#a moments peace prob would have been nice

[wheeboo]

off the record | kim mingyu {part one}

SYNOPSIS. Kim Mingyu lives a double life. On one end, he’s the perfectly charming yet clumsy coworker at the Daily Planet. On the other, he’s saving the world. But when you–a guarded yet sharp-witted journalist–are paired up with him on solving a mysterious case of kryptonite trafficking, Mingyu finds it harder and harder to keep his secret at bay. And falling for you only makes it worse, when he’s only given two choices: protect his identity, or risk everything by letting you in.  PAIRING. superman!kim mingyu x journalist!fem!reader (ft. editor-in-chief!seungcheol, photojournalist!wonwoo, editor!minghao, barista!seulgi) GENRE. superman au, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, humour, slow burn, suggestive WARNINGS. cursing, suggestive themes (kissing, making out, lil grinding, vague nudity, implied sex, shirtless mingyu ofc), violence, blood, illegal crimes (kryptonite trafficking, robbery, theft, hijacking, bombing, kidnapping), drinking, mention of tobacco, mingyu has hella plot armour, idk how to write a whole crime case for the life of me i was struggling w that whole part so it prob makes no sense lol WORD COUNT. 25.1k (for part one); 43k (in total)

notes: hello everyone it's finally here!!!! we cheered!! sadly i have to separate this fic into 2, but part 2 will either be posted either tomorrow (june 7th) or sunday (june 8th). ty guys for being so patient with me as this is the longest fic i've written so far on this blog. i hope you all enjoy the story! this is my gift to you all for 3k followers!! ty to @tomodachiii and @slytherinshua for reading over this for me hehe. pls don't forget to reblog as well i'd love to know your thoughts 🙂‍↕️

part one | part two

“Surely a young man like you would be settling down with marriage at your age!” 

Kim Mingyu elicits a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he watches Mrs. Moon place a couple of her famously harvested tangerines inside a brown bag. He pushes up the pair of dainty glasses that sit on his face. He flashes the old lady that particular disarming smile𑁋one that seems to win over anyone on the street.

“Ah, you already know me, Mrs. Moon,” Mingyu begins, sending a small wink. “Work keeps me quite preoccupied these days.”

(Yesterday, he had to save this speeding train from derailing off the tracks and crashing into a platform full of people in France. And the day before that, he heard cries from a few families who were trapped within a burning apartment building in Brazil and barely made it out with a little girl clutched in his arms before the top floor collapsed entirely.)

But Mrs. Moon doesn’t need to know that. To her and the rest of the world, he’s just Kim Mingyu𑁋the clumsy, always smiling, ever-so-slightly late to everything Kim Mingyu. But the truth is, between dodging falling satellites in space and struggling to file articles on time, he doesn’t exactly have the time for something as ordinary as love. 

Mrs. Moon clicks her tongue and lets out a cackle, shaking her head while placing the final tangerine in the bag. “Work, work, work. Excuses, excuses. You should find a nice girl before someone else snatches her up! Cherish your youth.”

Mingyu laughs at the woman’s words before opening up his wallet and giving her some spare cash as a friendly tip. He clutches the bag of tangerines in his grasp as he exits the grocery store, his thoughts lingering to Mrs. Moon’s words as he enters back into the regular flow of the city he’s been tasked with protecting for the past few years. 

It’s a relatively peaceful morning so far. The sky is painted in the most perfect shade of blue, clouds lazily drifting across its surface. Mingyu allows himself to relax for a moment as he approaches the incoming intersection, shooting a glance down at his watch to ensure he’s still on the right track with coming into work. 

A breeze brushes past his hair. Passerbys come and go past him, all heading towards their own work duties as he is. He’s gotten the hang of pretending to be ordinary. Just an ordinary guy heading on his way to his desk job. Just another journalist at the Daily Planet. 

But then, he hears it.

A sudden commotion. A shout. 

Sharp. Frantic. Close. 

His head darts towards the source of the sound𑁋it’s right across the large intersection he’s currently standing in. His eyes laser in on focus: a woman across the street, breathless and wide-eyed as another man barrels down the sidewalk dodging people left and right with a worn leather bag clutched in his hands. Her bag.

Instinct takes over.

Mingyu peers around before ducking into a nearby alleyway, his heart already racing𑁋not from fear, but from adrenaline. His glasses are off as he rounds the corner, the brown paper bag of tangerines abandoned on top of a garbage bin as he shrugs off his coat and unbuttons his shirt. 

And within seconds, the familiar sight of a red cape flares into the sky like an open flame. 

You’ve never been a runner. At least, definitely not in heels. Yet you try anyway, bolting forward a few steps to catch up with the thief before nearly stumbling when one of your heels gets trapped in a hidden crack in the pavement. And when you try to move it, you hear the slight sound of a crack, though it’s loud enough to crush your dignity like a slap to the face. 

Frustrating stings at your eyes, because of course, this just has to happen on the first day of your new job. You can still see the damn thief up ahead𑁋with your bag, your wallet, your ID, your everything. 

You don’t even have time to scream.

And then𑁋

A gust of wind rushes past your face. A whoosh so fast it rattles the windows of the nearby stores that surround you. You barely register the colours of blue and red that streaks across your vision, and everyone else around you seems to take a halt all at once, their gazes stalking up at the skies with a mixture of awe and disbelief. 

“Was that𑁋?”

“Oh, my God. It’s him𑁋!”

Meanwhile, Mingyu soars just above the streets, spotting the thief tripping into a narrow alley. A slight smirk crosses his face as he picks up speed. Like the blink of an eye, he cuts the man off at the end of the alley, hovering mid-air with folded arms as his cape behind him lazily billows through the heavy, mildew-scented air. 

The thief skids to a stop, his shoes squeaking distressfully against the ground. “No fucking way𑁋” 

And in an unlucky attempt to escape from the other way, Mingyu appears right in front of him. Again. 

With an almost bored look, Mingyu leans in to snatch the bag from the man’s grasp as if plucking an apple off a tree.��

“Thank you for your service,” he tells the man with a roll of his eyes, showing off the leather bag in his hand. “But this doesn’t belong to you.”

And then, with a flash of movement and a gentle, almost slothful toss, the thief finds himself landing face-first into a nasty pile of garbage cans, only to be surrounded by a few police officers who come dashing around the corner into the alleyway. 

Mingyu casually hovers in place for a few moments, offering a mock salute to the baffled officers before zooming back up towards the sky.

By the time you’ve managed to shuffle your near-broken heel out of the crack and catch your breath, he appears right in front of you.

Superman. The one who’s been plastered all over the news and articles now. The one who lifts buses and stops meteors from crashing into Earth with the simple power of his heat vision. The one your skeptical friend called a “silly government hoax” until she saw the hero in action right before her eyes saving an entire school from collapsing into itself from a record-broken earthquake. 

And now he’s standing in front of you.

With your bag.

“This yours?” Superman asks, holding it out towards you with a certain calmness that highly contradicts the way your heart is practically thundering in your chest.

You stare at him𑁋like, really stare𑁋because there’s no real way for someone to mentally prepare themselves for what it feels like to be face-to-face with him. Superman. Cape, emblem, and everything. He appears almost sculpted by someone with far too much time and a love for perfect symmetry. And gosh, he’s tall. 

You blink. Once. Twice, as if it’ll somehow get rid of whatever illusion your brain is tossing towards you and the sheer embarrassment your morning has been raining down on you so far. But alas, no. He’s still here, with his cape fluttering behind him like a damn Renaissance painting come to life, hair tousled in a perfect way, and his eyes warm like the colour of chocolate, waiting for a response from you.

Letting out an exhale, you grab the bag from his grasp, giving a small nod.

“Yeah,” You say quietly, voice slightly tight. “Thank you.”

There’s a beat of silence. Even in your hunched-over form, you can tell his eyes are roaming over you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, tilting his head with a particular smile you’re sure many people have fawned over while eating their breakfast. 

“Oh, I’m doing grand, you know,” You respond snarkily. “My heel is probably broken. Mild public humiliation. The usual.”

His smile stretches a little at your words, his eyes glinting with something that nearly resembles amusement. It’s not the kind of politeness someone gives as a way to be nice𑁋he actually seems entertained. Which only annoys you even more, because now you’re hyper aware of how ridiculously disheveled you must look. 

“Want me to fly you somewhere?” Superman offers like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

You lift a brow at that, blinking again. Superman is offering to fly you? “Excuse me?”

He gestures vaguely to the sidewalk. “Well, your shoe is busted. Figured I could help.”

“You mean carry me?”

“I mean, I won’t be dragging you by the ankles, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he affirms, the corners of his lips twitching up like he’s trying to suppress a few laughs.

You give him a long, pointed look. “And you just go around offering free rides to random civilians? Don’t you have galaxies to save or kittens stuck in trees somewhere?”

Superman chuckles at that. “Actually, I did save a few kittens just last week, but I’ve got a few minutes to spare.”

You cross your arms together, eyeing him warily. You find your thoughts running throughout your head𑁋how your first day is already going to hell, how ridiculous this entire situation is, how unfairly attractive this literal superhero is up close; and how, despite your guarded nature, you’re almost tempted to say yes. 

But you don’t.

Instead, you straighten your posture and offer a somewhat dry, polite smile.

“Tempting, but I think I’ll pass,” You give him as a response. “I’d rather wobble to work with whatever pride I have left.”

Something flickers across his chiseled features𑁋surprise, maybe? It’s almost as if he’s not used to hearing those words, or being casually declined. But even with that, you catch the way he musters up an accepting look. For a moment or two, your eyes lock, perhaps a bit longer than the two of you intended, and you can definitely tell that he wants to say more. 

And then he just grins.

It’s not the usual professional one he shares within his workplace. No, this time, it’s smaller. Bashful, even. 

“Well, if your pride ever gets too hard to carry,” he starts, voice dropping to a lower, more quiet tone. “This area is my usual route to fly over.”

You nearly snort at that. “I… Are you hitting on me right now?”

“Is it working?”

Your lips part, and whatever witty remark lingering on your tongue swallows down your throat in an instant. Because this was not how you expected your day to go. Not how any day is supposed to go, honestly. 

You can’t help but let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “I think it’s concerningly close.”

Then he gives you that smile again. “I’ll take it.” 

And before he can say anything more, you catch the way his expression shifts, switching back to an almost scarily serious look. He shifts his eyes back to you, as if hesitant to move, slowly hovering off the ground. 

“Duty calls,” he tells you, a hint of disappointment in his words. Then he pauses, and adds in, “Take care. Try not to get your bag stolen, yeah?”

And then in an instant, he’s soaring back up towards the skies faster than any jet you can imagine and vanishes between the clouds. The force is enough to send your hair ruffling in the air, leaving you standing on the ground with a few unsuccessful attempts at processing whatever the hell just happened.

You stand there for a few moments, your bag clutched tightly in your hands. Just like everyone else, you know about him. You’ve watched countless clips on the news, read printed articles from other inspiring journalists in your field documenting his adventures. You’ve listened to a variety of debates talking about his otherworldly existence𑁋is he an alien spawn? Some government experiment gone wrong? Is he really invincible? Too many questions; too little answers.

But none of those can remotely compare to the way he simply asked if you were okay, or the way he’s able to effortlessly crack jokes at will. 

Or even the infuriating way he smiled. 

Your bad luck streak seems to have lessened. For now, at least.

The Daily Planet hosts a little coffee shop on the ground floor, and you trudge your way in, heels in one hand, sporting an unflattering pair of loafers you managed to find at a local thrifting place on the way to the office. Your hair is a tiny bit unkempt, your shirt adorning a wrinkle you swear wasn’t there earlier, and you feel all kinds of eyes on you as you stand in line.

The comforting scent of roasted espresso beans and fresh muffins hits you like a warm blanket. You exhale slowly. It helps a little.

When you approach the counter, however, the barista𑁋Seulgi, you read on her nametag𑁋looks up at you with all-too-knowing smirk.

“You’re the bag girl, right?” she asks.

You freeze. “Sorry?”

Seulgi motions towards the ceiling, where a mounted television is currently playing the local news. A paused still frame captures none other than you𑁋well, more like a blurry shot𑁋angled from a store security camera, yet still clear enough for you to recognise yourself. And then right in front of you, of course, is unmistakably the city’s famous heroic heartthrob. 

“You’re practically famous. For a few hours, technically,” Seulgi’s voice pops back in. 

You let out a groan, muttering, “Kill me.”

“Unfortunately, no can do,” she replies cheerfully. “But I can offer you a free drink, courtesy of our friendly neighbourhood superhero.”

You blink at that. “Wait. He paid for it?”

Seulgi shakes her head. “No, but he does come by sometimes and donates some extra cash. Says it’s for ‘emergencies’, so… I guess you abide by that.”

As you open your mouth to protest, Seulgi merely hands you over a warm, fresh cup of espresso. 

You could only mumble a quick thanks as you saunter away, still a bit dazed and confused. The warmth of the coffee spreads throughout your fingers, anchoring you in a way, especially after your whirlwind of a morning. 

You turn around, letting your feet carry you aimlessly towards the lobby. And just as you think you’re starting to relax, it appears that fate has other ideas on its side. 

You bump into something𑁋no, someone𑁋hard. A sharp gasp hisses from your lips as hot coffee stains onto your shirt and the skin of your hand, as well as splashing onto someone else’s literal chest. You stagger back, nearly losing balance, the stranger in front of you letting out a curse of surprise.

“Shit, I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t see you there,” a man’s voice says, reaching out his hands as if to steady you.

You pick your head back up, ready to release a tumble of apologies as the guilt blooms in your chest, but all that comes out is nothing.

The man in front of you is tall. Broad. Stupidly handsome in a way that makes your brain lag for a split second. A pair of black, thick-rimmed glasses sports over his sheepish face, and you swear his jawline is sharp enough to cut through glass. He’s holding an identical cup of coffee in his own hands, which was now half-full thanks to your ordeal. 

Finally, you manage to speak. “Are you𑁋”

“Burnt?” he guesses, a warm, tiny laugh leaving him, which somehow makes your embarrassment worse. He glances down at the brown stain running over his white shirt. “Maybe a little, but it’s all good.”

Your eyebrows knit together in frustration. “God, I’m sorry, I’m such a disaster right now...”

“No, it-it was me,” the man chimes in reassuringly. “I forgot something in my car and then boom. Don’t worry about it. Are… are you okay? You look kind of…”

You give a few nods of your head. “I’m fine, just, uh… Not having the best day, clearly.”

The man’s eyes wash over you, and briefly, there’s a sparkle of recognition in them.

“Oh! You’re…” His lips tighten inquisitively for a moment. “You’re the, um… girl from the news, right?”

Perhaps sinking into the floor is your best opportunity to escape.

“The one and only,” You mutter with a dramatic gesture of your hands, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks.

The man continues to loom over you, and there’s a certain genuine, albeit awkward charm that surrounds him. Maybe it’s the glasses or the way his voice doesn’t match at all with his intimidating build𑁋soft, friendly, perhaps a bit shy. It’s sort of refreshing, in a sense.

“Here, uh…” You watch as he strolls away to retrieve some napkins from the coffee shop, handing a few over to you. 

“Thanks,” You mumble, beginning to dab helplessly at your shirt. “Ugh, and this was one of my favourite shirts too.”

“I think it still looks good,” he offers with a shrug, then immediately spluttering, “I mean, not that I was, um, staring. Just𑁋objectively speaking.”

You blink up at him, and even despite the chaos of your morning, a smile finds its way across your lips. “Objectively, huh?”

The man just chuckles, running a hand through his slightly tousled dark hair. 

“I’m Mingyu, by the way. Kim Mingyu.”

You nod at his little introduction, filing the information into the back of your brain, before a tiny bell of recognition dings in your mind. Kim Mingyu. For some reason, the name sounds oddly familiar, perhaps you’ve read it somewhere? Maybe in some news article or𑁋

Wait.

You look back up to meet his eyes. “You’re Kim Mingyu?”

Mingyu’s eyes widen slightly, his body stiffening. “Yeah. Uh… guilty?”

You let out a small breath of relief. “You’re the guy who writes the science features! You just published that piece of the whole… lunar water discovery two weeks ago, right?”

Mingyu blinks a few times. Then he lets out a bashful laugh, the kind of laugh that’s caught between flattered and embarrassed. “No way, you actually read that?”

You arch a playful brow. “Duh, do you think no one reads science journalism anymore?”

“No, no, I mean𑁋maybe a little.” He rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks pinking enough for you to notice. “It’s just nice to meet someone who did.” 

A couple moments of silence pass. You tilt your head to look at him again, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks you look like a creep doing so. Science journalist. Right. That would probably explain the gentle voice and the easygoing tone that’s somehow more comforting than you expected. 

But maybe it doesn’t explain how he’s not built like the kind of guy who sits behind a desk all day and writes about moon water. Maybe. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “Do I… know you from somewhere?”

Mingyu flinches. Not a lot. Barely noticeable, but you catch it anyway. He pushes up his glasses on his nose awkwardly.

“Uh, no? I don’t think so,” he answers quickly. A little too quickly.

You squint at him.

Mingyu shifts his weight between his feet. “Do I have something on my face?” 

“Have you ever done any modeling?” You ask instead, almost too casually.

His ears grow endearingly red at your words. “Uh, maybe once? My friend Wonwoo needed someone to pose for his photography portfolio back in college, so… Why?”

You wave him off dismissively, crumpling the napkin in your hand. “No reason. Forget I said anything.”

“Well, I’ll take it as a compliment, nonetheless,” Mingyu says brightly, before reaching into his pocket to glance at his phone. “Shoot, I’m late. Got a meeting with the tech editor. It was nice running into you. Literally. Uh…”

“Y/N,” You finish for him. “Y/N L/N. Investigative journalist.”

Mingyu nods enthusiastically. “Right, Y/N. It was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you around?” His voice carries that familiar warmth, and it sends your head abuzz. “Take care of that shirt too. And sorry for bumping into you earlier.”

Then he gives an awkward wave and one final lingering glance before making a beeline dash towards the elevators. A strange flutter settles in your chest as he runs off.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. What the hell is going on today?

“Choi Seungcheol,” Mingyu deadpans, striding into the private office room of where his editor-in-chief, Choi Seungcheol, resides. “I already got approval to interview that quantum physicist for the piece due next Friday. You can’t seriously be calling another penalty on me right now, or yell at me about another missing Oxford comma.”

Seungcheol doesn’t even look up from his computer as he takes a sip from his mug, steam curling into the air. 

“Good morning to you too, Kim,” he says dryly, scrolling through what looks like an email thread gone to the depths of hell. “And no, this isn’t about grammar. Or physicists. Although, I am impressed you remembered the deadline for once. You’re not in trouble.”

Mingyu lifts a frazzled brow. “I’m… not?”

“Nope.”

A beat of silence. Then Mingyu crosses his arms. “Alright, who died?”

“No one. Yet.” A pleasant hum leaves Seungcheol as he places a manila folder on the table. “New case. Green mineral trafficking, multiple disappearances, possible government cover-up. Sounds like your kind of party.”

Mingyu tenses.

Green mineral trafficking? The only word he could possibly think of is…

Kryptonite.

He attempts to keep his expression neutral, unfazed, but his pulse quickens loud enough to echo in his ears. Most people don’t even know that kryptonite exists, let alone know how dangerous it can be. To anyone else, it’s just a strange name for a rock. To him? It’s a death sentence.

Mingyu clears his throat, stepping forward to grab the folder on Seungcheol’s desk. “Are you sure this isn’t a job for the police? Or the FBI?”

“Nope.” Seungcheol shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “It’s already been classified as a fringe case. Everyone in this building thinks it’s nothing more than just conspiracy fluff, but you’ve been here long enough. You know how we operate. If there’s something to dig, we dig. Besides, your science background is especially helpful.”

When Mingyu flips open the folder, he spots a few grainy pictures. But there’s a particular surveillance photo that catches his eyes. It’s blurry, but his vision is sharp enough to catch the sight of a figure with something glowing in their hands.

Definitely kryptonite.

Finally, he exhales. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

Seungcheol smirks, and Mingyu knows for certain that there is a catch to this.

“Now that that is out of the way.” Seungcheol clasps his hands together and places his elbows on top of the desk. “You won’t be flying solo for this one.”

Mingyu’s jaw tightens at that. “What?”

“You heard me,” Seungcheol remarks with that shit-eating grin. “I’m pairing you up. Joint assignment.”

The folder nearly slips from Mingyu’s grasp at his words. “Since when do I get a partner? You already know I work better alone.”

“You also tend to disappear way longer than you need to be during your breaks,” Seungcheol retorts flatly. “And while I usually could give crap as long as you turn in Pulitzer-worthy articles, I think this case is different. Bigger.”

Mingyu presses his lips together, biting back the million responses aching to jump off his tongue, but he knows Choi Seungcheol all too well. Once he’s made up his mind, there’s no going back from there.

Still, he tries, even if it’s hopeless. “You do know I have a system, right? I research, I write, I investigate𑁋”

“You also vanish every time there’s a major break in the news and then show up three hours later claiming you were stuck in the elevator.”

“That was one time,” Mingyu grumbles.

“It’s always the damn elevator.”

Mingyu lets his head fall to the ground. “I get… claustrophobic sometimes.”

Seungcheol snorts. “Sure you do, buddy. Alright, I don’t care if you need to get yourself a therapy llama or whatever to cope𑁋all I care about is getting to the bottom of this and for someone to keep your ass in check. Now, chop chop. I’ve set up a meeting time for the two of you on Thursday.”

A long, long, contemplative pause. 

“...wait, there are therapy llamas?”

“Kim Mingyu!”

“Okay, sorry! Just𑁋can you at least tell me who my partner is?”

Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose, before reaching into a drawer to pull out a file. When he opens it, the first thing Mingyu sees is a photo stapled at the corner of the first page. It only takes a matter of seconds for the recognition to dawn on him, because not only does he know the woman in the photo, the dread that pools in his stomach is something only you could cause. 

Coffee girl. Bag girl. Why-has-your-smile-been-stuck-in-my-head-the-whole-week girl.

“Y/N L/N. Investigative journalist. Recently transferred here from halfway across the country,” Seungcheol explains. “I’ve seen her portfolio. She’s quite good at what she does. I figured she could balance you out, you know. She’s already got the nose for shady ordeals with her exposé on that real estate company two years ago.”

Mingyu opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, opens it back up, then closes it again. You, of all people. You’re his partner. For a case potentially involving kryptonite. And just last week, he retrieved your stolen bag from a thief; bumped into you and spilled coffee on your shirt; said that your shirt looked good; got flustered like some hopeless nerd. And you… not-so-subtly called him model worthy.

Oh, he’s doomed. The universe truly had a sense of humour, after all.

“Cool. Great. Fantastic,” Mingyu says finally, his shoulders slumping.

Seungcheol shoots him an eye. “What? Refuting already?”

Mingyu’s mind could only race, because he knows how investigative journalists work. They’re always sharp, observant, perceptive, and have those particularly expressive eyes. The kind of eyes that could probably read into him. Past all the words, the excuses… the disguise.

“Nope. No complaints here. Just…” Mingyu bites his bottom lip. “What if she gets too close?” 

Seungcheol lifts up a brow. “Close to what, exactly?”

“To the story.”

Seungcheol watches him for a moment too long. “Then she’s doing her job.”

Mingyu nods slowly, gathering the file in his arms. “Right. Got it.”

A truck hijacking on the highway was certainly not on Mingyu’s to-do list, especially since he has a meeting scheduled with you.

He’s already late, and there’s no way he can simply send a polite sorry, running a little behind and definitely not the a truck was hijacked on I-17 and I had to take care of it email to your inbox, especially when he’s currently hanging off the side of the highway holding onto the wheels of an eighteen-wheeler like he’s helping a neighbour move some furniture.

He grunts, his teeth gritted as the metal steels in his tight hold. The tires of the truck screech loudly against highway roads. The initial driver of the truck is knocked out from the attack by the hijackers, but Mingyu can still hear the faintest thrum of his heartbeat. He overhears another man in the cabin cursing and trying to figure out how the hell this large truck is not moving even with the gas pedal through the floor.

But here he is. Midair. 

His cape flaps elegantly behind him as he carries the truck back to where all the police cars were coming in on the highway. Slowly, he lowers the truck back down onto the ground, a loud slam screaming through the air. At the corner of his eye, he notices one of the hijackers attempting to crawl through the broken window, but Mingyu is faster.

He yanks the man out of the truck by the collar and heaves him to the ground, but there’s something about the man’s close presence that physically makes Mingyu recoil back, and his eyes keenly focus on the faintest glow of green underneath the man’s shirt. 

Is that a… kryptonite pendant?

“Who the hell gave that to you?” Mingyu questions angrily, gripping the man by the collar of his shirt.

“I-I don’t know!” the guy sputters weakly. “I just drive the truck, man! I was supposed to leave it at Pier 13𑁋”

“I didn’t ask where you park the damn thing,” Mingyu interjects furiously. “Tell me who gave it to you.”

“I don’t know anything! I swear, dude!”

Before Mingyu could do anymore questioning, the police are beginning to swarm them now. He gives the man one last glare, and reaches over to grip the pendant in his hand, ripping it from around the man’s neck. A stinging ache settles in his muscles, but it wasn’t any normal kind of soreness𑁋it’s the kryptonite kind. 

Yet with every ounce of strength he could muster, he tosses the pendant into the hands of an incoming officer. He already feels the pain lift off his skin as he bastardly drops the man back onto the ground, a fleet of other police officers coming to apprehend him.

“Put that thing into a lead case and to a lab immediately,” Mingyu groans out towards the dazed officer. 

Before anyone could say another word, he’s already shot himself up towards the skies, leaving nothing but a gust of wind behind.

He’s back in his civilian clothes and landing on the roof of the Daily Planet within a few short minutes. His glasses are on, his tie straightened, hair still a bit windswept which he brushes back with his hands. He wipes away some dust off his clothes before sneaking back into the building, resuming his normal routine.

Mingyu already knows he’s late, and at this point, he’s accepted defeat. He could only hope an extra cup of coffee that he might have put a bit too much sugar in would be enough to make up for his unexpected detour.

When he arrives at the conference room𑁋six minutes late𑁋you’re already sitting there in one of the seats, flipping through the case files with your brows slightly furrowed. A pen is tucked behind your ear, and he swears he can smell your perfume from where he’s standing at the door. It’s like a scent of lavender, and something else. Perhaps warm and sharp, just like you.

Mingyu takes a singular step forward, and your head snaps back up.

“Hey,” You greet him. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Mingyu breathes out, trying to keep casual. “Elevator broke down.”

You chuckle at that, pulling a chair out for him. “Does it break down often?”

He smiles faintly at your gesture, sitting down next to you. “You have no idea.” He slides one of the cups over to you. “For you, by the way.”

You glance inquisitively at the cup. “Oh. Thank you. Trying to bribe your way out of being late?”

“Depends if it works or not,” Mingyu remarks back, and he tries not to notice the way the corners of your lips twitch up into a small smile. 

A soft laugh leaves you, and it makes something flutter beneath his ribs. 

You take a sip from the coffee, and nearly choke it out. “Wow, that is dangerously sweet.”

“Ah, crap,” Mingyu mutters in embarrassment. “Sorry, I wasn’t, uh, paying attention to how much sugar I poured in.”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, still coughing through a laugh. “It’s all good. I needed the sugar rush anyway.”

“Still,” Mingyu chimes back in. “I’ll get the ratio right next time, don’t worry.”

Next time.

The morning light shining in through the conference room windows shine on your cheekbones, casting flecks of gold across your skin and over the smile you were still wearing. His breath nearly catches in his throat at the sight𑁋the kind of smile that makes Mingyu almost forget he was mid-air just ten minutes ago and lifting a stolen truck with his own bare hands, freaking out about how you’d react to him showing up late. 

“It’s funny, right?” You start, turning your body to face him. “How we went from a stupid coffee incident to being paired up for a case like this. Who would’ve thought?” 

Mingyu hums thoughtfully, taking a sip of his own overly sweet coffee. “If I knew you were an A-list journalist, I probably would’ve risked being late to that meeting when we first met.”

You roll your eyes at him, tiling your head a little. “Why?”

Mingyu swallows a lump down in his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose shyly. “Uh… first impression, you know? It was your first day that week, so… I could’ve shown you the ropes of this place.”

Amusement glitters in your eyes, and you lean in, settling your chin on your hand. “We spilled coffee on each other, then you complimented my shirt. I don’t think anything is salvageable after that.”

“Okay, well, technically…” Mingyu starts, but his resolve falters quickly when he catches your gaze on him. “I didn’t plan to spill it on you. I was just nervous.”

“You? Nervous?” You repeat. “Why would you be nervous?”

Mingyu stiffens a little in his seat. “I mean, not nervous because of you, exactly. I mean, yes. You’re just kind of… I don’t know, intimidating?”

You stare at him.

“I’m saying you’re…” he pauses, knowing all too well he’s digging himself deeper into this hole he’s making. “...very cool. Like, cool-cool. Like, you have that unbothered, domineering energy𑁋okay, let me shut up.”

Your shoulders shakes with a lighthearted laugh, and it seems to fill the large room more than it should. Mingyu only sinks down further into the chair, hoping that it could swallow him whole, as the heat spreads up to the tip of his ears. But even despite the embarrassment radiating off him, he can’t bring himself to look away from you for that long. 

“That was probably the best trainwreck of a compliment I’ve heard ever,” You tease playfully while tapping your pen on the table as if to stabilise yourself.

Mingyu groans into his hand. “Please forget I said any of that.”

“Oh no.” You grin. “Sorry, I’m filing that away in our case notes.”

His mouth flies open. “You’re joking.”

You merely shrug. “You’ll never know.”

That silence that follows after is strangely comfortable. Maybe a bit awkward, but not in a bad way. It’s quiet enough for Mingyu to realise this is probably the most peace he’s felt in a while. The adrenaline from the hijacking and discovery of the kryptonite pendant is momentarily forgotten, dulled by the sunlight falling on your face and a smile that crawls right under his skin. 

“Listen,” You begin, your tone turning a bit more serious, though sincere. “I know how people around here work. Trust is a weird currency nowadays. People hold their cards close to their chest, and sometimes, it doesn’t end well. We don’t have to share our life stories with each other. I just need to know…”

You pause for a moment. Mingyu is still waiting for you to continue.

“...that if things ever get messy, you’ll have my back.”

The weight of your words settle heavily on his chest. And there’s something about the way you’re looking at him𑁋steadily, hopeful𑁋that makes his stomach flutter. The same kind of feelings he gets when he’s flying too fast or perched at the edge of space and staring down at the place he’s dedicated to protect. 

He’s not used to this kind of vulnerability. Not from others, and definitely not from himself. 

“I will,” he finally says, voice low yet certain. “You don’t even have to ask.”

Mingyu notices the way you study him for a moment, as if you’re trying to read between the lines of his words and expressions. But then, the curve at your lips fades into something more softer, less amused, reassured. 

“Good,” You murmur, sitting up straighter in the chair. “Because I’ll have yours, too.”

And in the back of his mind, Mingyu knows one thing for sure: that he’ll protect you. From thieves, criminals, and the quiet threats that no one else sees.

Even from himself, if it ever comes to that.

God, especially from himself. 

“Seriously? You kept this from me for an entire week? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Mingyu’s mouth falls open. “Wonwoo𑁋”

“You touched a kryptonite pendant barehanded and now you expect me to assist you on this report that’ll probably end with a front-cover newsletter covering the untimely demise of Superman,” Wonwoo snaps as he paces across the shared living room. “What part of ‘you’re not fully invincible’ do you not understand?”

Jeon Wonwoo is the only other person that knows of Mingyu’s… extracurricular activities. The man has been for him since the very beginning. It was during a particular night during their college days where he had stumbled upon Mingyu levitating in the middle of their dorm room, freaking out about how he could quite literally see through the wall into the next room, and freaking out even more when he was able to see Wonwoo’s entire skeletal system. 

Wonwoo had the opportunity to probably blackmail him to the entire campus, but all he did was simply sigh, and muttered something about always getting the weird roommates before sauntering back into his room. 

Ever since that night, they’ve been inseparable. Wonwoo had silently mingled his way into the role of confidant, cover-up artist, and occasionally, accomplice. He didn’t ask for the job, honestly. He didn’t even like it half the time. But he does his duties anyway, and he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Mingyu can definitely say that he’s the closest thing to family that he’s ever had.

Wonwoo may not have superhuman strength or have literal lasers shooting out of his eyes, but he had something else: a brain filled with logic, the ability to knock some sense into Mingyu, and a camera always slung around his neck that somehow captured the city more truthfully and beautifully than any headline could ever do. 

“Well, I didn’t plan on touching the kryptonite, okay?” Mingyu defends weakly. “The guy was trying to escape out of the truck! What was I supposed to do? Let him get away?”

“No, you call me, or literally anyone else not allergic to space rocks,” Wonwoo grumbles in response. “You’re lucky it was only a pendant. If it were something bigger, you’d probably be in the ER, and it would be a whole other shitshow when they find out about your weird alien space blood. Or worst case scenario, dead.”

Mingyu flops back down on the couch, running a hand over his face with a heavy sigh. It’s almost as if he’s carrying the weight of the entire planet on his shoulders. 

His mind feels like it’s folding into itself, because he really shouldn’t have accepted this case, yet on the other hand, was there anyone else more capable of handling it? 

Later that week, Mingyu stumbles upon you in the archive room. Your face is practically half-buried in a box full of case files, sleeves rolled up to your elbows, your hands rummaging through the box like a raccoon going dumpster-diving. 

He stalls in the doorway for a moment, briefly forgetting why he was coming down here in the first place. 

Then, he clears his throat. “Y/N?”

You spin your head towards the doorway, and the way your face softens at the sight of him makes something ache a little in his chest. His inhuman abilities to be able to discern those little details is either a blessing or a curse. Or both. 

“Hey,” You breathe out, almost as if you’ve run a marathon, brushing away your dusty hands on your pants. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

Mingyu slowly inserts himself more into the room, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Would… you have stopped me?”

Your lips twitch in amusement. “Would you want me to?”

Your words send an abnormal jolt down his spine. Mingyu clears his throat, and shakes his head.

“No.”

“Then you got your answer.” A proud look briefly passes over your features before you turn your attention back towards the box of case files in front of you. “Come here. Found some stuff you might want to take a look at.”

You feel his shoulder brush against yours as he leans over beside you, the warmth radiating through the sleeves of his flannel hitting your arms. He smells faintly like rain and something earthy, as if he was just a step away from being into the clouds, even though the forecast outside has been sunny the entire day. But you don’t comment about it.

Mingyu doesn’t say anything at first, his attention mainly fixed on the way you’re quietly scanning through the files. There’s a hint of exhaustion plaguing your face, judging by the subtle sag to your shoulders and crease between your eyebrows as you silently scan the words on the files, hoping to absorb them better.

“Have you been down here for long?” he finally asks.

You take that as a chance to straighten your posture, wincing slightly. “Yeah. Long enough for my back to start complaining.” 

Mingyu chuckles softly. “You could’ve called me down here, you know.” 

“I thought I was the investigative journalist in this partnership,” You remark wittily without looking up, continuing to sift through the files. 

“Not necessarily for that stuff, I mean…” Mingyu shrugs sheepishly. “...to just be here with you, I guess. So you wouldn’t be alone.”

His words alone are enough to make you momentarily pause. You glance up at him, and a millisecond is enough for Mingyu to catch that flicker of surprise to your eyes, quickly followed by something softer, perhaps fond, and a pinch of nervousness. But it fades just as swiftly as it came. 

You don’t smile, not exactly, but your features soften noticeably. The archive room suddenly feels as if it’s shrunken three times in size. You clear your throat.

“I’ll make note of that then,” You say quietly, before sliding over a few papers in his direction𑁋surveillance pictures, specifically. “I found something strange while looking at the list of disappearances.”

Mingyu narrows his eyes, studying the photos in front of him. Most of which are simply blurry photos of random civilians he doesn’t recognise, taken in grocery stores, restaurants, or simply walking down the street. 

“These people… They don’t have any background,” You explain. “Some of them don’t have any official documentation in any databases. Only a name, and that’s it.”

Mingyu bites at his bottom lip in thought. “So it’s like they appeared out of nowhere?”

“Exactly.” You brighten from his words. “Which, obviously, can be a motive of some sorts. Whoever is taking them knows that these people don’t actually exist, even though they do, making them easy targets, more difficult to track down and find. Because… they wouldn’t have anybody to look for them. They knew their cases would eventually be dropped.”

His heart sinks at the thought. You slide more photos over to him, looking at him curiously. 

“Do you know anything about what this… green mineral thing is?” 

Mingyu’s brain stutters. 

“There was a biotech company back then𑁋CARAT Corp𑁋which was suspected of using these green minerals in their experiments and machines,” You explain casually. “Then they got accused of several counts of illegal experimentation. Rumours of black-market robotics, AI enhancements, which prompted its inevitable demolition and arrest of the owner. Heard he got bailed out of jail not even a year later and fled the country.”

You motion a finger over some of the photos, and there’s clearly that familiar green glow around some of the blurry figures, and Mingyu immediately recalls the pendant he found on that hijacker. 

“Someone’s been collecting this stuff again. Quietly. Systematically. And selling it off.”

Selling it off. It’s definitely a likely explanation to why that hijacker had a kryptonite pendant on. But the more important question is why? 

“From what I’ve read about this stuff back then, it’s definitely… otherworldly. It reacts differently compared to other minerals on Earth,” Mingyu explains. “It’s supposedly radioactive as well. Definitely not something you’d find on the periodic table, for sure.”

You nod your head slowly, trying to process the information. “That’s… definitely a case.”

“But there’s not much research on it, from what I know at least. Heard a lot of scientists and physicists these days don’t even want to touch that stuff,” Mingyu finishes with a tilt of his head. “Too unstable. Too unknown. I’ll try to look into what this stuff is.”

A sudden, loud click of your pen is enough to make anyone in the room flinch. Mingyu hears a snicker leave your mouth.

“This is definitely something deeper, isn’t it?” You question pensively, mostly to yourself, your gaze lingering over the various photos spread out on the table. 

Mingyu watches you closely. To the way you’re chewing at your bottom lip as you think, to the way your fingers are hovering over the photos, aching to pull the truth out of them. It’s impossible to look away from you. 

“It definitely is,” he mutters, taking in a deep breath. “But we’ll figure it out, right?”

You turn to him expectantly, eyes locking onto him. “Together?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu answers, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Together.”

Your shoulders relax to his words. “Great. Let’s get these things upstairs so we could cross-reference them. I forgot my stupid eye drops at my desk.”

You bend over to lift the box, planting firm hands on both sides, preparing to hoist it up in your arms. The files inside the box shift inside, some of them nearly tumbling out and falling to the floor, but you manage to adjust your position.

Mingyu finds himself reaching over instinctively, but he hesitates for a moment. “Y/N, I can carry𑁋”

“I’ve got it,” You insist cheekily, shooting him a determined look. “Don’t think I can carry a little box?”

“It’s not that𑁋”

But just as you get the box in a comfortable hold, the bottom corner clips against the table, and it shifts your entire balance, making the box tilt violently in your grasp, a rain of documents preparing to dampen the ground. Unknowingly, your foot catches onto a loose folder you didn’t notice had fallen onto the smooth tile floor, and everything happens all at once. A started yelp leaves your lips before you could even register it.

And you’re stumbling backwards, your backside threatening to land on the ground.

Mingyu moves before he even realises it. 

One second, he’s watching you stumbling backwards; in the next, he’s secured the box in his left arm while his right hand rests tightly around your waist. You take a few seconds to blink, suddenly no longer falling but coming back upright𑁋and very much pressed against Mingyu’s broad chest, who was peering down at you, wide-eyed. 

He swallows down the lump in his throat.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a slight tremble to his voice.

You could only stare back up at him, suddenly very aware of how close he is as your brain struggles to catch up with what just happened. His hand is still around your waist𑁋warm, steady, protective𑁋and you don’t make any sort of move to shrug it off. And neither does he.

“I𑁋yeah,” You breathe out shakily, clearing your throat loudly. “Thanks.”

You still don’t move. Same as him.

His glasses have slipped the tiniest amount down the bridge of his nose, and his hair has fallen in front of his eyes a bit, but his gaze barely wavers from yours. Finally, after a few long moments, you release yourself from his hold, rubbing away the sweat that has somehow accumulated on your hands on your pants. 

Mingyu steps back as well, giving you some space, and fixes his glasses on his face before letting his hand fall back awkwardly to his side. The tension still makes the air around the two of you heavy, but there’s no sense in hurry between you both of dispeling it𑁋perhaps because neither of you really want to. 

Then, his voice cuts through the air. “I’ll, uh… carry the box, if that’s fine.”

You give a quick nod. “Yeah. Sure. Probably smarter.”

You watch as he carries the box out of the archive room with minimal effort, or no effort, specifically, as if it weighed no more than a paperclip. The two of you file your way back into the hallways of the Daily Planet and towards the elevators. 

As the two of you stand silently in the elevator, your mind can’t help but linger on the way how easily he caught you𑁋how steady his grip was on your body, how warm he felt, how he moved as fast as the blink of an eye. Too fast, maybe. 

“Do you have any plans later?”

You turn towards him, shaking your thoughts away. “What?”

Mingyu keeps his eyes forward, though you notice the imperceptible curve forming at the corner of his mouth. 

“I was just wondering if you… you know, did stuff after working hours,” he says lamely. “Like, any hobbies, or…”

You let out a faint chuckle. “Is this another one of your brilliantly horrible attempts at making small talk with me?”

Mingyu visibly stutters at that, a soft laugh leaving him. “Well, I mean𑁋maybe?” He shakes his head, a little embarrassed. “I just want to get to know you a little bit, that’s all.” 

You tilt your head to the side, studying over him as you both ride up the elevator. It’s somewhat… endearing at the way he looks right now. His posture is straightened like a stick as if he’s attempting to appear cool, but the twitch of nerves to his fingers tapping against the cardboard box is pretty much a dead giveaway. It still makes your heart skip a beat, regardless.

“I knit,” You respond suddenly, making Mingyu shift his attention to you. “On occasion. Badly, most of the time. I also cook𑁋horrible at that too. And I read, probably too much to the point my eyes feel like sandpaper.”

It’s only a tiny sliver of information, but it’s enough to hit him with a wave of relief. It’s kind of absurd imagining you𑁋an A-list investigative journalist who’s always on her feet𑁋to be bad at anything. But he likes knowing you have those sides of you as well. Unlike him, you’re human, after all. 

“Cute,” he mutters quietly without realising it.

You lift a brow. “‘Cute’? Seriously?”

His mouth falls agape. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that𑁋”

“It’s fine, Mingyu,” You reassure him calmly. “I liked it.”

Mingyu swears he feels his heart stop.

“And how about you?” Confidence fills up your voice. “Any hobbies that I should know from you?”

Oh, you know, he answers in his head. I like to fly up to the stratosphere and breathe in space fumes, punch criminals straight to Pluto, and use my heat vision to warm up my cups of instant ramen. 

“I… like to go to the gym,” he answers instead, but it comes out as if it was the only thing he could think about. “Other than that, um… nothing much. Just work and research, you know?”

The elevator dings, signaling that the two of you are close to the floor you’re supposed to step off on. You snicker a little.

“I see,” You say, smirking to yourself. “Keep being your little mysterious self then, Kim Mingyu.”

Mingyu blinks dazedly. “Huh?”

The elevator dings again, and the doors swing open. It’s time to get back to work. 

“But lucky for you,” You continue, stepping ahead of him and onto the floor. “it’s my favourite genre to read.”

Alarms loudly blare out of the Seoul National Bank, their sharp wails cutting through the late afternoon rush of the city. Red and blue lights flash across the marble pillars of the large building, helicopters swerve frantically through the skies, and crowds outside begin to cluster on the sidewalks outside, held back by the barricades and arms of police officers.

Inside the bank, it’s absolute chaos. Frantic and frightened shouts echo from hostages locked inside, scattered with threats by masked figures armed with weapons and bags containing large sums of money. 

Mingyu is already mid-air when the call goes out.

Within seconds, he’s descending from the sky. He slices through the clouds as his cape pillows behind him. The moment he sets foot on the concrete stairs leading up to the bank, the ground itself shakes with his presence. Gasps erupt from onlookers behind the police barricades. Phones are raised, cameras are flashing, news outlets are reporting. The world is watching. Superman is here.

All it takes is a singular inhale before he’s barrelling headfirst through the solid entrance of the bank. Debris flies in all sorts of directions, crumbling down all over the floor. Mingyu spots the robbers immediately: four of them, their identities shrouded with masks and hoods, armed weapons in their hands. Frightened civilians and families all scramble to the corners of the buildings, cowering in fear. 

“He’s here!” a civilian shouts from the side. “It’s Superman!”

Pride swells in his chest as he speeds towards two of the robbers, who were uselessly scrambling for their weapons. With his super-speed, Mingyu swipes the first one and throws away his gun like a toy, and knocks the second one unconscious with the gentlest flick of a finger. 

He dodges a panicked swing of a knife that comes from the third robber, and Mingyu responds with a hard kick to the robber’s stomach. A choked groan leaves the robber’s lips, before he’s completely forced to the ground with a loud thud, and the force of the punch is probably enough to knock some teeth out. 

Just from all that, there were no visible signs of struggle to Mingyu’s body. His fists clench together at his side. All who is left standing is the final robber, who was positioned right at the open entrance to the vault. 

However, as Mingyu trails closer, he finds himself suddenly… disorientated, as if the world has tilted slightly off-axis.

“What the…” he moans out as a pulse of nausea hits him. Tightness coils in his stomach, and his shoulders feel as if they’re carrying the weight of boulders. It’s like his strength is being sucked away from him by the seconds that are passing. 

His vision swarms with a burning, sickly green hue, his knees buckling beneath him. Ahead of him, the fourth robber doesn’t even flinch and simply stands still, calm, too calm, arms relaxed as his sides as if this was just an ordinary day. 

“Fuck…” Mingyu curses, staggering back a step, his breath hitching in his throat.

The metallic taste of weakness is bitter on his tongue. The pain of acid slithers up his bloodstream. It takes every ounce of his strength to focus on the robber looming over him, and he notices it immediately.

The kryptonite pendant. The same pendant from the truck hijacker, and now, this robber was wearing it. But it wasn’t just one robber who has it on𑁋all of them do. The others that Mingyu knocked down earlier all reach inside their clothes, revealing their glowing pendant in their hands, exposing Mingyu to more pain. 

Phones are still rolling. Cameras are still clicking. 

And exposing his pain to the entire world. 

All he can see and hear around him are the loud shutters of cameras clicking, mouths whispering, and sirens booming from outside. News outlets are about to have the absolute field day of their entire careers. 

His stomach physically churns at the sight. 

Then the robber lunges forward, hitting him square in the ribs with the butt of his rifle, and for the first time in years𑁋it hurts. 

The shock in his eyes mirrors the horror in every single hostage in the building. He’s Superman. He doesn’t get hurt.

“Not so tough, ay?” the robber sneers, a malicious smirk forming under his mask. “Looks like everyone’s favourite superhero can bleed after all.”

With a tight purse of his lips, Mingyu fires two rays of heat vision from his eyes, aiming with precision𑁋not directly at the robber himself, but down to the floor𑁋and with a loud crack, the marble floor splits beneath his feet. It’s enough to buy Mingyu some time, especially as he can hear the SWAT team and police force making their way up towards the entrance. 

He grits his teeth, forcing himself to remain upright as he fights the waves of radiation from the kryptonite. Sweat beads down his forehead. The pain is searing and hot, like flames dancing over his skin, but he has to push through as much as he can𑁋he has to. People are watching. People are hoping. 

“You see this here, Superman?” the robber spits hoarsely, appearing above him once again with the pendant in his hand. “You can’t win this one. It’s just the beginning.”

If he had his super-strength, or his super-speed, he would’ve punched this robber straight to Mars at this point. But he can’t, especially not with the kryptonite dangling off the man’s neck, taunting him, painfully blurring and mashing together his mind and thoughts. 

But he also can’t let these people die. He’s made a promise to the world: to protect it and its people. 

Channeling every last bit of his strength, Mingyu throws his weight forward onto the robber, collapsing onto the ground and pinning the man right below him. 

“Tell me… who your dealer is,” Mingyu threatens lowly, his voice weak. “Or I’ll fucking end you right here.”

The robber squirms in his hold, kicking and thrashing, refusing to answer. 

“Answer me, dammit!” Mingyu demands again, harsher this time.

But before the robber can answer, the SWAT force finally enters the bank, their guns aimed and shields positioned. Bullets fire deafeningly through the room as the officers non-lethally shoot at the other robbers, forcing their weapons down to the ground. 

Mingyu only groans to himself, giving the man in his hold one more death glare before letting go, and he could only stand and watch as the robber’s eyes remain on him until he disappears out of the building. He can’t bring himself to meet eyes with the hostages as they’re all escorted out of the bank and back outside. 

Paramedics and firefighters start rushing into the bank as Mingyu finds himself leaning against the crumpled doorway, the remnants of the kryptonite still lingering in the air like a poisonous gas. Even as the robbers are taken away, it still doesn’t rid of the burdened guilt threatening to swallow him whole.

“Superman?” an officer’s voice suddenly chimes in.

“I’m fine,” he lies flatly. “Make sure to take the pendants from those bastards and send them to a lab.”

The officer nods before briskly moving away. He can only watch the scene unfold in front of his eyes in trepidation, a sigh of defeat leaving him. He knows he’s already overstayed his welcome in this fight. 

As he exits the bank and prepares to take off, though, a swarm of reporters come rushing in like a harsh wave crashing onto the shore. Incessant flashes of their cameras surround him as they shout over each other to get a single word in. 

“Superman! Superman! Did you really sustain injuries from today’s robbery?”

“Over here! Superman!”

“Were you affected by the robbers’ weapons? Can you explain why?”

Mingyu’s eyes dart around as he forces a strained smile to the cameras. He tries to search for a chance to escape, but the reporters are relentless. But he knows if he reveals remotely anything, there will be somebody already out there watching, waiting, for the moment to exploit him. 

Until a bombshell is dropped.

“Is it true that you have a weakness? What would that mean for the people? The country? The world?”

The mass crowd of reporters fall silent for a few seconds as they anticipate any sort of answer, like time itself has come to a pause. Mingyu feels his heart completely sink. His secret wasn’t just a risk threatening to be expelled anymore𑁋it was happening right before his eyes. The blood rushes to his ears. Cameras continue to roll. Microphones are thrusted in his direction.

His jaw clenches. The silence is enough to offer an answer to the media.

“Superman! How do we know if you’re still able to protect us?”

He doesn’t say a single word. He can’t. There’s no right answer.

Even if he lies or denies it, the world has seen too much.

Every inch of the footage would be dissected frame-by-frame. Everyone would see the pained expression on his face, to the way he literally fell down to his knees, how he was knocked down by a singular punch to the ribs. Everyone would see the glowing green pendants strapped around the robbers like trophies. 

And in some dark spot in the world, someone would see it as an opportunity. 

His heart races with anxiety as he scans over the crowd one final time. He catches every panicked face, every worried look, every pitiful glance in his direction from children and adults alike. But he also spots anger and fear. 

Then his eyes linger on a particular figure.

It’s a man. He’s wearing an all black suit, which appears pressed to perfection, along with a fedora that creates a shadow to shroud over a good chunk of his face. He’s simply just standing there at the edge of the crowd, watching him amidst the chaos surrounding him. Mingyu squints just slightly, allowing his vision to sharpen in on him, and he catches sight of the cold smirk forming at the man’s jagged lips. 

Mingyu feels his fists clench at his sides𑁋not from fear, but from rage. This wasn’t just a robbery; it was planned. 

The crowd only continues to press him, shoving their microphones and flashlights in his face and yelling the same questions over and over again. 

So he makes the only move he can: he flies off, sending a few people almost stumbling to the ground from the force of the launch. 

The voices of the crowd of bystanders and reports fade away as he takes to the skies, the city blurring right beneath him.

When he lands onto the rooftop of the Daily Planet, he’s already trembling. He thinks about everything: the kryptonite, the robbery, the people…

And his thoughts land on you.

His eyes flutter shut.

Mingyu thinks about you, and for some reason, it’s the only thing that’s keeping him grounded right now. He thinks about that particular sparkle in your eyes when you’re working on the case; he thinks about your laughter whenever he fails in his dumb attempts at talking to you; he thinks about your intimidating passion for justice; he thinks about how when he’s with you, he feels like… he can be himself. 

He shouldn’t be thinking about you. He shouldn’t be feeling this much for you.

But he is.

BREAKING: Superman Weakened In National Bank Heist – Mysterious Green Objects To Be Identified The Re-emergence of Green Minerals, From CARAT Corp to Present Day: A National Security Concern Superman’s Weakness Exposed: What Does This Mean For The World?

“Are you just going to be sitting around moping all day like a lost puppy?” Wonwoo’s voice interrupts.

Mingyu just groans. “What else should I be doing when I’m exposed to the entire world?”

“They still don’t know it’s you,” Wonwoo replies evenly, stepping further into the living room with two glasses of water, offering one to him. “They know Superman got hurt; they didn’t know it was you. Your lucky glasses still work as a disguise, somehow.”

Mingyu only continues to silently brood, taking the glass of water from Wonwoo’s hands and chugging it down before placing it back firmly on the coffee table. 

“They were scared,” he says quietly. “The people. I saw it all in their eyes. They looked at me like I… like I failed them, because I did.”

“No,” Wonwoo retorts sharply. “They were scared because they care. Because they’ve come to rely on you when things go to shit in this cesspool of a city. You’re human, Mingyu.”

“I’m not,” Mingyu snaps back, then falters. “I mean… not exactly. Not completely.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Wonwoo shoots him a fixed, stern look. “I mean that you feel things like one. Happiness. Sadness. Everything in between. You care a little too much, and honestly? That’s a good thing, and probably a bad thing.”

Wonwoo’s words settle within the crevices of his bones, because he’s right. He always is. Mingyu isn’t human𑁋he wasn’t organically brought upon this world like everyone else. And yet… Here he is, wearing his sensitive little Kryptonian heart on his sleeve, while feeling guilt, shame, fear, and hurting like any other person would. 

Mingyu slumps further down in the couch, staring at the muted television screen, all of which were constantly replaying the footage of Superman, of him, falling weakly to his knees and grimacing in pain from the kryptonite. There were also several news outlets broadcasting about how Superman seemed to have completely vanished after the incident, and it deepens the fear even more. 

“And what if I can’t save them next time?” Mingyu asks, voice wavering. “What if someone dies because I was too weak enough to save them?”

“Then you grieve, and show up again,” Wonwoo responds like it was the easiest question in the world. “That’s what heroes do.”

Mingyu leans back against the couch and closes his eyes. His mind still aches. 

And then, he hears a soft knock on the apartment door.

He shoots Wonwoo a puzzled look, but Wonwoo only gives him a helpless shrug. Mingyu stands up and heads towards the door, and he feels his heart drop to the floor when he peers through the peephole.

It’s you.

Panicking slightly, he makes sure that he looks slightly presentable𑁋fixing his unkempt hair, putting on his glasses and smoothing out his clothes, even though he sure as hell knows he looks like shit. He clears his throat dramatically a few times and reaches for the lock.

And then he hesitates.

He stares at the door like it’s a ticking time bomb, his pulse rattling loudly in his ears. Why have you come? How did you know where he lives? Either way, you shouldn’t be here. Not now. Not when his weakness is still plastered across every television screen in the country. Not when there’s people out there probably analysing the grainy pictures of his face. And especially not when he’s sure that if you look at him for more than a few seconds, you’ll know that something is off.

But you came anyway.

Mingyu curses under his breath and finally turns the lock, slowly pulling open the door just enough to peek his head out.

“Y/N?”

Your hand is suspended mid-air when the door opens, and you bring it back down to your side.

“Hey,” You greet him all-too-casually, but there’s something else there too𑁋almost like concern.

“Hey,” Mingyu greets back, forcing on a small smile. “How, uh… did you know where I lived?”

You chuckle quietly. “Well, you haven’t stopped by the office to review the case in a few days, so I got… worried, naturally. You’re my partner in this after all. Seungcheol started pestering me about it, and he sort of gave me your address to hunt you down and well… here I am.”

Mingyu’s brows knit together in disbelief. Seungcheol, that bastard. Of course he would be the one to initiate this sort of intervention for him, and of course it would be you who would actually follow through with it. 

“Right,” Mingyu murmurs awkwardly. “That makes sense. Yeah.”

You shift your weight between your two feet, still looking up at him. Mingyu thinks it’s his first time ever seeing you like this𑁋not as the passionate investigative journalist he’s become familiar with, but uncertain and hesitant. You’re not wearing your usual professional and confident front; there’s no sharp gleam in your eye like there is when you’re chasing a lead, no teasing lift at your lips when you’re making fun of him. 

“So,” You continue, carrying your words carefully. “Are you okay?”

Mingyu runs a hand through his dark hair, letting out a few feigned coughs. “Yeah, I… I was just feeling under the weather, you know? I know I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want to worry you, I guess.”

You smile at that, and there’s that little lift to your lips. Maybe he’s the only one who could bring that out of you. 

“Look where that worrying has got me then,” You say, motioning towards the empty hallway. “But you’re alive, so that’s good enough for now.”

You try to keep your tone light, like it’s just a simple check-in between co-workers, but it doesn’t seem as hidden with the way you’re fiddling your fingers aimlessly at the hems of your sleeves. And from the way you can’t let your eyes drift away from his face.

Mingyu feels something in his chest ache. You shouldn’t care this much for him. But you do. And he… he shouldn’t want you to. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have come by unannounced, especially if you don’t feel well,” You suddenly say, taking a small step back. “I just thought𑁋Nevermind. I’ll go.”

You turn slightly, already preparing to walk away, when Mingyu opens the door a little farther.

“Wait.”

You stop.

He doesn’t think. He just speaks.

“Do you… want to come inside?” 

Your eyes widen, caught off-guard by the question. “Are you sure?”

Mingyu’s expression stalls for a moment, searching over your face for any unsureness𑁋because if there is, he’ll let you go. He’ll watch you walk away from him even if every fibre and cell in his alien being is fighting to pull you closer. 

But he doesn’t see any of that on you. He can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.

“Yeah,” he relents. “I’m sure.” 

You fully face yourself towards him. “Okay.”

You step inside his apartment, your eyes scanning around as Mingyu closes the door behind you. It’s clearly lived-in, but tidy. There’s an empty glass and a few cans of beer on the coffee table, a blanket tossed over the couch, and on mute, the TV displaying the information that had taken the world by storm: Superman. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t prepared for any company at all.” Mingyu breaks the silence with an embarrassed laugh. “I live here with Wonwoo𑁋I’ve mentioned him before, he’s over there in the kitchen. He’s on the photojournalism floor. Been helping a little with the case too.”

“Guilty,” Wonwoo adds in while shutting the refrigerator door. 

“Actually, that’s… what I wanted to talk about. The case,” You chime in, turning to Mingyu. “If you have time for it, at least.”

Mingyu hesitates, his fists clenching at his side.

Of course. The case.

“Did you find any leads?” he asks warily.

You smile grimly, clasping your hands together like you’re about to announce a ment, and Mingyu knows that he’s in trouble𑁋not the kind of trouble that involves possible planetary destruction, but the kind that reaches in, pulls at his ribs, and settles somewhere quietly in his heart. 

Or in other words, he may or may not be screwed. 

“After those robbers were arrested, I ran a background check,” You explain. “Found some sketchy things in their financial histories, all linked to the same offshore account. Someone must be literally selling and manufacturing these things like they’re goods. It might explain the pendants they were wearing during the heist.”

Mingyu stiffens.

Wonwoo chimes in from the kitchen. “You believe that someone is possibly selling them to the public?”

“More likely to criminals,” You say with a sigh. “Probably embedding them in cheap-looking metal and selling it under the guise of crystals or pendants. Who knows how many people are wearing this stuff without fully knowing what they are.”

“And they do now.” Wonwoo points towards the muted television. “and they know what it does.”

“Which makes them all the more dangerous,” You continue affirmatively. “And get this. There’s a place that’s been popping up in these records. Pier 13. Do any of you know about that place?” 

Mingyu and Wonwoo exchange a particular look between each other. 

“It’s where CARAT Corp was originally established before it got demolished,” Wonwoo clarifies. “Place has been off-limits for years, but that wouldn’t stop people from snooping around.”

You nod. “I figured as much. They had all kinds of unconfirmed rumours. I pulled up old building records and chemical logs. Whatever they were doing there before it went under, they left behind traces. And someone is deciding to keep it alive.” 

Mingyu bites down at his bottom lip. His eyes are still on you as you continue to explain the leads and information you found, speaking with the confidence of the journalist that the world knows and admires. 

“I don’t think this was just a robbery,” he mutters under his breath.

You glance at him, brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

“It was… too deliberate. Coordinated. I don’t think they were there just for the money. Who shows up to rob a vault in broad daylight wearing experimental pendants?” Mingyu questions, voice tight with the barest hints of restraint. “They wanted Superman to show up.”

It’s almost as if a bombshell had dropped to the floor. It all makes sense now. 

The news of the heist and Superman has been dominating the news for the past few days. It’s all everyone at the office has been talking and publishing about. You admit that it’s been sticking in your mind as well, especially the footage of him𑁋of Superman, knees down to the ground, breath laboured, the face of fear he wore𑁋collapsing. 

That image hasn’t left your head since you saw it. 

“Superman has always been quite the phenomenon, hasn’t he?” You murmur, more to yourself. “I mean, I’ve hardly ever been interested in writing pieces about him𑁋I usually leave those to the cocky columnists. He’s done a lot of good things, for sure. People idolise him. His name would always top the headlines for even the smallest things.”

In the background, Mingyu chuckles nervously. “Sounds like you’ve got a bit of a grudge against him.”

You look over at him, quirking up a brow. “Not a grudge. Just a healthy level of skepticism. Comes with the job, you know? Even when he saved my bag from being stolen that one time, I’d never put him on a pedestal like that𑁋never wrote his name in glittering gold like the rest of the city does.”

Mingyu snorts at that. “You’re different.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. Well… Everyone I’ve ever talked to has always looked up at him in that way𑁋like he’s some sort of god. Untouchable. But you…” Mingyu trails off, eyes flickering to yours for just a second before looking away. “You don’t see him that way.” 

You tilt your head, watching him closely. “And is that a bad thing?”

Mingyu pauses. Considering. Hesitation and awe spiraling around him. He shakes his head.

“No,” he answers meekly. “I don’t think it is.” 

You smile at that, and Mingyu thinks he could kiss you right now. His chest aches, and it’s ridiculous to think that it feels more painful than damn kryptonite radiation.

“Good,” You muse softly, then you add in playfully, “Besides, if he were perfect, I think I’d hate him a little bit. It’s the flaws that make people interesting, anyway.”

The two of you exchange a bit of laughter at that, and it’s almost as if for once, the world feels at peace. And it doesn’t help that you’re looking at him with such an easy smile as well. Gosh, the things he would do to just rip his glasses off right now and confess everything to you, and yet, he knows that he has to protect you.

Even if it meant hiding the biggest secret of his life right in front of you. 

“Well, I… I should probably get going now. I’ll head to the office and update Seungcheol with everything,” You say. “I already got some people working on trying to trace a source for these accounts. I’ll call you if I get any more leads.”

Mingyu clears his throat, snapping himself out of a daze, scrambling to go open the door. “Right, yeah. Okay.”

When you step back into the hallway of the apartment building, you turn back towards him.

“Take care, alright?” You tell him, and the way you say it so sincerely, so softly, undoes something in him. “Come back when you’re feeling well. Just… don’t disappear on me like that again, okay?”

Mingyu watches as you start walking down the hallway, your back facing him as he feels his throat tighten. A defeated sigh leaves him as he steps back into his apartment, closing the door with a quiet lock. He stares at it for a few moments like it held all the answers to the universe.

Wonwoo appears behind him, arms crossed.

“She’s going to figure it out eventually, you know.”

Mingyu hopelessly rests his forehead against the cold door. “I know.”

“Then what?”

A simple question. A difficult answer.

“Then I just hope… she still sees me.”

Even if the world doesn’t know his identity, Mingyu swears he can feel every pair of eyes on him in the room.

The entire morning he’s been hearing all the mutters about Superman’s lack of… presence lately, to put it lightly. He hasn’t exactly shown his face to the public, or done any of his classic superhero deeds ever since the heist at the bank, and it’s obvious that it has been taking a toll on people, on everyone, on him. 

The world is losing faith in Superman. In him. 

He finds himself staring anxiously at the two cups of coffee sitting on his desk𑁋one for himself, and one for you. His eyes flit to the clock that’s sitting intimidatingly on the wall of the office. You seem to be running a few minutes behind𑁋not that he’s counting or anything. It’s only the fifth time he’s checked the time in the last three minutes.

The elevator dings.

Mingyu’s posture immediately straightens at the sound, and he looks up sharply, just as you step through the doors. Your coat looks slightly askew, your hair somewhat tousled, as if you failed at fighting the wind on the way here. A small stack of folders is tucked underneath your arms. You look a little frazzled. Still, when his eyes land on you, he doesn’t realise he’s already smiling.

Your eyes glance around the room, and then you spot Mingyu immediately𑁋of course you do. It’s hard not to miss him. The sunlight cowering in through the windows shines a faint halo around his head, and he wears that familiar, stupidly nice smile you can’t unsee once when it’s aimed directly at you. 

“Hey,” You breathe out as you approach, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sorry, I was late. Heavy detour from a car accident on 17th. City traffic was hell.”

Mingyu simply shakes his head, already offering your cup of coffee. “It’s all good.”

You raise a brow as you take it from his hand, fingers brushing against his as you take the cup. “For me?”

“Who else would it be for?”

You roll your eyes at that, taking a sip. Mingyu watches you carefully. 

“With all your trials and tribulations,” You start, taking another sip of the coffee. “I’d say you got the coffee-to-sugar ratio about sixty-five percent correct. Well done.”

Mingyu lets out a relieved sigh. “Sixty-five is a passing grade, you know.”

“According to your terms.” You flash a smile behind your cup, and it makes his chest thrum unevenly. “On mine, it’s barely passing.” 

“So, technically, I still passed,” Mingyu remarks playfully, leaning against the side of his desk.

He’s gotten more confident around you, you consider. It’s cute. 

“Barely,” You shoot back again. “but I’ll let it slide for now. You’ll have to work a little harder.”

Mingyu laughs, and it comes out so effortlessly, so genuine. It’s enough to momentarily silence all the worry that’s been swirling around his head the past few days. You do that to him𑁋ease the tension, smooth the sharp edges with your natural brilliance and determination. He’s painfully aware of the irony: the only person who makes him feel human is also the one he has to keep the biggest truth from. 

Before he can say anything else, a voice booms across the office. It’s Seungcheol. 

“Y/N! Mingyu! Office in five!” 

You give Mingyu a look. “Guess that’s our cue.”

He nods, reaching for his own notes as he falls in step beside you. The two of you wordlessly make your way over to Seungcheol’s office, shoulder-to-shoulder. He hopes you don’t mind the closeness. And upon entering, Seungcheol gestures for you both to sit down. Sunlight bleeds across the table as the two of you take a seat. 

At the corner of Mingyu’s vision, he spots something pulled up on Seungcheol’s monitor: pictures of Superman, of him. His blood grows cold. 

“I’ve been going through your latest reports,” Seungcheol begins. “Both of you have been neck-deep in the green mineral case, and I’ve gotta say, I’m impressed. The idea that whatever this is being sold and distributed like cheap souvenirs is insane. Dangerous. And if it’s true… it could change everything.”

You nod slowly. “I’ve got people trying to work on confirming a direct supplier and checking out Pier 13. There’s definitely a trail somewhere. Hopefully we’ll mark it down without losing it in all the noise recently.”

Seungcheol leans in from his chair, stapling his hands together. “Exactly. Which brings me something I wanted to run by with you.”

The air takes in a visible inhale.

“No one’s seen or heard from Superman since the heist,” Seungcheol starts to explain, and Mingyu sure as hell doesn’t like where this is going already. “No appearances. No saves. The car accident from this morning? When it happened, the peoples’ first thoughts started with Superman. But now? They think he’s abandoned them. Fear is turning into anger.”

Mingyu shifts beside you, his heart plummeting and racing at the same time. You clear your throat loudly.

“Alright, what are you proposing?” You ask curiously.

“There’s the golden question,” Seungcheol says with a smirk. “I want an interview with Superman, and I want you to do it, Y/N.”

Mingyu chokes on air from that, nearly dropping a pen he’s been nervously fiddling with between his fingers. His eyes quickly dart to you, then back to Seungcheol, wondering if he even heard the man correctly.

You blink. “You want… me to interview Superman?”

“I want you to try,” Seungcheol replies ardently. “We don’t know where he is. He’s gone quiet. People are starting to panic. This green mineral situation isn’t helping in the slightest. We need answers, his insight about what this stuff is, and you’re one of the few people I trust to ask the right questions.”

You give a brief pause, unsure if you should feel flattered or not. “I’ve never even talked to him before. Not really.”

Seungcheol lifts a brow. “Didn’t he save your bag once?”

“That doesn’t exactly make us close friends. I had to suffer through an entire day’s worth of being referred to as ‘bag girl’. Wouldn’t recommend it.”

Mingyu feels a little guilty for that. He slumps even deeper in the chair, trying hold himself back from saying something𑁋to tell you and Seungcheol this is a terrible idea, that maybe Superman isn’t ready to face the world like that, to face you like that. But, instead, he chooses to say nothing. 

He’s too deep in his head to notice the way you sideways glance at him. 

“How would I even get in contact with him?” You ask. “It’s not like he has a press secretary or a hotline I could call.”

Seungcheol leans back helplessly, though his lips lift up into the kind of smile that always spells trouble. “That’s the thing. We don’t know. But if there’s anyone who can figure out how to get his attention, it’s you.”

You raise your brows at him, mouth parting in disbelief. “What, you just want me to shout into the sky and hope he hears me?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried it,” Seungcheol says jokingly, before his expression turns back to serious. “Look, I get it. It’s a shot in the dark. But the Daily Planet is trusted, more than any government agency and broadcast network these days. And you’ve gathered yourself a respected reputation already. Maybe if you write a column, an open letter, or get your bag snagged again, he’ll show.”

You chuckle at the last idea as your tongue presses into your cheek, thinking, thoughts already joggling through possible ideas without even meaning to. That always happens when a story itches at the back of your brain. You hate that Seungcheol𑁋and this ridiculous suggestion𑁋might be right.

Beside you, Mingyu remains unusually quiet.

“Let me sleep on it,” You finally say after a long moment. “I’m not saying no. Just let me think it through. But if I do this… I want full independence. No one breathing down my neck, no pre-written questions. If he even agrees to the interview, it has to be on his terms. Not the Planet’s.”

Seungcheol nods, as if he was already half-expecting for you to suggest that. “You’ve got the microphone.” Then his eyes flicker to the clock, and he claps a hand on the desk. “Alright. Meeting’s over. We’ve got a story to chase. Keep me updated, you two. You’re doing great.”

As you and Mingyu gather your belongings and exit out of Seungcheol’s office, you turn to him with a sigh.

“So.” Your shoulders relax. “Guess I gotta dress up pretty for a date with the Man of Steel.”

Mingyu chuckles softly at that𑁋almost too softly that he nearly regrets it. A reluctant smile stretches across his face, a glimmer of panic flashing behind his eyes that you miss as you face forward to place your cup of coffee and files on your desk. 

“A date, huh?” he says, an attempt at lightness, though his chest tightens at the word.

You shoot him a teasing look. “What? Jealous already?”

He clears his throat. “No. Just… didn’t expect you to call it a date.”

“Well,” You muse with a shrug. “I mean, if I’m risking my career and sanity tracking down a metaman who doesn’t even have a phone number or any line of contact, I should at least get a drink out of it, don’t you think?”

Mingyu fixes his glasses, heat rushing up his neck. “Right. Drinks. Maybe he’ll fly you to Italy for an espresso.”

You grin lightly at the thought, sliding back into your chair, and he tries his best to pretend his entire world isn’t crumbling by the seconds that tick by. There’s no good way to stop this now, and the worst part is that he wants to be interviewed by you. He wants to know how it feels to sit down with you as himself𑁋or, rather, his other self𑁋and answer all your questions, the easy ones and the hard ones, just to see that admiring sparkle in your eyes when you’re in your element.

Just to be with you. 

“You’re considering it, aren’t you?” Mingyu asks after a second.

You glance over at him as you power on your computer, offering a shrug. “If it helps the people, and helps us get more information, then it might be worth it.”

Mingyu takes a nervous sip of his coffee. “Do you think he’d say yes?”

“To the interview?”

“Yeah.”

You cross one leg over the other, rotating your chair to face him. “Well, if you were Superman, hypothetically, would you say yes?”

He stares at you𑁋really stares at you𑁋catching sight of that intimidating fire behind your eyes, the curve of your smile, the slight lift of your brow as you wait for his answer. 

“If I were Superman…” he echoes slowly, dragging his words carefully. “...and it was you asking?’

You nod. “That’s the premise.”

He pretends to think. Pretends to put his own thoughts into the person who is him. Pretends to not already know the answer, despite the hammering of his heart in his chest telling him to avoid the topic altogether. 

“If it’s you asking,” Mingyu begins, eyes locking with yours. “I don’t think I could say no.”

There’s a quiet stillness that follows. No one else in the office seems to notice it but him, and maybe you do too, because your lips part𑁋maybe to tease, maybe to question𑁋yet nothing comes out of it. 

However, a smile, one full of amusement, blooms across your lips.

“Then I hope Superman is as receptive as you are, Mingyu.”

Hope is Missing: An Open Letter to Superman By Y/N L/N Investigative Journalist, Daily Planet 

The wind is cool tonight. Brisk enough to have the loose ends of your clothes ruffle through the night air, but not so cold that you mind waiting. You’ve been sitting at the rooftop of the Daily Planet for over an hour at this point, way longer than you had intended, as the clock dials close to midnight. A notepad and recorder sits in front of you, empty just like the seat across. 

You glance down at your shoes, then back up to the darkened sky.

No sign of him. Of anything, really. 

The open letter had been published yesterday morning, a few days after Seungcheol had proposed the idea. It had gone viral almost instantly. People talked, speculated, wondered. And yet here you are, alone on the rooftop, and talking to the stars.

There’s a part of you that feels rather foolish. If anything, at least the view of the city is decent enough to fill you up with a sense of peace𑁋you hardly ever come up to the rooftop, and you think there’s something quite beautiful about seeing the world asleep beneath your feet. You wonder if Superman feels this way when he flies through the skies. 

You click your pen shut as you pull your coat tighter around you, a sudden rush of wind running past your skin. The feeling leaves as fast as it came in, and the sigh that escapes your mouth follows along with it. 

You should really go home. 

But you don’t.

Because as you start to gather your things, there’s another near-silent whoosh that stops you in  your place. It’s subtle, yet far from natural, brushing against the nape of your neck like the ghost of a caress. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

You nearly jump from the voice.

It’s soft, deep, and so alarmingly close that it has you whipping your head around, your notepad clutched at your chest like some makeshift shield. 

And there he is.

Superman. In the flesh, standing with that iconic posture and wearing the famous colours of red and blue of his suit, cape fluttering behind him in the wind. Moonlight drapes over his figure, and he appears almost otherworldly. Somehow, it’s different from the last time you saw him that morning when your bag got stolen. 

That time, he was confident and poise𑁋you briefly recall the moment he shamelessly flirted you too𑁋as if the world was his greatest trophy. But now, there’s something… softer, fonder.

Vulnerable, even.

“Hi,” You manage to croak out, because it’s the only word your mind is able to process at this moment. 

Superman smiles. It isn’t the big, flashy one that the tabloids like to plaster across every news article, but a small, almost boyish curve of his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You feel a strange buzz underneath your skin.

“Hello, Miss L/N,” he greets back calmly, taking a few steps towards you, eyeing the empty seat at the table. “This seat taken?”

You blink, before it all registers back. “Oh, no, it’s not. Here, um, let me𑁋” You quickly scramble to pull the seat open for him. “Take a seat.”

You watch as he gives a short laugh before moving to the empty seat. He moves with grace, with purpose, with power; and yet, there’s something oddly humble in the way he folds himself into the chair, like he’s trying not to take up too much of your space. 

When you take the seat in front of him, his eyes briefly shoot down at the recorder that you place between the two of you, but you don’t hit the record button yet. 

“You picked the weirdest time to show up for an interview,” You remark lightly as you prepare your notes. 

“And you picked the most obvious location to have it in,” Superman declares back as he lets his gaze drift down to the constellation of city lights below. “It’s nice, though. I’ll give you credit for that.”

You glance up, the corner of your lip twitching at the comment. “Figured out it was symbolic, you know. Being high up, close to the stars. Maybe you’d feel more at home.” 

Your eyes are drawn back to your notepad of questions, scanning over each one slowly and carefully. You don’t catch the way his gaze locks back onto you. 

“Yeah,” he mutters quietly. “Home.”

As you finish reviewing your notes, you pick your head back up. “Alright, before we start, are there any boundaries you want to set? Anything in particular you want me to not ask?”

Superman considers your words for a moment, tilting his head. “Not exactly, I would say. But if I did want something… what is it that journalists say again? If I want something𑁋”

“Off the record?”

“Right. Off the record,” he echoes back proudly. “If I wanted something off the record, you’d respect that, right?” 

“Of course,” You answer as you nod without hesitation. “I’m not here to trap you, don’t worry. I’m here to understand you.” 

He hums amusedly, a gentle sound that slips from his throat like a sigh of relief. Then, he offers you a nod of his own, signaling that you could start. 

You reach over tentatively to hit the record button on the recorder. A click reverberates through the air. 

“Time is… 11:43PM. This is Y/N L/N, reporting for the Daily Planet, speaking with𑁋well, I suppose you don’t need an introduction, do you?” 

Superman chuckles at that, a bit raspier at the edges like he’s been holding it in for a while. His hand brushes over the table briefly, before it stills.

“I guess not,” he murmurs. “But you can call me Superman, if it’s easier for you.”

You force yourself to bite back a smile at that, before returning back to the task at hand, adjusting your posture just slightly. Across from you, he mirrors the movement without even thinking. 

“Right. Well, tonight I’ll be speaking with Superman.” You lock a steady gaze on him. “First off, I wanted to thank you for agreeing to this, considering the circumstances lately.”

“It’s a pleasure to be speaking with you, Miss L/N.” Then his eyes soften𑁋the way he addresses you sends a flip to your stomach. “I should be thanking you. I… read the letter that you published. Every word. It was honest, and I owe the people an explanation. An apology, perhaps.” 

You lift a brow at his humility, the tip of your pen roaming over the surface of your notes. “Some might say you disappeared when people needed you most. After the heist at the National Bank, your absence wasn’t just felt, it caused panic. Do you regret it?”

There’s a pause.

His gaze drops to the space between you, hands clasped loosely in front of him on the table. His thumbs brush together in slow, deliberate circles, and when he lifts his eyes back up again, there's something unguarded in them.

“I do,” Superman answers quietly. “I didn’t plan to disappear. I wasn’t trying to… abandon anyone. But during the heist, I was hurt. The green minerals used by the robbers is called kryptonite. And it isn’t just dangerous𑁋it weakens me, my strength, my powers.”

You swiftly write on your notepad as you ask the next question, “What can you tell me about kryptonite? Its origin? What does it do to you, exactly?”

His brows furrow slightly, trying to find the right words. “It’s… hard to describe. It originally came from my home planet, Krypton. Its fragments of what’s left of it after it ceased to exist, scattered it all over space. Your earth’s sun makes it radioactive to me. When I’m near it, the radiation simply… strips those powers away from me. It’s like breathing in poison.”

You take in his words carefully, writing down the information on your notes with cadence. He simply observes you as you write, with your head bent over the paper, lips pursed in concentration, your hair slipping endearingly over your forehead. It’s almost too much to you have this close, yet he could only admire you𑁋this is probably the closest he’ll ever have you, anyway. 

“Krypton… is your home planet, you said?” You glance back up at him for confirmation, and he forces himself to concentrate back on the interview.

“Correct,” Superman affirms, his features wistfully fading into something sad, nostalgic. “I crash-landed here on Earth after it was destroyed. From what I know, not… not one of my people had survived, except me. I was just a baby, so Earth is the only home I really remember. Raised here, pretty much.”

Your pen hovers over the paper hesitantly, considerately. “Do you miss it?”

An unscripted question. 

Mingyu𑁋no, Superman, he mentally reminds himself𑁋hesitates for a few seconds. Not because he doesn’t have an answer, but because he knows how much of himself he potentially risks giving it away. 

“I… don’t know, honestly,” he starts, voice lower now. “I guess you could say I miss the idea of it sometimes. But I’ve found my home here with people I care about. There’s something about this city that makes it hard not to love, you know?”

He looks at you when he says it.

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and weightless all at once. 

You don’t write that one down; instead, you file it into a safe space in the back of your mind. 

“Never picked you to be the sentimental type, Superman,” You tease lightly with a pleased shake of your head. 

A playful glint catches in his dark eyes. “You bring that out of me, I suppose.” 

“Do I now?” You counter back playfully, clicking your pen shut. “And do you always flirt with every person you save?”

Superman grins cheesily at that. “Only certain ones, especially if their bags get stolen.” Then his eyes brighten up mischievously. “Keep that off the record, though.”

Petals of warmth bloom throughout your chest at that, and gosh, you already know you would have to cut out so many parts in this recording when you update Seungcheol about the case, because you really don’t want to be accused of fraternising with Superman, as ridiculous as it sounds. 

It’s strange, really𑁋how you’re casually sitting here interviewing a literal alien superhero with powers that defies the laws of anything, and yet, the two of you are sitting here like you’ve known each other for months.

For a few moments, you don’t know how to respond to that, and the only thing you can do is to clear your obnoxiously dry throat. You partly blame the cold air for it.

“Anyways, well𑁋next question.” You snap your pen open again. “The kryptonite. We’ve received multiple sources proving that it’s being distributed in bulk to criminals around the city under the disguise of those pendants from the heist. Criminals are wearing them when committing their crimes. Do you have any insights on that?” 

He sobers up instantly, expression turning serious. 

“My only guess is that they’re using the kryptonite to bring me down.”

You hum approvingly. “And do you have a reason why they would want to bring you down?”

He stills briefly, then answers carefully, “For power. For leverage. Fear. I’m the biggest obstacle between standing between them and their ambitions, so getting rid of me would offer less resistance. Fear is easier to spread when hope is chipped away.”

You give a thoughtful nod as you digest his words. Your pen scratches softly against the paper as you scribble down his responses. When you pick your head back up, he holds a steady gaze on you already, and it’s making it harder and harder for you to stay objective. 

“Is that what you consider yourself, Superman?” You ask lightly. “A symbol of hope?”

Something flickers across his eyes, before he shakes his head.

“Not exactly,” he responds quietly. “I think people deserve hope. I just want to remind them it’s still there.”

Those words seem to hit you𑁋an unexpected vulnerability from someone who appears untouchable to anything. The answer makes you smile, however, although very faintly. 

“Some people argue that the world is too dependent on you. That humanity relies on you too much to fix things when we should be fixing it ourselves,” You begin to ask. “What is your response to that?”

Superman doesn’t answer right away. His head hangs low, but it’s not from defeat. Far from it.

“I want humanity to fix itself. I’ve never wanted to stand above anyone else. My role on Earth has… never been about solving problems.” He looks back up, eyes shining with something fierce, passionate, and kind. “It’s about standing with the people. Reminding them that they can fight. I don’t rescue people because they are weak𑁋I rescue them because they deserve a chance to keep going.”

“Then why stay?” You press a little more, writing as you ask. “Why keep risking yourself if there’s no realistic way for humanity to fix its own issues? Doesn’t it ever make you feel… hopeless, in a way?”

The silence stretches a little. The only sound comes from the recorder whirring between the two of you, recording every word. 

“I do have days where I wonder if I’m really making a difference,” he admits. “But then I see a firefighter run up to a burning building without hesitation. I see a kid stand up to a bully. I see people love each other, even through the messiness and brokenness that comes with it.”

He leans in slightly, folding his arms across the table. 

“You don’t have to be indestructible to protect people. You just have to be willing. Courage doesn’t come from having powers𑁋it comes from choices and actions. I didn’t choose to have these abilities, but I did choose what I wanted to do with them. Which, to answer that, is doing the greater good.” 

Quietness floats through the air as you write down his answers. You can barely feel the cold on your skin anymore. When your gaze roams over the next question, you nearly debate skipping it entirely, but that wouldn’t be honest𑁋not as a journalist. And not with him.

You take in an inhale. “Superman.”

“Miss L/N.”

The corners of your lips quiver from hearing him call you that. 

“How do you choose who to save?”

His face doesn’t change. But if you looked at him even closer, the stillness that settles over him is a different kind. More heavy. 

“I mean,” You continue carefully. “When the world is falling apart in five places at once, when lives are on the line in different corners of the city… how do you live knowing you can’t be everywhere? How do you pick? And how do you carry the burden of the ones you don’t get to in time?” 

It’s probably the toughest, most human question you’ve asked this entire night. You watch him closely. 

“Sometimes, when I fly, I can hear almost everything,” Superman begins. “Sirens. Screams. Prayers. I hear them all. At times, it becomes overwhelming𑁋sort of crushes me with all this pressure. And it hurts physically, emotionally, mentally.”

You say nothing, letting your pen stay still to listen.

“It’s unbearable knowing I can’t reach them all. There are times where I’m five seconds too late.” His voice is tighter now. “I don’t choose who to save based on who matters more. I pick because someone needs help, and I move as fast as I can, wherever I can. But it doesn’t make the ones I couldn’t reach any easier to forget.”

The way he’s looking at you while answering almost makes you feel like you’re being stripped bare. It’s not invasive, but honest. Raw honesty. 

“But here’s what I believe,” he continues modestly. “Even though I can’t save everyone, I know I saved someone. And maybe that person goes on to save others, and those others save more. That’s how hope survives𑁋it spreads, even in the places I can’t reach. And that… that’s worth the burden.”

You hardly notice how close his hand is to yours on the table now, but you can’t will yourself to move. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of the way he speaks so achingly human about the way he carries his pain, about the way he speaks not like some saviour or god𑁋just as a man learning to navigate with the weight of the world on his shoulders constantly. Just a man trying to do what’s right. 

It makes your curiosities wander as well, because who exactly is Superman? 

“So, um, in light of all things,” You begin, readying your pen up once more. “What is your plan? How do you intend to stop the kryptonite distribution around the city?”

He shifts in his chair, his body language becoming more focused, determined, while the city lights dance across his eyes. There’s a pause as you observe the way he searches for the right words, his jaw tightening a fraction as he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ll stop them, no matter what it takes,” he answers with certainty. 

You jot all of this down on your notepad. Then you gaze back up at him, and you feel a pinch of worry. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle it?”

He laughs halfheartedly at that. “I’ve handled worse things.”

Yet your face remains steady with concern. “What about the kryptonite? What if… it doesn’t go your way? If they succeed, what happens then?”

Mingyu𑁋no, Superman, shit𑁋feels an odd tug at his heartstrings at the way you ask it. It’s unsettling, yet comforting all at once. Because you care, the same kind of care you expressed to him when you showed up at his doorstep the other week as he gave you the lame excuse of being sick for his absence. You’ve shown care to both sides of his coin, even if you don’t fully realise it, and that means something.

It’s so, so hard. He has to constantly remind himself that in moments like these, he’s supposed to be Superman, not Mingyu, even if his instincts ache to scream at you. 

“No matter what happens to me, or how dark it gets,” Superman finally says after a long beat, his tone bittersweet. “I’ll never stop fighting.”

With a final, firm nod, you document down his responses and let the silence settle between the two of you. You managed to cover a lot of ground, and there’s definitely a lot of information you can work with for the case as well as the article that you plan to write surrounding the interview. When you finish writing, you reach a finger over to click stop on the recorder. 

“Right. Thank you for your time, Superman. I believe that’s all the questions I have for you for tonight,” You say as you close your notepad and begin to gather your things.

“For tonight?” he repeats with a sly look. “So there will be… other nights?”

You scoff at that while shoving your notepad and recorder back into your bag, but the warmth blooming in your cheeks betrays you. 

“Don’t push your luck, Superman,” You say teasingly, slinging your bag over your shoulder, already taking a few steps towards the door back into the building. “I’m going to start thinking you’re interested in me.”

“And what if I am?”

You freeze in place at that, your grip tightening around the strap of your bag. When you turn around, he’s already stood up, his red cape flying behind him in the cool, nighttime breeze. Despite the banter, there’s something about the way he’s looking at you𑁋something soft and devastatingly earnest. 

“There’s a city that needs saving out there,” You assure him as calmly as you can be. “I’m sure you have better things to do than to entertain… this. Don’t put me on your priority list.”

And yet, some deep part of your heart aches at your own words.

Superman only steps closer to you. Your feet stay planted heavily on the ground. 

“Five minutes,” he says.

You blink up at him. “What?”

“Five minutes. That’s all I ask for,” he mutters, quieter this time. “The city can wait five minutes, can it?”

This earns him a narrowed gaze from you as you peer at him carefully. You could leave. You could leave this moment behind and carry on with your life, investigate and finish the case, and forget the fact that a man who has the power to wield the Earth in his own hands is standing right in front of you, asking for something as simple as five minutes of your time. 

You know what you’re getting into if you allow your feelings to get the better of you. You can’t possibly be this careless with your heart without knowing all the pieces of who he is. It’s risky𑁋so, so risky. 

But the other part of you, the part that’s been slowly falling into his orbit, tells you to stay. It’s just five minutes. Only five minutes. 

“Five minutes,” You repeat softly. “No more, no less.”

Superman grins knowingly from where he stands. “You have my word.”

You watch as he takes a few more steps towards you, and suddenly, without warning, he extends a hand to you. An open invitation. You stare at him in disbelief for a few moments.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he says with confidence, his hand unwavering in the space between you. “Do you trust me?”

You stand there in hesitation, the question lingering in the air, as your eyes flicker between his outstretched hand and the twinkling lights of the city skyline. When your gaze flits back up to him, he’s still waiting, eyes hopeful but not demanding. It’s crazy how easy it is to get swept up in the charm of a superhero. 

But… there’s more to him, isn’t there?

Taking a deep breath, you meet him halfway, and let your fingertips graze against his palm, before your hand finally settles in his. The warmth from his hand sends a strange wave of flutters throughout your body, and it’s almost as if the world around the two of you softened into something more… safer. 

You catch the way he smiles at the contact, and he lets his own hand fully embrace yours. With a gentle tug, he drags you towards the end of the rooftop. The wind kisses your face a little harder, the sleeping city stretching beneath your feet. 

You stiffen instinctively when your toes reach close to the edge, but you feel his grip tighten in your eyes. 

He turns to face you, and even under the sliver of moonlight that casts on his face, you still see the softness in his expression.

“Ready?” he asks.

You shoot him a flat look. “Define ready.”

All he does is chuckle. And before you can second-guess yourself, he steps off the edge. With you in his arms. 

A sharp yelp leaves you as the wind roars past your ears. Your free hand shoots up to grasp onto the front of his suit so tightly you swear you could probably tear it. Your heart slams against your ribs, nothing but pure fear spreading through your veins. 

Then you feel the sudden shift in air, a rush of gravity failing away𑁋and then, impossibly, you’re rising.

Flying.

Beneath you, the city starts to blur into nothing but tiny pinpricks of light. The feeling that your feet are touching virtually nothing is enough to send a wave of adrenaline crashing through you as you realise how high you’ve gone, and you cling to him even more, completely afraid to let go.

“You’re okay,” Superman reassures you, voice nearly fading in the wind. “I’ve got you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, nails digging helplessly into his suit. “That’s easy for you to say! You’re used to flying!”

Even with your eyes closed, you swear you still know that he’s smiling. The gusts of air rushing past your ear start to slow, and you feel his hand begin to snake around your waist to secure you even more. Your heart is pounding so loud you’re sure he could hear it. You stay clamped against him, too afraid to open your eyes, too aware of how close he is to you without fully seeing it.

“Hey,” he coaxes gently. “Open your eyes.”

You shake your head furiously. “No way in hell. I’m good here, thanks.”

“Come on, you’re missing the best part,” he says, laughter tucked in his voice. “Just trust me.”

With gritted teeth, you peek open one eye. Just barely.

And you gasp.

Below you, the city sprawls out in a blanket of gold and silver. You can’t even tell the buildings apart since they appear mashed together. Above, the stars are so much closer than you could remember𑁋close enough you could probably touch it if you’ve reached for them. It’s breathtaking, overwhelming, dizzying, and yet, you don’t have it in you to look away.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe you𑁋that we’re𑁋” You purse your lips together for a moment, unable to form proper words. “You’re insane. Absolutely, recklessly, insane.”

“And you’re beautiful.”

Your breath catches painfully in your throat at his words.

You blink up at him in surprise. Superman’s eyes𑁋no, Mingyu’s eyes, but you don’t know that yet𑁋are trained on you, disarming you from the fact that you’re suspended probably thousands of feet in the air that death is beyond inevitable if there’s even one wrong move. He can see the way your heart is racing in your ribcage, the way you’re shaking in his grasp. But none of that matters because you’re in his arms, and you don’t feel like you’re going to fall.

You don’t even realise that you’re staring at him, attempting to decipher through every detail of his face that seems so familiar, and yet so different.

However, your thoughts are clouded the moment he tilts his head slightly, and naturally, your eyes briefly shoot down at his lips before immediately snapping back at his eyes. But he notices. Of course, he notices. 

Then, he leans in closer, and you feel the slightest touch of the tip of his nose onto yours, and he pauses. He’s giving you the opportunity to pull away, to tell him to stop and that this was a bad idea. But you don’t. You can’t.

And then, his lips brush against yours.

The kiss is soft, so soft, like he’s afraid of breaking you, afraid of letting you go more than you letting go of him. It starts off slow, questioning, asking for permission. And the second you kiss him back, he pulls you closer against him and deepens the kiss just slightly more, your chest meeting his. He’s warm. Solid. Real. 

It’s exhilarating, albeit terrifying in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re hovering in the middle of the vast, endless night sky. The stars above burn a little brighter, the wind hums around you in quiet awe, and for the first time tonight, you feel weightless not because you’re flying𑁋but because you’re his; at least, for however long this five minutes will be. 

You’re kissing Superman𑁋the thought is as ridiculous as it sounds𑁋but with the stars and sky as your witnesses, you don’t care.

When the kiss breaks, you’re met with his unsure gaze, like he’s waiting for something, anything, to give him a sense of what you’re thinking. His shaky breath fans against your warm skin. He’s still so close to you.

“I…” His voice trails off. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer right away, your lips still tingling from the kiss. You’re still clinging onto him, his hand is still on your waist, and the world is still somehow spinning on its axis like everything about this moment is normal. But it’s not. 

Your mind races too fast to be able to catch up with it the more you stare up at him. There’s something, just something about the goddamn way he’s looking at you that feels so familiar. 

There’s something about his eyes.

About the curve of his lips, the slope of his cheekbones, the warmth of his voice, the care in his touch. 

There’s something about him telling you, merely screaming at you𑁋that you’ve seen his face before. The thought is gnawing at the edges of your thoughts like a parasite, refusing to let go. It won’t stop.

And then it hits you. You probably stop breathing altogether.

Because if you focused with whatever strength you have, you’ve seen that face. You’ve seen it nearly every day ever since you started working at the Daily Planet, sitting across from you at the office or next to you in the conference room while you’re neck-deep in case files. You’ve seen it wear that particular lopsided smile whenever you tease him. You’ve seen that face whenever his glasses accidentally lower too much on his nose. You’ve seen him.

You almost want to laugh𑁋because that’s absolutely absurd, right? 

But it could be him. If you imagined him without the glasses, with his hair slicked back perfectly, then it could be him. If you focused on the voice, his large build, his hands…

God, the hands.

You swear your heart trips over itself.

“Yeah, I’m…” You mutter, voice unsteady, trying to pull yourself together when you’re everything but okay. “I’m okay.”

An exhale of relief leaves him.

“Okay,” he whispers, pulling you a little closer again. “Five minutes are up. Here, let me… Let me take you back down.”

As the wind starts rushing through your hair once more, you find yourself descending back onto the rooftop of the Daily Planet. Your feet land back on the ground with the lightness of a feather. Superman𑁋no, Mingyu?𑁋doesn’t let go of you right away, but when he reluctantly does, the cold that replaces his touch instantly hugs around you. 

He steps back just slightly, and you watch him with uncertainty, confusion tightening its knots in your chest. Your heart wants to say something, and maybe he does too, from the way his expression softens into a bittersweet look. 

His back is almost turned towards you when you finally call back out to him, “Wait.”

He pauses, stiffening, and turns back toward you. 

You swallow a thick lump down your throat. “Will I… see you again?”

There’s a beat𑁋a long, torturous beat𑁋where you think you may have said something wrong. Maybe you shouldn’t want this, whatever this is supposed to be. Maybe you’re so stubborn to think you could be with someone like him. Maybe Superman isn’t supposed to belong to anyone but the world. 

But then… he smiles. You know that smile, you swear you do.

“If you need me,” he starts quietly. “I’ll be here.”

It’s not much. It’s barely even an answer.

Before you can say anything more, he’s bending his knees and pushing up towards the sky. You watch as he turns into nothing more than a speck in the clouds as the night and stars swallow him whole.

The rooftop feels a lot emptier now as you’re left standing alone. 

If your speculations are right, and you’re not just losing your mind over stress and a severe lack of sleep, then what the hell does that even mean?

For the investigation?

For your partnership?

For… you?

“These were images taken from Wonwoo in photojournalism and… See?” You motion to the grainy picture in front of you on Seungcheol’s desk. “Shipments were reported to have an odd green glow around them while being transported to Pier 13. These guys aren’t slick at all.”

Seungcheol squints down at the photo. “That is definitely kryptonite alien tech right there.”

“Exactly,” You affirm with confidence. “I’ve already cross-checked all the logs from the pier’s cargo records for the past six months. There isn’t any official documentation, no scheduled deliveries, or inputs from customs. It’s all ghost shipment.” 

“And you pulled all these conclusions just from that interview with Superman alone?” Seungcheol questions, clearly impressed.

You nod once. “You could say so. The pieces started coming together after that night.”

That night. You don’t elaborate, and Seungcheol doesn’t press any further about it, thankfully. He’s already heard the recording of the interview𑁋the blatant, cut version, of course𑁋so he knows the basics. He doesn’t need to know all the nitty-gritty details of what happened after the recorder clicked off. 

“Good work, Y/N,” Seungcheol says with a look of approval. “Draft up all your findings that you got from the interview. I want it on my desk by the end of the day. Then we’ll pitch it to the evening editors. Superman seems to be back in business because of you.”

Superman, Superman, Superman. You remember walking into the building and seeing the news playing on the television, detailing live about Superman saving an elderly pedestrian in danger from walking into oncoming traffic. Your thoughts drift back to Mingyu instinctively. 

“On it, sir.” You nod again. “Do you also want me to𑁋”

The door to Seungcheol’s office suddenly bursts open with a loud thud, cutting you off and making you and Seungcheol simultaneously jump in your seats. The sound of heavy breathing, and an unmistakable mop of dark hair stumble in all at once. 

Mingyu. He looks absolutely winded, as if he had just run an entire marathon through the city just to get here. 

“Sorry𑁋I’m so sorry for being late,” he sputters out all-too-quickly. “Morning rush was… insane. Total nightmare.”

You blink.

Seungcheol also blinks.

“Don’t you live, like, five blocks away, Kim?” Seungcheol asks with his arms crossed.

Mingyu freezes. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something clever, before shutting it close again. You notice a thin layer of sweat on his brow, like he preferred to sprint up the stairs instead of taking the elevator. His tie hangs loosely off his neck as if he gave up mid-tying it, and his glasses are slightly askew, which he adjusts swiftly. 

Right, You think. The glasses.

“Anyway, other than being…” Seungcheol briefly checks his watch. “...thirteen minutes late, you’re here in one piece. Better than some of the interns this week.” The man gestures towards the seat right next to you. “Sit down. Don’t sweat on my carpet, please.”

Mingyu gives a short, apologetic bow before sliding into the seat right next to you. 

You stiffen when his arms momentarily brush against yours. It’s not the first time he’s sat beside you, obviously𑁋but this is the first time since, and your body is reacting like he’s never been this close to you before, when he definitely has. 

He grows unusually quiet as Seungcheol starts talking about the case𑁋about writing up an article based on the findings the two of you have gotten so far, integrating everything together into one sharp exposé, potential ideas for headline titles, and expectations from the editors. He merely nods here and there as you and Seungcheol exchange ideas back and forth.

You can feel his presence at your side. Familiar, too familiar.

You try not to glance up at him. But you can’t help it.

“Y/N, you’ll write up a narrative draft,” Seungcheol’s voice chimes back in. “Mingyu, I need you to get me more details on the kryptonite samples that got sent to the lab for analysis. Cross-reference them with any other materials if needed. I want all these pieces put together by this evening. Got it?”

Mingyu’s lips form a thin, contemplative line. “Are you sure that Y/N should… publish the article?”

The question slices through the already-thick air of the room like a knife. 

Seungcheol lifts his head up from his notes. “Why wouldn’t she?”

Mingyu knows you’re already staring at him, and he tries not to meet your eyes. He tries to focus on Seungcheol instead, with his tense jaw and knitted brows.

“It’s… it’s dangerous,” he mutters. “She’s exposing an illegal black market deal involving risky alien tech. People don’t just walk away from that kind of exposé.”

Beside him, your breath hitches. He’s not wrong. You know that. But he also knows you. He knows exactly what you signed up for when you walked through the doors of the Daily Planet with nothing but your half-empty cup of coffee, your pen, your spine, and your unbridled passion in exposing corruption. 

“I’m not walking away from this, Mingyu,” You add in, voice more sharper than intended. “You can’t just pull me away from uncovering the truth that easily.”

Mingyu finally turns to look at you, and in that moment, you swear you see his mask falter a little. His eyes are desperate. Not angry, nor dismissive. Just desperate. Like he’s silently begging for you to read between the lines of his concern.

“I know,” he says softly. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

The honesty in his words hit you like a wave, and you don’t know what else to say.

Seungcheol clicks his pen loudly, disrupting the tension. “We’re not a daycare centre. We don’t back off because something might be dangerous, and if things do go south, we have authorities we can work with. We triple-check our facts, and make sure to shine light in places where others don’t.” His daggered eyes cut back to Mingyu. “If you’ve got a problem with that, Kim, then I think you’re in the wrong department.” 

Mingyu just straightens up his posture, his jaw still tense. “No, sir. I’ll get you those lab reports.”

With a dismissive wave, Seungcheol turns back to his computer to write up a follow-up email to the editorial team, and you stand up from the seat to begin gathering up all the materials on the table. Mingyu leaps from his seat as well, and after a hesitant second, he starts helping you gather up the scattered papers, yet you can tell his movements are a little too careful.

Your hands brush when you both reach for the same file, and you flinch just slightly. It’s instinctive, and maybe stupid, but you do. Mingyu notices.

It’s awkward. Not unbearable, per se𑁋but definitely noticeable. At least to you.

He doesn’t know what you know. Or rather… what you think you know.

Because how do you even bring a topic up like that? That you kissed Superman? That you probably kissed Mingyu? And that you’re 90% sure are the same person? 

Did you say something such as, Hey, remember that interview I did with Superman the other night? Yeah, I kissed him and his cheekbones look a lot like yours. What a funny coincidence, right? 

Yeah. No. That isn’t going to work at all. 

“Thanks,” You murmur as you grab the last folder from Mingyu’s hands. 

Mingyu nods, and for a second, your fingers linger a little too long in the handoff. His brows twitch faintly like he wants to say something, yet he presses his lips into a straight line as you saunter out of Seungcheol’s office. You feel your pulse thrumming a little too fast in your ears when you brush past him.

He follows right behind you, just a step behind. 

You try not to look at him as you head back to your desk, seemingly too busy straightening out the files next to your computer. Mingyu’s desk is only a few cubicles away from yours, but he doesn’t go to it right away. Instead, he finds himself slowly trailing over to you.

“Y/N?” 

You look up, and the moment your eyes meet, something falters between you.

“Do you…” he starts, rubbing the back of his bashfully. “Do you wanna grab coffee later? After we finish things up?” 

A small, thin silence threads along in the space between the two of you.

Your fingers subtly tighten its hold around the edges of the folder in your hands. You pretend to think about it, and maybe you are thinking about it. Coffee, just normal, harmless coffee between coworkers. It would be nice. But nice isn’t exactly what this is right now. Not when you’re still staggering on the edge of some truth you haven’t confirmed yet. 

You glance at him, and you swear, just for a second, there’s that same look again. The one that Superman gave you back in the sky and the stars were just a touch away from your fingertips. 

God.

A forced, polite smile stretches its way across your face. It doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Actually, I… have some errands to run tonight,” You say, fighting away the flutter in your chest. “Stuff I’ve kind of been putting off for a while, you know?”

An imperceptible flicker runs across Mingyu’s eyes, the corners of his mouth dipping just a fraction. It’s gone before it can fully land on his face, replaced by that practiced, soft grin of his.

“Ah, right,” he mutters, clearing his throat. “Yeah. Totally. No worries.”

You nod apologetically. “Rain check?”

“Yeah. Rain check,” he echoes back, stepping away slightly. Though when he’s half-turned away from you, he shifts back around to face you one more time. “And just… Be careful, alright?”

He walks away before either of you can say anything else, and you hate how your eyes follow him. Hate how conflicted you feel when he throws one last look over his shoulders before disappearing back into the crowded newsroom, leaving you with your unanswered questions and a story that won’t write itself. 

Slumping back into your seat, a sigh escapes your mouth. You’re really not ready for this at all.

“I can’t believe she’s going to publish that article,” Mingyu says, gritting his teeth in frustration. “It’s going to put a target on her back.”

Wonwoo adjusts himself where he was leaning against the windowsill, a cup of steaming tea in his hands. “You do know that’s part of her job as a journalist, right?”

Mingyu raises an agitated hand through his hair. “I know that’s part of her job. But this𑁋this isn’t some corporate fraud exposé or a fluff piece about city hall mismanagement. This is about kryptonite. Organised criminal trafficking of alien tech that shouldn’t even exist here. When they see she’s the one who wrote it, she’ll be next on their list.” 

“And you didn’t think to stop her?” Wonwoo asks, taking a sip from his tea. 

“I tried to! Her and Seungcheol were dead-set, and you know I’m scared of that man𑁋of both of them. She barely even looked at me the entire day,” Mingyu retorts with a groan. “And that’s what makes it hard, because everyone knows how she works. She’s… she’s passionate, and once she believes in a story, there’s no talking her down from it.”

Wonwoo exhales, watching the steam curl satisfyingly from his mug. “Yeah. That’s what makes her so good.” He pauses, giving Mingyu a particular look. “And what makes you a damn idiot.”

Mingyu shoots him a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “What, did the wind blow too hard and your lips accidentally crashed onto hers?” 

“It wasn’t𑁋I didn’t plan that! It just𑁋it happened, okay?” Mingyu runs his hands over his face. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Oh, I have the faintest idea,” Wonwoo deadpans. “Hormones. Delusions. And wack-ass impulse control.”

“God, I know… I know it was dumb.” Mingyu fixes his eyes down to the ground in guilt. “I just𑁋She looked… beautiful, okay? Like really beautiful. And confident. And every other synonym of that. I wasn’t thinking straight.” 

Wonwoo snorts into his cup. “You’ve dodged missiles and can eat bullets for breakfast and yet can’t spare a single ounce of common sense around a girl. They should’ve written that your weakness is hopeless infatuation instead.”

Mingyu only groans at that. 

“But I’m not judging you for kissing her,” Wonwoo continues. “I’m judging you for not telling her.”

Mingyu’s shoulders slump into the floorboards. The truth of who he is weighs heavier than any concrete wall he’s ever lifted, more suffocating than any collapsing building he’s ever flown into. 

“I want to tell her,” he says, almost too quiet for even himself to hear. “God, you have no idea how much I want to tell her. But I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t,” Mingyu responds sharply, his fingers digging into the armrest of the couch, deep enough to cause a tiny laceration in the leather. “I can’t. Not until I know she’s safe.”

Wonwoo lets out a helpless sigh. “Then I hope you’ll be ready to face her when you do.”

“See? Your shit is going viral. Again. The internet is going wild from your exclusive interview with Superman,” one of the evening editors, Minghao, points towards his computer screen where your exposé on the kryptonite trade is on display. “You’ve even got retweets from some politicians.”

“It sounds like you’re envious.” You smirk lightly while hovering over Minghao’s shoulder as he scrolls through your article.

On the screen, the title of your article is screaming at you in its large bold letters: Kryptonite on the Black Market: The Alien Arms Race Hiding in Plain Sight. It was published by the start of this morning, and you’ve already garnered a massive amount of attention for it. Yet, there’s still a strange swirl of pride and dread that courses through you. 

“Envious? Please,” Minghao says with a playful scoff. “I just can’t wait to watch the shitshow of law enforcement and our government fighting over jurisdiction on this. It’s practically a reality show! You should charge admission fees. You’d be a millionaire by tomorrow morning.”

You laugh quietly at that, but it doesn’t quite feel as genuine when it leaves your mouth. You fold your arms across your chest as you lean against the corner of Minghao’s desk. The article is trending, the story is out, and your name is plastered at the top of it just like you wanted. You wrote a story that matters. A story that tells the truth. 

Then why does your chest still feel heavy?

Maybe it’s because you don’t know the kind of people you’ve probably pissed off. Maybe it’s because the names you didn’t print are more than likely the ones coming after you. 

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” You murmur, leaning away from Minghao’s desk.

Minghao raises a brow. “You sure? Heard there’s some celebratory pizza or whatever being delivered for you.”

You’re already sliding on your coat as you shake your head amusedly. “Save me a slice, yeah?” 

“For some reason I’m not feeling generous tonight,” Minghao responds wryly, before waving you off with a dismissive hand. “Night, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes. “Night, Xu.”

The office is basically empty at this point in the day. The only ones working being the evening team hammering away at their keyboards, too engrossed in their own deadlines to even notice you quietly slipping out of the cubicles. The fluorescent lights hum overhead as you walk down the hallways and into the elevator, the silence oddly comforting as you drift down to the ground floor. 

The heel of your shoes click down against the tile floors as you head out of the building, the cool air hitting you square in the face. For a moment, the relaxation in your bones is swiftly replaced by the chill of the night, whispers of the breeze sending tense shivers down your spine. You glance between your left and right sides, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, just the streetlamps flickering overhead. 

But the uneasy feeling still refuses to leave you.

Your fingers curl around the strap of your bag, and you let out a sigh. You start your walk down the empty sidewalk. You’ve done this a hundred times before𑁋walking home from a late night at the office. But tonight feels different. The kind of different that clings stubbornly to your nerves. 

Halfway down the block, you swear you hear it. Footsteps. 

They’re steady. Measure. And they don’t belong to you. 

You pause, and turn around. For a fleeting second, there’s a shadow that disappears quicker than you could process. Your heartbeat is still punching maniacally at your chest. 

You shake your head anxiously, swallowing thickly. Maybe you’re just imagining it. Maybe you’re just paranoid after everything today. God, maybe you just need to get home and crash on your bed and forget about the world you live in. 

Your pace becomes faster, but the whispers of the breeze in your ears is adamant, almost mocking. But you can’t turn around. Not like this. 

However, the breeze that caresses the back of your neck when you turn the corner makes you pause again. It sharpens suddenly, a gust of wind that whips your strands of your hair against your cheek. At the corner of your eye, a shadow crosses the streetlight shining above you. It’s fast, silent. Too big and quick to be a bird. 

And then it hits you. Relief, out of all things.

“You know,” You start, straightening your posture. “for a superhero, you’re awful at stealth.”

The unmistakable sound of a foot touching down on the ground echoes behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is. The familiarity of the sound, the rhythm of the steps coming closer to you𑁋it’s him. 

Taking in a breath, you finally turn around, and there he is. Superman. His tall figure is outlined with an angelic glow under the streetlamp, his red cape trudging calmly behind him. You find it hard letting your eyes meet his, your gaze merely lingering on the familiar lines of his face. It’s almost as if he belongs in this scene, like he’s part of the night itself.

His gaze is fixed on you, but there’s a soft hesitation in it, like he knows he’s intruding in your space but can’t help it. 

“Are you stalking me now?” You ask with a small laugh. 

His lips form a thin line. “Not stalking. Just… watching. Nightly duties.”

“Right,” You deadpan, a disbelieving twitch lifts at the corner of your mouth. “Well, carry on, yeah? I appreciate the well-being check.”

As you’re about to turn back around, Superman steps forward, his voice stopping you before you can take another step.

“Wait.”

You halt. You don’t know why you do. Because you shouldn’t feel this way, but the softness dripping down from his tone is enough to make your heart skip a beat in a way that’s both infuriating and comforting. It’s like a suspiciously sincere knock to your guarded walls, one that you shouldn’t fall for yet here you are𑁋letting him in anyway. 

“I’ve read it, you know,” he says quietly. “The article you published.”

You cross your arms together. “If this is your tactic to get me to revoke𑁋”

“It’s not, I promise,” he chimes in adamantly. “I’m just warning you.”

You huff out a sigh. “Look, Superman, I’ve dealt with threats ordering my death before. I’m not exactly a stranger to this kind of thing. If I didn’t think I could handle this, I wouldn’t have written it, or interviewed you, for that matter.”

The half-smile that you give him is far from convincing, even you know it, despite your best efforts at masking the fear with feigned confidence. He notices it, of course. He always does. He probably knows you more than you know yourself. 

“I know you can handle yourself,” Superman reassures calmly. “I’ve never doubted that fact; if anything, I admire it. But there’s a difference between being able to handle it and handling it alone.”

You scoff at that. “So what, you’re going to babysit me now? Hover outside my window while I sleep at night?”

“I mean, if it has to come to that…”

“You don’t have to protect me.”

“I know.”

You pause, unsure of what to respond. You hate how your chest tightens at his words. Biting your lip, you avert your gaze back down to the pavement, because you can’t possibly fathom the way he’s looking at you right now. Like you’re something fragile. And maybe that’s the problem. You don’t know how to navigate whatever this is between the two of you, whatever this that has been brewing since you first met. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” You mutter, voice tight. “It’s not fair.”

He’s quiet for a moment, before asking, “What’s not fair?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You snap back bitterly. “I know what I’m doing. I knew even before the moment I published the article. You don’t get to swoop in at the eleventh hour and fly to me like I’m some damsel in distress. I don’t need your pity, Superman.”

“I’m not pitying you, Y/N,” he says roughly, voice trembling like he’s holding something back. “God, don’t you see that?”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze with sharp, glaring eyes. “Then what is it, huh? Why are you here, really?”

“Because I care about you!” Superman exclaims, hands curling into fists at his sides like he has to restrain himself from reaching out to you. “And it terrifies me how much I do. I’m not asking to stand in front of you for this𑁋I’m asking to stand beside you.”

You freeze at that. For a moment, there’s only the rustling sounds of his cape and the distant whoosh of a car passing by on the other side of the road. 

You shut your eyes, shaking your head. “You shouldn’t.”

He takes a step closer. “Why not?”

“Because you’re𑁋” You pause, struggling to find the right words. “Because you’re Superman, for God’s sake, and I’m just… me.”

The words leave your mouth as quiet and hesitant as a whisper. You hate that they’re true. You hate how small it sounds. You’re just a journalist. A damn good one, sure𑁋but still just a singular person trying to survive in a world that’s far more dangerous than it lets on. And him? He’s him. Faster than the speed of light, stronger than fate, and holding up the world with just the tip of a finger. 

Superman’s eyes noticeably soften, his jaw loosening away the tension as he gazes at you. 

“Don’t say that,” he says gently, and his voice is steady, quiet, firm. “Don’t talk about yourself like you’re less.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “I’m not trying to be self-deprecating. I’m being realistic.”

His lips quirk up into the faintest smile. 

“Realistic or not,” he murmurs, taking another step. “You’re more than you think. You always have been.”

You find yourself staring at him like he’s a puzzle, heart threatening to pierce through your chest. Because God forbid, the pieces that he lays around has you feeling more conflicted than ever. You can’t help but wonder why a superhero like him would stubbornly care for a human like you𑁋why he would put all this time and effort into worrying for someone who should mean nothing more than a speck of dust in the grand scheme of the universe he watches over. 

There’s a name that lingers in the back of your throat, and it burns. A name you’ve stated a hundred times in casual settings. A name that seemed to have found its rightful place in the depths of your mind and has you smiling like a fool as you sit in your cubicle at work. A name you refuse to believe to be true ever since that kiss in the sky, yet it fits all too well. 

It’s been threatening to spill out of you. The days you see him in the office brings out those urges𑁋to accuse him outright, to demand if this is true. A part of you wants to deny it entirely; and the other part wants to believe it. 

But before you can spiral any further, Superman takes another step closer to you.

“Let me fly you home,” he offers casually. “You’ve had a long day, and you shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” 

You give him a pointed look. “You’re quite the idiot, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “but only for you.”

With that, he extends his hand toward you, and for a few seconds you can’t help but think back to the time on the rooftop.

You shake your head in disbelief, yet you still step closer to reach for his hand. “God, the things people will say if they find out Superman is taking me home.”

Superman laughs fondly at that, already naturally pulling you closer like he’s done this a hundred times before with you. “Wouldn’t be the worst rumour someone has spread about me.”

When you tell him where you live, it isn’t long before the two of you are back up in the sky again. The height doesn’t seem to scare you as much as it did before. Mingyu𑁋Superman, remember!𑁋shoots a glance at you. You’re staring down at the world with that particular gleam in your eyes that the stars rival, a loose grip clutching at the fabric of his suit. He smiles to himself briefly, before looking back forward. 

The two of you don’t say anything more as the wind rushes past your faces. He’s flying slower than usual, wanting to savour these moments with you. As you come closer to your building, you tell him where to land𑁋on the balcony of your small apartment on the fifth floor. 

He touches down with the softest thud, feet barely grazing against the concrete floor of your balcony. You step away from him slowly, wobbling slightly as the gravity catches up to you. 

“Thanks,” You mutter, brushing away the dust from your clothes. 

He lingers by the railing, watching you closely. “Anytime.”

“Don’t make it a habit.”

“Too late for that.”

Your keys jingle as you take it out from your bag, but you pause right before sticking it into the door. You turn back to him.

“How do you do it?” You ask vaguely. 

He looks at you puzzledly. “Do what?”

“This.” You motion at the space between you. “Is this another one of your superpowers that I’m not aware of? Because you make it hard, you know, to stay… detached.”

His expression falters a fraction at your words. Barely noticeable, but you see it anyway. His lips part for a moment, but then they curl into a small, almost rueful smile.

“Is that what you want?” he questions unsurely. “To stay detached?” 

You freeze in contemplation as his question hangs in the air, the words pressing against your chest and knocking the wind out of your lungs.

“I…” You begin, but your throat feels tight. “I should want that.”

“But you don’t.”

You let out a small, defeated laugh.

“No,” You admit softly. “No, I don’t.” 

His eyes search yours like he’s afraid to believe it, like the smallest breeze can carry your words away and leave nothing behind. He takes a slow step closer, crossing over the tiny space that separates the two of you, his warmth encircling around you as if it’s a selfless hug from a lover. You don’t back away. You can’t. 

He hesitates, lifting his hand, fingers trembling slightly as they hover near yours. Like a magnet, your hand draws near his𑁋and before you even realise it, your fingers are brushing, then intertwining, fitting together so naturally. 

It’s gentle. Peaceful. Quiet. Intimate in a way that makes your heart ache. You focus on the feeling of this thumb stroking softly across your knuckle, as if he’s trying to memorise the shape of it. If only you could stay in this corner of the world until the end of time, ignoring all the possibilities of danger and death looming at your front door. 

If only you could stay in this corner of the world with him. 

“You should go,” You whisper quietly. 

He looks at you, brows knitting together. “You’re sure?” 

“You’ve got a whole world out there that needs you,” You say, managing a wry smile. “And I’m sure you’d rather be in the comfort of your superhero lair or whatever than my tiny balcony.”

An impossibly fond, boyish grin stretches its way across his face. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Before you can even ask what he means, before you even get the chance to breathe, he lifts your hand closer to his lips. His eyes never stray away from yours as he presses the softest kiss against the back of your hand, lingering there for a few fleeting seconds. 

You still feel the ghost of his lips on your skin when he backs away, reluctantly releasing his hand from yours. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he tells you. “I’ll be around. Stay safe.”

And with that, he steps away from you. In the blink of an eye, he’s shot up towards the skies, his silhouette growing smaller and smaller until nothing is left behind but the warmth of his kiss on your hand. 

You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head, and you wonder how the hell you got yourself in this kind of situation.

“Goodnight, Superman,” You mutter as you unlock your door. “Stubborn bastard.”

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[knight-of-flowerss]

dad!trucker cregan would go crazy 😛😋

like…lets be real reader would be pregnant all of time with an army of his lil clones

OH MY GOD YES I WAS THINKING THE EXACT SAME THINGGGG 🙏🙏 THANK YOU ANON FOR THISSS

MDNI 18+!!!

Dad!Trucker!Cregan x Pregnant!Reader.

MASTERLIST

I got another ask like this but imma focus more on domestic Cregan in it but knowing him he's probs gonna say summin horny or do summin so 😭

Here is the other blurb

🛻•Trucker!Cregan 100%, absolutely loves to stuff you full of his kids, I mean, come on, have you seen the dude?

🛻•He hasn't even put a ring on it yet but you're already pregnant, seven months down.

🛻•I mean, can you even be surprised? He doesn't care. He's selfish. He never wanted to use condoms, hated them, he doesn't care what you think. He wants it raw, so you take it raw.

🛻•His favourite thing to do when you’re pregnant is making you ride him. Your libido is through the fucking roof as you're practically humping his thigh like a chihuahua.

🛻•Fucking evil. You're so whiny as you ride him nice and slow, his shit eating grin as he rests his large, calloused hands on your hips. Not moving you, just resting there. Letting you do all the fucking work.

🛻•But, kudos to Cregan because even though he gets more of a fucking prick at some points when you're pregnant (like making you ride him), he does give a lot more.

🛻•Whenever he drives you anywhere in his big truck, whether it's to get food or shopping for the baby, he loves to finger you in the passenger seat while he drives.

🛻•I mean, who is he to deny you when you want to fuck him 24/7? That's exactly what he wants to do to you.

🛻•Seeing you swollen, pregnant with his baby, it drives him fucking feral. Normally, he loved going on his long haul drives, it made you whiny and begging for more. He fucking lived for it. But when you're pregnant? You're horny all the time and he can't handle not being inside of you.

🛻•When he would get back after a few days? Fuck. You'd be all over him, he swears his cock is dry by the end of the night, he physically can't cum anymore. And even when he's on the road, you send him the most slutty and gorgeous pictures, even a video every now and then.

🛻•But ever since you got pregnant? You're both desperate, he literally makes you sit on FaceTime for most of his long drives, just watching you fuck yourself with the dildo he made.

🛻•A bit off topic, but Trucker!Cregan 100% made a mould of his cock to turn into a dildo for you. In his eyes, you're made for his cock and his cock only.

🛻•By the time he's been with for you a few years, you have four kids under four and pregnant again. It's as if he can't stand to see you empty.

🛻•Also, one thing he loves about you when you're pregnant is how sensitive your tits are. As I've said before, Trucker!Cregan is selfish. He would never give you pleasure unless he got something in return.

🛻•So he loved your sensitive tits 'cause whenever you get angry at him, he grabs your hips, albeit softer than when you're not pregnant, and pushes you against whatever surface is near.

🛻•"Who you think ya talkin' t'? Huh?" He'd growl into your ear as his hand moves up your jumper, grabbing your tit, milk seeping through the fabric before he tweaks your nipple softly. You're so sensitive that just his words were enough to make you a whimpering mess and with the added pleasure of his hand, you're gone.

🛻•And even though he loved getting you pregnant, the kids fucking annoy him most of the time. Not that he doesn't love them, but because he can't have a moments fucking peace with you.

🛻•He'll be balls deep inside of you, pillows stuffed behind the bed frame to muffle the banging from your kids. His hand grips your mouth, clasping down as he fucks you, getting lost in the moment before a scream rips through the air. You get concerned, trying to push Cregan off to check on your poor baby but he just pins your hips down and fucks you harder.

🛻•He tries to ignore it, he really does, but the moment a cry racks the house, his boner faded inside of you. Cockblock. He doesn't pull out because he's concerned for his kid, he pulls out because you beg him to. If it was him, he'd say 'fuck the kid' and keep on going until he got hard again. But hearing you telling him to get off and his kid sobbing at the door. Yeah. Major boner killer.

🛻•All Cregan wants to do is fuck you silly like the good little slut he knows that you are. No matter what, no matter how selfish he is, you'll always come back for more. Even if he's old enough to be your dad, even if he's gotten you pregnant more times than he's met your parents, you love him. Actually, you have like zero clue if it's actually love or just plain lust.

🛻•But one thing you do know? No matter how much he thinks you're his, no matter how much he thinks he wears the pants in your relationship, you know the truth. He's pussy whipped, you've got him wrapped around your finger, he would do literally anything to see your pussy.

🛻•Also, Dad!Trucker!Cregan one million percent fucks your face in the school parking lot while waiting for your two eldest kids at kindergarten. He knows it's perverted, but fuck, those pretty eyes, heavy tits, swollen belly? His dick immediately springs up, he can't help it.

I lowkey went all over the place with this one 😭 so it's a bit messy but Cregan is a horny messy guy, so, it makes sense.

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

[whousestypewriters]

──── ୨ৎ CHRISTMAS WITH YOU — AARON WARNER + READER ‧₊˚

a/n: hiii lovelies!! this is probs the most random fic ive ever written (im at tennis and got bored so here we are) but im in a christmas mood so expect a few xmas themed fics to come ur wayyy 🤭🤭 ALSO THE NEXT PART OF THE GRAY FIC WILL BE UP SOON!!!

aaron didn’t like holidays, okay? he really didn’t like them. the needless dressing up for halloween, the crazy amount of chocolate consumed on easter, the countdown and partying on new years. it was all just very pointless to him. christmas was his least favorite though.

he despised the horrible holiday.

the unnecessary money spent on pointless gifts that people will forget about in two weeks and the false sense of cheer and merriment that dies the second christmas is over are just some of his many reasons why he dislikes the holiday.

or maybe it was the fact that is father used to come home over christmas. he doesn’t like to dwell too much on that one.

so imagine his luck when he finds out the girl of his dreams, the love of his life is obsessed with the holiday, he's torn.

he tried. he really tried to put up with it, but at some point enough is enough and he has to leave the house, the amount of christmas decorations you have put up - which according to you is not enough but according to everyone else is a sickening amount - is driving him insane.

he loves you, but hanging tinsel inside your closet was a bit too much for him. so he escaped. to the front porch. he wasn't actually going anywhere, that's just stupid, why would he leave on christmas eve? thats basically just him begging for kenji to hunt him down and attempt to kick his ass.

so obviously he didn't leave, thats just childish.

but he did sit down on the steps of his house and rested his head in his hands. breathing in the cold fresh air. it's been snowing all day, and its only just paused, he's grateful for that. usually the only reprieve he receives is late at night when you're running your hands through his hair and murmuring sweet nothings into his ear. so this moment is nice - it would be nicer with you, but he always thinks that.

the moment's disturbed when he hears the front door open and your soft footsteps that follow.

"what are you doing out here, aaron?" your voice is soft and calming, he loves your voice, it always seems to bring him peace.

"i was just getting some fresh air," he answers and you watch the steam leave his mouth. okay yeah it's pretty cold, maybe he shouldn't have come out here in only a sweatshirt and plaid flannel plants - matching with yours - you let him because it seemed like he needed a moment. but in only pajamas? not that smart.

but damn does he look good in them.

actually you applaud yourself getting him to wear the outfit. he wasn't thrilled when you suggested matching pj's and watching christmas movies all day. but the fact he still put them on makes your heart warm.

you know he's not a fan of the christmas thing. and maybe some part of you wanted to try and get him to love it, but clearly shoving christmas-y themed things in his face wasn't the way to go.

you sit down on the step next to him and wrap the blanket you dragged out here around his shoulders.

"i'm sorry for forcing all the christmas things on you," you say resting your head on his shoulder.

"don't be, love," he says his voice low. "it's me not you, never you."

"i kinda just pushed everything onto you, though, and expected you to love it," you sigh. "i know christmas isn't your favorite holiday, so i was just trying to make it special for you, its our first christmas together i wanted it to be extra special."

"it is special," aaron answers. "its special because you're here with me. its special because you're trying to make it special for me. its special because you love me enough to try and do all this," he waves his hand back towards to the house.

you smile at that, shivering slightly from the cold. how is aaron not cold right now?

"lets head inside, love," he murmurs wrapping his arms around you and gently helping you up. "we can go watch that christmas movie i know you've been dying to watch."

"its okay," you hum as he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses the crook of your neck as you walk. "we don't have to do that."

"i want to, for you. and maybe, maybe i'll start to like christmas, but only if its with you."

𐔌 . ⋮ 🏷️ tags .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

@arqbella, @midiosaamor, @reminiscentreader, @maybxlle, @sweetreveriee, @kozumesphone

@tornqdowarnings @benny1989fredd, @shiftingtomydrs, @ruriloveshim, @sheinstyou

[laveens-pearl]

BUNNYMUNDxFEM!Human reader

A.k.a. -The Easter Adventure-

Summary: after falling asleep, reader randomly finds herself waking up in the realm of Easter and it’s grumpy Guardian who’s not at all excited to have a human strolling around three weeks before his favorite holiday

->the story does not follow the plot of the movie

HAPPY ENDING ( :33 my loves, will probs have more parts, but not yet)

WARNINGS: a grumpy bunny (for now)

Next chapter updated here:

Part One

It was a warm day somewhere around the end of March. The weather was warm as you got ready for bed, and the light spring breeze filled your heart.

The first results of the entrance exams were quite satisfactory and so maybe you didn’t have to worry yourself all over your head whether you’d be accepted at the far reaches of the world for university.

You’d fallen asleep quite fast, swaying in a mere, dark calmness, without the sheer idea of what would await you the next morning.

—-

You woke up to a warm breeze stroking your hair. It was quite calm, and fulfilling, and you smiled to yourself remembering how long it’s been since you’ve had such nice weather outside.

Turning to your side you brought your fingers to your face and… wait a minute. Was that grass?

Your eyes struck open at once, and you let out a surprised squeal.

This was definitely not your bed, not even close. It wasn’t even the same town, had someone asked you to guess.

Somehow, you were lying under the bright blue sky in a glazing, green field that seemed like it has just gotten torn from a pages of a fantasy book. Or a Pinterest board.

Lush, green trees, blooming flowers and mosh covered rocks surrounded you wherever you glanced, birds chirped between the leaves and the whole area carried an air of Spring with it.

You yawned a little, and stretched your arms.

The next thing you noticed was a weird.. stomping noise. You didn’t even realize as it came right from below you at first. The next moment you rolled back behind a smaller rock, breathing out a scream as you barely avoided being crushed flat by a huge, moving.. egg?

The thing was definitely a statue, with functioning legs, arms, and a happy face carved into the front.

You didn’t see any machine that could’ve operated it tho, nor people or anybody else around. Quite the opposite: the thing seemed to move completely on its own.

Your heart rate quickened, as you noticed even more statues brashly, but seemingly harmlessly marching along the field, and this time, the grumpy face carved into their backs caught your eyes as well. Could they change moods like dolls maybe?

When they finally passed, you peeked out from your hiding place, then slowly, and very carefully rose back, walking as soundlessly as possible as you tried to figure out where you were.

You’ve had lively dreams before, and while this wasn’t the worst ( man, the sights?!) it was definitely the weirdest one by far.

The thomping eggs weren’t too hard to miss, so you decided to follow them from a distance, as they marched down into a peaceful valley. During the stroll, you took in your surroundings, noticing even more eggs walking along other paths, and some lean, unusually huge flowers that hatched small white things which seemed to have a mind of their own too.

Everything was so unique around here that no matter how you tried, you couldn’t guess where or how you’d gotten hold of the idea of such a place. Not bad for a dream anyway.

You were so busy guessing you didn’t notice the small, white bundle peaking back up at you and so you murmured another small squeak as the little creature brushed past your ankles.

You were equally taken aback to notice it wasn’t some kind of plant as you’d previously thought. No, this was also an egg, finally a normal one, except for its small legs, that just ran past you like it was the most normal thing on earth.

-Okay, this is definitely mental..-

After a few moments, you decided you might as well wander around a little with the eggs, when a deep, crusty cough sounded behind you.

-Khm. Excuse me-you whipped your head around, and almost broke into another scream at the sight-Just what the hell are you doing here?

Look at who Lady Luck’s shining today: After the disturbingly huge amount of eggs, you seemed to have found their Guardian too.

Your mouth fell slightly agape as you stared at him:

Before you stood a walking, talking and seemingly quite angry bunny.

-Well how am I supposed to know? These dreams are random really-you retorted with a small, nervous chuckle glancing up at him-hello to you too.

The creatures you’d seen in dreams had never spoken to you before, nor had they tried to interview you.

His behavior wasn’t the only weird thing about this bunny though: he was tall, much taller than you, in a lean shape, standing confidently on two feet.

He had green eyes, and grey fur with black marks all over his body which, if they weren’t on an animal, you’d say looked like tattoos.

At your response he quirked a skeptical brow, because yes, he had those too, and took a step closer.

-A drea.. what? This is not a dream, it’s the Warren. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t step on my eggs-just as you were about to correct him another white little thingy appeared between your ankles and you instantly jumped a few feet away, entirely startled.

-The Warren? Now that’s an interesting name-you murmured thoughtfully, glancing around-I’d rather say Easter Egg Land.

When you noticed another cold glance from him you quickly decided to switch topics.

-What do you mean by your eggs? You believe you own this place?

You had to ask, this was a dream after all, and you were more than ready to inquire about the proprietor. He on the other hand didn’t seem to appreciate the effort.

Taking another step closer, he almost towered over you as his green eyes narrowed onto your small form.

-I don’t believe, i know-he murmured, his voice even deeper and more threatening than before-the only one who believes here is you, and it’s clearly in stupid things.

-Okay, now no need to be rude Mister-you huffed, crossing your arms, absentmindedly realizing you were still in your comfy pajamas-if nothing else, you owe me an explanation. I’d hardly know where I am otherwise.

He quirked his other brow as well, and a little smirk appeared on the corner of his lips. For some odd reason, it all made you feel like you were talking to a human and not a 6 foot tall, overly moody mammal.

-Since you’re the one who barged in here unannounced, I don’t feel like I owe you anything-he retorted, the hint of a smirk still playing on his lips.

You didn’t appreciate when people were rude to you in general, but his cocky behavior ignited the spark of rebellion in your teenage heart almost instantly. You looked back up at him with a defiant smirk of your own.

-Shall I ask one of your beloved eggs then?-turning on your heels, you started off towards a distant patch of grass in search of any creatures, but you didn’t get much further than where you stood before.

-No, don’t do that! Wait a damn minute-you heard his voice a little more startled and the next moment he jumped in front of you, faster than you’d have anticipated-‘kay fine. Just don’t touch the eggs, alright?

-Why, are they sensitive?-you teased, chuckling a little which he obviously didn’t appreciate.

-Yes they are, and I am too, so I advise you stop stomping around before I do something I’m going to regret-he sneered, staring sternly down at you.

-Fine-you mumbled, crossing your arms. This is still weird as hell-are you gonna answer me then?

He glanced at you dumbfounded for a moment before he groaned annoyed, muttering something inaudible.

-Yeah. My name’s Bunnymund, and as I’ve said, this is the Warren. Easter Egg Land, or whatever that is you said.

Your eyes became round from awe, as you glanced around, before gawking up at him.

-Bunnymund? As in the actual Easter Bunny?

He nodded, still seeming a little as someone who’s wandering about the mental state of their speaking partner. When you didn’t get any other responses you threw your hands in the air, chuckling in disbelief.

-The Easter Bunny.. this is fucking amazing! I don’t even remember the last time I dreamt something so close to reality!

Turning around, you glanced at the beautiful nature again, not paying much attention to him, as he hopped up next to you, seemingly even more disturbed.

-For the second time, this is not a dream-he corrected, crossing your path yet again to stop you from moving-And you could finally start telling how the hell you even got here.

-Woah, calm down a little, would you? Isn’t the Easter Bunny supposed to be all mushy and nice?-you rolled your eyes, your tone a little judgmental which got that cocky smirk on his face again.

-Yeah, to kids. And you’re not one.

-Ahww. Finally someone’s calling me an adult then-you cooed, quickly getting out of his way as you sneaked between two, beautiful trees with rose colored, blooming flowers.

-Who even said that? You’re not an adult, you’re a distraction and a quite annoying one about that-you heard him groan behind you, and annoyingly, in mere seconds he was hopping next to you yet again.

-I’ll have you know, I’m eighteen and a half-you perked up at him sternly-I can’t even believe I’m arguing with a bunny about any of this.

The Bunny just rolled his eyes, clearly unaffected.

-Who cares, you’re clearly old enough not to believe in Easter, and therefore not to stick your nose in any of my business!

-Well, I’m sorry to have disturbed whatever noble cause you’re fulfilling, but I can’t help you until you actually tell me what it is-you huffed, yet again and he ran his along his lean, fluffy ears as someone who’s about to burst in flames.

-Help would actually be if you just disappeared-he retorted without the least amount of courtesy-Easter is in three weeks, I don’t have time for delusional strangers!

-Excuse you, I’m not delusional, it’s just a dream, and you’re clearly exaggerating!-you spat back, stomping a little on your feet because it felt as if you actually lacked the physical proprieties.

He was probably about to remind you of that but before he could speak up, you interrupted him: -Don’t worry though. It’s ought to be morning soon, and I’ll wake up.

He seemed to wonder for another moment whether he should correct you, but then he just shrugged, taking a step back and crossed his arms.

-Whatever, just be gone by morning-he stated plainly, and the next moment he was already hopping away without any form of goodbye-and DON’t touch the eggs!

-It was nice to meet you too asshole!-you retorted, screaming back but you didn’t get an answer this time.

Okay, this may be a horrible dream after all. A little disturbed, you turned on your heels going back to where you came from: whatever, in a few moments you’ll wake up, and you never have to see whatever this guy was, ever again.

[angelsberrymilk]

Give Me Back What's Mine (pt. 3)

check pinned for previous parts | ao3 link

samboy - Soldier Boy x Sam Winchester

3k words

summary: PSYCHOLOGICAL DAMAGE AND TORTURE RRAAAAHHHHH teehee im just kidding. dean suffers a little, he bullies castiel, sam gets a couple hours of peace, soldier boy is a little tame, not too much tho, and indulges them a little bit cuz he thinks they're stupid and dean fumbles the bag (his brother).

tw: dean bullying cas, suicidal!dean, homophobic language, (pls check out the ao3 link for ALL tags/tw)

a/n: you prob can tell i had loads of fun writing this haha. and i really hope you enjoy reading it too <3 a reblog would be nice, a comment too or some nice tags would make my day <3 much love to everyone reading and enjoying samboy w me !!!

Dean's hand suddenly feels cool under Castiel's own - or maybe it was warm but Dean couldn't feel it because his hand was just that hot - his flesh glowing yellow. Dean feels the angel's grace seep into his flesh, mending his broken hand in no time. When the angel is done, he pulls his hand back and clenches his hand in a fist, turning it over and dropping it by his side, looking at Sam sleeping on his bed.

What Sam was doing could not be described as sleep, he technically was, but Dean saw how as soon as Sam managed to climb on the bed, he all but passed out, body shutting down immediately. He couldn't even take his shoes off or get under the covers before his body gave out.

Dean, with the help of Castiel, tucked Sam in, making sure he was comfortable and had his hair away from his tired face. It's been about ten minute since Sam completely passed out and the angel fixed his hand and now Dean was sitting on the chair by Sam's desk, dread eating at him like never before.

Castiel stared at the man with pity in his eyes, sitting on the floor, his back to Sam's bed, "What now?"

As soon as he spoke, Dean's expression changed in the blink of an eye, "Why didn't you smite him?"

Dean looked furious then, glaring at Castiel with so much poison that it took the angel by surprise. Castiel clenched his hands then, expecting Dean to jump and try to kill him by Sam's bed. "To smite someone, I have to touch them," Castiel still answered, being careful not to take his eyes off Dean for even half a second, in case he tries to slash his throat open with a pencil in a fit of rage.

Castiel watched the man's shoulders rise and fall, his left eye twitching a little and he finally looked away, gathering his head in his hands, "Did you see that? He didn't have a single scratch on him. He didn't even feel anything,"Dean sounded defeated and frustrated, "What the fuck is he?"

"I don't know," Castiel answered when he didn't need to, it was mostly a rhetorical question, and it seemed to piss Dean even more, "You don't? How old are you, buddy? 10,000 years old? And you don't know?" Dean's voice got louder the more he spoke and Castiel winced, "You'll wake Sam up,"

Dean hissed, "Oh, shut up,"

But he did whisper those last words, taking into consideration his baby brother sleeping in the room.

Dean hated himself then, hated that he was practically hiding in Sam's room with Castiel from the monster outside, Soldier Boy. He felt like he was a coward, like everything his daddy taught him not to be. But then, John probably never imagined there ever could be someone else from another universe with his son's face. Dean wondered then, if he existed somewhere else under a different name, does Sam? Their mum? Their dad? Are they alive and well, all together as a proper family, apple pie life and all?

Who knows. All Dean really cares about at this moment is finding a way to figure out what Soldier Boy is, and how to kill him, or at least get rid of him, because Dean does not want to share Sam, under any circumstances.

Dean looked at his brother, sleeping on the bed, in the same position Dean left him. A little shiver of panic suddenly washed over Dean, he got up from his seat, ignoring Castiel on the floor and leaned down over Sam's sleeping figure, he took two of his fingers and held them under Sam's nose, when he felt a little wind he sighed in relief, patting Sammy's hair down and straightening back up.

"Get out of the room, Sam needs to rest," Dean said without looking at the angel and opened the door, stepping out. Castiel following after him. Dean switched the lights off and slowly closed the door.

Castiel didn't move then, standing there, looking at Dean expectantly. Dean finally looked at him, "Go and look for some explanations about this guy, if anyone knows where he's from and what he is,"

"You're going to talk to him? Alone?" Castiel frowned in concern.

"I know what I'm doing, just go," Dean waved his hand dismissively and turned around, making his way back to the room where they left Soldier Boy.

Castiel didn't say anything and left with a flap of his wings, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

.

.

.

Dean doesn't know what he's doing.

If anything, he only knows how to be persistent and hard headed, and unfortunately for him, it proved to be extremely amusing to Soldier Boy, who was sitting on a chair, by their big table in the common room.

Dean was glaring daggers at the man, hasn't said a word since he caught him having another beer in the common room. The man had seven of them, empty, on the table, and a half eaten bag of peanuts. Dean simply took a seat on the far corner of the table, his gun digging at his hip, tucked in his waistband.

The hunter really thought he'd have some questions lined up by the time he found this fucking guy. But right as he saw his face, he couldn't say anything. He didn't know what to ask. There was so many things that Dean wanted to know, and he didn't know where to start.

Luckily, or unluckily for him, Soldier Boy broke the silence, "What?"

"What?" Dean repeated, glare stuck to his face.

"What do you wanna know?" Soldier Boy smirked, staring down at his fingernails.

"I don't want to know anything," Dean quickly said, and he immediately regretted it because why did he even say that? He wants to know so much! But his mouth spoke before his brain registered it. He felt like he should be defiant, like he should fight this guy.

"Oh, sure you do, look at you, you're dying for it," Soldier Boy chuckled, mean and nasty.

Dean inhaled sharply, his fingers tingling for the metal of his gun, even though he knows it won't do shit to this man, "What are you?"

"I'm America's Golden Boy & Saving Grace; Soldier Boy," Ben said, chest puffed out and everything.

"Yeah, right, why are you not dead?" Dean tried again.

"Cuz I can't, I'm invincible," Ben lied, knowing full well that his previous team of Supes managed to trap him because apparently he was bringing (more like terrorising) them down or whatever the fuck. Soldier Boy was betrayed, but Dean doesn't need to know that.

"So you're what? Superman?" Dean said.

"Who the fuck's that?" Soldier Boy frowned, disgusted to be compared to anyone.

"A comic book super-hero,"

"So he's not real?"

"No,"

"Huh, I guess I'm the only one in your world now,"

"Not for long,"

Soldier Boy stared at Dean for a minute and snorted, "Why do you hate me? I saved your brother's ass,"

"Because you made him do things he doesn't want," Dean hissed and Ben looked around, as if this was some sort of joke and burst out laughing when he realised Dean was very serious, "You think—?" Soldier Boy laughed, slapping the table and Dean bristled at the sound, the memory of Sammy kissing Soldier Boy making him want to shoot himself.

"Everything that Sammy ever did was out of his own will, I mean, I admit sometimes he needed a bit of encouragement but he got there, eventually," Soldier Boy hummed, Dean's expression getting more disturbed as he went on.

"What do you mean everything?" Dean's mouth went dry.

Soldier Boy licked his lower lip, "Did you know your brother was a fag, Dean? The things these little boys do for cock, lucky for him, I was there, to keep him safe of course,"

Dean's head was getting dizzy, what in the fuck is this guy even on about?

Worst of all, Dean couldn't tell if he was lying to fuck with him or not, it was awful, especially since he wore his fucking face and had his voice. Even Dean was a good liar, he has to, to be a good hunter, and it was difficult for him to attempt to read this guy's words.

"You should thank me, Dean. For keeping our princess safe," Soldier Boy smirked.

"Don't call him that," Dean gritted through his teeth.

Soldier Boy laughed again and got up, Dean tensed his body so he wouldn't flinch and watched the man make his way towards one of the doors, adjusting the tent in his jeans.

"Where are you going?" Dean quickly got up.

"To take a piss," Soldier Boy grunted.

Dean contemplated letting this guy look aimlessly for the toilet in the maze that was their bunker, but then the mental image of Soldier Boy just taking a piss on a random wall in the hallway flashed in his head. Dean clenched his jaw and caught up with the man, "We don't have toilets here, you'll have to go outside,"

Soldier Boy raised his brow, "You're a shit liar, you know that?"

Dean's eyes widened a little and Soldier Boy walked past him, their shoulders bumping as he made his way down the hallway.

.

.

.

Sam wakes up the next day. He's groggy and his memory takes a while to catch up with him so he doesn't realise when he turns to look at his side for Ben, until he's met with nothing but his desk in his own room.

Sam jumps out of bed, heart hammering in his chest and rushes to the sink on the wall, splashing water on his face, staring at his messy hair and pulling the collar of his shirt down, expecting bruises to be there, like teeth marks and hickies, but he doesn't see anything.

He also realises he can feel the cold of the ground, he looks down and sees his socked feet. He remembers feeling off at the motel room with Soldier Boy, and then he remembers bright lights and— Oh.

He's home.

Sam finds his slippers under the bed and slips them on, leaving his room to find Dean or Castiel.

What he doesn't expect to find is Castiel in the common room sitting 3 chairs away from Soldier Boy, who was drinking beer and flipping through a pile of dusty skin mags. He looked half focused on the pages, flipping them this and that way, snorting and flipping on to the next one.

"Cas, what's going on?"

Castiel and Soldier Boy look up at him at the same time, Castiel looks relieved while Soldier Boy looks happy? Sam really can't tell with this man, if he's truly happy to see him, or just happy that he gets to terrorise Sammy again, and worst of all, Sam isn't sure if he really minds it or not.

"Morning, princess," Soldier Boy leers at him and Sam crosses his arms over his chest, uncomfortable. He looks at Castiel, who glares at Soldier Boy for him and gets up, standing by Sam's side, "How are you feeling?"

Sam smiles a little, "Much better, thanks Cas,"

Castiel smiles at him, reaching over to gently squeeze one of his shoulders.

"Where's Dean?" Sam looks around for his brother, and he's nowhere to be seen.

"He's getting things ready so we can test—" Castiel waves at Soldier Boy.

"Soldier Boy," The man says over his shoulder, feet on the table and when he's done flipping through a magazine he chucks it on the floor, by the feet of the chair.

"His name is Ben," Sam pinches the bridge of his nose and Castiel nods once.

"We're doing some tests to figure out what he is, he may be a 'superhero' where he comes from but maybe we have another name for it in our world," Castiel explains and Sam nods.

"What happened when I was out?" Sam asks.

"I went and asked around if anyone knows about this," Castiel starts, Soldier Boy lowering his magazine to pay attention. "He has to be from another world, but nobody really knows how he ended up here, or how you even ended up in his world,"

"Okay, thanks, Cas," Sam smiles and that's when Dean comes back in the room, "Everything's ready,"

"Finally," Soldier Boy rolls his eyes and slams the magazine on the table, downing the rest of his beer and leaving the bottle on the table, he rolls his shoulders and looks at Sam, "Come on, Sammy,"

Sam looks at his brother, and he can see in his eyes that he's still worried about him, Dean takes a long look at him and Sam knows he wants to ask if he's okay, so Sam smiles a little and nods once, Dean nodding and turning around, leading Soldier Boy and Castiel to the dungeon.

Sam goes to the kitchen and gets a small water bottle out from the fridge and follows them, drinking half of it in the way.

There was a chair in the middle of a devil's trap, both on the floor and on the ceiling, with a table right next to it with some equipment. Soldier Boy sits on the chair without being told and looks around the dusty room. Dean approaches the man with a pair of handcuffs with little devil traps etched onto them. Soldier Boy looks at him and the handcuffs, then makes no move at raising his hands. Dean's shoulders tense and he looks like he's about to deck him in the mouth when Sam grabs his brother by the shoulder and moves him to the side. He takes the handcuffs and holds them in front of Soldier Boy.

"What's that on it?" Soldier Boy asks.

"Devil traps," Sam answers, dry.

"You really believe in this shit, don't you?" Ben smirks and sticks his hands out, the handcuffs clicking shut. He pulls at them, the metal easily bending and as soon as Sam sees it, he puts his hand on Soldier Boy's wrist, "Don't,"

Ben doesn't say anything and Sam turns around, walking out of the circle and looking at Dean.

"Alright, first I'll read a prayer and you tell me if you feel anything,"

"Like what? Burning?" Soldier Boy scoffs and Dean starts reciting the prayer by heart, Latin filling the room as Soldier Boy watches him like he's lost his damn mind. When Dean's done, nothing happens, so he goes ahead and grabs a silver bullet, "Hold this,"

Soldier Boy does as he's asked without a fuss, which is a miracle in of itself.

When nothing happens and Soldier Boy just thumbs at the thing, Dean sighs and snatches it from his hand, then he grabs an angel blade and Soldier Boy raises a brow.

"Maybe I should do it?" Sam quickly suggests but Dean ignores him, pushing Ben's sleeve up and digging the tip of his blade in his skin, pushing, trying to pierce it, and when he fails, Dean huffs in frustration, "Cas,"

Castiel moves, taking the blade off the man and trying himself, he grips Ben's arm in one hand and the blade in another, focusing his strength on trying to pierce it. This time Soldier Boy's lip twitches, he looks down at his arm then back up at the angel. The angel blade doesn't even put a dent in his arm, so Castiel tries harder, his eyes glowing blue and Soldier Boy clenches his hand.

"Am I hurting you?" Castiel asks.

"Okay, get the fuck off me, you're wasting my fucking time," Soldier Boy pushes the angel off and snaps the handcuffs off like they're made out of paper.

"We're not done," Dean stands in front of the entrance, as if that'll do anything.

Soldier Boy snarls, "We're done when I say we're done, boy, move,"

"Ben, listen, we only have one more test left, it's just holy water," Sam quickly says, pointing at the flipping bucket that Dean has prepared. Sam cups his hand and dips it in, taking a sip, "See?"

Soldier Boy looks at him then rolls his eyes, approaching the table and looking down at the bucket, "What now?"

"Put your hand in it," Castiel tells him and Sam grabs his brother by the arm and drags him away from the other two.

"Why did you bring a whole bucket of holy water and a towel?" Sam hisses under his breath.

"What? It's the fucking test! He's unusually strong so he needs a higher dose!" Dean throws his hands in the air.

"Right, you wanted to waterboard him with Holy Water!"

"No, I wasn't,"

"Don't lie to me, Dean. I know you,"

"Well fuck me for trying to find a way to get answers out of him while your ass was sleeping,"

Sam's hands were clenched into fists, he clenched his jaw and his eyes stung, how dare Dean claim he was somehow tapped out of whatever this is, when Sam was the one trapped with Soldier Boy for weeks. For God sake he was just back a couple of hours ago!

"Fine," Sam hissed, he turned around, his hair almost hitting Dean in the face and marching over to grab Ben by the wrist, "We're leaving,"

"Leaving?!" Dean almost shrieked.

Soldier Boy smirked and let himself be dragged out of the room by Sam.

"Leaving where? You just got back," Castiel says, a little dissapointed that he doesn't get to hang out with the hunter.

"Well clearly you're happy to see me," Sam spits and Dean looks shocked, absolutely baffled at Sam's audacity.

"Castiel do something!" He turns to the angel, who only shrugs. He would do something if Soldier Boy was the one dragging Sammy away, but he wasn't. Sam was upset with his brother and Castiel really doesn't see it as a reason to get involved, especially since Castiel's unsure if Soldier Boy had the capacity to kill him or not.

Sam and Soldier Boy leave the room, followed by Dean, who's trying to apologise, to convince Sam to stay but Sam doesn't want to hear any of it.

Eventually Castiel hears the sound of the bunker's door slam shut and a crashing sound, probably chairs hitting some shelves, and a very angry, "SON OF A BITCH!"

.

.

.

tags: @klingyklaus @toasty-broski @28confusedthoughts @winchesterdefender @blackkmariah @106skin @redpopcat @arwenadreamer @nguyetdahuong @asongfortheunloved @rancidlovers @bcatwinchest @supfan67 @unabashedhonesty @hellfire-fist @nanacupid @arthrodira @loserluizard @jocelynfan @waywardsamdean @sastielbeltscene @sam-sinchester @masoena @winchestermylove @sammybeann @azrielrose @saltmonellas @boypussysam @monkibizznes @daddysboydean @notanotherthembo @i-already-know-im-going-2-hell @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @katamcauley @sams-princess-hair @redcl8ver @yuetyin940 @loserluizard @arthrodira @runawaydr3amerao3 @giulmu @palepuppytimetravel @waynesmywife @rerejunebug @winbred @friendlyneighbourhoodfreak

[thesongoffalsity]

im scared of the unknown (denji x gn!black!reader)

"that's okay cuz i'm afraid of chainsaws too."

TW: PTSD go brrrr

it was humid out in the countryside and relatively peaceful. however there was you. your heart was racing, blaring as you cut through the still scene of frogs and the occasional hum of dragonflies. 

the sound of gunshots and the indistinct cry of humane madness filled your ears. it kind of sounded like home...fuck. i can't believe you thought you'd get a chance to breath.

you're a dangerous keg just waiting to blow. you need to be subdued, put under...alas you can't get the sweet release of death or else demise would ensue. you're haunted in the world of the living and in the afterlife. there is no end. 

being alleviated of your brains sounds oh so nice.

"..."

shit. they got your flank.

"[...]!"

no...don't get any closer.

"AYE! WAKE THE FUCK UP! [...]!"

your eyes shot open. it was just a dream. thank god it was a dream...you...you felt so...so worked. your heart was starting to slow upon catching sight of the scrawny young man that had just yelled at you.

denji. he was like a negating catalyst. your lucky he found you when he did. if he hadn't, humans probably wouldn't have still been alive.

"yeesh ya were like flailin', cryin', probably even peed yer pants!" he guffawed, clutching his abdomen as he refrained from doubling over. denji stood over your resting figure, his eyes scanning over your face.

"...ya ain't hurt are ya?" he said soon after calming down.

a smile spread wide until pearly whites were shown on your face which were returned with the plucky teen's own sharp teeth being revealed. 

"that's good. i finally figured out how-ta make some pancakes! i remember a good friend a'mine showed me..." he reeled back though and quickly retreated out of the room to go and bring back a tray stacked with various foods...some looked a bit too charred to be considered edible.

"i'll eat the burnt bits and ya get the nearly burnt ones...deal?" denji declared with a toothy grin. though you weren't looking at him and instead, out at the bleak alleyway you always saw from your bedroom window. 

he soon followed your line of sight. 

"denji...i'm scared."

"scared-a-what? i'll just cut it up for ya!" 

"...i'm scared..."

you faltered for a moment, grasping at your sheets.

"i'm scared of the unknown."

but that was preposterous, because...you were the unknown devil.

a comforting touch to your shoulder had you turn to see the blonde rubbing you sensually. 

"that's okay cuz i'm afraid of chainsaws too."

words: 427

author's note: i should've posted this a week or two ago...but its okay atleast i did something. the unknown devil was something ive wanted to turn into atleast a short series and ive been struggling with developing their character. ill perhaps make it into something big though i already have someone telling me to keep with a different csm fanfic idea whereas the mc is a fairy devil so...??? prob gonna go with that lmfao. anyways i was told to write for jjk so ill be getting onto that.

[bradshawed]

nine five albums that got me through 2024 (and some extras)!

this is so cool omg, thank you so much to my wife (@vampteeths) for the tag, i had sm fun! sorry for the essay and i think you'll find a slight recurring theme of indie, pop and indie-pop (with one or two surprises)!

1. the secret of us by gracie abrams, fav song: risk! released at the perfect moment & was exactly what i needed. makes u really realise that you're not alone and that so many others are going through similar experiences. this album to me, is perfection (don't get me started on how much i love the deluxe version)!

2. emails i can't send fwd: by sabrina carpenter, fav song: bet u wanna x i know u might be sick of hearing about sab but this album gave me so much confidence. it's sexy and emotionally validating at the same time. listening to this when ur overthinking about a boy and realising "wait a minute.. fuck him" is the best feeling, only second to listening to it as ur getting ready to go out

3. glass half empty by voilà, fav song: ballerina (with the word alive) indie rock ml, i've missed u! not a fan of all the songs on this album but of the ones i do like, i could listen to on repeat for hours. it's super energetic, great to have a song or two on any playlist to switch up the vibe and their lyrics really tell a story.

4. boy by luke hemmings, fav song: benny moving to something a little slower, calmer, great for a change of pace. really helped me through those moments when i needed to feel a little peace.

5. dreamers by charles leclerc and sofiane pamart, fav song: focus! you wouldn't expect to see me listening to a classical piano album but here we are. honestly fell in love with it sm so that it made it to my most listened to in 2024. incredibly composed, really emotional and grounding at the same time (also makes great background music).

6. MICO, fav song: tears in your eyes! it's not an album but an artist whose 2/3 songs i listened to religiously on repeat towards the end of 2024. honestly don't remember how i found him but i listened to one song and got hooked (if you hadn't realised i'm not a massive album person, i find a song, listen to it on repeat and find another, i rarely like full albums). i think i've been listening to homesick since july!

7. maneater by daryl hall & john oates and honey by coastal club struggled to think of a no. 7 but i can't believe i forgot this song duo that got me through late summer! i listened to a lot of my "trust fall" playlist (made for @sematarygirls) & my retro playlist and that song duo played on repeat for hours! (you can probs see that this year was big on confidence and maneater is the song).

8. beach weather, fav song: seth cohen another artist that i liked a few of their songs. hottest summer on record was great, even if we had the rainiest summer on record (but it was nice to dream). def one of my summer staples! idk why but it's just something about their beat that really has me relaxed, imaging my own obx summer (or maybe the name has something to do with it idk). pineapple sunrise (came out in 2023) was such a good album, i remember listening to sex, drugs, etc and hard feelings for ages!

9. what love is by zimmer90 does anyone else remember this song from 2023 that got really popular as an audio for those yearly wrapped reels? well, it's been on my liked songs since 2023 and got me through the start of 2024 so i believe that's a good reason as any to put it on the list (even if i never seem to remember what i listened to at the start of the year)!

...

tagging, @bruisedboys, @sematarygirls, @zya8tracks, @lilithblackkk, @dixonsbrat, @edwardslvrr, @fallininlust, @thyme-in-a-bubble and anyone else who would like to join x

[thedarkmongoose]

SPOILERS: i have mixed feelings about the bear s3 but knowing that s3 & s4 were written/filmed at the same time makes sense. s4 will prob answer s3's q's. (A LOT was left open-ended) usually i love that, but it felt like the show lost itself in certain places, esp the self-indulgent finale. all stories are indulgent to some degree, but too much decadence rarely leaves room for substance.

and i get why they tried to do the chef's table thing, but other than andrea, syd, and luca, everyone else's acting was disjointed and trite. but i loved ep 1; it was an ethereal, artsy, meditative piece (peace) that was necessary after the chaotic s2 finale. however, as a big fan of the show, it was hard for me to finish the eps.

the standout in s3 FOR SURE was tina's ep - directed by ayo. glad we got her backstory. personally i liked her anxiety-inducing job hunt bc it's really like that irl, esp for older woc. the sobbing while eating a free sandwich was relatable, and the mikey convo was super impactful. but as much as i loved the ep, it still felt superficial compared to s2 'forks' (richie) or 'honeydew' (marcus). we never see her son again either; all we get is tina yelling at him to quiet down.

then there was marcus's mother's funeral which seemed like it was going to be more central to the plot than it was. i wish we got more. and claire is still one of the most underwritten characters EVER. nothing about her or the mis en scène really sells it that she's a doctor lol. and the scene with the faks trying to apologize on carmy's behalf was beyond cringe. i like matty matheson - i have his cookbook, but there was entirely too many faks in s3.

and let's be real: where was ebra & sweeps? ebra has such an interesting story that i'm HOPING we get to see in s4. sweeps too - he tried out for the chicago cubs! but on a positive note, i loved the chemistry between syd/luca. it was v sweet and organic. wonder if they'll be a thing in s4 since luca is carmy's foil. too bad marcus was barely in s3, tho the hug between him & luca at the party was cute. syd's meltdown mirroring carmy's in s2 was also a nice touch.

idk how to feel about sugar's labor scene. most praise it, but it didn't hit the same for me. donna's over-acting (the whole series) is really distracting and i can't take her seriously. ik she's supposed to be mentally unwell, but it borders on cartoonish. the hospital moment was heartwarming, but again, artificially. and pete was so underwritten too, just so they could have that mom moment. i liked the scene with him and syd tho. it felt authentically awkward.

i also understand what they were trying to do with the finale, but it was a flop for me. the scene with andrea/carmy staring out into the chicago night was introspective and beautiful, but the msg doesn't hit all the way bc we have a group of wealthy celeb chefs saying it's okay to stop while you're ahead and enjoy life while you can. every second counts. unfortunately for those who are not celeb chefs, it's not that easy to simply "enjoy life."

on one hand, i agree that food is life and restaurants have been community "third places" forever (essential to life itself; historically, like when revolutionaries would gather at pubs or cafes). however, do i think that fine dining and the "art" that comes with it is necessary? no. if there were more spots like the original beef/bear in the world tho, that would be a good thing.

[inthedreamatorium1]

Episode 7 is?? Perfect??

My incoherent thoughts below.

Colin crying? CRYING? I was dreading that confrontation at the start of the episode but choosing to use the shot of Luke crying made it so much more devastating. Sure, you could have had him yelling and being loud and angry, which is justified. But to be quietly and tearfully DEVASTATED? With the tears running down his cheeks? Uff. Punch me harder in the gut, why don't you Luke.

I got a brief Penelope-Benedict interaction. I'm THRIVING.

I really enjoy Colin grappling with his beloved Pen being LW. I live for the angst.

Portia is a pleasant surprise. She's always wanted what's best for her daughters and has never apologized for that. But I also appreciate her being honest with Penelope about why she is the way she is, and that she's trying to be better. That's what I wanted with this season and I'm so happy Penelope is receptive to it.

(I also need a special one-off series with a young Violet and Portia SO badly. These two have a history that goes beyond being neighbors. I need to know more)

Violet falling victim to what her children endured when they met someone they were attracted to? Karma.

I do love John and I'm going to pretend that what's going to happen isn't actually going to happen. He's so sweet on Francesca.

The Genevieve and Penelope scene was so lovely. Gen dropping her accent with Pen because they each know the other so well. Gosh, I wish Gen could have been at their wedding.

The "WHAT GOOD AM I TO YOU?" leading into sex? UMMMM. HELLO? They're constantly horny for each other, we are so hashtag blessed. Also, there is nothing Colin loves more than sticking his fingers into Pen. I said what I said.

Kate-Anthony-Colin was a nice surprise but I should stop being surprised. Jess has done an amazing job linking the Bridgertons together this season.

THE WEDDING?! Their nods to each other, letting the other know that they're okay, that they want this was so beautiful. And to top it off, Eloise cried. My love.

Also? Prudence crying at their wedding? SOB

The Benedict and Eloise scene at the wedding? I'm so torn about who I think the next season main is going to be but I know whoever's season it is, the other will be very much apart of it. These two are so close, how could they not? Both of them are feeling lost this season. Unsure of their place in society, unsure of how to feel about love. I just want them to find peace and love.

Kate and Anthony are very sweet and they're clearly explaining why Jonathan and Simone won't be in s4 much but to travel to India while she's probs 6 months pregnant is... a bold choice.

The wedding dance to "You Belong To Me" was so perfect. I love that it turned into just them dancing because no one else mattered in that moment. They were just two people, who love each other deeply. And the soft way Colin ran his fingers down her cheek SWOON. If the Queen hadn't shown up when she did, he absolutely would have kissed her. He started to lean down!

PENELOPE WAS ABOUT TO STEP FORWARD. I think we can all agree that Colin would not have handled that well if she hadn't been interrupted.

Penelope and Eloise reuniting. Okay, I cried.

Bisexual Benedict RISE. I'm honestly sooooooo surprised they revisited it as I thought it was just a tease from season 1. I'm excited for him to meet his Sophie but I'm also excited for him to explore his sexuality before doing so.

(also Luke Thompson kissing a man? Here for it)

I suspected that they'd follow the books and have Cressida find out about Penelope but I wasn't sure how exactly she would do that. It was really clever how they did it. As of now, I really do sympathize with what Cressida is going through and I think her doing what she can to take ownership of her live is great. How that's going to turn out for her in the last episode (and therefore how I'm going to feel about it) is another story.

[kaveat]

Does anyone else find the trope in media where Humans find either an extra terrestrial race, or a god, or any other being that is physically, or mentally superior to humanity and we teach them empathy, super annoying?

Maybe it’s a niche pet peeve but It always feels like we’re shoving are own sense of morality on beings that it doesn’t or shouldn’t apply to.

Like I get how in shows you wanna teach people good and bad and that being empathetic is a good thing but can’t they do that with actual humans?

The best example I can think of on the fly is Dream of the Endless from Sandman. Spoilers if you haven’t watched the show.

I can’t remember the exact episode number, but I know it was in season 1. He met Johanna Constantine and went to go get some sand from where she’d left it at her ex girlfriend’s house. Long story short her gf turned out to be dying because of the sand and Dream ends up taking it back and leaving at which point Johanna gets upset and basically berates him for leaving her ex girlfriend to die in pain.

In the end he decides to listen to her and puts the girl to rest in a peaceful way and I don’t know why but I’ve always hated how that scene was resolved.

Like obviously it’s nice and he’s doing a good thing but I also don’t like how eldritch beings who’ve been alive for thousands upon thousands of years are framed badly because they don’t care for human lives. Its not as though they have a reason to care and honestly I think humanity as a whole overestimates is actual importance in the grand scheme of the universe.

(but that’s another conversation)

Still I just think it seems kind of arrogant to present our own kind of black and white morality system as the basis and expect beings that simply don’t operate the same way as us to abide by it.

It’s also something I noticed in Pjo. Like yea the Gods are assholes but that’s by a human comparison which we can’t judge them by, because they aren’t human.

If I’m being honest the Gods are a lot nicer than they should be all things considered. Like if you have the power to absolutely obliterate anyone who you deemed even slightly annoying then yea that would probs go to your head but it’s not as though they can help that.

And sure neglecting your children isn’t great, but considering that for Gods like Zeus their frame of reference for bad parenting is having their dad literally swallow them alive the moment they were born in their eyes they probably think they’re doing pretty well for themselves.

And sure they live amongst humanity, in a detached of way, but when we’re the equivalent of annoying insects that buzz around there bedroom it makes a lot of sense why they don’t care and I honestly don’t understand why we should force them to. They operate under their own sense of morals and justice as weird and twisted they may be to us and I really wish shows and media would explore that idea more.

[hausofmamadas]

| The sweet, sweet sounds of Dinarrón |

⁂

Pairing: Dinarrón (Dina Arellano Félix x David Barrón Corona)

For @narcosfandomdiscordNarcOctober - Day 30 - Day of Amnesty (originally Day 3 - Day of Music)

Prompt: Create and post a playlist for fic/wip of yours OR your favorite episode and explain why each song resonates for that fic/wip or episode

Word count: ≈ :yodib:

The playlist -> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7DrO59HcsobbbmnVDEjLBX?si=3lcETYcXR6eDv-G_so1eBw

Since the playlist is over 100 songs, I couldn't go over every one and its place within the Dinarrón pantheon, so I decided to pick the most enduring, impactful ones and share some of the brain virus thought process and inspo for the as-of-yet unpublished Dinarrón saga whose page count will prob give War And Peace a run for its money if I can even manage to start releasing the thing to begin with:

⁂

Blue Jeans and Born to Die - Lana del Rey

Both of these songs are basically the madness that started it all so we all have problematic fav, Lana, to thank for the Dinarrón madness that’s taken my brain hostage and effectively turned me into a psy op for my otp whose sole purpose is to construct the world in which they plausibly exist and accumulate hapless converts to my cause Nothing lyrically especially screams Dinarrón so much as it is the vibes, although the “you fit me better than my favorite sweater and I know that love is mean, and love hurts. But I still remember that day we met in December, oh baby, I will love you till the end of time. I would wait a million years. As long as you remember that you’re mine” of Blue Jeans definitely reflects their relationship dynamic or rather the one that exists in my head. Namely, the fact that they just innately get each other bc due to their shared like outsider/insider status albeit for diff reasons when it comes to the family business.

Better Version - Sabrina Claudio

So, I actually have @narcolini to thank for this life ruining song bc even though Lana was the introduction, this was the song that really solidified the madness. Like I don’t know that I would’ve continued writing for them, were it not for this song bc I shit you not, it could’ve been written for the Movie In My Head for a lush, slo-mo montage of their most tender moments, as Dina’s reminiscing on the good times while she’s actively planning her wedding to Claudio. Fíjate bien, mis compas:

More frequent visits would’ve been nice. But I don’t want you knowing that there’s somebody new. Sometimes the guilt will clog up my mind. But is it cheating if I love a better version of you? Cause he is perfect, everything I give him, he deserves it. Rarely does he ever come to see me. But any time he does, he makes it worth it, like I earned it. God, I love him. And when I’m with you, I can’t help myself but only think about him. I can’t wait to see him again. My god I miss him. And when I’m with you, I’m just thinking ‘bout how much I wish it was him. I can’t wait to see him again.

Granted, I don’t think Dina doesn’t love Claudio but she can’t help but still hold a candle for my boy, B. And she feeeeeels reaaaaaal extra fucking guilty any time she considers that Barrón might’ve been a better partner given the reality of the industry they’re in which she’ll find out the hard way. RIP to a homie, Claudio. Sosorry I have to keep your canon death in my Russian novel to further the goals of getting these two to bang it out and run off into the sunset together but you just didn’t shine quite like Our Boy at Christine’s, my dude. It’s okay, not everyone was made to be that cool under pressure sksks

lo que pasó - Nina Cobham

alright, so here's another life-ruining pick by @narcolini who tbh is like the co-compiler of this playlist I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that they've picked at least like 35% of the songs here and sent them to me for fevered, demented consumption sksks and I nearly fell to my knees the first time I heard it and DO YOU KNOW WHY????????? JUST A TAKE A GOTDAMN LOOK FOR YOURSELF:

Lo que pasó, ya no duele tanto Think that I can move on but I'm not sure ... what you want from me ... if you want from me Tú me has esperando tanto tiempo [You've waited for me for so long] Ya me tienes donde quieres [You have me where you want me] Y no te das cuenta [And you don't even realize]

in addition to,

Me dejas sin palabras. [You leave me speechless.] But what does it matter? If I told you how I'm feeling would you feel it too? I don't speak with so much fluency Words don't come so easily as they used to I think I got it but it's not it, and it throws me off You're a constant learning curve for me Pa' qué lo sabes How much, how much, could I make it any more obvious? ... Probably

I MEANNNNALSDKJF;ALKSJDFJ;AKJ can you think of another song that better captures Barrón's struggle to express himself in even the most casual, mundane situations and his tendency to compartmentalize his emotions in order to get through bc ew feelings, why would I ever deal with my trauma? are you mad? AND MANAGE TO DO THIS USING THE ALLEGORY OF ACHIEVING FLUENCY IN A LANGUAGE, IN THIS CASE BOTH THE SPANISH LANGUAGE AND THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE I'M GOING TO BE SICKDA;FLKSJD;FLAKJW;KLJ and it really just feeds into so many hcs I have in regards to their relationship like, 1) the whole fluency thing, the song's in both spanish and english, and they help each other improve in their respective languages as a way of bonding early on, 2) the tone of the song implies the object of interest/desire/heartache has the upper hand in the situation much like I think Dina would have the upper hand over Barrón bc she just would, 3) the whole "what/if you want from me" is justslkdjf;lskj saoooo0oooo Barrón, like he's not gonna act unless it's a sure thing, and at this point in the relationship despite the fact that all signs point to -> yes, you may, in fact, roll again, pass go, collect $200 dollars, she's crazy about you, hombre, do we need to hit you over the head with it for you to see he's second guessing whether Dina reciprocates Big Feelings Of Lust Love bc the class difference is so vast and he doesn't realize how actually Hot Shit he is, so he thinks it's literally insane to entertain the notion that Dina might very sensibly and understandably want to climb him like a jungle gym and any time he's close to giving way to hope and maybe broaching the topic with her, he clams back up and continues the cycle of self-inflicted torture like the good blorb he is

Cielo - Los York's

Aight, so the lyrics are sweet and romantic in a way that applies to most pairings, which means they don't speak to the Dinarrón Dynamic as much, but this song would be period-appropriate for the show and I just feel like Ramón insisted on there being a boombox in the office despite passionate protests by Mín, and everyone else who isn't filled to the brim with general anxiety and mild panic outvoted him, so now they have a boombox that's playing any time someone's there doing work. And this seems like something one of them would've played while working together at the warehouse.

Running Up That Hill - Kate Bush

This is a bit of a weird one? I guess it's less them and more Dina's POV about them. It's also contemporary the show and here's no way Dina's not into Kate Bush. I refuse to believe it. The best way I can explain why this made it on the playlist is by describing the scene in my head when I listen to it: Dina's standing at a window, looking out at the backyard of the Arellano house, contemplating the meaning of life. It's a rare cloudy day in TJ. She's newly engaged to Claudio (think early S3 long hair Dina but this would be set before S3 starts), Barrón has cried weeeweewee all the way back to the Imperial Desert to escape the crippling heartbreak of seeing her every day, knowing they'll never be together 'cause she's marrying an Actually Decent, If Not Boiler Plate dude with more status and money than he'll ever have train his dudes in the ways of paramilitary tactics, and their last convo ended somewhat tensely with him pointing out that in order to marry this guy, she'll probably have to give up any ambitions of serving the family biz in the way she always wanted bc of blahblahblah murrhsdlkjfs gEnDeR rOLeS. And right now, she's finding herself missing Barrón, wondering where he is, resenting herself for missing him and wondering where he is, resenting him for being right about giving up her ambitions, scared that him being right is going to make her resent Claudio over time and ruin their marriage, and just overall wishing he were there so she could make him understan, and what if the only way to do that is to switch places a la:

It doesn't hurt me Do you wanna feel how it feels? Do you wanna know, wanna know that it doesn't hurt me? Do you wanna hear about the deal that I'm making? You, it's you and me. And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God and get Him to swap our places. Be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building.

Like^^ all that is going through her mind, staring out the window. How can she make him understand? and lowkey realizing the only way might be for them to Freaky Friday that shit skskjdlkj

You don't wanna hurt me. But see how deep the bullet lies. Unaware, I'm tearing you asunder. Oh, there is thunder in our hearts. Is there so much hate for the ones we love? Oh, tell me we both matter, don't we? You, it's you and me. It's you and me, you won't be unhappy. Come on baby, come on darling. Let me steal this moment from you now. Come on angel, come on, come on darling. Let's exchange the experience, oh.

^^ this part slaps particularly hard for the "Is there so much hate for the ones we love? Tell me we both matter" bc Dina gets that poor Davidito is having a rough time. It hurts her to hurt him this way, but she's also a bit, "Can you not find it in your heart not to hate/be mad at me? It's not like I didn't think about this decision entensively and arrive at the conclusion that sacrificing my professional goals is worth it to further the goals of teh family and I do forrealsies love this guy. Like damn, can a woman get a break pls. also pls don't hate me cuzIstillloveyoukbye"

El Muerto - Los Muchachos

god, I could write an actual fucking PhD dissertation on why this song is emblematic of my boy but this is alreayd long asf so I'll just break it down like this.

Mi gente la espalda me cuida [(I know) my people got my back] En cualquier misión suicida [on any suicide mission] Que todos con todos lo que ando son soldados [That all those I roll with are soldiers] Un hermano está en la fría, [A brother out in the cold] Otro hermano ya está arriba [another already above] Y lo que quiero es tenerlo aquí por mi lado [All I want is him here by my side] Pa' fumarnos un cigarro de maría [to smoke a joint] Como antes lo que hacíamos [like we used to do] Cuando la vida no era tan complicada [back when life wasn't so complicated]

Obviously, color me inconsolable bc of the brother references and how well it lines up with Bugsy, out in the cold (in prison for life) and Matteo, already upstairs (BC THEY KILT MY BABY BOI DEAD) but it all began with the opening lines aka clearly Barrón's sentiments upon hearing of Dina's engagement, "Pensaban que estaba muerto pero solo andaba de parranda. Sí me fui de la ciudad fue para curar mi dolor interno" which like.... so, maybe he doesn't actually flee Tijuana without telling anyone, is gone long enough for the Arellanos to wonder if he didn't somehow get himself killed, and turn out to really just be on a bender bc he needed to escape the deep anguish and personal devastation of losing his lady love ... but that doesn't mean he didn't consider it as an option very, very seriously

Killing Me - Omar Apollo

Another @narcolini pick, and this one has it all when it comes to Barrón internal strife and turmoil: questioning his sanity for being in the Business of Crimes, thinking bout how Dina's prob the only person he feels comfortable revealing himself to in any capacity except Bugsy, thinking about how that gives her way too much power over him and is tehrefore fucking terrifying, and daydreaming of making sweet, sweet love to the Woman of His Dreams. For your consideration:

There ain't nobody but us. Love me like I'm gonna die. Fuck me like you fantasize. Touch me like you know you provide to, ain't one to lie to, just wanna slide through, oh What I do makes me if I wonder if I'm alright Holding back feelings like it's the end of my life That's right, you're killing me

Lejos de Ti - Julio Jaramillo

Tbh I can't remember if I actually got this from the OG soundtrack but this is another one that is pretty self explanatory and is highly not!anachronistic. There's a few other songs on my list that rank as contenders for whatever would play in the end credits of the Dinarrón movie that's constantly playing on repeat in a projector in my brain, but this is the first one or maybe it'd be the end credits of an episode of an HBO miniseries? idk. what you guys think

Call Me In the Day - La Luz

Uhhhhhh, I can't even begin to unpack how close this song is to my heart in the Dinarrón pantheon, except to say that if I were to film the warehouse makeout scene that I wrote in Always Short to the Gate, this would be playing over it. Also, Léo RIP to a baddie dancing with Teresa in the Bolivia episode of Queen of the South polluted my mind and the sexy made it's way to Dinarrón so really, I can accept exactly no credit here

NO HAY LAY - Kali Uchis

GODDDLSKDJF;LSKJD;LKAJ okay, this is another song that inspired an elaborate scenelet in my head, which takes place after they get together but before the brothers are aware of it, so they're keeping the relationship under wraps. And as a result, this song is playing while they're getting freaky on the dancefloor yes I have a thing with dancing and these two and I have no answers or explanations except that imsorryforeverything of some trendy nightlclub that the Arellanos don't own that's like 100 miles away from TJ that they escaped off to, so they could be an real couple aka all googly eyed and loveydovey in the open. It's basically their version of date-night that's gotta be date-night on the DL bc they're both scared that if the brothers knew about it, Ramón would cut Barrón's face off and wear it to his birthday party, at the behest of Mín who is decidedly Not B's Biggest Fan at this point in the story.

If it feels so right why say it's wrong, I know you ain't had enough Sabes que yo soy la única [You know I'm the only one] que puede hacerte cosas mágicas [who can do magical things to you] Hey, en el amor no hay ley [In love there is no law] Y deja que nos miren si quieren [And let them see what they want] No matter what we do, no matter what they sayNo importa lo que digan [I don't care what they say] Yo te besaré otra vez, otra vez, otra vez [I'm gonna kiss you again, and again, and again] Bésame otra vez [Kiss me again]

For Your Precious Love - Otis Redding

I meannnnnn this legend speaks for himself, I feel like I shouldn't have to explain anything other than, pretend they got married and this is the song of their first dance and try not to throw yourself on the floor, screaming and crying. You can't

DNA - Tabi

This is more a Dina one, than a Dinarrón one, that feels like what her internal dialogue might be if she either fell out of love with Claudio after being married for some time, or began to resent him and the marriage and her having to give up her place in the AFO to play dutiful wife to someone in the public eye, or both? Like it's essentially her trying to force herself to be happy playing a role she didn't really ask for, and then eventually recognizing her independence will always be a priority to her and affirming her own need for autonomy is not something she's going to be able to suppress, no matter how hard she tries, that's just how she is and that's exactly why we love her

DNA, I don't need anybody DNA, sometimes I wish that I could change my ways I wanna need you, but I, I wanna need you, but I It's just my DNA

Banquetera - West Gold with Simpson Ahuevo

This one's mostly for the homies, specifically Barrón's homies Chato and Ziggy. The song itself is contemporary, but honestly, if we were going for period accuracy and this was in the Dinarrón Double Feature soundtrack, I would never know it was anachronistic. Like shit is right at home next to Tupac and Easy E, y'know

corazón caramelo - November Ultra

good GODDAMN okay, another @narcolini choice, that actually made me cry sksldkjfskldjflsk not just bc of the clear Dinarrón parallels but also due to Just General Life Heartache, Suffering, and Existential Dread and the LongSTanding Recovery from My Divorce That Yes, Happened 2 Years Ago But Still Hits Sometimes and is one you, dear Reader all 2 of you should listen to for the fucking out-of-this-world, actually-unreal vocal performance by November Ultra that really hammers home these actually-unreal lyrics:

Un amor como el primero [A love like the first] Pero que dure hasta el final [But lasts until the end] Mi alma es tuya, bájala de la cruz [My soul is yours, take it down from the cross] Si yo soy luna, tú eres el sol que me da luz [If I am the moon, you are the son that gives me light]

Ídolo - Adrian Quesada with Angélica Garcia

Another contender for a closing credits song and- y'know all these closing credits songs are so good, maybe I should just settle on this being a miniseries and not just a movie. We'll see what Netflix execs have to say on the matter when I inevitably write this script and clearly shop it to all the big streaming platforms and tv networks and everyone is fighting each other, full Spy vs Spy, to produce this award-win- er okay, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, here. There's something about the organ that makes this feel period-appropriate, despite it being a modern song, and I can just see all the pickup shots of San Diego and Tijuana, before it cuts to Dina and Barrón driving in some classic car, top down bc it's a convertible obvio, and quite litrally riding off into the desert-framed sunset. I mean,

En mis horas turbulentas solo oigo tu voz [In troubled hours I only hear your voice] Embrujada con potencia que hemos probado los dos [Bewitched with power we have both shared] Sombra tan bella [Shadow so beautiful] Que cobra mi voluntad pa' conocerlo [It steals my will not to know you] Ídolo, mi ídolo [Idol, my idol] Me robaste la cordura [You rob me of my sanity]

1994 - United Freedom Collective ft. Jordan Stephens

In order to fend off the doubling over in pain that I always do when I think about what this song means to Dinarrón for any length of time, I'll just say, this is how Matty feels thinking about Barrón, and how Barrón feels about Bugsy and none of it works out the way they want it to

When I look at my little brother, I feel an awful urge to smother him I wanna bubble wrap his organs Stick styrofoam in his pity Funnel sunlight into his solar plexus Turn every fall into a ball pit But I know that one day that little scooter's gonna turn into desire And much like what I just witnessed, he'll be unable to break He'll break and I'll have to watch salt crystallize on his cheeks knowing it'll have more value than any cushion I've sown myself I dream of a version of him in the future Tumbling around rock bottom, stranded there in the deep Maroons and wounds he can't touch A bruise has got its own life Every wound is in arrears It hurts and it hurts, then it disappears

Corderio De Nanã - Os Tincoãs & Sukiyaki - Kyu Sakamoto

Bc this Russian novel/Movie/Show In My Head is actually more of a Barrón biopic since I've hijacked him and essentially acted like the man's my OC instead of someone who was on the show skskjsk and in this Barrón biopic, there's a part where he lives in Hawaii briefly bc his Garbage!Father is in the navy and gets stationed there for a little while. And despite the fact that Kyu Sakamoto is Japanese and Os Tincoãs is Brazilian and not remotely Pacific Islander in any way, let alone Hawaiian one or both of these are 1000% going to be playing over a montage of Matteo, Barrón, and Bugsy riding their bikes on the beach and just generally adventuring around the island, as three brothers should. It's pre-gang initiation for Matteo, so it's them at their purest, most undiluted little kid selves Barrón looks back on this time so fondly he actually refuses to think about it bc the nostalgia is physically painful. Also, both songs are pretty cheerful and breezy sounding but can't speak to the lyrics bc the first I'm p sure is in Portuguese and the second is in Japanese so they could be all doom and gloom and I just have no idea ksksks

Cerca De Ti - Hermanos Gutiérrez

Once again, I'll refrain from going full Charlie Kelly/Pepe Silva on everyone here, but what I can say is just.... just picture, Dina and Barrón, at the beach, at night, they decide to go swimming naked in the ocean under the light of the full moon. I'll let you fill in the rest sdlkfjskd

Sage Motel - Monophonics ft. Kelly Finnigan

The final (I think?) contender for the closing credits song. Tbh this song just oozes sexy in a throwback way, in the same vein as like a Smokey Robinson or a Sam Cooke, and would be right at home in a Scorsese movie, which makes it more than qualified to feature in the end credits of the Movie-In-My-Head that will probnever happen lbr, like I'll be lucky if I even post 1/3 of what I've written skdjksjd

Over-the-Ocean Call - Lizzy McAlpine

Go ahead and throw this one on and imagine Dina calling Barrón while he's doing this paramilitary cry-fest training in the desert pretending he's not sobbing into his cheerios every morning Dina doesn't exist, and she needs to, idk, talk about some wedding details or something, maybe coordinate where he's gonna be during the ceremony and whatnot bc he's head security so poor mf's like contractually obligated to be there skskksjdkj and this sentiment is exactly where Dina's at. Throw this shit on and think about that not-at-all angsty scenario bc that's what @narcolini did before sending it to me, for me to turn around immediately and do the exact same thing. I mean, c'mon.

And you hate the things I do and sometimes you hate me But I think my mind is far away, sorta strange, this is But I think I'll call you anyway Call collect 'Cause baby this is, an over-the-ocean call And I thought I could make it short But my brain's all outta sorts, I can't hide it I'm staring at the my wall and I thought that I wouldn't cry But breaking your heart breaks mine I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine I'll call from over the ocean This time, this time, this time I'll break your heart through the phone With an over-the-ocean call Is how I told him, this isn't working anymore

You Make Your Own Heaven And Hell - The Temptations

Now, I have quite a few end credits songs, but this is the only opening credits song bc the little scenelet in my head with this song is just so perfect, idk if I could find a better way to start. It'd be similar to that asslong shot at the beginning of Jackie Brown that's literally just Jackie (played by the iconic Pam Grier and honestly, even if you don't like Tarantino, you should watch Jackie Brown for Madame Grier alone bc she's incredible) on the little conveyer belt in the airport (she's a flight attendant) trying to make it to her next flight. I think I'd do something like that with a few pickup shots right before of Logan Heights and San Diego, to introduce the neighborhood, like where B grew up. Not only is the song perfect vibes-wise, but the lyrics are so perfectly aligned to what I've essentially sksks decided are Barrón's beliefs about making money and what it takes to get by and be successful in America (and later, Mexico, ofc) and his general philosophy on being a criminalsksk

Time passes and your values change Life becomes a strange, confusing game Suddenly, you want the finer things in life But you find it takes lots of hard work and sacrifice Now you're standing at the crossroads of life To satisfy your personal wants, will you do wrong or will you do right? Life is a giant, invisible scale with two sides: good and bad You and your beliefs are the weights The things you do each day determine the balance Your conscience is a flawless judge and jury, and the only question is what do you want? I'm tellin' you the natural facts, for what it's worth You make your own heaven and hell, right here on Earth

we've been loving in silence - MARO

So, if we were to continue the Stealing-Away-Into-the-Night scenario that I proposed above for Kali Uchi's No Hay Ley, and fast forward to Barrón and Dina in some random roadside, pay-by-the-hour motel room waking up next to each other. Dawn's barely broken, Dina's laying on her stomach, and Barrón's on his side, facing her, tracing the liines of her shoulder blades with his fingertips ......, and I'm dying, and I'm dead, and I'm typing this from beyondthe grave rn, I actaully cannot continue to soldier on, so I'll just leave you with that and this:

Oh, we've been here for a while Haven't seen the sun come out Oh, we've been loving in silence, drawing with our bodies Oh, I feel like running again, yeah, I feel like running again Oh, I wanna do it again, yeah, I wanna do it again Every crooked line in your back feels like part of me Your story's in my fingers, you'll never wash away Oh, we've found some secret smiles Haven't heard the rain come down Oh, we've been loving in silence, talking with our bodies

═

taglist: @narcosfandomdiscord @narcolini @ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc @artemiseamoon

[dreamofstarlight]

Just casually trying to eat and have a conversation while paparazzi are literally right next to the table

[dmwrites]

“Dude, you really need a front door.”

Impulse jumped and yelped a little too high pitched for a burly dwarf, turning around to find Doc standing behind him.

“Doc! Hi! Yeah, it’s a work in progress, you know how it goes.” Impulse chuckled and ran a hand ruefully over his beard, mentally scolding himself for not building a door. Now Doc was going to think he was less cool and put together!

“If you’re not careful, any ol’ mob could come right in.” Doc smiled, leered almost, then dropped the dramatics after a second and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Impulse, I need a favor from you, and I hate to ask but I must.”

“What is it?” Impulse asked. He and Doc ran in similar circles- well, only in that they both used redstone. Impulse wasn’t, like, intimidated by Doc… not at all. They were colleagues, friends. Totally. This was a causal conversation.

“Can I be your roommate for a few weeks?”

Now that wasn’t exactly what Impulse had been expecting. “What?” He looked up at the creeper man in confusion.

“I’ve been super angry at my projects this past week, and I need someone who can handle me if I explode.” Doc explained. “I don’t want to explode, but if I do, or try to, I need someone strong to stop me.”

Impulse grinned. “So you think I’m strong?” He wiggled in a self-congratulatory kind of way, super casually flexing.

Doc snorted. “You’re a demon, and you’re currently cosplaying a dwarf who has mined out the inside of this mountain- I've seen you carrying boulders like its nothing. You’re a tank, my friend.”

Impulse knew Doc was laying on the flattery hard, but it was working, so it was acceptable. “Yes, of course you can stay here for a bit. Let me make you up a little Doc corner for you to sleep in.”

“Did someone say interior decoration?” Gem fell through a hole she had mined in the ceiling, crashing to the ground, but scrambling to her feet at once. “Well howdy Doc! It’s been a bit!” Gem took Doc’s hand from his lap and shook it vigorously. “Dang! That’s crazy, how long has it been… probs since you and Ren kept interrupting my peace and quiet with your obnoxious redstone menaces last season!” She was squeezing his hand quite tightly.

“As we can all tell, she doesn’t hold a grudge against you or anything.” Pearl appeared out of the kitchen of the dwarven keep, eating tinfoil and chips. “Also Impulse, you’re out of chips. And tinfoil. No idea why.”

“What- why are you two in my house! How did you get in? When did you get in?” Impulse sputtered.

“No front door.” Doc reminded him, pulling his definitely not throbbing hand away from Gem’s.

“Listen, if Doc is staying with you, he’ll need a cute little room. Me and Pearl are experts at decoration- let us handle making him a room! Please!!!” Gem begged.

“As long as Doc’s okay with it, sure.” Impulse chuckled, raising an eyebrow at Pearl, who was starting to inch away from Gem- clearly this was the first time she was hearing that she would be helping to decorate Doc’s room.

“Go for it- I wanna see what the best builders on the server can do.” Doc said with a smile.

“Fantastic!” Gem grabbed Pearl around the wrist. “Let’s go, Pearl!” She skipped away. “Oh, and Doc? Flattery will not work on us, redstone boy.”

Doc and Impulse watched them go off to an unfinished part of Impulse’s keep and start laying down shulkers.

“See, you have nice neighbors. I just have Scar, who has decided that every moment not trying to ‘hot guy’ me is a moment wasted.” Doc sighed and folded his arms.

“Oh yes, they’re lovely. A few quirks, but I’m sure they’ll treat you well.” Impulse chuckled.

“Quirks?”

——

Doc found out what those quirks were rather quickly. Impulse had bade him a good night at sunset promptly, saying something about sticking to a schedule, and left Doc in his newly constructed “Doc Room”, which consisted of a red bed, walls with redstone splattered on it, and a stuffed creeper on the bed. Doc was laying there, holding the creeper and trying to sleep. It was hours earlier then he’d usually crash, but he wanted to respect Impulse’s house rules, as he was a guest.

He’d had his eyes closed for a while, but gave up finally and opened them again. He clapped his hand over his mouth to stop from screaming at the sight of Pearl standing over him, eyes wide and all-knowing.

“Pearl?” Doc whispered. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Watching you sleep. Clearly.” Pearl said nonchalantly, like this was a normal thing to do.

“You can’t just watch people sleep!” Doc sat up, still whispering, but indignant. “It’s weird!”

“No, it’s literally not.” Pearl said, then failing to elaborate on that. “Anyway, you’re not asleep. I don’t sleep. Gem is on her fifth coffee of the night. Do you wanna come haunt Joe Hills with us? We just kind of stand behind trees and walls and recite poems incorrectly at him. It’s not for any kind of revenge or anything, we’re just assholes.”

“I- yes, I guess?” Doc got to his feet and put on his crocs. This was one way to forget about the redstone, he supposed.

[kieraelieson]

In which Virgil has taken lessons on how to demand affection: Part Five, Logan.

Virgil Roman Patton Remus Janus

Logan had been aware of the ‘Demanding Affection Lessons’. Patton had consulted him before even suggesting them to Virgil, and Logan had agreed that they might be useful. Though to be honest, he’d thought at the time that the ultimate result of the lessons would be a closer relationship between Virgil and Patton, and perhaps Virgil would become more vocal about his needs and wants.

He hadn’t expected the nervous request that day in the kitchen. It had caught him off guard, and he’d asked Virgil to repeat himself, even though he had heard it the first time. He could hardly believe Virgil was requesting affection from him, and though he did indeed feel affectionately towards Virgil, his attempt to fulfill the request had been, even in his own eyes, paltry.

But even more he hadn’t expected the way that Virgil’s requests for affection would spread amongst the other sides. Roman, Patton, even Remus had come up to ask for affection.

As he always did when confronted with something he hadn’t anticipated, he began collecting data. Even before Remus, but especially now that he had joined, Logan could confirm that the effect of the requests for affection was nothing but positive. General moods had improved, relationships between them all had been significantly strengthened, collaborative efforts to tackle problems had increased massively, and perhaps most important, Thomas was happier.

It was a logical move for Logan to also request affection from the other sides. The benefits were clear.

However.

He did not want to subject himself to five hugs. And that would also likely not have the same benefits. He would need to ask for things he wanted. He was just concerned that if he did so, he would be rejected. His requests would take more time than a simple hug. The other sides were busy themselves, and didn’t want to take time out of their days to do him favors.

But he could see from his data the benefits that were possible. The possible improvements to Thomas’s life. Even the potential improvements to his own. How could he squander all of that by not asking?

— — —

Patton was the safest first option. Not only because he was most likely to say yes, but also because he frequently cooked.

“Patton?” Logan said, beginning to understand more Virgil’s hesitance in asking.

“Yeah?” Patton said, looking up from his craft with a smile.

Logan held out a paper on which he’d listed approximate measurements and times. “I… would like to request… for you to make me a toast with Crofters. To me i-it would be affection.” Despite his previous rehearsing in the mirror, he still didn’t manage to make it through the request without stumbling.

Patton looked at the paper curiously. “Oh. Oh, I get it! Of course I will, Lo!”

Relief swept over him more powerfully than Logan had anticipated, and he needed to sit down. “Thank you, Patton.”

Patton gave him one of those soft looks, like he did when he wanted to hug someone, but he didn’t hug Logan, just stood up, looking again at the paper. “I’ll be right back!”

That toast Patton returned with seemed like the best one Logan had ever eaten.

— — —

With a grown confidence, Logan knocked on Roman’s door.

“Come in!”

Logan entered and held out a paper to Roman. “I have a request.”

Roman frowned at the paper a minute. “Chores?”

“Not exactly,” Logan said, knowing he’d tailored this request exactly to Roman. He pulled out his flash card to be sure of the correct term. “Those are indeed chores that need doing, but my request if for you to ‘gamify’ them. It would be as a favor to me, as… as affection.”

Roman’s head cocked to the side, and he silently mouthed ‘affection?’. Similarly to Patton, the meaning seemed to hit him all at once. “Oh! Oh, well yeah. I can definitely do that. I can’t promise that my games will work, Thomas might still leave the things undone, but I can definitely make games for the chores.”

Logan smiled, something fizzy feeling welling up in his chest. “Thank you, Roman.”

Roman grinned. “Anytime, Specs.”

— — —

With Virgil, he could text. It was relieving, not to have to ask in person.

Logan: I have a favor to ask

Virgil: ?

Logan: Have you heard the term ‘body doubling’?

Virgil: yeah, I’ve come across it once or twice

Logan: Would you be willing to come into my room and engage in your own activities while I do my work? It would be received as a form of affection.

Virgil: pfft, you all are such copycats. But yeah, totally, I’ll be over in a minute.

Sure enough, there was a soft knock at the door a few minutes later, and Virgil came in with two cups of tea. “Pat said we need to be hydrated.”

Logan smiled and nodded.

Virgil set one of the cups on Logan’s desk, and then slid down the wall with his own just beyond the desk, setting the cup on the floor next to him and pulling out his phone.

Despite Virgil being the embodiment of anxiety, it felt like a peace settled over the room.

Logan: Thank you.

Virgil: no prob 💜

— — —

Remus would be… interesting to ask. But Logan wanted to ask him before he asked Janus. For one reason, if things went poorly, he had one side left with whom he expected them to go well. For another, Remus was easier to find. Janus’s job required a lot of hiding away and working in the deeper parts of Thomas’s mind, and while he could often be found in his room, it was by no means a guarantee.

Almost the moment he walked into the downstairs living room he heard a snort.

“What, Mr. No-Feelings came for hugs too?”

“No actually, I have a request for a different type of affection.”

Remus popped up from behind the couch, streaked with a… substance. “Oh?”

“There are a few subjects in which I am interested, apart from my role as Thomas’s Logic and Curiosity. I wanted to ask if you would be willing to help mold the imagination in such a way that I can pursue those interests.”

Remus shrugged. “I mean, I probably won’t make it exactly accurate, but I’m game for helping you out. Why’d you ask me though? Why not Goody-Two-Shoes upstairs?”

Logan smiled slightly. “I believe some of the subjects would be of interest to you as well.” He held out a paper to Remus.

Remus’s expression went from curious, to intrigued, to nearly gleeful. “Oh hell yeah! Come on, Nerdy Wolverine! We’re doing this Now!”

— — —

It was his third attempt. Logan knocked on the door to Janus’s room.

Rather than saying ‘come in’, Janus opened the door, looking rather haggard.

Logan blinked. If he’d intended to ask anything else, he would have immediately regretted his request.

“Yes?” Janus said, leaning against the doorframe.

“I had come to ask… You are well known to be skilled at self-care, I had wanted to join you. It would be received as affection, and, perhaps it might be good for you at the moment as well.”

Janus gave him a half-hearted glare. “I’m fine.” His face smoothed out. “But yes, that would be nice.”

Logan helped set up, glad for the both of them to be able to relax in a hot bath and have a few hours of rest and pampering.

“If you ever want,” Logan offered. “I would be open to returning favors and affection.”

Janus just hummed noncommittally. “I appreciate the offer.”

— — —

He was going to have to be blunt. And clear.

He rose up in the bedroom. “Thomas, I have something to ask you.”

Thomas startled. “Ah! Logan! Geez, you could give me a little warning.”

“Apologies,” Logan said, feeling slightly deflated. “But I do have something to ask.”

“Yeah, of course,” Thomas said, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “What’s up?”

Logan offered a paper to Thomas. “I am continuing the requests for affection, however affection towards me would look different than it would towards others sides. I would greatly appreciate it if you would choose one of these healthy habits and commit to pursuing it, put it on a schedule and act on it regularly.”

Thomas studied the list.

“Additionally, Roman has created games associated with each of these, to make it easier to remember and complete.”

“Wow, Logan, this is really well thought out,” Thomas said, still looking at the paper. “I mean, I’d definitely need your help to stick with it, but sure, I’ll pick one of these.”

A broad smile invaded Logan’s face. “Of course I will be helping.”

[owaowabetch]

Minecraft Part 2 (Sykkuno x F!Reader)

Oneshot (maybe part of a series??? at this point probs): Chaos in the server, Will a deal entice you to become part of the comfy cartel? Or will you resist the temptation of the deal and side with the resistance? Friendship and a lil romance (oohhh things are starting to heat up)

Warning:Non beta (cuz we baddies purr); part of Uh-oh & Impasta

You had been streaming Minecraft for about 4 hours when you decided to end it for a small meal break. Though ending stream didn’t stop you from continuing playing with your friends. Unfortunately, Sykkuno had not been on while you were streaming, since you did so quite earlier than usual, but you wanted to remodel your minecraft home; turning the once pink wooden home to a white quartz block using the obscene amount of quartz that Jae gifted you as to entice you to join his faction in the sever. It was a nice bribe gift, but you have yet to align yourself with the ressistance or the comfy cartel. 

So, while gettin gifted quartz blocks was nice, hearing that Toast gave Lily a gun enticed you more.But you doubt Toast’s whole character arc will entrust you with one. You maybe be living with his ‘right-hand’ man, but he seems to be slowly on a downward spiral. Kind of like a crazy wacky scientist- he’s doofenshmirtz. 

Anyways you had completed the finishing touches on your remodeled, when you saw in the little chat that Sykkuno was on. “ OH!OH!OH! SYKKUNO!”

You were excited to show him the newly made house. The house was three levels to your house, but you’re mostly wanna show him the basement area.

You saw the iconic teal shirt paired with the green stripped scarf boxy figure making their way towards you. You emoted the cheering pose and happily called out to him “Hi Sykkuno!” 

“Hey, Y/n!” He cheered back coming closer “I have something for you!” 

You start jumping up and down “Present!” You like getting free things, especially if it comes from someone you like....as a friend of course. Yup yup, just as a friend. As, he stood in front of you he laughed “What are you doing?” watching your character wave their arms around

You laughed back at him “Just happy to see you!”

“Well, I’m always happy to see you!” Sykkuno chirps out and adds on with a slight stutter “C-cause we’re friends! I’m always happy to see such a great friend!”

Feeling the high of him telling you how he was always happy to see you was crushed by him reminding you that friends is all that you both may only ever be. So with the disappointment lingering and the excitement wearing off, you just mutter a reply back. “Yes! The bestest of friends!”

“Yup, yup. Anyways have some water mills” He throws some black blocks with blue markings on them “Follow me!” You both ran near your home “Claim this bit of land” and you did so. “Now, dig like a 3 by 6 hole and place two water mills close to each corner and one in the middle bottom”(1). You followed his instructions “Ok, so im just gunna place the water” You watched him do so “Ok! I think it’s all good and ready to go!”

You crouch and inch around the hole “What is it?”

“Ok well you know how I got you that green lasso that has you swinging and jumping all over the place with the slime boots?” Sykkuno asks crounching up right beside you 

“Yea yea!” You crouch and uncrouch in circles around him

“Well I have something even better!” He cheers “Eh” he grunts and throws a ring on the floor. You awe and oh as you put the ring in your hot bar “How cute! It has little wings on it!” 

“Yea! It’s a special ring” Sykkuno tells you 

“Special ring?...Are you proposing to me! OMG Sykkuno” You joke 

“Wah?” Spluttering out in confusion but deciding to play along “I mean are you accepting?”

You laugh “Woah, Sy! How bold of you sir”

He giggles back to you before teaching you how and where to put the ring. “OK do you have it on?”

You jump up and down in response allowing the slime boots to spring you up higher. “Yup Yup”

“Ok so, why don’t you take off your slime boots and then press the space bar” He jumps up and down, which you do. You gasp as you are lifted into the air “Sy! Look! Im flying!!” He is in the air next to you “I can see! Cause I am also flying!”

“How are we doing this! This is so fucking cool!” You laugh as you start moving around in the air “WAIT! Are you streaming? I’m so sorry!”

He laughs as he starts following you around in the air “It’s fine, but the ring I gave you is an angel ring. As long as your wearing it, then you can just fly around”

“Wow! Thanks Sykkuno!” You cheer and you walk around in the air “Clean! Clean!” 

“Yea, Of Course! It’ll be alot easier for you to get to places faster” He explains once more “Now, my chat has been going crazy and telling me that you redid our house?”

Excitement lit through you as you were ready to show him the remodeling works that you’ve done “Yes! I did! I’m so excited to show you” You move your camera out of first person and notice your character wearing a pair of white wings on your back “Oh my god! Sykkuno! I didn’t know that there was actual wings that appear on your lil person!”

“uh yea! I didn’t know if you wanted to have or not, cause mine are invisible” Sykkuno says flying next to you as you make the short distance back to your home “but i remembered you saying that you wanted to buy fairy wings. I could’ve made them pink to look like them, but i thought the white ones would suit you better”

“Cause i’m such an angel?” You tease as you reached your front door

“Well uh you are um a nice person” Hearing the shyness in his tone made you think that he was being sincere and it made you blush “Thank you Sykkuno, you’re one of the best people i know!”

He clears his throat “uh well um, look we made it!” trying to divert the conversation away from the compliments. You made a mental note to yourself to compliment him more, so that his confidence rises up and he no longer shies away from them.

“Yup!” You open the door “come on in!” He oh’ed as he came in, seeing the kitchen area first “As you can see Sy and chat, I have created a kitchen with actual fucking oven and fridge! How crazy is that! These mods are cool!”

“So, yeah! Kitchen area, though I doubt we’ll use it” You comment

“Wow! a fridge! Neat!” He opened the fridge and looked at the decor of other kitchen appliances 

You laugh at his wording “ Yup! and this is our living room slash library” leading him further into the house and showing him the sitting area with a bunch of bookcases surrounding the fake chairs “and right next to this is the ‘dining room’ where more seats were placed with a table and a cute flower in a pot atop the table. “So, yea this is the first floor!” 

“This is cool! Oh! it’s [y/f/flower] on the table” He notes and you nod feeling your cheeks flush a bit before admitting “of course! It’s actually the flower you gave me on our first day...”

“thats, thats really cool that you kept it” Sykkuno replies and there is a bit of silence between the two of you. Not awkward but almost in a content kind of way. Peaceful if you will. 

“Ok! Now lets head upstairs! It’s where we sleep!” You say walking up the stairs showing him the green beds placed next to each other “I didn’t know if you wanted to sleep next to each other again, but i did it anyways lol” 

He walked around the room and admired the little decor spread around the walls and opened chests in the room. He laughed awkwardly “it’s fine, it’s just a respawn point so its no biggie!”

“Yea to sleepovers!” You cheer 

Clearing his throat he noted how much he liked the room, causing you to smile and thank him “But i know what you’ve been wanting to see the most!”

“What do you mean?” He questioned and looked at you 

“The basement! Dun Dun DUN!” You jump at him scooting him down the stairs

He laughed in disbelief “What was that? Did you just hit me?”

“Nope” Emphasizing the p “ I just jumped at you which caused you to go down the stairs! I could never hurt you Sy!”

“Well I could never hurt you too” He mutters back and you pouted at how cute his response was

“Oh! You could just make your way down there! I forgot that Jae wanted me to give him some quartz back!” You gasp remembering what Jae had told you

“What do you mean?” His character looks back at you

And you look back at his and think “hmmm I don’t know if I should snitch or not, but Jae gave me an obsence amount of quartz blocks to build the house! I knew it was a little hard for you to get some, so he offered to give me some”

He hummed back “I see....” 

You noted how the atmosphere tensed for a split moment until Sykkuno happily noted that it was nice of him to give you something he couldn’t, but it sounded a bit off to you. Though you didn’t pay much attention to that since you didn’t want to reveal the resistance, as you have yet to align yourself with any of the two factions, well soon to be three since you believe that Sydney is doing some witchy stuff.

“Well, why don’t you go do that while I check the basement and give something to toast really quick!” He tells you 

“Ok!” You reply back to him rifling through your chests to find the remaining the blocks to give to Jae “I’ll see you in a bit, maybe toast too!”

With that you made your way back to Jae to hand him the quartz back, though it was quite an ordeal since he made a whole rant on how evil the comfy cartel were and how you should join them and become a spy cause apparently Toast is planning on doing something that could affect the entire server....

So you just ignored all of that and made your way back home, to have Toast and Sykkuno greet you at the front door.

“Hey guys! Im back” You cheer at them

“What did Jae want huh?!?!” Toast immediately questions you “Did you tell him any of our business huh? Should we be trusting you huh? huh? HUH!?!”

“Whoa Toast” You back up as he was getting all up in your face

“Wow Toast, are you okay?” Sykkuno places himself between you two 

“Im doing just fine” Toast answers back and you notice his full gear armor “Just wanted to know if we have a rat here”

You tsk “wow Toast, I see how it is. I see. By the way you look like a Power Rangers villan, just sayin”

He takes out his gun and points it at you “Well you won’t be sayin much Motherfucka!”

“I won’t say anything at all if you give me a gun to join the comfy cartel” You hit Sykkuno away and hear him utter an ow “Cause I don’t have an allegiance with anyone at the moment. So I’m a free agent and I can talk to whoever whenever” Throwing his words back at him and implying that you can speak to anyone without repercussions.

“AH right you are not part of the comfy cartel yet” He nods to himself “Well I wont give you a gun to join the group cause frankly I know that you’ll just shoot me”

You sigh “Then i’-”

“Instead!” He interrupts you “I’ll give you something better!” 

You pout “but i wanna cap a bitch”

“Instead of cappin’ you’ll be rackin’ cause you’re gunna have to collect taxes from people and in exchange you get the left hand of my right hand” He moves closer to you, that statement throw you through a loop ‘left hand?right hand?’. You were confusion. “Capiche?”

“What do you mean?” You question and he evil laughs and hits sykkuno.

“Wha? What was that Toast” Sykkuno also confused as to why Toast hit him and what Toast meant.

“I’m saying that you can have Sykkuno!” He evil laughs once more 

Sykkuno splutters “Wha? What do you mean Toast?!?!”

You were shocked at what he said. Giving you Sykkuno? “What do you mean?”

“You can marry Sykkuno” He repeats himself once more “You are both important to each other, why else live together? This way I’m keeping you both in check” and once again with the evil laughter

‘I’m glad im not streaming otherwise some of the more entitled fangirls would 100% send hate comments to me’ you think to yourself

You hum “Will I still get a gun?”

“Only if you can become my number one marksmen and execute the people I tell you too” He offers you

“Deal” You nod to yourself 

“Wha? [Y/N]?” Sykkuno sputters out “You’re ok with this?” and nodding to yourself you reply with a yes and asks him if he is also “Well I- uh I” he continues to laugh awkwardly “I mean uh sure?”

“Neat!” You reply throwing a diamond at him “Here’s your dowry lol”

Though before another conversation could happen Toast butts in once more “This was a test and you both passed” and throws a gun at you “Here take this one, prove yourself and I’ll get you a better one”

You put the gun in your hot bar and place it in your hand. “Clean!” You start point it in different directions “Thanks! Toast!”

“Don’t betray me or else you gets the hose!” He starts walking backwards then comes back up to you “Oh, also your target is Leslie, be sure to collect her taxes before killing her.” Walking backwards once more before coming back “Oh Sykkuno hand me the diamond [y/n] gave you.” He does so “Ok that’ll be your last tax payment until I have you look for materials for a special project” He evil laughs as he flies away

“OK! Great talk!” You call out and emote the happy one, with your arms lifted up and shaking about “Awesome! I get a gun muahahahaha!”

You hear Sykkuno clear his throat “so uh, you were ok with marrying me?”

“Yea! so were you!” You say as you move you camera around trying to find a good angle to see it properly

“Because you were!” He replies back and that took you aback a bit as you didn’t realize how uncomfortable it may have been for him.

“Well you didn’t have too if you didn’t want to” You felt a bit embarrassed at the fact that he did it because you wanted to but not he himself personally

“Wha, well I didn’t think you were being serious” Once again laughing awkwardly “Cause you know girls aren’t in- OW”

You shot him with the gun in annoyance.

‘Bitches are into you Sykkuno’ You screamed in your head ‘I‘M BITCHES!’

 Author’s Note:

Side Note 1 - I dont know if this is correct lol

No cap but i had written half of this like 3 days after writing Part 1 but I got lazy lmao sorry! Also this is gunna be a slowburn story cuz lets be real our smol bean and all of our asses are awkward as hell and kind insecure in the romantic aspect, so realistically it would not be fast paced.

So here it is Minecraft pt.2/4

Tags: @sushiims

[irelanddesires]

Ny Början- Chapter 1

Pairing:  André Burakovsky x reader

Warnings: Fluff, eventual smut, hockey violence, domestic violence (in the beginning), idk probs more.

Summary:  With the help of a group of unsuspecting heroes you are saved from a toxic relationship. One of your saviors goes above and beyond anything you could ask for. A friendship is forged and after awhile feelings happen. Could ths be your happy ending? 

A/N: Hi I’m trash and this idea has rolled around in my head for w e e k s. I’ve played hockey for a really long time and the Avs are my team... Burky happens to be my hockey crush so I figured I would share this. IDK what it is but this challenged me a lot and I can’t write a guys perspective to save my life ffs. Dialogue is hard my doods. Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think! 

Going to the club was the last thing you wanted to do. Between working two jobs and trying to stay on top of your classes it didn’t leave much free time and you didn’t want to spend that sparse time dealing with drunk people and loud music. Your boyfriend, Matthew, had insisted that this was exactly what you needed after the week you had. At this point you both had been there long enough to see friends call it a night and you were pretty sure that Matthew was one drink away from making a fool out of himself. 

“Matt, can we please go?” you asked, hoping that he would finally agree. 

“Loosen up! We never get to spend time together. Let’s enjoy this!” he practically yelled. 

“We’ve been here long enough. It’s late and I have an early shift tomorrow.” you urged. At this point you wanted to go home, get out of this dress and crawl into bed. Nothing at this bar held your attention. Matt’s had grabbed your arm, his face inches from yours.

“I said no. We’re not going anywhere. I’m not finished here.” he ground out. 

The look on his face left little room for argument and was quite scary. Matt was usually a nice guy, the perfect boyfriend, but after drinking he could become a totally different person. Matt had never hit you but the emotional toll it took on you could be just as painful as a physical blow. After the week you’ve had of working 12-14 hour days just to come home and clean before passing out just to do it all over again made you throw all caution to the wind. You wanted to go home for fucks sake, not be here. 

You snached your arm from his grip, looking him in the eyes, “I’m tired, I’m going home. You can stay if you want but I’m not.” 

Before he could say anything you spun on your heels and marched out the side door that led to a less busy street. You hoped this would give you some peace and quiet as you ordered your Uber. Just as you tapped the app to get an Uber the door behind you swung open. Matt stumbled through the doorway and onto the sidewalk with you. 

“You can’t leave me,” he said. 

“Matt, I’m going home to sleep. I don’t care what you do.” 

“I said no!” he roared. Before you could comprehend what was happening your head snapped back and you were pushed against the outside wall of the bar. The brick dug into your skin as you tried to struggle against the hands holding you there. 

“Why don’t you ever listen to me you bitch.” he said as his fingers dug into your throat, “If I tell you to do something you fucking do it!” 

Panic seized your chest as his hands circled around your throat. The throbbing in your head forgotten about as your fight or flight instincts kicked in. You tried to kick him as hard as you could but it seemed like he wasn’t phased at all by it. Your hands grabbed onto his, your fingernails digging into his skin trying to get any distance between his hands and your throat. Just as spots began to dance around your vision the same door you both had exited from swung open and a group of people spilled out. 

Before you could try and scream for help one of them turned around and spotted you. His face went from relaxed and playful to murderous in seconds. You didn’t have time to gather your thoughts before he was charging both of you, shoving Matt off of you. You fell to the ground in a pile, your muscles felt like jello but your brain screamed at you to run. Looking up at the situation happening in front of you all you could see was the back of the stranger that had come to your rescue. His friends had caught on quick and made it over to stand around you too, like shields between you and Matt,  as you gathered yourself. 

“Is there a problem?” One of them said, the voice sounded like it came from the one that had charged Matt but your brain couldn’t comprehend everything that was happening. 

Matt stumbled to his feet before looking at the mystery men. “Mind your business” he slurred. 

“I don’t think so. You want to get to her, you have to go through us.” a voice called out. 

For a moment it looked like Matt was considering it. His eyes scanned each guy before landing on you. 

“This isn’t over you fucking bitch!” he yelled before turning around and making his way back into the bar. 

The door didn’t have time to shut all the way before one of your saviors crouched down in front of you. His hazel eyes searched your face, “ Are you okay?” he asked 

As much as you wanted to tell him your entire body felt weighed down, you bit back your weakness,

 “I’m fine.” you said as you began to try and stand. It took a couple tries to get your feet under you. You tried to use what energy you had to stand, you were nearly there when your legs went to give out. Hands caught you around your waist and pulled you the rest of the way up. 

“You don’t look fine” the mystery man said and he held onto you, carrying the majority of your weight. “Look, let me get you somewhere safe and I can take you home”

You looked at him, searching his face for dishonesty. At this point you figured that someone, or a group of people, that came to your rescue surely couldn’t be bad people. You silently agreed for his help with a nod of your head. 

The rest of the time you spent with the group of them went by in a blur. They all talked amongst themselves in whispers, every now and then you caught words. At one point you caught the name “André” and you assumed this was the name of the guy holding you up. Before long a car pulled to the curb and your stranger opened the door for you before helping you inside. None of the other guys followed so you assumed they were getting their own Uber. 

The ride was silent for a few moments before his voice broke through, “I’m André by the way” 

“Y/N” 

“I didn’t know where you would want to go so I figured you could come to my place and then decide what you want to do,” he said. 

You looked at him and nodded, whispering a “thank you” as you settled into the seat. You shouldn’t feel comfortable about going home with a guy you just met outside a bar but for some reason you felt safe with him. He gave off a genuine arua of concern and wanting to help. Before you could think about it too much your world faded to black and you let your exhausted and battered body rest. 

_______________________________

Having a night off from hockey was rare. What was even more rare was being able to have a guys night with some of the team. Most of the time when games weren’t being played or practice were being held, everyone would go their own ways. Some would spend time with their significant other, some would spend time alone or some would visit family if the break was long enough. 

Tonight a few of us had decided to let loose and bar hop across Denver. Usually this time of year the weather was starting to get cooler which made bar hopping more of a chore. Tonight however, the weather was perfect which gave us plenty of reason to have some fun. 

The first bar we went to was picked by Miko. He said this was the best bar in Denver with the hottest chicks so more than a few in our group were eager to get there. 

The outside of the building was modern with sleek black walls and the walls that weren’t stone were see-through glass. Through the windows we could see people dancing with lights strobing through the air.

 We quickly made our way inside and were ushered to a VIP section, one of the many perks of playing professional sports was getting recognized when out since it usually led to getting a more private area. The captain of the team was with us so of course we were bound to be recognized. 

We all bounced around from group to group chatting and drinking. Some of the guys had found partners to dance with while the rest of us just hung out. Time passed and we all were eventually some level of intoxicated, some more than others. Nate brought up the idea of heading to the Pur, a rooftop bar with a chill atmosphere. A group of us thought that was a great plan. The constant bass and flashing lights got old as the night wore on. 

The five of us; Gabe, Nate, Miko, Gru and myself headed toward the back door. We hoped we could escape quietly and back doors were usually best for doing that. 

The heavy door swung shut behind us as we spilled into the cool Denver night. A noise caught my attention, turning my head to see who else was out here, I was met with a scene I wasn’t expecting. A man had a woman pinned to the side of the building. Her feet dangled off of the ground and her hands gripped his that were circling around her throat. Time seemed to stop and instinct took over as I rushed to them. Before I could comprehend what I was doing my fist was sailing through the air, connecting with the man's face before he fell to the ground. The girl slumped to the side of the building in a heap. Concern for her swam through my body but I knew this guy had to leave before I could help her. 

The man stumbled to his feet. By now the guys had joined me, putting ourselves between the pair. 

“Is there a problem?” Gave asked

“Mind your business” the man mumbled. 

Rage burned through my body and it took everything in me to not pummel this guy. 

“I don’t think so.” I called out. 

The man took a moment. His eyes scanned each one of us. He must have eventually decided he was outnumbered and didn’t want to take his chances. 

“This isn’t over you fucking bitch!” He yelled before stumbling through the door we had just come out of. Relief flooded me now that we didn’t have a fight on our hands. A whimper from behind me had me turning and dropping to my knees. 

“Are you okay?” I asked. My eyes scanned over her checking for major injuries. Her breathing hitched as she tried to push herself up to stand. Halfway up her legs seemed to give way. Before she could tumble to the ground I grabbed her, hauling her to her feet and holding as much of her weight as I could. 

Her hands tangled in my shirt holding on for dear life. There’s no way she would be able to make it home and I didn’t trust leaving her like this with a stranger. Looking around the group of guys, Gabe was the first to speak up. 

“What’s your plan? Get an Uber?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I think I will take her to my place. I have a spare room she can sleep in and she can figure out something in the morning” 

The guys nodded in agreement. No one wanted to leave her alone right now. Especially not with her angry boyfriend, or ex boyfriend I hope, on the loose. 

“I’ll get you guys an Uber,” Gru piped up. 

“Thanks” I muttered, turning my attention back to the girl clinging on to me. 

The rest of the wait was quiet. No one talked about going anywhere else for the night. I’m sure at this point everyone wanted to go home and decompress from what had happened. Before long the Uber pulled up and I shuffled us around to open the door. With some adjustments I was able to sit her down and close the door before nodding to the guys and making my way around the car to climb in beside her. 

The driver took off immediately, glancing in the rear view mirror between the two of us. We didn’t make it far before i turned to her, 

“I’m André by the way” 

Her sad eyes met mine and for a moment I didn’t think she would say anything until I heard a whisper. 

“Y/N” 

Her voice sounded awful and the emotion behind her eyes told me how exhausted she really was. 

“I didn’t know where you would want to go so I figured you could come to my place and then decide what you want to do,” I told her. 

She looked at me again before croaking out a “thank you”. The rest of the ride was quiet. Once we arrived at my place I figured out why it was quite. At some point during the drive Y/N must had fallen asleep, her head was leaning against the window and her body was curled right around herself. 

I climbed out of the car and went to her side. Carefully I opened the door, catching her head when it went to fall. Surprisingly she didn’t wake so I slid my arms under her lifting her out of the car and pulling her against my chest. 

Unlocking the door and navigating through my apartment while carrying another person was harder than I would have imagined. I made it to my guest room and laid her on the bed. Not wanting her to wake up uncomfortable I took her shoes off before covering her with blankets and shutting the door on my way out. 

I settled on the couch with a beer from the fridge before releasing the breath that seemed stuck in my chest. The last thing I thought about before drifting off was the broken girl sleeping in the other room.