn’t make a lot of people desperate to get close to me.”

A strange emotion flits over Jaemin’s face. It’s gone too quickly for you to really decipher it. His touch returns, hand fully settling on your arm, thumb brushing over the area where the bullet was. You have to fight a full-body shiver at the touch. His hand is warm, soft, with a few callouses.

(You wonder where he got them from. Did he play any sports when he was younger?)

He still appears faintly troubled. You can’t say you don’t feel the same.

The distinction between you and Supergirl is a clear one—one that must exist, a necessity. Not just for your own safety, but because you (and Kun) also believe that most humans, especially the ones that don’t like you, wouldn’t like the thought of knowing you lived like they did, that at the end of the day, even with the power that the Sol gave you, you were just another person, another being like them trying to get through life. Some might be okay with it, like Renjun, who probably doesn’t consciously realize it, but sees you like anyone else. But others wouldn’t—they need something different. For some, Superman and Supergirl as mere protectors of earth, solemn guardians overseeing humanity. For others, like those in Metropolis, that, too, but also someone kind, someone who would help them save a cat stuck in a tree or help them find a lost dog.

But with Jaemin… maybe in the beginning, you tried to keep to that, to the polite and responsible hero, but he got under your skin far too quickly, and by now, by this point, after everything that happened, the lines are blurred. You feel more you than Supergirl. The only thing missing is your name.

All that’s left is to wonder how he sees it.

“But that’s fine,” you say in the next second. Jaemin’s hand leaves your arm, dropping to the side. A few streaks of blue ink stain his index and middle finger from the pen he must’ve been using earlier. “It’s what they need. To see us as… larger than life. If being disgusted at the thought of touching us goes with that, then… so be it.”

He purses his lips. You try not to linger on how pink they are, soft and plush.

“I don’t see you that way,” he mumbles.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. “I had wondered,” you admit.

Jaemin frowns. “After what I said—?”

You push gently at his chest. The heat of him is palpable even through his t-shirt and it lingers on your fingertips. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you remind him. “If you didn’t, you would have no reason to try and see me that way.”

“I had. From… pretty much the very beginning. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t weird at first but that was more my own issues than anything about you and you being Kryptonian. I just…”

“Have—had?—a chip on your shoulder. One that is valid, don’t get me wrong, but, you know.” You smile up at him.

“I wasn’t always like that—like this.”

You’ve seen it, rare bouts of playfulness that come out, usually taking your breath away. But the way he is now isn’t so bad, either. At least—as long as it’s without the pain and burden of what he left behind and what still hangs over him.

“But regardless of that,” he goes on. “It might be presumptuous to say this but… I think I’ve always seen you as you are.”

“It’s not,” you say quietly. “It’s—nice to be seen.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

The look on his face is soft, softer than you’ve ever seen it before—softer than when you’ve seen him pet stray cats and dogs during your patrols or talk to the neighborhood kids who play soccer in the street.

You’re effectively stripped bare now, knowing he sees you for you, but he’s still missing the final piece, the thing that’ll expose you for everything you are, the name you have, the name you were given. But what’s so bad about it? Maybe there is some part of you that fears being seen like that to the greater public, that needs a veneer of responsibility and duty preventing you from appearing too human. Too… feeling and thinking. It’s so much easier to get hurt like that. Here, now, you’re baring all the soft and fragile bits of you now—intentionally, purposefully. He saw it before, but you hadn’t known that. Now you do and you give him permission to carve out your heart if he wants it.

It’s like you said. It’s nice to be seen.

Your heart is thundering now but—so is his. He’s nervous. Just like you. The tips of his ears are red, a visible flush starting to creep into his cheeks. If he gets any closer to you, he’ll feel the warmth in your face, too.

“I don’t know how much you know,” you admit in a whisper. “If you’ve looked into it.”

“I meant what I said when I said I didn’t care about that.”

“Maybe it’s because you see everything you need to see and that’s enough… but it’s not enough for me. You have to know. I want you to know.”

He nods. You step closer, taking a deep breath. You’re almost dizzy with nerves, which is a real feat, since you physically can’t get dizzy.

Jaemin’s hands take yours, then slide up your arms. You breathe shallowly, overwhelmed at the simplest and gentlest of movements, but no one’s ever touched you like that before, no one that wasn’t your family. It’s a reassuring movement, you can tell, since your eyes aren’t on his face but on his shirt instead.

He squeezes your arms, whispering, “It’s okay.”

When he pulls you in, you go without resistance. His heart pounds beneath your ear. Warmth surrounds you, a nonsensical feeling of security found in his embrace because by all accounts, you are the one who can stand against nature and fight battles that humans cannot fight on their own. You are the one protecting. And yet…

A tension that never quite seems to leave your shoulders no matter what finally escapes you. One of his arms braces over your shoulder blades, the other diagonal across your back, hand finding a home at your waist. It’s almost terrifying how right it feels.

But the rightness of it, like this is what you’ve been searching the universe for, is what tips you over the edge.

You lean your cheek against his chest, his heart thrumming beneath your ear, and tell him your name. His arms tighten around you. He murmurs it back. At the sound of your name from his lips, you shiver, inhaling sharply, fingers balling the material of his t-shirt. The arm around your shoulder drops, moving, until his hand cups your cheek. Lightning sparks down your spine at the sensation. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Can I—?”

Strands of his hair tickles your forehead. You nod.

Jaemin’s lips are soft against yours. You’re trembling faintly, you realize, his arm tightening around you, pulling you closer, flush against him, both to keep you close and you think maybe also to keep you grounded. You move your lips tentatively. He doesn’t overwhelm you. Maybe keenly aware of how much this is for you. An onslaught on your senses. The scent of his shampoo, the warmth of his body, the heat of his mouth, the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, breathing shallow and unsteady as he tilts his head and your lips slot together even more perfectly.

Jaemin kisses you so gently, so tenderly, your heart aches.

You break for air—mostly for him. He leans his forehead against yours, breathing unsteady.

His thumb strokes the apple of your cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a goodbye.”

“Not a goodbye. I’m not leaving. I’m not running away again. I’m here.”

You hug him. Bury your face in his neck and mold your body to his. He holds you back just as tightly.

And you know, neither of you is going anywhere.

Two months later “Where’s your shadow?” “Sorry?” Who is this one? You can’t remember his name. He’s been at the Daily Planet for a while, you know that much. You’ve seen him in the vicinity of Kun and Lina’s cubicles. He’s older, with rumpled clothes and elbow patches, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and an odd amount of antagonism. “Your shadow. Na.” “I wouldn’t know.” You do know. He’s at his apartment, washing dishes and grumbling to himself about you eating the last of his ice cream. He had wanted to come out, when news broke about some incident at City Hall, but you convinced him to leave this one. He only agreed if you bought more ice cream on the way back. “Can’t complain, I guess. Kid snatches up all the good stories, doesn’t leave anything for us.” Lina would disagree with that. You could just hear her saying, If you were good at your job, you’d find a good story. Jaemin would probably agree. You don’t say that. You don’t say anything, watching the gunmen get driven off in the back of the police cars. The reporter whose name you don’t remember eventually walks off, muttering to himself about favoritism. Your lips twitch. You should head back soon. It’s late and you’re tired, having assisted with a few wildfires in Australia. You just want to shower and eat ice cream and cuddle with Jaemin and watch soap operas. Before you go, though, the sound of your name stops you. Not your name, rather, but— “Supergirl?” An accent. Familiar. Stronger than Jaemin’s, that curls some of his intonations on certain words he speaks. He’s always complaining about your near photographic memory that is letting you pick up Korean faster than he picked up English. You turn. Then do a double take. You’ve seen pictures of Ms. Na. Jaemin has pictures of the two of them from his high school graduation, then a few outings together after that. You always get the sense he feels guilty that they never got one at his graduation from med school. The tall guy with her is familiar, too. Lee Jeno. Jaemin’s childhood best friend and the one who went to med school with him. Ms. Na is older, but not frail. Still, she looks a bit like a ghost standing there, Jeno hovering closely by her side. An air of desperation hangs over them, the kind that sobers you. You approach them. “How can I help you?” “You know my son,” she says simply, gazing at you with the same dark eyes that Jaemin has. “I do,” you say softly. His mother is still a sensitive topic these days. But you know he’s trying to muster up the courage to call her. To see her. Hell, maybe even fly back to Korea. Explain in person. He wants to. But it’s hard, isn’t it, going back, knowing you hurt the person you loved and who loved you back so much. “Can you… can we see him?” You look at them, Ms. Na, dressed in finely-pressed button-up and slacks, but slightly disheveled all the same, weary with the circles under her eyes. Jeno hovering close, unmistakably protective of her, but still clearly not untouched by the pain of Jaemin’s departure. Finally, you give them a small smile. “I think he would like that.”

Grocery bags dangle from your fingers as you fish out the key to Jaemin’s apartment. The TV is on, playing a sitcom. Three heartbeats—and another on the balcony, Dali having his dinner—ring out. Looks like Ms. Na and Jeno found their way here. Good. You’d texted Jaemin in warning and had heard his pulse skyrocket as soon as he read it. You had already shot into the sky when he texted you saying he was okay—that he would be okay. With great reluctance, you held back on going home and instead ran out to pick up the ice cream as promised.

Considering they’re all still here, Jeno and Jaemin talking in Korean, the former laughing at something and the latter joining, too, you assume it went as well as it could.

You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose, then step inside. Your boyfriend is on his feet before you’re even fully inside, taking the grocery bags from you. Instead of the usual kiss in greeting, he takes your hand, squeezing, brown eyes shining with a newfound energy and warmth. You pretend to use him for balance as you pull off your shoes, just to keep holding his hand.

He introduces you to Jeno, an embarrassing amount of affection dripping from his voice when he says your name and introduces you as his girlfriend. Jeno doesn’t seem to be aware or suspicious of anything, thankfully, and kindly greets you back. Ms. Na is another story entirely. Emerging from the guest bathroom evidently refreshed, though her eyes are still red, she appraises you carefully.

According to Jaemin, though he never tried to purposefully dig into your identity, because he ‘paid an embarrassing amount of attention to you prior to getting together’ he had noticed you, both when you’d pop into the office for lunch with Kun and Lina, and that one time when he ordered from Sleepless Bites. It’s not like he made any hard conclusions but—there was a sense of familiarity, even if you carried yourself very differently in each identity.

With the timing and the fact that Supergirl spent enough time around Na Jaemin to be noticeable by them, truthfully, you probably should’ve spent the night with Kun and Lina. Just to let their memory—her memory—of you weaken a little bit. But you can’t leave Jaemin alone for this. Even if they’ve apparently reconciled, at the end of the day… you have to be here for him.

Even if Ms. Na is looking at you intently, dark eyes gleaming with familiarity. But she says nothing about it, simply shaking your hand, hers warm in your grip.

“How long have you known each other?”

Jaemin glances at you. “For a while now. Almost a year, right?”

“Eight months,” you confirm.

She squeezes your hand, giving you a look you aren’t quite sure how to decipher but one that doesn’t alarm you, anyway. “I’m glad you were here for him.”

You smile faintly as Jaemin looks away, embarrassed. “Glad to be here.”

She lets you go. Jaemin waves for her to sit down, then heads for the kitchen. You follow him.

“So…?”

He sets the bag on the counter, then pulls out the cartons of ice cream. You take them, opening the freezer and finding places for them.

“Well, three years of radio silence isn’t going to be fixed in one good night.”

“But…?” Because there very much is a but here. Even if you’d been able to smell the salt of tears shed when you came in, there is a visible weight that has been lifted from his shoulder’s—from Ms. Na and Jeno, too. Not quite as desperate as they appeared earlier. They’d perhaps prepared for the worst—that Jaemin might turn them away for one final time. He had done the same—that neither his mother nor Jeno would take him back.

“But,” he goes on slowly, smile forming on his lips, “it’s a start.”

You are unable to stop a stupid grin from forming on your lips.

“It’s a start—a great start—you’re exactly right—I’m so proud of you, you know—mmpf!”

He crushes you to him, kissing you long and hard, like he’s trying to steal the breath from your lungs. Which is, unfortunately, not physically possible for you as a Kryptonian. Actually—as nice as this is, his hands on your hips, lips warm against yours—

You gently push at his chest, a reminder about air. One that he needs because you swear, it’s like he’s trying to beat you at holding your breath, but again—human who needs air to breathe and live, Kryptonian who technically doesn’t (but admittedly breathing has become a habit for you, one that’s uncomfortable to shed).

Jaemin doesn’t budge until you push a little more and he finally pulls away.

“Your lungs are going to shrivel up and die if you keep doing that.”

He smiles and kisses you again. “That’s not medically possible.”

“Well, that’s where you’re headed if you keep that up.”

Forehead against yours, eyes shut with a content smile, his shoulders shake with laughter. You lean into him, enjoying the warmth of him, the feeling of his arms around you, heart beating in his chest.

Things are going to get better. They already were, even without this impromptu visit from his mother and being able to reconcile with her—and Jeno. It’s like you said—he’s making friends at work, getting along well with Kun, Lina, and Jay, even Maria loved him to bits when she met him for the first time last week. You’re making friends, too, going to games with Jisung and then going out to eat afterward with him and Chenle. It's not like you were some kind of ghost before this—you enjoyed yourself, you were content, you didn’t have much yearning for anything else, but now that you do, you’re happier. You feel more grounded. Present. There’s more to hope for, to look forward to. You know Jaemin feels the same way. No longer just going through the motions but actually planning for the future.

You’ve even had a few late-night conversations about whether he wants to go back to school. He’s surmised that med school simply isn’t for him but—that’s not the only healthcare position that exists. As it happens, Metropolis University’s nursing program is one of the best in the country and there are scholarships he can apply to to help with tuition. As for you, you still quite enjoy your work at Sleepless Bites but there are still a lot of things you want to try and that Jaemin happily encourages you to do so.

Like you said. There is so much more to hope for and look forward to now.

It is this, you think, that your parents wanted for you.

Exactly this.