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ducktoo · 4 months ago

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How to take care of Jiwon

IVE's Liz x Reader

Note: Anon, hope this was something you were asking for (I think). Twas' a fun prompt and I enjoyed it frfr. Feel free to DM me ur thoughts!

(This German girl do be looking cute-)

“Again?”

You don’t even look up from your computer screen. You already know who it is.

There’s a quiet giggle, followed by the sound of someone shuffling through your things. You sigh, rubbing your temple before shooting a glare at the intruder currently invading your workspace—none other than Kim Jiwon(or Liz), your childhood friend turned global idol, standing beside your desk like she owns the place.

“Can you not touch my stuff?” you grumble, snatching a framed photo from her hands before she can get any ideas.

She blinks at you innocently. “You keep this here?”

You glance down at the picture, already knowing which one she’s referring to. It’s an old, slightly faded photo from elementary school—Liz, missing her two front teeth, flashing a peace sign, while you stand beside her with the grumpiest expression imaginable. You had never liked taking pictures, but Liz had insisted back then. Looking at it now, you don’t even remember why you agreed to keep it on your desk.

“It’s just decoration,” you mutter, setting it back down.

Liz hums, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes. “Sure, sure.”

She doesn’t leave. Of course, she doesn’t. You’re already used to this little routine.

Despite her packed schedule, Liz always finds time to drop by your office whenever she’s at the company. She claims it’s because she’s curious about what you do, but you know better. The real reason? She just enjoys annoying you.

She picks up your stationery, taps at your keyboard, sometimes even steals your coffee—because “staff coffee tastes different.” You tolerate it because, well… it’s Liz. You’ve known her since you were kids.

It’s still crazy how you both ended up here…especially after how you reunited.

To this day, you still don’t know how the hell that situation happened.

You had only been working at Starship Entertainment for about a month at that point. Just a regular staff member, trying not to get scolded, running around delivering paperwork, managing schedules—nothing out of the ordinary.

Then came that time.

One of your first bigger assignments had been to handle some logistics for IVE’s new comeback. Simple enough. Make sure the equipment was working, ensure the space was ready, help with any requests—it was routine.

What wasn’t routine was somehow ending up in a storage closet with a girl in a hoodie, a bucket of spilled cleaning supplies, and the worst case of déjà vu you’ve ever experienced.

…Let’s back up.

That day, you had been in a rush, carrying a stack of documents for the management team when you took a wrong turn down a hallway you didn’t usually use. It led to one of the storage rooms, where cleaning supplies and extra equipment were kept.

The door was slightly open.

Then, without warning—

CRASH.

Something—or someone—barreled right into you, sending both of you stumbling backwards into the closet.

The door slammed shut behind you.

Silence.

For a moment, you just laid there on the floor, trying to process the fact that you had just been body-slammed into a janitor’s closet. Your head throbbed. You could hear the faint creak of a mop falling somewhere nearby.

And then—

“…Wait. Grumpy?”

You froze.

That voice. That stupidly familiar voice.

Slowly, you looked up.

And there, crouched in the dim light, staring at you like she had just seen a ghost—was the one and only. Your childhood friend. The same girl you hadn’t seen in years.

In a janitor’s closet. With you.

What. The. Hell.

“…What are you doing here?” she asked, blinking rapidly.

You stared at her. “What are you doing around here in the management area?”

“I asked first!”

“I work here!”

That seemed to short-circuit her brain for a second. Her eyes widened, then darted to the staff ID clipped to your shirt. Slowly, realization dawned on her face.

“…You work at Starship?”

“Yes?!”

"Since when?!"

"Since I got hired, duh!"

Liz opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. She blinked.

Then—

She burst out laughing.

“You—You actually work here?” she wheezed, clutching her stomach. “Oh my God, this is unreal. This is so unreal.”

"Tsk." You scowled. “Glad to see my suffering is entertaining you.”

“I can’t believe this! We literally grew up together, lost contact, and now you’re working for my company? This is insane.” She wiped at her eyes, still laughing. “And—wait, you of all people? You always hated dealing with people!”

“Yeah, well, life’s funny like that,” you muttered. You rubbed your temples, exhaling through your nose. “Okay, but why were you sneaking around?”

Liz suddenly looked away, suspiciously avoiding eye contact. “No reason.”

“…You were stealing snacks from the staff area again, weren’t you?”

Silence.

“…Maybe.”

Unbelievable. Some things really never changed.

And that was how you reunited.

You had spent a solid fifteen minutes stuck in that closet with Liz before someone finally found you two. The rest of the staff had been utterly confused, and you had to endure Liz wheezing with laughter for the rest of the day.

Ever since then, she had made it her personal mission to annoy you at work.

Which brings you to now.

“Alright, stay put. Don’t touch anything,” you warn as you stand from your desk, stretching your arms before grabbing your phone. “I need to get some files from the storage room.”

Liz, perched on the edge of your desk like she owns the place, swings her legs lazily. “No promises.”

You narrow your eyes. “I mean it. Hands off.”

She hums innocently, lips curling into a playful smile. “Of course, of course.”

You don’t trust her one bit.

Still, you leave, because you have to, but you throw one last suspicious glance over your shoulder before stepping out.

The door clicks shut…and Liz immediately disregards your warning.

“Don’t touch anything,” she mocks under her breath, rolling her eyes. As if she could ever listen to that. "Bleh. What are you, my mom?"

She stretches her arms with a yawn, then lazily lets her fingers drift across your desk, poking at whatever looks mildly interesting. The keyboard? Tap. A stack of documents? Poke. Your half-empty coffee cup? Swirl.

And then she sees it.

A small, slightly worn notebook tucked beside your monitor, the corner peeking out as if daring her to take a look.

Curious, she pulls it free and flips it over in her hands. The second she reads the cover, her breath catches in her throat.

"How to Take Care of Jiwon the Annoying Child"

She blinks. Once. Twice.

Then, a slow, delighted smile spreads across her face.

“Oh?”

Her heart beats a little faster as she carefully flips the first page. The handwriting is neat—your handwriting. She skims over the lines, amusement bubbling in her chest.

Jiwon gets grumpy when she hasn’t eaten. Always have snacks on hand.

She giggles. “So that’s why you always have extra snacks.”

She flips to the next one.

She gets sleepy after eating too much. Don’t let her nap on the practice room floor. Would be annoying to tend to the sick Jiwon.

A small gasp escapes her lips. “Wait, is that why you always wake me up first?”

Another page.

If she’s sad, buy her ice cream. Preferably chocolate.

Her heart flutters. You really do notice everything, huh?

She keeps reading, her amusement growing. But then—

The notes start getting weirder.

If she starts humming randomly, she’s in a good mood. If she’s humming AND staring at me, she’s plotting something. Probably my usual dose of suffering.

Liz snorts. “What do you mean?”

DO NOT let her near a stray cat. She will try to take it home.

She gasps, clutching her chest. “That happened one time, trust me–”

If she says ‘Trust me,’ DO NOT TRUST HER.

Liz bursts into laughter. “Damn it! Okay, fair.”

The notes only get more ridiculous.

She once ate an entire cake by herself just to prove she could. Do NOT challenge her to food-related dares.

If she looks too smug, she probably stole my drink.

If she looks too cute and uses her dumb aegyo, she’s about to ask for a favour.

Her giggles come uncontrollably now. She flips through the pages quickly, eager to see what else you’ve written. But then—

The shift happens. The notes stop being ridiculous. They start being… something else.

When she’s nervous, she fidgets with her necklace. Let her hold onto my sleeve instead.

Her fingers touch her necklace instinctively. "Huh…you do wear long sleeves every time we meet…"

Liz acts tough, but she cries at sad movies. Keep tissues ready.

Her laughter softens. "No I don't…mostly…"

She overworks herself even when she’s exhausted. Sometimes she just needs someone to tell her to rest.

Her heart clenches.

And then, the last note. It might have been scribbled out but…She stares at it. She couldn't unsee it after once.

If she ever gets too tired, remind her she doesn’t have to do everything alone. Remind her that I’m here….

Her grip tightens on the notebook.

She rereads the words, once, twice—three times.

She always knew you cared. In your own way—grumbling, teasing, acting like she was the most annoying person in the world. But this? You had written this down. As if it was important. As if you wanted to remember, just in case.

As if she mattered.

Her chest feels warm.

The door creaks open.

“Alright, I got the—”

Your words cut off when you see her holding the notebook.

You freeze mid-step.

Liz is holding the notebook. Jiwon is reading the notebook.

Your stomach drops.

She looks up at you, notebook still clutched in her hands, her expression unreadable.

You stand there, the file folder limp in your grip.

Then, slowly, a mischievous glint appears in her eyes.

“You mother f—”

Before you can even lunge for it, Liz hugs the notebook to her chest, scrambling to her feet. Her breath comes out in an excited rush.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, eyes sparkling. “You do care about me!”

You feel actual panic set in. “PUT THAT DOWN. KIM JIWON.”

She takes a step back, holding it tighter. “No way! This is adorable! You—You actually wrote down how to take care of me?!”

You can feel your dignity slipping away.

“I— It’s not what it looks like—”

“Ohhh, let’s see what else—” She flips back to the earlier pages, reading aloud dramatically. “‘If she’s nervous, let her hold onto my sleeve instead.’”

Your ears burn as your hand subconsciously rolled up your sleeves in embarrassment.

"Oooohh, you're wearing long sleeve today as well, huh?!" Liz gasps, looking up at you with exaggerated shock. “You let me do that? Willingly?!”

You grit your teeth. “GIVE. IT. BACK.”

She twirls away, flipping through more pages. “Wait, wait—‘If she looks too smug, she probably stole my drink.’” She gasps in fake offense. “So that’s why you glare at me whenever I take a sip.”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Jiwon—”

She keeps going, eyes darting across the pages. But then—

She reaches the last note again.

Her laughter fades.

Silence stretches between you.

She rereads the words, her fingers brushing lightly over the ink. Then, slowly, she lifts her head.

The teasing glint in her eyes is gone. Instead, there’s something softer. Something more sincere.

“…You really meant this?” she asks, voice quieter.

You shift uncomfortably. “U-um…I—”

Her gaze lingers on you for a moment. Then, before you can react, she lunges at you again, but this time, she hugs you.

You stiffen immediately.

“…Ya.”

She squeezes you tighter.

“Shhh,” she mumbles into your shoulder. “Just let me hug you, you tsundere.”

You stand there, unmoving, ears burning. Your hands hover awkwardly before—finally—you sigh and pat her back.

“…You’re so annoying.”

She giggles against your shoulder. “I know.”

After a moment, she pulls back, grinning. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

You roll your eyes, snatching the notebook from her hands before she can react. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to serialise this and give it to your members.”

She beams. “That sounds fun actually.”

#kpop #ive fluff #ive liz #kim jiwon #liz x reader #kim liz #ive x reader

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eyekoninurarea · 14 days ago

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Your Idol: Debut Vlog Series

→ daniela avanzini x fem!idol!masc!reader

masterlist

word count: 986

series summary: in which a struggling girl group was suddenly brought into light when their debut came out of nowhere. everyone thought SIREN5 was just hype; a chaotic rookie group with a pretty concept and no substance. even KATSEYE wasn’t expecting much when they were assigned to mentor them before debut. but the moment the music hit, everything changed.

episode summary: wherein the first filming disaster is edited to the best the editors can, witness as sailors get to know more about their idols on the first episode.

authors note: this is quite literally like a filler, this is chapter 3 in vlog form for me to get a feel for writing in this format. this segment, messed up my frequently used emojis and my brain fried from all the usernames i had to think of jesus christ. give me your thoughts and opinions abt this kind of set up? next up, another experimental part Cami's first live.

The characterization in this fic does not, in any way, reflect that of the real people portrayed in this fic.

tag(s): fluff, suggestive content, nsfw, mdni (pls i beg), idol!reader being a loser trapped in a hot body, masc reader, reader having she/her pronouns, rough transitions, shitty characterization, messy, sex jokes, the author doesn't know how the music industry works.

[SIREN5 x KATSEYE: Debut Diary Ep. 1 — "First Contact (ft. Chaos, Confusion & Cringe)"]

Uploaded by: SIREN5 OFFICIAL

🟢 Premiered 4 hours ago | #SIREN5 #KATSEYE #SYRENCHAOS

🎬 [INTRO CLIP — SOFT MUSIC, FADE-IN TEXT]

> “SIREN5: DEBUT DIARY – A behind-the-scenes series documenting the rise of our newest global sirens. Welcome to chaos personified.”

📍SEGMENT 1: "5:50 AM: The Calm Before the Screech"

🎥 [CAMERA: Shaky handheld style, opening shot of Hana in the kitchen]

Caption: “Leader Hana, 5:50AM. Zero makeup. Infinite caffeine.”

🎙️ HANA (deadpan):

“We’ve been training at 6AM every single day for four years. And SYRE’s body still isn’t used to it.”

📷 Cuts to: Rina doing jumping jacks, singing fae-folk-rock gibberish

📷 Cuts to: Cami swearing at a rice cooker

📷 Cuts to: Amara looking like she has a 9–5 and is already over it

💬 FAN COMMENTS:

🧃@syrenshrine: “Rina has main character energy and no supervision.”

🔥@cami-solo-when: “I need a cami vs kitchen spin-off RIGHT NOW.”

☕@Amaraismycomfort: “Amara with a protein shake and lip balm is my 2025 moodboard.”

💀@rip-syre: “SYRE really fighting for her life every morning huh.”

😭@hanahelps: “Hana blinking in Morse code. Send help.”

🎥 Cue thump, slipper throw, and this offscreen gem:

> “Tell Geffen I’m dead. They’ll have to debut with four.”

📷 Cuts to: Cami laughing her ass off

> “Girl, you wrote the debut song. What are you talking about?”

📍SEGMENT 2: "KATSEYE VISITS: AND EVERYTHING FALLS APART"

🎥 Crisp 4K footage. Door opens. Screaming erupts immediately.

📷 Cut to KATSEYE looking STUNNED at the doorway like they just walked into a zoo exhibit.

[Screen Text Overlay: “?????????”]

📷 Cut to Hana body-blocking like a trained security agent

> Caption: “Composure: barely hanging on.”

🎙️ HANA:

“Good morning. Sorry for the mess. We usually train early. Today was… a late start.”

📷 Cami offscreen yelling about hot oil and nipples. Staff shrieking in subtitles.

📷 Megan whispers to Yoonchae: “Did she just—”

📷 Manon ducks as Daniela merely glances at the flying feather headband

📷 Lara sidesteps a flying tank top

💬 FAN COMMENTS:

🤸‍♀️@katseyekollective: “Lara dodging flying tank tops like a warrior 😭”

🌈@laraismytype: “Flirty Lara meets feral Rina. I smell a crossover.”

😩@softmeganclub: “Megan looked so stressed the entire time and I love her for it.”

😂@danielashasfallen: “Daniela watching the chaos like she’s watching art happen in real time.”

🎥 Cue: Amara brushing her teeth mid-walk like a background NPC

> “Oh hey, the cool kids are here.”

📷 Cami emerges like glitter-fueled thunder:

> “Oh my god. Are we filming? Are we hot? Is that Megan in my house? IS THAT RISING GLOBAL POP STAR SENSATION LARA RAJ?!?! Is this a lucid dream or should I remove the bra from the lamp?”

📷 Camera pans over to the lamp in question; the bra is covered in a pixelated mess of squares and intense censorship.

💬 FAN COMMENTS:

🤸‍♀️@iwishcamiisreal: “Not Cami quoting Manon in front of Manon”

🌈@laraismytype: “IS THAT RISING GLOBAL POP STAR SENSATION LARA RAJ?!?! 😫😫😫 cami is so relatable i fear”

🐧@amarathelivingtruth: “AMARA ONE CHANCE PLS OMG SHE LOOKS SO DOMESTIC PLS LOOK MY WAY”

🦨@geniussyresimp: "HELP- THE CENSORED BRA I'M WEEPING"

📍SEGMENT 3: "SYRE.exe has stopped responding"

🎥 Door creaks open. You emerge like a disaster princess in a penguin onesie.

📷 Zoom in on your half-conscious face

📷 Daniela. On the couch. Watching. Smirking. Glowing.

📷 Cut to you looking at your slipper. Counting your fingers. Then back to Daniela.

[Screen Overlay: Existential crisis loading…]

🎙️ SYRE:

“Nope. Not dreaming. No [BEEP] way. [BEEP] me gently with a chainsaw.”

📷 Zoom in on Cami absolutely losing it.

📷 Cue the fall. SYRE faceplants. Everyone freezes. Daniela stands, concerned.

🎙️ SYRE:

“I hate this timeline. I’ll just die here, Please don’t perceive me, I'm in the process of decomposing. But please pretend none of this happened. Especially not the scratching. Or the counting. Or the internal breakdown. I’d like to start this day over and this time not emotionally detonate in front of my crush, uh… I mean a colleague. Industry peer. Company sister. Fellow idol. Woman I respect very respectfully.”

💬 FAN COMMENTS:

🫠@syrebraincell: “‘Please don’t perceive me’ IS SO REAL.”

🐧@syrelivinghertruth: “DID Y’ALL SEE SYRE IN THE PENGUIN ONESIE. I’M IN SHAMBLES.”

💘@syrexdanielacore: “Syre seeing Daniela was like a Sims character spotting death.”

🧼@rinabrafanacc: “SYRE TRIPPED OVER RINA’S BRA AND TRIPPED OVER HER WORDS TOO. I’M NOT OKAY.”

🪦@girlbossgrave: “She called her a ‘colleague.’ In a onesie. SYRE is so GONE I fear”

🌞@danislays: “Daniela being concerned then laughing at her like they're in love GOODBYE.”

🎥 Cut to Cami, smug:

> “She’s been in love with you since your debut. It’s kind of her origin story.”

🎥 Hana, stepping over your body, still sipping coffee like it’s a sedative:

> “Welcome to our home.”

📷 Cut to KATSEYE watching like it's National Geographic.

📷 Yoonchae whispering: “This is a sitcom. We’ve entered a sitcom.”

📷 Rina takes over the camera:

> “This is SYRE, by the way. Gay gremlin. Idol powerhouse. Known sufferer of Daniela Avanzini exposure.”

🎥 Final moment: you hiding under your penguin hood, mumbling a wrecked “Good morning.” Daniela grins, all slow-burn confidence.

> “Morning, SYRE.”

📷 Cue tragic violin and funeral filter added by the editors

💬 FAN COMMENTS:

🐧@syrekin: “SYRE’S SPIRIT LEFT HER BODY AT ‘Morning, SYRE’ I saw it.”

💗@sirendaniedit: “Bro the penguin suit to lover arc is real.”

🔥@siren5chaos: “Not the bra tripping arc + publicist panic soundtrack 💀💀💀”

🎤@katseyefan: “This vlog deserves an Emmy for documentary excellence.”

😭@hanasuffers: “Petition to get Hana a paid vacation and noise-cancelling headphones.”

🐧@syrelivinghertruth: “Give my poor baby syre a break.”

☎ @camilelelele: “This is so chaotic it's like they gave SIREN5 a camera and a dream and said ‘make content’ and they did.”

🎬 [OUTRO: SOFT MUSIC, WHITE TEXT OVER BLACK]

> Next episode: “Cooking Night Disaster: Featuring Fire Alarms, Daniela Serving Face with a...Fire Extinguisher?, and SYRE Screaming Over a Pile of Dirty Dishes”

🔔 Don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe to see more from SIREN5 and KATSEYE!

taglist: @awkwardtoafault, @cheerlanader

#daniela avanzini x reader #katseye x reader #daniela avanzini #eros posts #your idol

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reveryfics · 13 days ago

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Something Familiar

Clark Kent x Male Reader

Summary: After Superman saved you from a collapsing building, you couldn't help but wonder if you knew the man behind the cape.

A/N: Not surprising that he won the poll. Not my best, but hopefully y'all like it. Also for anyone unfamiliar, Clark wears glasses that hypnotize people in the comics (hints why people/reader don't know he's superman)

TW: Fluff

Words: 4.8k

The familiar scent of stale coffee and ink hung heavy in the air of the Daily Planet newsroom, a comforting aroma that had become synonymous with your life. You adjusted the strap of your camera bag, the worn leather a testament to countless assignments, and glanced over at the desk across from yours. Clark Kent was hunched over his keyboard, brow furrowed in concentration, a stray lock of dark hair falling across his forehead. It was a sight you’d seen a thousand times, a snapshot of your everyday.

You and Clark were a well-oiled machine, an inseparable duo at the Daily Planet. Your lens captured the world in vivid detail, while his words brought it to life. From the bustling streets of Metropolis to the quiet corners of forgotten towns, you’d chased stories together, fueled by cheap coffee and an insatiable curiosity. Outside the newsroom, your friendship with Clark deepened over late-night pizza runs and competitive board game sessions, a bond forged in shared experiences and easy laughter. He was one of your best friends, an anchor in the often chaotic currents of your life.

Lately, though, a subtle shift had occurred. It was nothing you could pinpoint, just a feeling, a whisper of change in the comfortable rhythm of your friendship. It coincided, of course, with the meteoric rise of Superman. The Kryptonian had become a global phenomenon, a symbol of hope and an endless source of headlines. As the Daily Planet’s go-to photographer for all things Superman, you’d found yourself closer to him than most. You’d snapped iconic shots of him soaring through the city, caught his stoic profile against a fiery backdrop, and even managed a brief, albeit rushed, interview after he averted a major disaster.

But it was more than just the thrill of the chase. There was something about Superman’s eyes, a depth and warmth that tugged at a distant memory. And his smile, quick and fleeting, held a familiarity that you couldn't quite place. You’d chalked it up to exhaustion, a trick of the light, anything to dismiss the nagging sensation that you knew that face. Every time you’d bring up Superman in conversation with Clark—his latest heroic feat, a particularly captivating photo you’d taken—you noticed the subtle changes in his demeanor. A slight stiffness in his shoulders, a flicker in his usually open gaze, a quick change of subject. You’d brushed it off, of course. Clark was Clark, and you trusted him implicitly. Besides, who wouldn't be a little awestruck by a literal superhero?

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows down the bustling Metropolis sidewalk, the vibrant energy of the city a constant hum in your ears. Your press badge, an emblem of your profession, bounced gently against your thigh with each purposeful stride. You wove through the kaleidoscope of people, a human river flowing around you, your camera strap secured comfortably around your neck, the familiar weight a reassurance. The click of your lens cap echoed in your mind, a silent promise of the shots to come.

As you pushed further downtown, a subtle shift in the crowd became apparent. Pockets of people were gathering, their heads craned skyward, a collective gasp rippling through them. You quickened your pace, your journalistic instincts kicking in. Then you saw it – a familiar blur of red and blue streaking across the sky, a fleeting comet against the backdrop of towering skyscrapers. Your camera was at your eye in an instant, the rapid-fire click-click-click of the shutter a testament to your urgency. You snapped several frames, trying to anticipate his trajectory, already mentally composing the front-page shot.

"Excuse me! Coming through!" you muttered, pushing through the thickening throng, intent on getting a clearer vantage point. You followed his airborne path, a singular focus in the midst of the urban chaos, your legs burning with the effort. Downtown he went, your gaze locked on the disappearing streak of red, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. You rounded a corner, barely catching your bearings, when the very ground beneath your feet shook violently. A guttural roar ripped through the air, followed by a chorus of terrified screams. People stumbled, some falling, others scrambling for cover. You weren't sure what it was – an earthquake, an explosion, something else entirely – but in that moment, all that mattered was the story. All that mattered was the shot. Your finger remained stubbornly pressed to the shutter, capturing the fear, the chaos, the raw, unfolding drama, even as your own heart hammered against your ribs.

You braced yourself against a sudden gust of wind, the ground still vibrating beneath your feet. Debris rained down from above, a cascade of glass and concrete, forcing screams from the crowd around you. Your focus, however, remained unwavering, your finger hovering over the shutter button. Then, like a vibrant, impossible blur, he burst forth.

Superman erupted from the gaping maw of a high-rise building, a whirlwind of red and blue, a woman clutched gently in his arms. He moved with impossible speed, a beacon of strength against the backdrop of destruction. You didn't hesitate, your camera already tracking his descent. Click-click-click, the rapid fire of your lens a testament to your urgency, each shot framing his powerful form, the terrified but relieved expression on the woman’s face, the shattered remains of the building behind him. He landed softly on the cracked sidewalk mere yards from you, a silent guardian setting his precious cargo down with a tender care that belied the chaos surrounding them. The woman, disoriented but safe, stumbled away, tears streaming down her face.

As he straightened, his gaze, a flash of piercing blue, swept over the stunned onlookers. For a fleeting, impossible second, those intense, familiar eyes locked with yours. A jolt, like a sudden electric current, shot through you. It was more than just recognition; it was a profound sense of knowing, a connection that transcended the extraordinary circumstances. In that brief, charged moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, the cacophony of the city fading into a distant hum.

Then, just as quickly as it began, the connection shattered. The ground beneath you heaved again, a deeper, more violent tremor that sent a fresh wave of panic through the crowd. Superman’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing with renewed urgency. Without another glance, he was gone, a streak of crimson and azure vanishing back into the maw of the collapsing building, a silent promise to face whatever fresh hell awaited him within.

The distant wail of sirens, growing louder now, did little to deter you. While others scattered, seeking refuge from the falling debris, you found yourself instinctively pushing deeper into the growing throng. This wasn't just a story; it was a phenomenon, and you were determined to capture every angle. You spotted a slightly elevated curb, a perfect vantage point amongst the sea of upturned faces and trembling bodies. Ducking and weaving, you secured your new spot, the weight of your camera a comforting presence. Police officers, their faces grim, began to form a perimeter, their voices booming through bullhorns, ordering people to a safe distance. But you held your ground, your lens already fixed on the shattered building, waiting for the next impossible moment to unfold.

You continued to snap pictures, your fingers numb from the constant clicking, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you oblivious to the fear rippling through the crowd. The police line was steadily pushing people back, the stern faces of the officers a stark contrast to the awe-struck expressions of the onlookers. You, however, were an immovable object, a photographer possessed, determined to capture every nuance of this unfolding drama. You vaguely registered a hand on your shoulder, then a firm but polite voice telling you to move back. You mumbled an apology, taking one last desperate shot before reluctantly retreating a few paces. It was frustrating, but you knew better than to argue with law enforcement in a crisis.

The building continued to groan, dust and smaller debris still sifting down. Then, with another violent tremor, Superman emerged once more, this time carrying two more people, a young boy and an elderly woman, their faces streaked with soot but undeniably alive. He repeated the same swift, graceful maneuver, depositing them safely before soaring back into the collapsing structure. Your camera went wild, capturing the relief, the awe, the sheer impossibility of it all. Each time he reappeared, a fresh wave of hushed whispers and astonished gasps would ripple through the crowd.

Between his incredible rescues, you found your gaze drawn to the shattered windows of the building, trying to discern the source of the catastrophe. It wasn't an earthquake, not truly. There was a focused destruction, like something had torn through the building from the inside out, or perhaps, a powerful force had struck it. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

As the minutes stretched on, the sirens became a deafening chorus, joined by the wail of fire trucks and the distant thud of an ambulance helicopter. The air grew thick with the smell of smoke and pulverized concrete. You adjusted your lens, zooming in on Superman as he made his fifth, then sixth, trip. He was a blur of tireless motion, a singular force against overwhelming odds. The sun, now lower in the sky, cast long, dramatic shadows, making his form even more imposing.

Suddenly, a massive section of the upper floors of the building groaned and began to buckle inward. A collective cry of horror rose from the crowd. Your heart leaped into your throat, but your camera remained steady. Just as it seemed the entire structure would give way, a vibrant streak of red and blue shot upwards, not out of the building, but through the collapsing section. Superman, with a superhuman effort, was seemingly holding the disintegrating facade together, his muscles bulging, his face a mask of intense concentration. It was an act of impossible strength, holding back the very collapse of a skyscraper. You pressed the shutter repeatedly, knowing these were the shots that would define the day, the shots that would immortalize him.

The air was thick with the scent of dust and ozone, and the roar of the collapsing building filled your ears, a terrifying symphony of destruction. You were still focused on Superman's impossible feat, holding back the building, when without warning, a deafening rumble vibrated through the ground beneath your feet. It wasn't the building he was holding, but a surrounding one.

Before you could even process the sound, a massive wave of concrete and debris burst outwards from the adjacent structure, a deadly spray hurtling directly towards you and the huddled crowd. There was no time to react, no time to scream, not even time to blink. Your ears were already ringing from the previous explosions, and now, a sharp, searing pain tore through your upper arm. A jagged piece of shrapnel had found its mark, slicing deep. You stumbled back, the camera falling uselessly from your grasp, your vision momentarily blurring with pain.

Then, the world tilted. The secondary building, unstable from the initial attack, began to crumble inwards, a colossal cascade of steel and concrete descending like a hungry beast. You instinctively squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the impact, the certain crushing weight. This was it.

But the impact never came.

Instead, a sudden, powerful force enveloped you. You were no longer frozen in fear, no longer about to be engulfed by the collapsing structure. You were, impossibly, in someone's arms. The ringing in your ears was deafening, a high-pitched whine that drowned out most other sounds, but through it, you could faintly distinguish your name.

The voice, thick with concern and urgency, was unmistakable. It was Clark's voice, his usual caring tone when he spoke to you, but amplified, raw with an almost desperate fear. It was a voice you knew as intimately as your own thoughts.

Your eyes, still squeezed shut, fluttered open hesitantly, battling against the haze of pain and disbelief. The world around you was a swirling vortex of fine dust, illuminated by the fading afternoon light filtering through the apocalyptic haze. And there, holding you securely against his chest, floating effortlessly above the ground, was Superman.

His strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you with a protective grip that felt both immense and incredibly gentle. His face, usually a mask of stoic determination, was etched with a profound relief, mixed with a hint of something else—a silent terror, as if he had been moments too late. Those familiar blue eyes, the ones you'd been trying to place, were wide with an intensity that pulled at a distant memory, now gazing down at you with an overwhelming sense of concern. He held you like he was scared, truly scared, that he had almost lost you. The sheer impossibility of the moment, the searing pain in your arm, and the realization that the man holding you was both your best friend and the world's greatest hero, converged into a dizzying, disorienting truth.

The world spun around you, a whirlwind of dust and disbelief. One moment, you were facing certain death, the next, you were cradled in the impossibly strong arms of Superman. But it wasn't just Superman; it was Clark. Your best friend. The man you shared lukewarm coffee with every morning and debated obscure comic book lore with on Friday nights.

He hovered there, suspended in the swirling particulate matter, his gaze fixed solely on you. His eyes, those piercing blue depths you'd been trying to place, now held an open vulnerability, a raw concern that mirrored your own shock. He didn't need you to speak, didn't need you to voice the chaotic jumble of questions forming in your mind. He saw it all in your wide, disbelieving stare.

A small, almost imperceptible shake of his head was his only acknowledgment of your silent interrogation. "I'll explain later," he said, his voice a low rumble, the familiar warmth of Clark's tone mixed with the deeper resonance of the hero. His thumb gently brushed against your wounded arm, a fleeting touch that somehow intensified the dull ache. "Right now, you're hurt. That's what's important."

His words, simple and direct, cut through the noise in your head. You're hurt. That's what's important. In the midst of collapsing buildings and a world-altering revelation, his primary concern was you. It was so utterly Clark, so fundamentally him, that it almost made the impossible reality of him being Superman even more disorienting.

You could only manage a small, jerky nod, your eyes still wide and fixed on his face, trying to reconcile the mild-mannered reporter with the flying, super-powered savior. The ringing in your ears slowly began to subside, replaced by the faint sounds of sirens and distant shouts, but all you could truly hear was the steady beat of your own heart, thudding erratically against your ribs. The dust swirled around you both, creating an ethereal, almost dreamlike bubble around the impossible tableau: you, suspended in mid-air, held by superman who was, incredibly, your closest friend.

The sterile scent of antiseptic still clung to your skin, a faint reminder of the emergency room and the dull ache in your upper arm where the stitches pulled taut. It was later that same evening, the chaos of the afternoon replaced by the quiet hum of your apartment. You sat on your couch, a mug of rapidly cooling tea in your hand, replaying the impossible events of the day. Every time the image of Clark's face, etched with fear and concern as he held you, flashed in your mind, a fresh wave of disbelief washed over you.

A soft thump from your balcony startled you, making you nearly drop your mug. You turned, your breath catching in your throat. It wasn't the usual fumbling at the door, the familiar jingle of Clark searching for the spare key, his glasses slightly askew and his worn-out sweatshirt pulled over a plain t-shirt. No. This was Superman.

He stood on your balcony, silhouetted against the dimming twilight, the iconic red cape draped over his shoulders, still somewhat dust-covered. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic rhythm against the quiet evening. In his hand, he held your camera, the very one that had fallen when the debris struck, miraculously intact.

Before you could even fully process his entrance, he was through the sliding glass door, moving with a silent grace that belied his immense power. He didn't stride, didn't march; he simply flowed into your living room, his gaze fixed on you. The usual easygoing demeanor was replaced by a solemn intensity.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, devoid of its usual playful lilt. The concern in his eyes was palpable, a deep, unwavering blue that held yours.

He moved towards the couch, setting your camera carefully on the coffee table as if it were a fragile artifact. Then, he sat beside you, the slight dip in the cushions the only indication of his considerable presence. The air around him still carried a faint scent of ozone and something else, something clean and elemental that hinted at the impossible feats he'd performed just hours earlier. He didn't touch you immediately, simply sitting, radiating a quiet worry.

After a moment, his gaze dropped to your bandaged arm. He reached out slowly, his large hand incredibly gentle as he took your forearm, turning it slightly to get a better look at the fresh white gauze. He didn't press, didn't prod; he just observed, his brow furrowed in a familiar concern that was so utterly Clark, yet now filtered through the lens of Superman's immense power and responsibility. You could feel the slight warmth radiating from his hand through your sleeve, a strange comfort in the surreal situation. You remained silent, still staring blankly at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, your mind racing to catch up with the reality unfolding before you.

He gently traced the outline of the bandage with his thumb, his gaze still fixed on your arm, a quiet tension humming between you. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken questions and the monumental weight of his secret. Finally, he looked up, meeting your gaze.

"When the other building started to go," he began, his voice softer now, almost a murmur, "I saw the debris heading straight for you. I was focused on the first building, trying to stabilize it, but there wasn't time. I just... reacted." He paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, perhaps a memory of the near miss. "I got to you just as the wave hit. I took the brunt of it, shielded you." He gestured vaguely with his free hand, indicating the force that had ripped through the street.

His words were delivered with a calm, matter-of-fact tone, as if saving you from a collapsing building was an everyday occurrence. Which, for him, it probably was. But for you, it was a terrifying, life-altering event.

"As for your camera," he continued, a faint, almost shy smile touching his lips, the kind of smile you knew well from your Daily Planet desk, "it was right there. I figured you'd want it back. Didn't want it getting trampled." He chuckled softly, a familiar sound that momentarily broke the surreal atmosphere. "You’d probably be more upset about your camera than your arm."

He gently released your arm, leaning back slightly on the couch. The subtle shift in his posture seemed to open up the conversation, the immediate crisis addressed, clearing the way for the inevitable. The unspoken question hung in the air, thick and palpable. He took a deep breath, his blue eyes meeting yours, suddenly filled with an almost painful honesty.

"So," he began, the word a quiet prelude to the confession you both knew was coming. "I guess you have some questions."

The weight of his words, the simple, undeniable truth of his explanation, settled over you. You didn't respond immediately with questions or shock. Instead, a strange, almost hysterical wave of disbelief washed over you, morphing into something akin to fond amusement.

You leaned your head against Clark's broad shoulder, the familiar scent of his laundry detergent and subtle cologne a grounding presence amidst the surreal. Your arms instinctively moved, wrapping around his neck, holding onto him not out of fear, but out of an overwhelming sense of... well, Clark.

A low, disbelieving laugh bubbled up from your chest, escaping in short, airy bursts. You shook your head, still nestled against him, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you in full force. Here you were, best friends with the most powerful being on the planet, and you'd been utterly oblivious for so long.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, a wide, genuine smile spreading across your face. "You know," you said, your voice still laced with lingering disbelief, "you better start explaining. Every single thing. But," you paused, tightening your hold on his neck playfully, "I think I'd prefer to hear it from Clark Kent."

A soft, genuine smile bloomed on his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes – eyes that were now so openly his, without the hero's mask. He gave a gentle, almost imperceptible nod. In the next blink of an eye, so fast you barely registered the movement, he was no longer in his super-suit. The red and blue were gone. He was sitting beside you on the couch, the same comfortable, worn gray sweatshirt you knew so well, paired with equally familiar sweatpants. His dark hair was slightly mussed, and the only thing missing were his glasses. The Man of Steel had vanished, replaced by the everyday Clark.

He shifted, turning to face you fully, a deep breath filling his chest. "Okay," he began, his voice taking on a softer, more intimate tone, the one he reserved for your late-night conversations. "Where do I even start? It's... it's a long story. About where I came from, what I can do, why I'm here." His gaze dropped for a moment, then met yours, vulnerability shining through. "I never meant for you to find out like this. Or ever, if I'm honest. The whole point was to keep everyone safe, especially the people I care about." His voice softened further, almost a whisper. "And you... you were always so good at finding trouble. Chasing down stories, getting into the thick of it for the perfect shot. I was always so worried something would happen to you, and I wouldn't be able to protect you without giving myself away. Every time you were near a dangerous situation, my heart was in my throat. And I never, not in a million years, expected you to catch on." He shook his head slowly, a faint, rueful smile on his lips. "You're too smart for your own good, sometimes."

He seemed about to launch into the full, epic tale, the story of Krypton and his powers and his mission, but you didn't let him. Before he could ramble on, you lifted your hands, gently cupping his face. Your thumbs brushed over his cheeks, feeling the subtle warmth of his skin.

Your thumbs gently stroked his cheeks, cutting off his well-intentioned rambling. The warmth of his skin against your palms was grounding, a physical anchor to the impossible reality unfolding between you. You looked into his eyes, a playful glint in your own, and a small, mischievous smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

"Clark," you interrupted softly, your voice filled with an almost giddy disbelief, "I honestly just expected you to say 'I am actually Superman, and no, you're not going crazy or dead.' Instead, you're off on one of your rambling tangents, bless your heart." You gave his cheeks a gentle squeeze, a silent acknowledgment of his endearing habit of over-explaining when nervous.

A slow, bashful smile spread across Clark's face, a genuine warmth radiating from him. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against your palms. He leaned into your touch, his eyes sparkling with a mix of relief and amusement.

"You're right," he admitted, his gaze unwavering. He took a steadying breath, his voice clear and resonant, utterly devoid of any pretense. "Okay. Deep breath. Here it goes," He paused, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, but also a profound honesty. "Yes. I am actually Superman." He held your gaze, then added, a soft smile touching his lips, "And no, you're absolutely not crazy."

The simple, direct confirmation, spoken by Clark Kent in your living room, felt both utterly insane and completely, undeniably real. The weight of it hung in the air, a truth that would forever alter the landscape of your friendship and your life.

You stared at him for a long moment, letting the truth settle, truly settle, in your bones. The initial shock began to recede, replaced by a profound wave of understanding, and then, an overwhelming warmth. It wasn't fear you felt, or even awe, not anymore. It was… relief. And something else, something deeper, that resonated with the years of friendship you'd shared. The kindness in his eyes, the gentle strength of his hands, the unwavering sense of right that had always defined Clark – it all made perfect, beautiful sense now. It was never just Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter. It was always him.

A soft, choked laugh escaped you, followed by a genuine, unburdened smile. You finally pulled your hands away from his face, only to intertwine your fingers with his, resting them on your laps.

"So," you began, a playful glint in your eyes, "all those times I tripped and you caught me from falling, or when you 'randomly' knew where to find me when I got lost on assignment in the middle of nowhere... that was you." You shook your head, still smiling. "And the 'unbelievable luck' of getting all those exclusive Superman photos? That was you, too, wasn't it, you big faker?"

Clark's smile widened, a sheepish, endearing grin that was pure Clark. "Guilty as charged," he admitted, squeezing your hand gently. "I always had to make sure you were safe. You have a knack for getting right into the thick of things. And I knew you'd get the best pictures anyway, so why not give you a little 'luck'?" His eyes twinkled with a shared secret.

The weight of the world, or at least the weight of his world, seemed to lift, replaced by an easy, comfortable silence. You leaned your head against his shoulder again, feeling the solid warmth of him, the familiar comfort that had always been there, now imbued with an extraordinary depth. You thought of all the late nights at the Daily Planet, the shared meals, the endless conversations about life and dreams and everything in between. He had been carrying this incredible secret, this immense burden, all that time. And despite it all, he had always been there, truly there, for you.

"It must have been so lonely," you murmured, your voice soft against his shirt, "keeping all of this to yourself."

He sighed, a quiet exhalation that spoke volumes. "Sometimes," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "But knowing you, knowing everyone at the Planet, knowing the people of Metropolis… it kept me grounded. And it reminded me why I do what I do." He shifted slightly, turning his head so his chin rested gently on the top of your head. "But it's... good, to not be alone with it anymore. Especially with you."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a feeling that went beyond friendship, beyond gratitude, settling into a space that felt profoundly right. You lifted your head from his shoulder, your gaze meeting his. The evening light filtered through the blinds, casting soft shadows across his face, highlighting the familiar kindness in his eyes. There was no longer any filter, any disguise, between you. Just Clark. Your Clark.

And in that moment, with the silence of the evening wrapping around you both, and the unspoken weight of years of unspoken feelings finally settling, you knew. You loved him. Not just as a friend, or as a hero, but as the man who sat beside you, vulnerable and strong and wonderfully, impossibly real.

You leaned in slowly, giving him every chance to pull away, but he didn't. His eyes widened slightly, mirroring your own anticipation. You closed the small distance between you, your lips finding his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle, hesitant at first, a brush of warmth that spoke of years of unspoken affection and a future suddenly bursting with possibilities. And then, as if a dam had broken, it deepened, a tender press that conveyed all the disbelief, the relief, the burgeoning hope, and the undeniable truth of your feelings. It was a kiss that tasted of quiet evenings, of ink and coffee, and of a lifetime of extraordinary friendship, now blooming into something infinitely more.

#clark kent #clark kent x male reader #clark kent x ftm reader #superman x male reader #superman x ftm reader #superman dc #dc clark kent #superman #fanfiction #fanfic #mlm #x male reader #xmalereader #x ftm reader #xftmreader #james gunn superman #david corenswet #david corenswet superman #fluff

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double22 · 8 days ago

Text

THE DRESS Part 1 - Sophia Laforteza

Childhood bsf! Sophia Laforteza x fem!reader

Synopsis- You and Sophia are the complete opposite, she was a straight A student loved by everyone, and you were a artsy quiet skater. Despite your differences she was your best friend but after a fight you don’t speak.

Warning/tags- slight angst, light swearing, mutual pinning but both being oblivious, friends to ex to strangers to lovers, grammar and spelling mistakes, Non-idol AU, internal homophobia

AN* Love this song, really underrated rnb, listen to it. Just starting writing fics so don’t expect much. English is my second language and I’m writing to improve. Thanks for trying it!

Part 2, Part 3

*bzzz bzzz*

You wake up to the buzzing sound of your alarm. you yawn slowly rise up stretching your arms out.

10:09am, waking up at this time should had been expected, since your late night drive lasted longer than usual coming home at 2 in the morning.

Checking your phone with messages from your friends

[Rising global pop star sensation Lara Raj ] Monday 11 8:40am

- Y/n

- y/n ur really late again, get your ass to school rn

[Meiyok] Monday 11 8:41am

- dude y/n Mr Brennan is pissed

- u r so screwed for chemistry

Getting your shit together, you walked down to find a note on the table.

Double shift today, dinner money buy Pizza or something!

Love you!

-Mom

Your mom worked as a doctor and double shift like this was normal. After your dad left you guys at a young age (you couldn’t care less about him), it’s been just you and your mom. She would always say “it’s us against the world buckeye, I’m always going to have your back no matter what” Buckeye was the nickname she gave you, as when you were a baby you would play with little buckeye seeds, often throwing them at her.

You pack your school stuff, slowly getting ready for school. After reading the note you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not putting enough effort in school. But everyday the dread of school kinda water downs your motivation and guilt.

You grab your skateboard and skate your way to school. If you’re gonna be late, you’re gonna do it with a little fun. Making it to school in a reasonable hour considering you took your dear time.

Casually you walked into the hallway, ignoring the obvious looks from teachers, who lost hope in stopping you knowing the outcome.

Slowly you make your way to your chemistry class, opening the door, trying to nonchalantly take your seat.

“Miss l/y/n, come to my desk now” Mr Brennan sighes out

You roll your eyes giving Lara and Megan a knowing look as you know he going to repeat the same thing he does everyday.

“Yes Mr Brennan, sorry I’m late, I’ll be on time next class” Giving him the same excuse, at this point you’re just reciting it like a script.

“Miss l/y/n, not only are you late again you are failing my class, please visit the tutor center today as I have assigned a tutor. If you don’t, I will involve your mother into this discussion”

Your face goes pale, not because you’re scared of your mom, but you don’t want her to stress about you anymore. Her plate is full and you couldn’t burden her anymore.

You take a deep breath calming yourself, “Yes, Mr Brennan, I will visit the tutor center, don't worry” you give a cocky smirk trying to keep your emotions straight.

The rest of the chemistry class comes to a blur, you sat in the corner of the room, staring at this bird that is injured, its limping as its brother and sister fly away, the leaving the injured bird to being left behind. You can’t help but see the irony as you are just like the bird. Stuck in the moment, chasing while others fly and leave you.

In a blitz of time the bell rings signally the end of class, you start packing and making your way to Megan and Lara.

“What did Brennan want” Megan asks curiously

“Nothin’ much just the usual but… Lara I can’t work with the beats with you cause apparently I have tutoring now!” You explain with a very convincing puppy eye.

“You got to be kidding me, I’ve been waiting for weeks, girl you're doing me real dirty right now” Lara continues “your puppy eyes aren’t working on me y/l/n” ughhh what am I…” Lara continues rambling about the house beat being urgent business, as you just zone out staring across the classroom, your eyes locking at Sophia, you stare into her eyes noticing the different shades of brown in her iris and the hit of sadness but you just keep looking into them. she quickly breaks the eye contact and packs, leaving you behind.

“Still not talking to her” Megan says as she notices the tension

“Who you talking about” you reply coldly, masking the shivers you feel.

The rest of school was the same boring stuff, honestly you do well in school like you aren’t a A+ student but you weren’t failing any classes, well except for one. It was like Mr Brennan has it out for you. He was extra strict with grading deducting points for shit he couldn't even tell you. Like if he was going to strong you out like that you would rather drop AP chemistry.

Now because of him your afternoon is stuck in the tutor center with an overachieving nerd that would probably judge you for being here.

You walk in and check yourself with the supervisor and she assigns you a seat explaining that your tutor will be here in a minute.

You sit down on this wooden chair back facing the door as you wait patiently. This school really is bad at using their funds, I mean there is top level science labs but the tutor center is still this old library with some books and a bunch of wooden chairs and tables that are spread out for 1 on 1 session.

The room has a musty smell, a combination of decaying paper, old wood, and sometimes a hint of mold or mildew. Any longer here and you could just kill yourself.

Then you hear the door open and you turn to see a figure at the door. The ray of sunlight hits this figure perfectly and the familiarity makes you want to hide in these chairs. Because your tutor is Sophia Laforteza.

————————————————————————————---------------

AP chemistry is a difficult subject but not for Sophia. The class came easy to her like a walk in a park. Although she does admit class with Mr Brennan is boring, all she could do was talk notes as he constantly talks. Then the door slams open and of course she walks in. Y/n. She walks in with an unusual sense of confidence for a person coming in to class 40 minute late. Sophia doesn’t understand how you could keep up with the hardest AP class without showing up. I mean missing one class could be the difference between an A and a C. But obviously you would barely attend, you’re reckless and irresponsible.

Sophia shakes her head, trying to focus on class and do everything in her ability to forget about you. Time flies faster than the speed of light, cause it’s the end of the class. Sophia thinks about you again, wondering ‘if she sneaks a glance now would you notice’

She turns slowly and what was suppose to be a cheat sneak became full eye contact. Her body tensed and mind broke as she made eye contact with you.

Sophia just stared at y/n, cause all she could do was stare. Y/n had change a lot and Sophia hated that. Then she noticed that their eyes where locked, and Sophia could she the hatred and pain behind her eyes.

You just kept staring, until Sophia came to her senses and broke the eye contact, quickly packed as she couldn’t stand it. Right as she was about to leave Mr Brennan stops her and asked here to stay back.

When Mr Brennan ask Sophia would do tutoring for a troubled kid that desperately needed help, she didn’t picture you.

At first she hesitated, I mean she knew she was the top student in her whole grade but tutoring that was a different difficulty. But hearing this kid was struggling Sophia did Mr Brennan a favor and made her way to the tutor center.

As she opened the door, she saw a single figure sitting down. From the figure alone she knew it was you.

I mean of course god had to play this cruel curse. Not matter the distance god played the game and brought you in Sophia’s life.

Sophia makes her way to you with an unreadable expression.

You just smirk “really, got to give it to Mr Brennan, he really knows how to make my day shittier”

“Hello y/n, let’s just get this 2 hours done. We both don’t want to be here but you kinda need me right now” Soohia replies coldly.

“Your still a almighty bastard aren’t yo-” as your face starts to heat up a little bit from her snarky comment you guys hear from the back

“Both be quiet, I’ll report this to Mr Brennan, so I suggest to start” your supervisor says coldly.

Sophia and you both nod as you guys lower the bickering and trash talk.

“Can we just have a truce here” her face softened as she asked you.

You just nod, opening the chemistry textbook to unit 6 thermodynamics.

Sophia leans in without thinking, and starts "okay, so lets look at this question, so if we look at this equation-"

You intrupt "we find the Standard Enthalpy Change first right, plugging in values from the reactants and products"

"Yah..." she looks up surprised as she watches you work on the questions.

Both of you work silently letting the quiet hum of the air conditioner fill the noticeable silence. while you work Sophia can't help but look back at you admiring your features.

She hates how you still affect on her being able to do nothing and she still loses her focus.

"ahem, do you mind" You smirk, trying to push her buttons

"yah- uh sorry, can I check your work" Sophia said trying to keep her cool, she scans your work, seeing that all the question are correct.

"okay, we are all done here, meet me next week same time and we will go deeper into these questions."

You just nod, packing your stuff as you quickly left the campus. You couldn't stand being in that room any longer.

Sophia stood there in the empty hallway watching you walk away, she felt a weird sense of deja vu as she sees you walk away.

————————————————————————————---------------

You started a group call with megan and lara, as you needed to tell the girls of your traumatic tutor tension.

"y/n, are you still free for that house beat" Lara shouts over the loud music.

"yah lara and I are in my house right now working on it, I don't want to hype myself to much but its lowkey fire" Megan voice echos through your speaker.

"I'm on my way right now, Be there in 15" You rush on your skateboard as you cut the call.

Skateboarding is your safe haven, when you were 6 your mom saved up for months to buy you your first skateboard. Ever since then you have been using the same beat-down board. As the wind tickles your face, you look at the sundown and enjoy the beauty of skating down at the golden hour.

You give a quick knock on the familar doorstep, enter and giving Mrs Skiendiel a quick wave.

"Good afternoon Mrs Skiendiel, beautiful as always" you joke

Mrs Skiendiel response with a laugh "Thank you, how is your mom doing"

"She's doing great, Thank you" You smile as you climb up the stairs to Megan room.

Bursting into the room to hear a funky beat working and Megan and Lara dancing crazy to it. You instantly vibe with it "Yahhh bitch, Get it up" you shout out.

The three of you work on it for a solid hour and create what you guys called a masterpiece.

"So how was the tutoring, who is the lucky nerd that get to tutor you" Lara says

"Yah, the nerd happens to be …Sophia"

"Sophia LAFORTEZA, like SOPHIA your ex, SOPHIA" Megan shouts spilling the drink she had in her hand.

"yah there is only one sophia, jesus, here" you pass her a napkin "calm down"

"Girl you can not tell us to calm down, when you are litterally getting tutor by your ex" Lara pushes back

"It wasn't that big of a deal, I mean we barely talked and got shit done..." You started to fiddle with your hoodie strings. The tutoring itself wasn't that big of the deal, but the way her eyes would look at you tugged your heart string, the pain, the good times and everything in between. The tension was unreal, it was like a cord being pulled waiting to whip back at any moment.

"Thats it, like no arguments, fights, I still don’t forgive her" Megan asks clearly invested in your love life

“Calm down mei mei what with the aggression, I bet you she thought of making out” Lara jokes

"Ok first, ew I would never make out with her in the tutor center that place is a dump, and second can't you trust my word when I said nothing happened"

"Ok so... you would make out with her if it wasn't for the tutor center" Lara teases you, giving megan a smirk.

Megan just stared at the you, “I’m just saying after what she did be careful”

Lara continues “Yah, be careful especially when you guys work on chemistry, right” trying to get a reaction out of you.

"Oh fuck you lets go back to the beat" you playfully slapped Lara and faced the computer.

————————————————————————————---------------

Meanwhile, sophia was contemplating taking this whole tutoring. "Yoonchip~ why did I take this stupid thing" she cries out lyin down on the youngers bed.

Sophia and the younger friendship is truly unique, Yoonchae came as a exchange student from South Korea and Sophia being the leader and golden student she is volunteered to be her personal guide, her family also became her host taking her in for the whole semester. Ever since that day the two have been stuck like birds of a feather.

"You're a good unnie thats why!" She tries hard to cheer up the now slumped older girl. "y/n can't be that bad right, you used to be good friends"

"Yah, Good friends..." Sophia says as she stare up at the ceiling

-Flashback 12 years ago-

Sophia was a little girl, bright, energetic and parents would stop to admire the beauty and cuteness that she had. Everyday she would go to the playground, playing tag with the other kids, always being the center of the attention.

Then in the corner of the playground she spots you, squated in the corner, alone, your mom nowhere to be found.

Sophia felt sad for you and walked towards you, holding her hand out.

"Do you want to play hide and seek with me?" she smiles sweetly, eyes shimmering, the look that no one could say no to. You nodded slowly, reaching out for her hand. Little did sophia know that changed everything for you. After that day you would go to the park everyday and play with Sophia.

You always wondered if you didn't reach out for her hand, if you never met her kindness would you still be the same.

She had a lot of friends but she would alway claim you to be her favorite. Griping your arm as she hung to you pouting, she would always say "if I am not with y/n, I am not playing" That always got you with your stomach churning a different way and heart beating slightly faster.

6 year old you already knew, that this ball of sunshine would own a piece of your heart, and as long as she wanted to you could steal it and keep it forever.

After your mom got you your skateboard, Sophia would always sit in the edge of the skatepark watching you hobble and ride down the park.

6 year old you wasn't good, especially with a board twice your size. But everyday you would go to the park and everyday sophia would watch you cheering you on when you stayed on your board.

One day you were trying to one of the high slopes, as you glide down with speed you slip, scraping your elbow badly. You wince going to sophia and she would look at you worried.

"oh no y/n, are you okay. Here I have a band-aid" her small hands would pour water on your wound cleaning the blood away and wipe it. Finally with a with a smile she would place the plaster on your wound. and as if to place a magic spell on it, she gave it a kiss.

You blushed heavily, young you red as a tomato. "thank you" you mumbled hiding your face away.

"Your welcome" she would giggle out "Okay so now land me a trick!"

-Present time-

Those simple times really was everything to the both of you. Before the fighting, before the mess. If you were both given a pill to go back to change the past, the both of you would change the past. But different times.

Sophia, she would change her whole junior year, but you, you would probably change the day you met. You won't reach out for her; not because you don't want her in your life, but because you don't want to ruin hers, the perfect life that she designed. You saw yourself as an anomaly in the perfect world of Sophia Laforteza. She was the golden child, smart, kind, pretty and you, you lived in a trailer with your mom, you barely showed up to class and the type be to get voted most likely to be a addict. She was the sun and you were the cloud that everyone hated to see coming. Your life was poles apart yet intertwined in a hot mess.

"Yoonchip, I-" Sophia sits up contemplating on telling the korean about her twisted past with y/n, after a quick thought she thinks that the girl is not ready and just lets it go. "Goodnight, I'm going to sleep" She gets up and pats the younger head.

"Goodnight... sleep well" Yoonchae noticing the older girls hesistation but decided not to push and give her space.

Sophia walks into her room and drops down to her bed as she just stares into the ceiling again. Y/n she was suppose to be nothing to you, just a random past that she left behind but today rehashed it and now she's all confused again.

Sophia settles in her bed, letting the pillows and mattress swallow her whole, just anything to forget you.

-Sophia dream-

Sophia was running away as you chased after her.

Sophia shrieked as you caught her from the back, and lifting her up. "I got you and I'm never letting go" you exclaim as you hug her closely. Sophia starts to laugh as you tickled her.

“ I give up, let me go” she laughs out, then she falls on top of you turning as she nuzzling her face in your neck.

This was by far the best first date that the both of you have been on, after being friends for years, you finally made a move and ask her on a date freshman year.

It started awkward date at the beginning but ended like a romcom, with the both of you dancing in the dark holding on to each other closely. You could feel her heartbeat and she could feel yours.

The world disappeared as the both of you melted into each others arms. You slowly look down at her and whisper "I bet you didn't notice me take a bit of your hair" smirking. Sophia pulls away shouting "y/n I swear to god you better be joking" quickly checking her hair strands.

"I'm joking I would never damage your pretty little hair" You tease, ruffling her head.

"You're lucky your cute" Sophia says blushing

"Oh I'm cute" You give a cocky smirk testing her, then all of a sudden the sky dims dark red, Sophia doesn't remember this part, everything is pressuring.

Your face turns dead serious, glitching as the pain is evident "Then why did you break my heart, WHY" as this fake version of you shouts, lunging at sophia- Then she wakes up.

Breath heavy, heart racing in fear. "It's just a dream, calm down Sophia" she tells herself. Slowly her breath eases but her mind is racing, why are in the her dream, haunting the good memories with her. She scared to go back to sleep, scared you will appear again, she scared of her mind and the tricks it would play.

So she just stares at the ceiling trying her best to erase this version of you that doesn't exist.

#Spotify #katseye sophia #katseye #katseye angst #yoonchae #lara raj #megan skiendiel #katseye scenarios #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia #double22 #Dijon #the dress

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uchinagai · 7 months ago

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Echoes of Us - winter

𝜗𝜚 idol!Winter x producer!reader

𝜗𝜚 synopsis : Winter just wanted a peaceful global solo debut with the help of another company, 88rising, but of course, the universe had to nerf her with worse luck, or not…

𝜗𝜚 contains : idol! winter, producer ex !reader, fem!reader, wlw, mentions of a messy break-up, kind of angsty but gets better!! um yeah idk what else to say

𝜗𝜚 w/k : 1.5k+

𝜗𝜚 a/n : English is not my first OR second language so please, ignore anything incorrect. js a random idea I wanted to write about nothing too big >.<

The conference room felt suffocating despite its size. She tapped her pen against the table—a small, futile attempt to keep calm as the 88rising team finalized her debut plans.

How long has she been wishing on this? God knows. One might say she has wanted to be solo since her debut. So having her artist name—Winter—without Aespa attached to it made her feel funny and giggly inside.

Well not for long, because not only was the producer she was assigned to unknown and hid their artist name, not even taking credit sometimes, but they were late too.

Very late.

The conference was about to end when the staff, who was sent in instead of the producer attending, got a message and looked down at the phone letting out probably the biggest sigh of relief.

“She’s gonna be in here 5 minutes, can we manage to stretch it?”

She?

Winter's manager looked down at the clock and nodded.

“We have a full day today, Minjeong has no schedules,”

It was obvious, that the person they sent in to replace her, was clueless about most of the things. She couldn’t answer anything related to the producer's working ethic and how long it would take her to finish up the project.

It was when Winter glanced towards the door when it opened, revealing a beautiful figure of a woman, in her 20s entering the room causing Winter the forget how to breathe.

Not only was the woman beautiful but also… familiar, way too familiar to her liking.

As she sat down next to her replacement, also across from Winter, the girl almost felt nauseous.

The familiar scent hitting her nose brought back many memories, such as holding and kissing a person with this scent.

As the person across her settled down on the chair, taking off the cap, Minjeong heard a small *click* in her head, putting everything together.

She wasn’t just gonna work with anybody, she was gonna work with y/n l/n.

The ex.

Well, how did this all begin??

Let’s divide winter's 4 years of training into three parts.

Two years of being friends with y/n

Almost dating y/n for two years

y/n l/n vanishing from her life without a word.

y/n managed to erase herself from Minjeongs life like she never existed, if the rest of the Aespa didn’t know y/n personally they would think Minjeong was crazy and making up lies about her imaginary girlfriend that made her life worth it all.

It’s been 4 years now, and has the younger one moved on? She thought she did before seeing the girl appear right in front of her like they spoke just yesterday, all chill and relaxed.

Did she plan this all out? Just reappearing into her life as her producer four years later after being ghosted?

Blonde felt sick to her stomach, everything was coming back to her and all she could do was stare at the girl in front of her, frozen.

As the staff finally managed to give y/n all the information she missed, she looked across her table, seeing the stunned girl in front of her.

“Minjeong?”

The same sweetness filled with worry rang Winter back to reality as she shook her head a little, maybe she was imagining it all, but no. The girl in front of her stayed at the same spot, looking at her with worry.

As much as she was happy seeing her, she felt just as sick and disgusted.

“I-i can’t–” is all she could mutter out before storming out of that room where barely any natural light setting in.

Older watched her storm off as she sighed and excused herself calmly getting up from the chair.

Y/n knew the SM building well enough to know where the shorter girl would run off, so calmly, she approached the bathrooms on the 4th floor, which in winter's words were the cleanest ones.

Knock once. Twice. No response.

The door was unlocked so y/n let herself into a sight of winter leaning onto the sink, water on. Face visibly wet which meant she splashed herself with it.

“No hello?”

“Don’t bullshit me y/n”

“Woah sorry me, trying to lighten the mood up”

“Lighten the mood? You’re four years late for that.”

“Still sassy as ever, hm?”

“What do you want? Did you take onto this job on purpose to make it a living hell y/n?”

“I took on a job offer from SM ent. For Winter of Aespa because I missed Minjeong.”

She shorter one bit on her lower lip, suppressing a smile, why was she folding so easily to someone that ghosted her for four years? She didn’t know.

Winter removed her hands from the sink and approached the taller one, keeping a distance.

“Missed Minjeong so bad that you couldn’t think of a reply to her countless messages for four fucking years, l/n?”

“Guess you can say that,” Producer shrugged leaning against the door frame with a smirk as the idol scoffed at her audacity.

“Don’t bullshit me”

“Fine, then let’s say your company knew our little relationship, didn’t want me to debut with you guys and I didn’t wanna debut either so we came to a mutual agreement.”

Winter couldn’t believe her ears. She knew y/n like the back of her hand and she could always tell if she was lying by the way she avoided eye contact, or how she fidgeted with her hair or body part, but this time it was none.

“So that’s it then? I was just a ‘mutual agreement’ for you?”

y/n reached out her hand, trying to run her hand through blonde hair, like she would when Winter needed comfort after a long day of training. But she was four years late to comfort her, four years late to tell her ‘you can do this’, so of course, the idol refused and slapped her hand away.

“Hey now,”

“No, y/n. You can’t just show up in my life that I worked so hard to build and keep it after you just..-” she was tearing up, the lump in her throat was holding her back. y/n always knew how to crumble the walls she built. Like when y/n just effortlessly got a confession out of her and started dating just like that. Her wall was long crumbled when she breathed her scent after four years.

“I get it Minjeong, I do, why do you think I kept my name hidden all this time? Because I wanted to be ‘mysterious’? Bullshit. It was the only way SM would take me, not knowing me. The 88rising team has been going feral, trying to secretly set up a collab with you for me.-”

All Minjeong could do was watch the way y/n moved her lips up to her eyes, searching for a small bit of lie for her to point out and call her a liar but she couldn’t, older was sincere, which broke her even more.

“--I’m sorry for leaving you in this cruel industry, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me the most!”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Wha-”

And she felt the familiar cherry-flavored lips mixed with salty tears land on hers, shutting her instantly.

Winter’s lips moved against hers with an urgency that wasn’t just longing—it was pain, anger, and frustration all tangled together. It didn’t feel like out of love to y/n, but it didn’t matter her Minjeong was kissing her.

But as much as she wanted to melt into the kiss, into her, Y/n pulled back gently, resting her forehead against Winter’s. Her breath came out shaky as she whispered, “Jeongie…”

The younger girl opened her eyes, her gaze locking with Y/n’s. They were glassy and red, but there was still fire in them. “Don’t. Don’t say my name like that. Like you still care.”

Older wrapped her arm around her, resting her head now onto her shoulder, snuggling to her like a leach as younger didn’t pull her away, and going as far as wrapping her arms around her neck securing her.

“You know I do, Jeongie… I always cared,” she mumbled against the singer's neck.

“You wouldn’t leave me like that if you did, y/n…”

“Jeongie, you had your dreams and I was gonna hold you back, you know it. I was gonna hold back the star that shines on the stage today and I didn’t want that,”

Winter couldn’t think of anything. She was too drunk to hold her close, so she closed her eyes. So they stayed like this for a while, enjoying each other's embrace after four years of longing.

“You missed me, hm?”

“Missing you doesn’t mean I forgive you, y/n l/n,” Said the shorter one and pulled away from her, while keeping her hands on her shoulders.

“Tomorrow, don’t forget, we still have music to make,”

She said with a giggle and just ran out of the bathroom, causing y/n to laugh at her childish behavior.

“Jeongie!!” the producer chased after her as their running and laughter filled the SM ent building hallways, just like the old days.

Maybe there was still hope…

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gotoassignmentexpert1 · 1 year ago

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#assignmentwriting #assignmentexperts #assignment help #global assignment help

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songbirdseung · 3 months ago

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𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑳𝑬𝑵 𝑴𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑺 / 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑱𝑶𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑬𝑶𝑵𝑮

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨,𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐉𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

A fresh new relationship, both of you inexperienced in the world of romance. Everything felt exciting but nerve-wracking at the same time. You and Jay were each other’s first in everything—first love, first kiss, first deep connection.

But your jobs made it harder than you’d imagined. Jay was a global superstar, still young into the Korean music industry but already in high demand. Meanwhile, you were working toward your college undergrad degree, your days packed with lectures, assignments, and research. Finding time for each other, let alone for yourselves was never easy. You both knew the sacrifices this relationship would require, the compromises you’d have to make. Yet, somehow, you made it work. You understood each other in ways that made it all worth it.

HYBE had been surprisingly generous, allowing the relationship to continue under strict conditions. Keeping things a secret from fans was crucial for Jay’s career and for your safety. That meant no public dates, no subtle hints, no room for rumors. So, your time together was limited to quiet moments behind closed doors. Home dates became your safe haven.

Whenever you had a free day, you spent it in the practice room or recording studio; wherever Jay was. Not just for moral support, but because he was home to you.

And Jay? He loved seeing you there. Sure, he appreciated the snacks you brought, the way you doted on him, but really, he just wanted you.

"Okay, stop for now. Let’s take a break," Heeseung called out, lowering the music as he plopped onto the floor, the others following with exhausted groans.

"I'm so sick of this song already," Jay muttered as he walked over to you, dropping onto the couch beside you.

Without a word, he rested his head on your lap, his warm breath hitting your skin. You smiled, grabbing a face towel and gently wiping away his sweat.

"But your fans will love it for sure," you murmured.

Jay hummed in response, barely nodding. He was drained, his body heavy against you. You handed him a bottle of water, watching as he took slow sips before leaning his head back against the wall.

"Babe, stop staring at me," he muttered, cracking one eye open. "You look like a creep."

You grinned. "I can’t help it. You’re so gorgeous. It honestly hurts."

Jay narrowed his eyes before letting out a soft chuckle. "Is that a Taylor Swift reference?"

You gasped dramatically. "You got it!"

He smirked. "Of course I did. You sing her songs way too loudly in your room."

"Why don’t you audition?" Jay asked suddenly.

You blinked. "You’re funny, Jay."

But he wasn’t laughing. He tightened his hold on your hand, looking at you with quiet sincerity. "I’m serious. I’ve seen you when you’re actually giving your all. You could pass an audition, babe."

Your heart squeezed at his words. You wanted to believe him, but deep down, you didn’t think your skills could compare to his.

"Even ask the guys," he continued. "They love your voice. Remember karaoke night? They didn’t even believe it was you singing."

Jay's smile faltered slightly as another memory from that night surfaced.

"...Then you sang a duet with Heeseung instead of me," he grumbled.

"You didn’t want to, that’s why," you shot back before he could finish.

Sunoo, who had been eavesdropping, dramatically rolled his eyes. "You guys are cute and all, but can you respect us singles? Some of us don’t have a significant other."

"Go get a room or something," he teased, making the others laugh.

Jay, ever the troublemaker, stuck his tongue out before snuggling into you even more.

"Okay, okay, go practice now," you said, pushing him off with a chuckle. You reached for the speaker, ready to start the music again.

This was routine by now. The playful teasing, the soft touches, the warmth that settled between you whenever you were around each other.

And neither of you would trade it for anything.

At the end of the day, saying goodbye was never easy.

"Okay, I’ll leave first and meet you at the dorms later, okay?" You slung your bag over your shoulder, glancing at Jay.

"Are you staying over?" he asked, hopeful.

You nodded. "Yeah, just for tonight."

"For how long? Forever?" He hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You wish, Jay," you teased, turning in his arms.

He pouted. "Text me when you get home, okay? And be safe."

You smiled as he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, before finally capturing your lips in a sweet goodbye.

"I will. See you later, love."

With one last glance, he sighed and turned back to the studio.

The elevator ride down to the garage gave you a clear view of the city. The bright lights of Seoul sparkled, but your eyes drifted lower to the crowd gathered outside HYBE. Fans, cameras, eyes always watching.

A familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"One of these days, you're gonna have to tell the world, right?"

You turned to see one of Enhypen’s managers, the one who usually drove you home or to the dorms. Over time, you’d grown close.

"Do we really?" you murmured.

"In the future," he said. "Maybe when you two get married. Or have a kid."

Your cheeks burned at the thought. Marriage? You hadn’t even let yourself go there yet.

"That’s way too early to think about," you muttered, hiding your flustered face.

The manager just chuckled.

Back at the dorm, the scent of a home-cooked meal greeted the boys as they stepped inside.

"That smells amazing," Sunghoon said, following the scent into the kitchen. The dining table was set with everyone’s favorite dishes, as if there were something to celebrate.

Jake peered into Jay’s shared room and grinned. "She’s here, isn’t she?"

The others followed, peeking into the dimly lit room, where they found you fast asleep.

"Awh, she’s sleeping," Jungwon whispered.

"Let’s let her rest," Heeseung said. "We should eat first."

The moment dinner started, Riki decided to be a menace.

"Since Y/N cooked for us, the least we could do is make Jay wash the dishes," he declared.

Jay shot him a glare. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, for sure! You’re the dad here," Sunghoon chimed in.

And that was that. Jay had lost.

When you woke up later that night, you found Jay sulking at the kitchen sink, drying the last plate.

"Did you lose a bet again or something?" you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

He groaned. "This is all Riki’s fault."

You laughed, pressing a small kiss to his back. He quickly wiped his hands, then took your hand and led you back into his room.

"Did you eat dinner?" he asked.

"Yeah, before you guys got home."

Satisfied with your answer, Jay collapsed onto his bed, pulling you down with him. His arms immediately wrapped around you, locking you in place.

Poor Jake had to walk in just in time to witness the scene.

Jay smirked. "Jealous?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Just keep it down, lovebirds."

You and Jay just laughed, settling deeper into each other’s warmth.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #engene #enha #enhypen x reader #jay #park jay x reader #enhypen jay #jay enhypen #jay x reader #park jay #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong #jongseong #jongseong x reader #enhypen jongseong #enha jongseong

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