{ 164 }
of gifts and curses.
jinwoo sung x fem.reader
{ i see your face with every punch i take | and every bone i break, it's all for you | and my worst pains are words i cannot say | still i will always fight on for you… }
the coppery taste of blood had come to be something jinwoo was most accustomed to.
back when he was still a level-e hunter, nearly killing himself with each and every raid that he went on, the pain and agony of the gates he was subjected to nearly made him give up-
but he held on.
not just because his sister needed him-
not just because his mother was subjected to a permanent slumber-
but because he wanted to get stronger for you, too.
you were someone that became a constant comfort for him, spending your days tending to his wounds while helping him care for jinah during the times he was away risking his life during these raids. without fail, whenever jinwoo would go on these raids (and escaping them after barely surviving)-
you would somehow always find a way to greet him from the gate’s exit.
seeing your kind smile and the way you held out your arms for him, allowing him to slump against you in a warm embrace, his scrawny arms bringing your comforting form ever so closer to him as he allowed the tears to fall.
you would remain by his side, giving him cans of his favorite brand of coffee while replenishing his energy with all of his favorite snacks. and when his injuries became too dire, you would stay up with him throughout the late hours of the night, tending to his wounds to the best of your abilities.
your stable presence and belief in him was enough to make him confess his love for you, keeping you by his side in an almost selfish manner, since he knew that with the way he was now, there wasn’t a damn thing he could offer you-
but by some stroke of luck, you never seemed to care about the things he could not offer you, still loving him unconditionally despite it all.
jinwoo believed that he had truly found a soulmate in you, and surprisingly, he found himself not minding his weak self…
you had let him slowly begin to love himself thanks to the unconditional love you held for him.
he always believed that he could never change no matter how hard he tried-
yet such self deprecating thoughts all but disappeared into thin air when he was met with the double dungeons, one that made him realize what true fear was the moment he died-
and was given a second chance at life-
reborn into something far more powerful than what he could ever imagine.
it was through his newfound identity as the system’s sole player that he was able to break out of the chains that labeled him as the weakest in the world. when he was brought to the hospital and made the mistake of ignoring the system’s first request, the punishment for not completing the task in the allotted time-
it had sent him to another world surrounded by desert sand as he was forced to survive within its borders while escaping from the beast that dwelled inside the heart of the desert.
needless to say, jinwoo didn’t ignore a single quest like that ever again.
on top of how he was literally leveling up with each quest he completed, you still remained by his side, often taking turns with jinah when it came to visiting him at the hospital.
and despite how he never told you or jinah about the truth of his resurrection, it was clear that you could tell the subtle changes his body was going through. when you visited him at the hospital one late afternoon, bringing with you the lunch you had cooked for him, you would remain strictly by his side.
as if you were glued to him, you would cling to his left arm while he ate his ramyun, looking down at you with an amused expression before asking you, “what’s wrong?”
a cute little pout would paint your gorgeous features as you merely tightened your hold on him in response. “the nurses were gossiping about you… calling you hot… and i didn’t like them checking out what’s already been mine from the start.”
feeling amused (yet filled to the brim with love and affection for you) he leans down to press a kiss against your hair, all while silently promising to not only get stronger for his family-
but for you as well.
and he could not thank the system for making him into the man that he was today.
he had grown taller.
his face had lost its prior roundness, becoming more defined while his voice seemed to deepen with a newfound confidence, losing the prior meekness it once had.
the system had given him the gift of becoming a powerful mage; a necromancer that could turn each enemy he had slain into his own, obedient soldiers.
with every battle he’s faced-
and with every bone that he breaks, filling his mouth with the taste of blood as a grueling pain courses through him-
still he fought on, just for you.
you, who had never once left his side despite the growing darkness that was beginning to seep into his veins.
you, who remained blissfully unaware at how he had killed numerous men during the times he spent within each dungeon, secretly turning those who wished to harm him into his own personal shadow soldier-
(a feat that would always be kept as a secret from you.)
and it was during his walk home back to you that he could feel the exhaustion beginning to kick in. despite how his injuries were healed, his stamina had remained the same, remaining severely low as he struggled to remain upright.
jinwoo needed to see you again.
he needed to have you in his arms before pressing your body closer to his, allowing him bask in your warmth- in your light.
for what seemed like an eternity, jinwoo finally reaches your shared apartment, unlocking it while letting out a weak, “i’m home.”
his voice was a bit broken and cracked, but he immediately silenced himself upon seeing the television screen turned on, painting your sleeping figure settled on the couch in colorful hues as the shadow soldier he had assigned to you peered up at him with glowing, purple eyes.
jinwoo winks at his soldier, raising up a finger in a gesture that was meant to convey be quiet. he tiptoes closer to where you lay against the couch, taking the remote off the coffee table before shutting off the t.v. screen.
with his heightened senses, he was able to still see your form despite the complete and utter darkness, leaning down to hold you within his embrace as he carried you (bridal style) back into your shared room.
as he worked on laying you back down in bed, you stirred in your sleep while softly whispering his name, making jinwoo smile down at you in response.
“ssssh, it’s okay. i’m here now… and i’m not going anywhere.” he reassures you before getting into bed with you, basking in the way you seemed to know where he was while you gravitated towards him. your cheek was already resting against his chest, eyes never once opening when you cuddled yourself even closer to him, greedily basking in his warmth as your chest was pressed together in response, not even leaving a millimeter of space between your two forms.
jinwoo continues to stare blankly at the ceiling, mulling over his thoughts while massaging your scalp and running his fingers through your hair. in the dead of night, where the only movements were seen with the soldiers he had placed surrounding the parameters of the bedroom, he closes his eyes while murmuring your name.
“i love you… everything that i do- it’s all for you.”
you mutter something in your sleep, making jinwoo smile when he turns around to fully embrace you, pressing you tightly against his chest as he brought his lips to your forehead. after whispering of his love and devotion to you one last time, he closes his eyes and joins you in a peaceful slumber…
{ this gift is my curse for now… }
a.n. - yellowcard’s { gifts and curses } played on my playlist and i was hit with such feels that i had to write something for jinwoo 🥹
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
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Ko-fi thank-you sentences for an anon behind the cut; mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees.
( chrono || non-chrono )
But why the fuck is Alfred calling him–
“Sorry for the wait, Mr. Wayne, your local self thought it might be for the best not to come in-person! You wanted to avoid a fuss. I mean–he wanted to avoid a fuss,” Rita says brightly, looking sheepish, and Kon remembers, very abruptly, everything she’d said about Gotham tabloids and also the fact that she’d “recognized” him after he’d scooped up a traumatized kid who was calling him “Dad” and then, uh–well, flirted with her. And also literally every single story he has ever heard about Clark and Bruce successfully passing for each other, in costume and out.
Well . . . shit.
Well, that definitely means the local Bruce Wayne is out Batman-ing his way through the current interdimensional crisis. But also, what the fuck has Kon just gotten them into? Jon seems to just be rolling with it, thank fuck, but there's no way Alfred Pennyworth actually believes he's a version of Bruce Wayne.
. . . does he?
No, no, he definitely doesn't. Interdimensional bullshit aside, it’s Alfred. He's just a really good liar and a trained actor with a flawless poker face. Alfred lies better than Tim lies, for fuck's sake, which is goddamn saying something. So Kon might end up a little mortified later when he's admitting he got mistaken for an alternate version of Gotham’s number one airheaded himbo DILF Brucie Wayne by an aid worker, but . . .
Well. He doesn't even know who he'd be admitting that to, at this point.
He doesn't know if he'll ever . . .
“The car is just down the block, sir,” Alfred says, and Kon tells himself he can do this. He always does, doesn’t he? He can handle his own shit and he'll take care of Jon and go meet the local Batman, apparently, and then embarrass himself explaining how this happened to him, and maybe . . . maybe the local Tim will be there.
It won't be his Tim, but right now he just really wants to see his face, one way or the other. He's not gonna be picky about which “Tim” he's actually seeing.
“Cool,” he says, trying not to sound too screamingly not-Gotham. He seriously doubts he manages it, though. He’s no good at the voice-mimicking trick Clark does and even if he was, it wouldn’t exactly be subtle to start doing it now.
He and Jon say goodbye to the kids, who make a lot of very kid-like disappointed noises, and Kon suggests another game for them to distract themselves with–one that won’t require a technical adult running it–and then Rita’s got some paperwork for him and Alfred to both fill out and sign, and a couple other aid workers rubber-stamp them through, and absolutely no one asks to see his ID or even for a second doubts that he’s a version of Bruce Wayne. Except–hopefully–Alfred, anyway.
Kon seriously cannot tell for fuck either way, the man might as well be a promethium wall. At this point he’s just counting on Alfred’s weird all-knowingness bailing him out here. Worst case scenario is explaining himself, obviously, but if he doesn’t exist here . . .
Well, “Lex Luthor made me” is probably not a great start, with most Batmans. Especially after going to see said Batman under what is, technically, false pretenses. Like–obviously Alfred wouldn’t have come out in the middle of an interdimensional emergency for Conner Kent; he showed up here expecting a younger version of his boss.
Probably would’ve come for Jon, he guesses, if only as a favor to the local Clark, since the guy’s presumably distracted figuring out how many dangerous strangers are currently in their reality with the Justice League, but still.
Then again, for all Kon knows, the local Luthor is dead or irrelevant or a selflessly benevolent saint who feeds orphan puppies on the weekend, so who the fuck knows.
Kon cannot actually imagine Luthor ever even existing in the same room as a puppy without it knowing well enough to piss on his fancy leather shoes, but look, alternate realities include the word “alternate” in them for a reason. Like, the word “alternate” is very much the operative word there.
If nothing else, the local puppies might just be stupid.
Kon’s not really a dog person, personally. Krypto doesn’t count, on account of being an alien and therefore not an actual dog. The first Krypto he knew was an actual dog, though, and they just did not vibe whatsoever.
He and Alfred sign the last couple papers. Kon fakes Bruce Wayne’s signature because he’s spent enough time in Wayne Manor to know the difference between that and his autograph, and thanks fuck that the eidetic memory finally kicked in last year. Seriously, it is such bullshit it took that long for him to get it, considering Clark and Luthor both have one.
Alfred doesn’t actually react to the signature, but Kon does notice him noticing it.
Probably what he’s noticing is that it’s not the same signature that his Bruce Wayne used in his early twenties, because there’s no way that hasn’t changed in twenty-odd years.
Rita smiles at them and sees them all off happily with some reference numbers and exchanged contact information, and they don’t say anything on the way to the car. Kon keeps carrying Jon, which maybe isn’t normal human behavior, especially for someone who’s supposed to be passing for a ditzy socialite who allegedly only has vanity muscles as opposed to actually functional ones, but Kon kind of doesn’t care about that right now. Like, not even slightly does Kon care about that right now.
Alfred leads them to a shiny black towncar and opens the door for them, and Kon gives him a nod of thanks and bundles Jon into the thing. Jon sniffles once, and kinda of clings to him a little. Kon figures it’s fair. He was never “ten” himself, obviously, but it seems like a rough age to put up with this kind of bullshit during. Like–definitely it does.
“You’re good, kid,” he swears, less because it’s a promise and more because it’s something he’s gonna make happen, squeezing the kid’s shoulder the way Clark always does when he’s doing the reassuring thing. “I’ve got you. I’m with you. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jon says, sniffling again and scrubbing an arm across his eyes. “Um. Sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it, Jonno,” Kon says, and Jon’s face crumples for a moment before he visibly steels himself and nods. Kon squeezes his shoulder again, then gets into his own seat and buckles himself in more out of the habit of trying to pass for human while in civvies than to actually, like, need to be buckled in. TTK kind of cancels out the risk of getting tossed around a car in an accident, and he’s invulnerable on top of that, plus the super-speed, so . . . yeah. Definitely car accidents are not a concern.
He really wants to help this kid. He wants to at least get him to the local Clark, if nothing else. Like–if they all get stuck here, or there’s nowhere else for them to go . . .
Well, it’d take a pretty different Clark than the one he’s used to not to want to take in any version of Jon, so as long as this reality actually has a Clark . . .
Well, Kon’s probably not gonna be watching the kid long, in that case.
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