#lara x reader

[lascvitae]

BOUT MINE ✵ LARA RAJ.

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ alt. I BET YOU KNOW I

DON’T PLAY ABOUT MINE .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ during katseye’s calvin klein shoot, a guy asks for a photo with you — and lara shuts it down before you can give a proper answer.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. lara x 7th member of katseye!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. fluff ᝰ.ᐟ warnings/tags. jealous && pouty lara, kissing

ᝰ.ᐟ wc 1.9k

ᝰ.ᐟ katty katseye x calvin klein when... also requested by anon

(🎧) now playing — bout mine by mariah the scientist.

masterlist.

THE AIR IN THE STUDIO IS THICK. you can feel the heat from the lights, hear the buzz of cameras clicking, and someone calling for more gloss. you’re standing in front of a white backdrop in calvin klein briefs and a white tank top, and the hem of the shirt just barely covers anything. it clings to your body like it knows who’s watching.

and you know who’s watching.

lara hasn’t taken her eyes off you once.

she’s off to the side, still in her solo set outfit: jeans and a calvin sports bra with one arm slung over the back of a metal stool. there’s a bottle of water in her hand she hasn’t touched. she’s just sat there the whole time, gaze fixed on you like she’s not in a studio surrounded by stylists, lighting techs, and your bandmates.

you flick your eyes toward her mid pose. she doesn’t flinch or look away. she smirks.

“lift your arms just a little. perfect. chin down, eyes right here.” the photographer says.

you hold the pose and let your mouth fall open just slightly. and still, somewhere behind all of the heat coming down onto you, you can feel lara’s stare dragging down your legs.

it’s not the first time she’s seen you in this outfit, but it’s the first time anyone else has.

you’re toweling off sweat and oil near the monitor when someone taps your shoulder.

“hey.” he says while grinning. it’s one of the male models from the joint campaign. you’ve spoken, like, twice.

“you killed it. wanna get a shot together?” he adds.

you raise an eyebrow. “a photo?”

“yeah. just us. for the campaign. you looked… insane.” he glances down your body slowly, running a hand through his hair afterwards.

then he laughs like it’s a compliment. like lara isn’t standing ten feet away.

you glance down at yourself — tank still sticking to every curve, briefs showing just enough — then back up at him.

“insane, huh?”

he smiles again. “yeah. you’ve got good chemistry. we’d kill a frame.”

your lips twitch. you’re two seconds from saying something unserious — maybe “you couldn’t handle it” — when a voice cuts in coming from just behind him.

“she said no.”

he turns slightly.

lara’s standing now.

she must’ve moved while he was talking, because she’s right there, still in her calvin sports bra and jeans, arms crossed under her chest, not smiling. her eyes flick from his face to yours and back, slow and sharp, and her expression is unreadable.

the kind of unreadable that makes people nervous.

“she didn’t say anything yet.” the model says, trying to keep it light.

“she doesn’t need to.”

he laughs. awkward. “didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

her jaw ticks. “then don’t.”

you press your lips together to hide the smile threatening to break out onto your face. you love this version of her — cool, protective, and intimidating.

the guy mumbles something like “got it” and backs off without another word.

only once he’s fully gone and out of view does lara finally exhale. her arms drop from her chest and she moves toward you with a sigh.

you tilt your head. “you good?”

she frowns at your water bottle. “you let him stand too close.”

you laugh. “you were right there.”

“he was flirting with you.” she says, voice quiet but pouty.

you smile a little. “maybe. you were watching?”

she rolls her eyes. “i always watch.”

you lean closer, hand brushing her wrist. “and?”

lara’s lips purse dramatically. “and he was touching his hair. who even does that?”

you laugh and she frowns even more, bottom lip stuck out just a bit. she shifts her weight like she’s still a little annoyed. it’s like she’s trying to be mad but barely holding the pout back.

“i didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

“i liked the way you looked at me.”

her breath hitches and you squeeze her hand. “cmere.”

she steps closer automatically and you lean in to press a kiss, soft, short, and sweet, right to her mouth.

her eyes flutter closed for just a second.

and when you pull back, her lip gloss is on your mouth and her face is just a little less tense.

“still mad?” you whisper.

lara shrugs, but it’s useless. she’s already leaning into you again.

“you’re so dramatic.” you murmur, tugging her hand.

“he was annoying.”

“you’re jealous.”

“not jealous. i just don’t like sharing.” she says, eyes flicking down your tank top like she’s lying.

you smile wider. “you don’t have to. i’m all yours, remember?”

she hums, lashes fluttering. “say it again.”

you say it softer. “i’m yours.”

she tugs the hem of your tank a little lower, like it suddenly bothers her how much skin is showing. “good. then don’t let anyone else look at you like that.”

and even though it’s barely above a whisper, you feel it all over.

taglist — @saysirhc @m00nqvv @yuyuy90

[sillymommy6969]

𝓖𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝓛.𝓡.

♱ 𝒚𝒕 𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐; lara loves herself a good, obedient girlfriend--unluckily for you, she was a huge fucking tease

♱ 𝒄𝒘; 7th member!au, affectionate!lara, obsessed!lara, lara deliberately ignoring all the pr rules just to see you squirm

𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆, pt. one

𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒂’𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒚: 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚/𝒏 𝒐𝒖𝒕

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒑 𝒐𝒏𝒆: [ weverse ] post-sliming with solarchipn/n

“it went straight up my nose. i was trying to smile and wave the pain away, but i had so much slime in my brain, i could barely think.” you sighed, shuddering at the reminiscent of the green thickness shooting up your nostrils. you resisted gagging at the consistency, but managed to keep beaming at the crowd for image’s sake. “it was super iconic though.”

just a couple hours after the kids choice awards, the four of you were driven back to the company for some debriefings. manon, daniela and megan insisted on heading home for a long, deep cleanse straight after, whilst you four lingered.

user01 the difference in outfits right now is taking me out

user02 “fertilize us, y/n!” my eggs yell out in unison

user03 face cards so lethal the post-slime glow don’t decline

whilst lara and yoonchae were dressed in throw-ons, you and sophia showed up to the awards prepared. whilst the filipina had on a matching two piece with platforms, you wore a mesh top with some low-waisted shorts; contrary to lara’s leopard print sweats, black hoodie and sunnies. you teased her, saying megan’s “adam sandler” aesthetic was rubbing off on her.

“yeah, and then you came out looking like a snack.” lara groaned, grabbing your hips once you were done flashing the camera your outside. she pulled you down onto her lap.

“ah--! raja, be careful.” you whined, wriggling in her arms. her hands slide across your stomach, circling around your waist.

“no, i need to gatekeep,” lara squealed, holding you in place as you struggled to free yourself from her grasp. she buried her face into the back of your neck, shielding her face from the live. you clicked your tongue at her childish antic. “babe, i look so ratchet right now, i need you here so they’re distracted.”

user04 “babe” “i need you here” lara oil up i’m omw??!!!

user05 landlord charged me a pet fee the way i was barking

user06 didn’t ask for a paint job but the walls are white

the nickname visibly caught you off guard, you stopped struggling for a moment, but when you snapped yourself out of your daze, you eyed sophia, who knew just what to do.

“did i tell you guys we ended up going to the afterparty anyways?” sophia laughed, grabbing the phone from the table roughly. now only the two roommates were onscreen, stalling, and ignoring many, many suspecting comments.

user07 oh so ya’ll were serious abt the gatekeeping

user08 the way it got so hard it ripped through my pants

user10 lara forgot they under contract for a sec

when the phone was set back down, you had moved off her lap, tucked comfortably between lara and yoonchae. despite getting a one-minute scolding from you for not being able to keep her hands to herself, lara couldn’t resist the hand that crept into your lap, her warm hand palming your plush thigh.

the next fifteen minutes, you found it hard to focus on engaging with whatever shenanigans the girls were entrapped in. you tried, and failed, sliding her hand off multiple times.

“no, that was megan! people thought she was in a mood after getting slimed, ‘cuz she was giving people the stink eye and was, like, trying to escape, but she just couldn’t see ‘cuz of the gunk.” sophia laughed, the manic sound echoed across the room. you heard lara laugh along beside you, whilst her hand slid higher up your thigh. you cursed yourself for wearing bottoms that were just so tempting to her.

“wait, did you guys have water in your trailer?” yoonchae asked, head whipping towards you. you glanced back at lara, who answered much too fast for you to do damage control.

“no, they told us there wasn’t enough hot water, so i just hopped in when y/n was--!” the indian singer answered mindlessly. her eyes were trained on you when you slapped a hand over her mouth. the hand she had in your lap tightened, patting the inside of your thigh, as if gesturing, ‘let go’.

“so… ya’ll showered together?” sophia teased, eyeing you.

lara finally stopped trying to wring free from your hand, obediently sitting with her mouth still covered. “it’s not like that, i was already about to come out when she got in.”

though she had lost her speaking privileges, the woman beside you had no shame in sliding her hands across the exposed small of your back. her arm encircled you, fingers worming just into your waistband. she subconsciously pulled you closer to her, your hand still snug across her cheeks.

“mhm,” yoonchae sassily remarked, “you’re getting red.”

your hands shot up to feel your cheeks, and sure enough, they were warm to the touch. sophia pointed at you, falling back into the couch in a fit of hysterical laughter.

“i’m feeling kinda hot, stop grasping at straws, guys.”

“how’re you hot in that tiny little outfit?” lara egged the teasing on, the hand not under you tugging at the strap of your top. you swatted her hand away, groaning in embarrassment as your cheeks flushed a deeper shade. her hand raised to gently cradle your head, pulling you into her. you let her cuddle you, shielding your face from the live. “oh, i’m sorry, babe. don’t feel embarrassed, it’s nothing i’ve never seen before--wait.”

user11 god wasn’t the reason i was on my knees just now but i’m glad my prayers were answered anyway

user12 if this ain’t some kinda confirmation then i’m done

user13 no guillotine could take away the head i’d give them

user14 thank you lesbian jesus i can die happy now

user15 i have one shower and two holes just for yall let’s go!!

“this is what third-wheeling in 4k looks like.” yoonchae muttered into the camera. you whined, hooking your arms around the youngest as she squealed.

“hey, i’m just telling my truth right now,” lara sighed, holding her hands up. she adjusted the hood over her head, her smile infectious. once yoonchae had successfully struggled away from your wrath, she anchored her hips down into her lap once more. you figured you shouldn’t draw attention to it, so you let her this time. big mistake. “like, come on, babe, why’re you acting like you didn’t help get the slime outta my hair?”

“oh my god,” sophia sighed, fingers rubbing her temples.

as the two of you bickered to defend each of your own cases, the roommates beside you seemed rather unfazed by the banter. yoonchae read the comments, laughing into the collar of her jacket at a particular one that made her crack up.

“someone said this is ‘katseye shower gate 2025’!” she cackled, falling backwards into the couch as the three of you leant forward to catch the comment she had read aloud.

user16 as a single gal this is what they’ll show me in hell

user17 y/n really said head… and shoulders

user18 y/n is slow burn and lara is a fucking arsonist lmao

“okay, can we go back to talking about how sophia almost took out the entire lighting crew backstage when she slipped in the slime?” you muttered, face half-buried in your hands. you felt lara’s hand, warm against the skin of your back away from the cameras. you weren’t going to fight it… for now.

sophia scoffed, “you’re lucky i didn’t fall into yoonchae, we’d be going live from a hospital room right now if that happened.”

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒑 𝒕𝒘𝒐: [ weverse ] lara exposing n/nlarz in chat

lararajj guys you will not guess what i just found

lararajj remember when i had my eyebrow slit during sis era

lararajj i just found a video of y/n’s reaction ahaha

lararajj but yall better not clip this and send it to her cuz she’ll slit my throat then sell my organs

lararajj *voice memo* transcription: [laugh] i actually, am so flabbergasted by this video, because y/n was just so gagged when she saw it. i’m so glad i found this, this is so funny.

lararajj *voice memo* transcription: i think i did it cuz we saw rosalía like the weekend before, and she was like, “oh my god, i love the slit, she’s so fucking hot!” so i wanted to try it.

lararajj *1:43 video file attached*

the video started with lara checking herself out in her phone camera, finger gently caressing the fresh slit in her brow hair. a wide smile was evident on her lips, her tongue stroking the corner of her mouth as she hissed. her fingertip found its way between her teeth. “okay, let’s go show her.”

lara had the ingenious idea to diy her next impulsive physical alteration: a razor, a lousy reference picture, and prayers.

you were lounging in the kitchen, waiting for the new tea maker megan had got you for christmas to work its magic. the footage shook, your slight frame barely visible when lara first strutted into the room. your eyes shot up instinctively, and you could almost feel the pride seeping out the indian singer.

“oh,” you paused, mouth agape, “my god. what did you do?”

you hadn’t noticed she was recording, too entrapped by the woman’s new getup. your hand left your phone, setting it down on the kitchen island counter before lifting to cover your mouth. all that came out of you was a stuttered gasp, before lara’s phone was poorly placed on the island, camera up.

“you like it?” lara asked, biting her lip. one hand found your waist, the other tugging at your wrist gently so she could see your stunned expression. you let out a strained chuckle.

“babe, what did you do?” you repeated, your hand reaching to brush her red locks from her eyes. your fingertips ran across her eyebrow, feeling the smooth skin just between the hair. your jaw dropped, shaking your head in disapproval. though, you couldn’t contain the amused grin ghosting your lips. “sophia’s gonna kill you, what were you thinking?”

“i thought it looked cool, i wanted to try it!” she replied, her eyes never tearing away from your smile. she didn’t seem bothered by the hollow reminder of her suffering of sophia’s wrath. “what? do you only like it on rosalía?”

“really? that’s why you did it?” you asked, sighing softly.

lara shrugged, pursing her lips. “no, i did it ‘cuz i thought you would think i look cool. but it’s obvious you hate it.”

she faked a sob, her head dropping into her free hand.

you clicked your tongue at her theatrics, swatting her in the shoulder. “you have got to stop doing stupid shit after 10, you know your impulsiveness is like heightened at night.”

“hey, hey, i came to fish for compliments, not be insulted.”

you rolled your eyes, but your lips betrayed the true thoughts behind your riveting gaze. you crossed your arms, feeling her hands claw at the waistband of your sweats. with the way she was staring at you, you could only cave: “you look good.”

she smirked. “good? so you want me to shave it off entirely?”

“no!” your hand found the strap of her top, fixing the twist in it. “don’t you dare touch your beautiful brows.” she urged you to finish what she knew you were about to say, but it came out much cornier than you had intended. “it suits you,” you confessed, “you look very pretty like this.”

she grabbed her phone with her left hand, her right arm encircling around your waist to pull you into her embrace, her front pressed flush against yours. her cheek kissed yours, her cool, supple skin meeting the heat flushing to your face. she growled playfully, scrunching her nose as you squealed at the sudden contact, beaming into the camera.

“ya’ll hear that? i got the y/n stamp of approval.”

in the presence of a recording, you instantly try and worm out of her grasp, like a reflex. you nudged her in the arm, “oh my god, what the fuck, you were recording me?”

“i wanted to get your reaction!” she confessed, her face scrunched into a grimace as you wormed in her arms.

“delete that. right now.” you whined, reaching for her phone.

the further your hand went, the shakier the footage got. your scoldings was followed by a loud squeal from lara, then the video cut off just as quick, ending on a dizzying shake.

lararajj ok tbf she helped me fix it after so in the pics i posted on instagram after it looked sm better

lararajj i just couldn’t resist this video is too funny lol

lararajj istg if you guys snitch on me ill get my ass whooped

tiktok comments under #n/nlarz #wuhluhwuh #katseye

user01 girl you trusted the wrong fandom lmao

user02 poojah what is this behaviour

user03

user04 i love how to fandom collectively was not fazed

user05 haven’t heard from lara after this post…

user06 i just know she stays raising y/n’s bp in a bad way

user07 n/nlarz is real i yell as they drag me off to a padded rm

user08 i just know the girls are sick of their asses

user09 does y/n know its legal now

user10 before n/nlarz there were n/nmanz and solarz

user11 sigh i only ever cry on this app

user12 someone tell lara she’s supposed to keep it a secret

user13 lara being their biggest threat of exposure is so funny

lararajj i’m alive. the best person and most beautiful, talented, amazing y/n has busted me. this is my official public apology (im sorry y/n please forgive me) and i am beyond disgusted by my own behaviour and it will never happen again (yall ain’t ever getting another video i learnt my lesson :P )

user14 not the public apology bro is being strung on a leash

user15 omg y/n got her ass swatted lmao

user16 justice for lara she has freedom of speech (y/n ily)

user17

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆: [ fan submission ] cali tailgating experience

the hollywood tailgating experience was such a joy, for both the fans and for you. the seven of you were spread out across a minivan set, dressed to a t after an hour or so in hair and makeup. you and megan insisted on djing, and after reluctant confirmations from your managers, the two of you stood before the dj station, sunglasses hanging off your nose.

you held the mic, clapping as sophia introduced the group properly. as she wrapped up her opening remarks, she glanced over at you, gesturing for you and megan to take the baton.

“well, i know ya’ll aren’t here for the boring speeches, so who’s ready to shake some ass up in this bitch!” the pink-haired girl practically yelled into her microphone. the fanfare roared, phones soaring into the air. cued by her nod, you turned a knob on the turntable, the beat to gnarly began booming through the speakers. you gestured for her to press a button on her side of the board, and a remixed twist to the song sounded.

as you spent time jamming to your new releases with the fans, lara hopped from the ground where her was standing.

whilst you were distracted, mouthing the lyrics to the title track, she wedged herself between you and her roommate. her left hand rested on your waist, the other arm raising to bop to the beat. you hadn’t noticed until all phones seemed to be trained on you now, it was only then did you feel lara’s warmth embracing you. her fingertips grazing just under the hem of your top as her hand slipped higher and higher.

you subtly laced your fingers into hers, palming her hand. you lifted your arms, twirling yourself out of your embrace before she told the gathered fans something you can’t take back.

thankfully, you played it off as dancing. the fans didn’t seem to notice, but lara took is as a challenge.

whenever a slower song played, she would press her front into your back, arms locking you in place as she swayed the both of you to the beat. whenever you’d warningly tap her or whisper a disregarded reminder in her ear, she’d just smirk back, as if she hadn’t heard you. then, some gesture would follow, be it grabbing your hips to twerk to the pre-chorus of gnarly or holding your hand as she guided you for touch.

finally, you managed to catch a breath from your overtly affectionate bandmate, hopping off to get closer to the fans.

many videos posted from this fanmeet caught lara staring shamelessly, her eyes half-lidded and a soft smirk on her lips as she swayed to the muted beat of the b-side they were playing. even when daniela tried yelling some request into her ear, she didn’t pry her eyes away from your frame.

when lara finally descended to give out autographs and take pictures, it teased at what was going to be a #n/nlarz clip.

“lara! can you sign next to your bias, please!” the fan yelled.

lara laughed, grabbing the pen from the woman. her friend held her phone up, recording the ordeal. the singer doesn’t blink, shaking her head in amusement at her fans’ creativity.

she smirked, grabbing the poster. “that’s super fucking easy.”

she turned the poster, humming lightly, before signing directly next to your face. she traces a big heart around your head, before pecking your cheek. the glossy print of her plump lips sealed her signature. she handed the pen and poster back, hearing some shrieks and squeals from around them at her choice. she glanced over her shoulder, searching for you, saying, “hope y/n doesn’t mind me taking her spot.”

every fan within earshot lost their collective minds, catching your attention down the other end of the barricades.

you rolled your eyes, knowing not to encourage the woman’s antics. still, you were curious to see what she had done. when you had made your way over to where she was standing, she grabbed you by the back of your neck, pointing at the proud doodles she had made on the girl’s poster.

“lara, what the hell, you, like, ruined my face.” you scoffed.

her fingers around the back of your neck tightened, her grin grew wider as you took the pen from the fan.

“relax, baby, they asked me to sign by my bias. that’s it.”

[ lara ran calling y/n l/n baby in real time?? what the fuck ]

[ so she’s both her bias and her wife apparently ]

[ guys op posted a pic of the poster on tt and lara looped the l with a heart. she’s signing a wedding certificate next yall ]

“y/n, can you also sign next to your bias?” the fan beckoned eagerly, the poster shaking in her hands as she jumped.

you chuckled at her excitement, giving lara a cheeky glare before taking the poster. lara narrowed her eyes at the fans, before hooking her arm around your neck. she pinched your cheek. “there’s only one right answer, don’t fuck it up.”

you scoffed, eyes landing on the youngest member’s spot by your face. you quickly signed your name by yoonchae, writing a message: “xoxo chip’s biggest fan, y/n <3” you drew tiny hearts around the girl, before handing it back to the fan. you smiled widely at the indian girl, who stared at the posted with a dropped jaw. you just laughed, stepping out of her grasp and towards the youngest down the way.

“you all saw that, right? she’s lying!” lara yelled after you.

[ i can’t even get my huzz to like my story but they out here doin this in front of thousands of fans lmao ]

[ they’re so frenemies to lovers they stay pissing eo off ]

[ bro lara and y/n be giving us more lore in a fan event than marvel has in four fucking movies ]

[ and the crowd is… suddenly open to swinging? ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒑 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓: [ weverse ] lara’s studio snippets

“okay, but i’m never really home a lot, so i can’t be in the studio as much as i wanna be.” lara confessed, staring off camera at the computer screen. “but, i don’t know, i work on it whenever i can. which is, like, really not as often as i should be.”

in specs, hair parted to the side and a black wife-beater, lara sat before the table of equipment in hybe’s production studio.

“okay, over christmas, i wrote two songs. the first one was the one i recorded over my favourite summer walker beat, and the other one is called homegirls, and i’m almost finished working on like a really rough demo of it.” she chuckled, glancing back and forth between the live’s comments and the soundtrack.

user01 you mean the christmas y/n spent with your family??

user02 someone tell hybe to let my girl in the studio omg

user03 wait omg did my favourite n/nlarz write a song tgt?????

“our producer, nick helped me finish the beat, but i haven’t recorded any singing yet.” she reached for the headphones behind the phone, tugging it over her head. “so, i’m going to record it right now, so none of y’all make a sound, okay?”

user04 girl’s acting like she can hear me screaming rn

user05 uhm no ma’am if you’re singing live i will be screaming

user06 girl who are you writing songs abt spill

lara picked up a microphone, typing something in before the introduction to her song started. she held the mic up to her lips, head bopping to the rough bass nick played.

“girl it’s been a long time. i don’t mean to scare you, i’m sorry.” she hummed softly, “i just wanna make you all mine, i know we’re friends, but, baby, if you’d let me in, i can show you what you’re missing.” her eyes fluttered shut, her voice stiffening as she hit a higher tone, “i can touch you in the right way… he won’t do you like i would.”

last december, you and your parents decided you’d spend the holidays with the raj’s after a mutually agreeing they deserved to go on the cruise you had so generously bought passes for.

throughout the joyous break, fans who had bumped into the both of you, lara’s parents and cousins, and the both of you all posted snippets of you enjoying the time you spent with them. eyekonville insisted the two of you were enjoying “dates” when you weren’t with the family, seen being close and enjoying each other’s company before being approached by fans.

it was about the same time rumours of you and an actor, whom shall be unnamed because he’s too big a star in the hit tv show, obx. but after a long nights of arguing with fans on her own reverse chat, it was clear lara was upset about the topic.

user07 you wrote this when you and y/n were sharing a bed?? lara you are absolutely insane for these lyrics???????

user08 poojah what is this behaviour??

user09 omg y/n’s got her feining for that strap girl

user10 so yall locked in real good after meeting the parents cuz why did you write this lara raj

user11 this is so gay n/nlarz you will always be famous

“just give me one night, you’ll look at me different. lately you’ve been what i’m needing. red hair, you’re changing up the colour.” she continued, the sultry beat lingered, and thought the indian singer wasn’t paying the chat any mind, comments of a certain katseye member began flooding in. “homegirls, but i wanna be your lover. one night, kissing on your body. girl, i’ll never leave you lonely.”

you and lara had a very “friendly” relationship. from a close friendship on dream academy to sharing unsubtle looks of yearning throughout the debut era, to fully just trying not to get in trouble with your management team.

“i wanna be your lover. baby, if you’d just give me a chance.”

it was almost a running joke, the way you fought for your life to defend your lack of a relationship. you were sure none of your fans with half a brain believed you, but if you, the last one standing between the blending of your career and your private life, stood aside, you were sure the consequences would be just as catastrophic as it would be freeing.

it was just unfortunate lara didn’t share that belief, she had never once agreed with the “tuck it away” strategy the two of you were told to comply with. so she made it her mission to tread the blurry boundary to show the world her affections.

you just wished it wasn’t at the expense of your sanity.

“wow, sounds like someone likes the song.” she chuckled, scanning the flurry of positive comments. she couldn’t help but grin wider at the sight of your name, before glancing away.

user12 i’m actually abt to cry my mother is writing love songs on her main for my other mother

user13 y/n istg if you don’t cherish this woman i will

user14 i actually don’t know who i want to be more right now

user15 lara touch your nose if this is about y/n

the indian singer took her headphones off, her head resting on her palm. her pointer finger came out from under her chin, tapping the tip of her nose as she let out an exaggerated hum.

“that’s all i’m gonna show you guys for now, but i think it’s coming along pretty good so far. don’t you agree?”

she leant back into her seat, elbows on the arm rests as her eyes narrowed to read the chat. the corners of her lips quirked, enjoying the chaos she had wrecked with the showcase of a song she had clearly written for you. requests for her to sing it again, or to release it overcame any other comments.

“release it? i might just keep this as a gift from me to her.”

user16 katseye pr team are god’s strongest soldiers

user17 from me to her? you’re just missing the name drop atp

user18 well we should say our farewells cuz y/n’s killing you fs

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆ 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒑 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆: [ ig live ] the manila clubbing incident (in honours of pazzi hard launching cuz i’ve prayed for this)

after the manila fan showcase, sophia’s friend had the grand idea of taking you to a very locally-famed club near the hotel you were staying at. he had kindly reserved a section of the bar just for the seven of you to enjoy some drinks before you got to the clubbing part. so, you all settled for a couple shots.

she was three shots of tequila and a vodka redbull deep when megan suggested to go live on instagram, when nobody was sober enough to protest, she turned on a livestream.

“aye, everybody say ‘whassup live’!” megan yelled, holding up her phone. everybody began waving, posing and yelling back greetings for the livestream. she began giggling to herself, her cheeks flushed and her eyes lazily hooded. she leant close to read the comments from viewers flooding in, a sheepish grin spread across her face. “where are we? we at a club right now.”

user01 omg they’re so baked right now this is crazy

user02 they really taking full advantage of the rule lift huh

user03 we got drunkseye before gta 6 dawg

megan and sophia dominated most of the stream, being loud and unfiltered as they engaged with fans. it wasn’t until the comments started noticing the other girls hadn’t been shown on camera, before the two started waving the phone around.

“what--? no! yoonchae isn’t here, she’s with my parents right now.” sophia answered a little too loudly, “where’s manon? she’s right here! are ya’ll sick of us already?”

she whipped her phone towards manon, who twirled daniela around to the deafening beat blaring from the dj’s station.

“and there’s sophia’s goated friend.” he blew the live a kiss.

“wait, where’s--!” the camera shook, but sophia’s figure could be seen, just behind her was another one of her friends, and sat just perfectly in frame was the very familiar figure of your back. straddling somebody’s lap, your body arched into their embrace, a slick, tan hand running its nails up your skin.

just as quickly as you appeared onscreen, you were gone.

“oop--!” megan squeaked, phone snapping back on the side of her face. her eye pried as wide as they could, her flushed cheeks suddenly paled. “uhhh… anyway! yeah, we all here!”

user04 megan meiyok skiendiel. i fucking saw that.

user05 no go back what the actual fuck did i just witness

user06 was that n/nlarz????? oh my god?????????????

user07 megan is so messy cuz why is she always at the scene of the crime lmao (especially when it comes to n/nlarz)

“what? ya’ll didn’t see anything.” megan replied frantically, she set her phone down on the table, a shot of her face from the bottom. she eyed sophia, a finger at her lips as she chewed on her nail. in a bit, the filipina took over the phone, her and megan’s face close enough just to cover the entire screen.

“background? no, you didn’t see anything though.”

“yeah, ya’ll actually didn’t see anything.”

“guys, guys, come on, stop playing around.”

“how was the manila showcase? did you guys like this?”

user08 nah yall ain’t getting outta this knot now

user09 yall just set eyekonville on fire this is absolutely insane

user10 tt eyekons are fast there’s already clips of it everywhere

user11 this is pazzi all over again (except gayer)

user12 i can’t believe megan just exposed them at a bar lmao

user13 so… is n/nlarz real or just a crazy fan ship?

𝒂𝒏; and here she is. guys all your comments and chats make my day even if i don’t reply to all of them!! leaving feedback or just coming to chat is very much welcome… lmk what yall think

𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒙𝒙

[pohtaytoh]

Malibu Brews

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Lara Raj x Bartender!Reader

At a vibrant beach party, a bartender's normal ID check results in a playful encounter with Lara, a confident young lady who is a bit too eager for "strong" beverages. Lara's innocent lie spurs banter between the two, which soon develops into something more than just a playful conversation.

The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple over the Malibu coastline. The air, still warm from the day, now carried the scent of salt, sunscreen, and the sweet, sticky aroma of tropical drinks. Music pulsed from giant speakers, a mix of pop hits and chill beach vibes, making the sand vibrate slightly underfoot. This wasn't just any beach party; it was the beach party, thrown by some hotshot music producer, and everyone who was anyone (or wanted to be) was here.

I, as usual, was behind the bar. Not a fancy, polished bar, mind you, but a makeshift setup under a canopy, complete with coolers full of ice, bottles of every color, and a blender that whirred almost constantly. My job was simple: mix drinks, keep the good times flowing, and, most importantly, check IDs. It was a rule I took seriously, especially at events like this where young, eager faces were everywhere.

My arms were aching a bit from shaking shakers and pouring shots, but the energy of the crowd was infectious. People laughed, danced, and shouted over the music, their faces lit by the string lights draped around the canopy and the glow of the setting sun.

"Another round of those blue ones, please!" a guy with sunglasses still on, even though it was almost dark, yelled over the din.

"Coming right up!" I grinned, grabbing the ingredients. I liked my job. It was fun, social, and I got to witness all sorts of interesting interactions. Plus, the tips weren't half bad.

Just as I was wiping down the counter, a figure approached the bar. She was a little shorter than me, with long, dark hair that seemed to catch the last rays of sunlight, giving it a reddish glow. She had a confident sway to her walk, and a smile that seemed to light up her whole face even from a distance. Her eyes, I noticed as she got closer, were sparkling with a mix of excitement and something else... mischief, maybe?

She leaned over the counter, her voice surprisingly clear despite the loud music. "Hey there, bartender! Can I get five of your strongest, most tropical-looking drinks? Something that screams 'I'm on vacation and I'm never going home!'"

I chuckled. "Five, huh? Sounds like a serious party. You got a whole crew waiting?"

"You know it," she said, her smile widening. "They're over there, trying to convince our leader to do a TikTok dance and our youngest is with them, but she's not allowed to come up to the bar yet. Company rules, you know? She's only seventeen, turning eighteen soon, but still a minor."

I laughed again. Sophia and Yoonchae, huh? Sounded like a fun group. I reached for a shaker, then paused. "Alright, vacation mode drinks coming right up but first, standard procedure, can I see some ID?" I held out my hand, giving her my best professional-yet-friendly bartender look.

Her smile didn't falter, but a tiny flicker of something unreadable crossed her eyes. She reached into a small crossbody bag and pulled out a sleek wallet. With a flourish, she extracted a driver's license and handed it to me.

I took it, my eyes scanning the front. My eyebrows shot up in surprise after seeing the date of birth. Oh, wow. This was going to be fun.

"Lara, huh?" I said, my voice dropping to a teasing whisper, though still loud enough for her to hear over the music. "And it says here, Lara, that you're... not quite old enough to be ordering 'strongest, most tropical-looking' drinks."

Her eyes widened slightly, then she let out a small, embarrassed laugh. A blush crept up her cheeks, making her look even more charming. "Oh. Right. That."

I leaned in a bit, a playful smirk on my face. "Yeah, that. You know, the whole legal drinking age thing? It's kind of a big deal here." I tapped the ID playfully. "So, what are we thinking, Lara? Were you hoping I wouldn't notice or were you just testing my bartending integrity?"

She giggled, a bright, clear sound that cut through the bass. "Okay, okay, you got me. Busted. I wasn't trying to trick you, promise! My friends just... they really wanted those 'vacation mode' drinks, and I was the designated orderer. They're all legal, I swear! Except for Yoonchae, of course, but she's not even at the bar."

"Oh, I believe you," I said, handing back her ID. "It's just... you walked up here with such confidence, talking about wanting to have the strongest drinks, I almost believed you were twenty-one yourself."

"Hey!" she protested, but her eyes were sparkling with amusement. "I am confident! And I can handle a mocktail with the best of them. Just... less of the strongest part, I guess."

"Exactly," I said, still grinning. "So, what's it going to be for you, Lara? A virgin piña colada? A Shirley Temple? Or maybe something a little more... adventurous, but still strictly non-alcoholic?"

She thought for a moment, tapping her chin with a perfectly manicured finger. "Hmm. Adventurous, but non-alcoholic. I like the sound of that. Surprise me! But make it look like the real deal, so my friends don't tease me too much."

"Deal," I said, already reaching for the blender. "So, tell me, Lara. What's a young, confident, almost-twenty-one-year-old like you doing at a party like this, ordering drinks for her apparently thirsty, legal friends?"

She leaned closer again, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, if you must know, we're celebrating. Sort of. We just finished something big, and this is our reward."

"Something big, huh?" I asked, pouring ice into the blender. "Sounds mysterious. Top secret, maybe?"

"Maybe," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "Let's just say it involved a lot of hard work, a lot of late nights, and a lot of singing."

Singing? My curiosity was piqued. "Singing, you say? Are you, like, a professional singer? Or just really good at karaoke?"

She laughed, a full, joyful sound. "A little of both, maybe? We're in a group. We just finished our debut project."

"No way!" I exclaimed, genuinely impressed. "That's awesome! Congratulations! What's your group called?"

Before she could answer, a voice cut in from behind her. "Lara! What's taking so long? Are you trying to charm the bartender into giving us free drinks?"

Lara turned, a playful scowl on her face. "Manon! You wound me! I'm simply engaging in polite conversation while our drinks are being expertly crafted."

A tall, elegant girl with striking features, who I assumed was Manon, stepped up beside Lara. She gave me a polite smile. "Hi! Sorry about her. She gets a bit chatty when she's excited."

"No worries at all," I said, returning the smile. "It's been a pleasure and don't worry, your expertly crafted drinks are almost ready." I gestured to the four vibrant, frothy concoctions I had already lined up, and the fifth, equally colorful, non-alcoholic one I was just finishing for Lara.

"Wow, those look amazing!" Manon said, her eyes widening. "Are they as strong as they look?"

"Only one way to find out," I winked. "But Lara's is a special, secret recipe. Strictly virgin."

Lara elbowed me gently. "Hey! Don't give away my secrets!"

Just then, three more girls joined them. One had bright, energetic eyes and a quick smile. Another had a calm, sweet demeanor and the last one, with a powerful presence and a warm laugh, seemed to be the leader of the pack. I noticed another girl from where they came from, chatting with some other partygoers, probably not allowed near the bar area.

"Finally!" the energetic one cheered. "I was starting to think you got lost in the crowd, Lara."

"Or found a new best friend at the bar," the other girl added, giving me a knowing look.

Lara rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Very funny, guys. This is... well, I don't actually know your name, bartender." She looked at me expectantly.

"Oh, right! My bad," I chuckled. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you all."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N!" the woman who looked like the leader of the pack chirped. "I'm Sophia, this is Daniela, Manon, and Megan. Our youngest, Yoonchae, is over there, being responsible. Company rules you know. ” she says as she gestures towards the girl at their table.

"Alright, ladies," I said, pushing the drinks across the counter. "Five vacation mode specials. Four for the legal eagles, and one super-secret, extra-special mocktail for Lara." I winked at Lara.

"Thanks, Y/N. These look incredible." The latter says, smiling at you, a genuine, happy smile. The girls each grabbed a drink, taking sips and exclaiming over the flavors.

I watched Manon taking a sip of Daniela's drink first even though she has her own drink. It wasn't even a sip, at this point. It was a gulp and I couldn't help but chuckle at the way Daniela gasped.

"Hey! That's mine!"

"Wait, one last sip!"

"It's mine, Manon!"

"Eugh, I don't fancy this." Manon says in a British accent while her face scrunches up in disgust. This made me smile even more because I knew it was a lie.

Daniela was about to snatch her drink back when Manon took another gulp, which made me laugh when she yelled, "Damn, so you like it! Give me your drink, Manon!"

"This is amazing, Y/N!" Daniela said, her eyes wide after successfully stealing Manon's drink. "What's in it?"

"Trade secret," I replied, tapping my nose. "But let's just say it involves a lot of fresh fruit, a splash of magic, and a dash of good vibes."

Megan, who had been observing the exchange between Lara and me with an amused expression, spoke up. "So, Lara, you were telling Miss Bartender over here about our debut?"

"Yep!" Lara confirmed, taking a sip of her mocktail. "We're KATSEYE. We just released our first single and EP."

"KATSEYE, huh?" I repeated, trying to place the name. It sounded familiar, but with so many new groups popping up, it was hard to keep track. "That's a cool name. I'll have to check you girls out."

"You definitely should!" Manon chimed in. "We're pretty good, if I do say so myself."

"They're incredible," Lara said, beaming at her friends. "Seriously, you have to listen. Our music is... it's us. It's everything we've worked for."

I could see the genuine pride and affection in her eyes when she looked at her group members. It was sweet. "I definitely will," I promised. "So, is this your first time in Malibu for a celebration like this?"

"For a party this big, yeah," Sophia said, looking around at the bustling beach. "It's a lot different from our practice room."

"Tell me about it," Daniela added with a laugh. "No choreography, no vocal warm-ups, just... fun!"

"Exactly what you girls deserve after all that hard work," I said. "So, what's next for KATSEYE? World domination?"

Lara giggled. "Something like that. We have a lot more music coming, and hopefully, we'll get to meet our fans soon."

"Speaking of fans," Megan said, turning to Lara with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Are you going to tell Y/N about her biggest fan yet?"

Lara's cheeks flushed again. "Megan! Don't be silly."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? I want to know about this biggest fan that you are talking about."

Megan leaned in, as if sharing a secret, though her voice was still loud enough to be heard. "She's been talking about you non-stop since she came back from the bar. 'The bartender was so funny,' 'The bartender was so nice," then she whispered the last part, "The bartender had the prettiest eyes'..."

Lara clapped a hand over Megan's mouth, her face bright red. Although I don't think she heard the last comment. "Megan! Stop it! You're embarrassing me!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, really now? I'm nice, huh? Well, I'm flattered, Lara. You're not so bad yourself." I winked at her, and her blush deepened, but she was smiling.

"Okay, okay, you two," Sophia interjected, pulling Lara's hand away from Megan's mouth. "Let's give Y/N a break. She's got other thirsty people to serve."

"She's right," Lara said, though she seemed reluctant to leave. "We should probably go find a spot to actually enjoy these amazing drinks. But thank you, Y/N. Seriously, these are great."

"My pleasure, Lara," I said, my eyes lingering on hers. "Enjoy the party, and congratulations again on the debut. I'll be looking forward to hearing your music."

As they turned to walk away, I heard Megan whisper, "See? I told you she was cute, Lara!" and Lara's muffled, "Megan!"

I smiled to myself, shaking my head. Lara. She was definitely something and her friends were a riot.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of mixing drinks, chatting with partygoers, and keeping an eye out for Lara. I saw her a few times, laughing with her friends, dancing to the music, her mocktail still in hand. Each time our eyes met, she'd offer a small, shy smile, and I'd return it with a nod.

Later, as the sun had fully set and the string lights were the main source of illumination, the party started to thin out a bit. People were heading home, or moving on to after-parties. I was starting to clean up, wiping down bottles and packing away supplies.

"Still here, bartender?" a familiar voice asked.

I looked up. It was Lara, standing alone this time, a slight breeze ruffling her hair. She wasn't holding a drink anymore.

"Just about done," I replied. "Party's winding down. You girls heading out?"

"Soon," she said, stepping closer to the bar. "My friends are saying their goodbyes. Yoonchae's already with our manager, getting ready to leave. I just... wanted to come say thank you again. And apologize for, you know, trying to trick you earlier."

"No need to apologize," I said, leaning against the counter. "It was actually pretty entertaining. Made my night a little more interesting."

She smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made my stomach do a little flip. "Good. I'm glad. You were really nice about it. Some bartenders can be... a little less understanding."

"Well, I like to think I'm one of the good ones," I said, puffing out my chest playfully. "Besides, you seemed like a good sport. And you did admit your mistake."

"I did," she agreed, her eyes sparkling. "So, what's it like, being the person who makes everyone else's night fun?"

"It has its moments," I admitted. "Lots of interesting people, lots of stories and sometimes, you meet someone who just... stands out." I let my gaze linger on her.

Her cheeks colored slightly, and she looked down, a small smile playing on her lips. "Oh. Is that so?"

"It is," I confirmed. "So, now that the party's almost over, and you're not trying to get me to break the law anymore, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," she said, looking back up, her eyes curious.

"Are you really going to tell me what KATSEYE stands for?" I teased. "Or is that another one of your top-secret debut project details?"

She laughed. "It's not that exciting, actually! It's just a play on cat's eye like the gemstone and also, you know, eyes, because we want people to see us, to really look at us and our music."

"That's actually really cool," I said, genuinely impressed. "I like it. It's memorable. And it fits the whole mysterious and confident vibe you had going on earlier."

"See? I told you I was confident!" she said, playfully nudging my arm.

"You did," I agreed. "And you proved it. So, what's next for you tonight? More celebrating?"

"Probably just heading back to our place," she said, shrugging. "We've got an early flight tomorrow. Back to the grind."

"Already?" I asked, a pang of disappointment going through me. "No time to enjoy the Malibu sunshine?"

"Unfortunately not," she sighed. "But it's okay. We're excited for what's next and this party was a great send-off." She paused, then added, "It was really nice meeting you, Y/N."

"You too, Lara," I said, realizing I didn't want the conversation to end. "Seriously, it was. You made my shift a lot more fun."

There was a moment of comfortable silence, the music a little softer now, the crowd even sparser. I knew I had to say something, or she'd be gone. "Hey, listen," I started, feeling a little bold. "I know you're super busy with the whole world domination thing, but... if you ever find yourself back in Malibu, or even just in the area, and you want to grab a non-alcoholic drink, or even just a coffee, I'd love to... well, I'd love to hang out."

Her eyes lit up, and a wide, genuine smile spread across her face. "I'd really like that, Y/N!" She reached into her bag again, pulling out her phone. "Do you have your number? Or an Instagram?"

"Both," I said, quickly pulling out my own phone. We exchanged numbers, tapping them into our contacts.

"I'll text you," she promised, her thumb hovering over the send button. "As soon as I'm not, you know, flying across the country."

"Sounds good," I said, feeling a warmth spread through me. "Safe travels, Lara and good luck with everything."

"Thanks," she said, then hesitated for a moment. "And hey, your eyes are really pretty."

With a final, dazzling smile, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. I watched her go, a goofy grin plastered on my face.

"Someone's smitten," a voice said from behind me.

I jumped, turning to see my co-worker, Mark, leaning against a cooler, an amused expression on his face. "Mark! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Couldn't help it," he chuckled. "You had that lovesick puppy look. Who was that, anyway? She seemed pretty into you."

"Just a customer," I mumbled, trying to play it cool, but I knew my cheeks were probably flushed. "She was with that new group, KATSEYE."

Mark's eyes widened. "No way! KATSEYE? The ones who just debuted? Dude, they're going to be huge! You just got the number of a future pop star!"

"Don't exaggerate," I said, though a thrill shot through me. "She's just... Lara."

"Just Lara who's about to be famous," Mark corrected, shaking his head. "You play your cards right, Y/N, you might get a VIP pass to their next concert."

I laughed, but a part of me was already imagining it. Lara, on stage, singing her heart out. And me, in the crowd, cheering her on. It was a nice thought.

I finished cleaning up, my mind replaying the conversation with Lara. Her infectious laugh, her sparkling eyes, the way she blushed when I teased her. She was charming, confident, and genuinely sweet and the fact that she was a rising star in a global girl group just made her even more intriguing.

The days that followed were a mix of my usual bartending shifts and a growing anticipation for Lara's next text. I found myself checking my phone more often than usual, and a small thrill went through me every time it buzzed. I even looked up KATSEYE's music online. Their debut single was catchy, their voices blended beautifully, and Lara's presence in the music video was captivating. She truly was a star in the making.

One evening, after a particularly busy shift, my phone rang. It was Lara. My heart did a little flutter.

"Hey, Y/N!" her voice was bright and cheerful. "Sorry it took me a while to call. Things have been crazy with promotions and interviews."

"No worries at all, Lara," I said, leaning back against my apartment wall. "I figured you were busy. How's it going?"

"It's... a lot," she admitted, a slight laugh in her voice. "But it's amazing. We're so grateful for all the support. Anyway, I have a few days off next week, and I was wondering... are you free to grab that coffee?"

"I am absolutely free," I said, a grin spreading across my face. "Just tell me when and where."

We made plans to meet at a small, cozy coffee shop not too far from the beach where we'd first met. The anticipation built over the next few days. I found myself wondering what she'd be like outside the party atmosphere, without the loud music and the bustling crowd. Would she still be as playful? As confident?

When the day arrived, I got there a little early, picking out a table by the window. I saw her walking towards the coffee shop, and my breath hitched slightly. She was dressed casually in jeans and a simple top, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, but she still radiated that same effortless charm.

"Hey!" she said, her smile lighting up the whole place as she approached the table. "Thanks for meeting me."

"Of course," I replied, standing up to greet her. "Glad you could make it. How's the non-alcoholic life treating you?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Hilarious. It's fine, actually. I've discovered a new appreciation for fancy lemonades."

We ordered our drinks – a black coffee for me, and a complicated-sounding iced tea for her – and settled into our seats. The conversation flowed easily, just like it had at the bar. We talked about her whirlwind experience with KATSEYE, the challenges of being a trainee, and the excitement of finally debuting.

"It's been a dream come true, honestly," she said, stirring her drink. "But it's also a lot of pressure. Everyone's watching, and you just want to do your best, not let anyone down."

"I can only imagine," I said, genuinely sympathetic. "It sounds intense. But you seem to be handling it really well."

"Thanks," she said, a soft smile on her face. "It helps to have the girls. Sophia, Daniela, Manon, Megan, and even Yoonchae, though she's still our little one... they're like my sisters. We've been through so much together."

"They seem great," I agreed. "They were definitely looking out for you at the party."

She laughed. "Oh, they always do. Especially Megan. She loves to tease me."

"I noticed," I said, a grin playing on my lips. "She definitely spilled the beans about your prettiest eyes comment."

Lara groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Oh my gosh, she actually told you that? I'm going to kill her!"

"Hey, no regrets," I said, reaching across the table to gently tap her arm. "It was a very nice compliment and accurate, by the way. Yours look even more beautiful."

She looked up, her cheeks flushed, but her eyes were twinkling. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not," I insisted, my voice softer now. "Your eyes are really beautiful, Lara and they sparkle when you laugh."

She ducked her head again, a shy smile on her face. "Okay, okay, you win. You're good at this, you know? The whole charming-people-at-the-bar thing."

"It's a skill," I said, winking. "Comes with the job but I don't usually use it to get coffee dates."

Her head snapped up, and our eyes met. The playful banter faded, replaced by a quiet intensity. There was a moment where neither of us spoke, just looked at each other, and in that silence, something shifted. 

"So," she said, finally breaking the silence, her voice a little softer than before. "What about you, Y/N? What's your story? Are you just a bartender, or is there more to you than bartending?"

I smiled. "There's always more, isn't there? I'm actually studying photography. Bartending is just how I pay the bills and meet interesting subjects."

"Photography?" she asked, her eyes widening with genuine interest. "That's amazing! Do you do portraits? Landscapes? Concerts?"

"A bit of everything," I said. "But I love capturing moments, emotions. People. There's something really special about freezing a moment in time, you know?"

"I do," she said, nodding thoughtfully. "It's like our music. We're trying to capture feelings, stories, and share them with the world."

We talked for hours, about our passions, our dreams, our fears. I learned about her family, her love for animals, her secret obsession with true crime podcasts. She learned about my favorite photographers, my struggle to find my artistic voice, my weird habit of talking to my plants. It felt easy, comfortable, like we'd known each other for ages.

As the afternoon wore on, the coffee shop started to fill up, and we realized how much time had passed.

"Wow," Lara said, checking her watch. "I can't believe it's been this long. I should probably get going. I have a video call with my family soon."

"Right," I said, a little disappointed but understanding. "Of course. Thanks for coming, Lara. I had a really great time."

"Me too, Y/N," she said, gathering her bag. She hesitated for a moment, then looked at me, her eyes sparkling again. "So, about that prettiest eyes comment... I wasn't just saying that to tease you back. I meant it."

My heart fluttered again. "And I meant it about yours too," I replied, my voice a little husky.

She smiled, a sweet, shy smile that made my chest ache in the best way possible. "Good. Well, I should really go. But let's do this again soon, okay? Maybe something a little more adventurous than coffee next time?"

"Definitely," I said, standing up as she did. "I'll think of something. Safe travels back to wherever you're off to next."

"Thanks!" she said, then turned and walked out of the coffee shop, leaving me with a lingering sense of warmth and a hopeful smile.

Over the next few weeks, our texts became more frequent, filled with updates about her busy schedule and my photography projects. We shared memes, funny stories, and late-night thoughts. It was a strange, exciting new kind of friendship, built on playful banter and a growing mutual admiration.

One day, she sent me a text: "Guess what? We're going to be in LA next month for a few days! Maybe we can actually do that 'adventurous' thing?"

My heart leaped. "Seriously?! That's amazing! Of course! What do you have in mind?"

"I was thinking," she replied, "maybe a hike? Or a museum? Or... a cooking class? I love cooking, it’s fun.”

"A cooking class sounds perfect," I texted back, already picturing us fumbling with ingredients. "Consider it booked. I'll find one."

And so, our "dates" began. Our first "adventurous" outing was indeed a cooking class, where we managed to make a surprisingly edible pasta dish, mostly thanks to the instructor's patience and Lara's infectious enthusiasm. We laughed so much that our stomachs hurt. Her friends, Sophia, Daniela, Manon, Megan, and even Yoonchae (who was thrilled to hear about our adventures), were always curious about our outings, often teasing Lara about her "mystery friend" or "Malibu bartender." Lara would just blush and tell them I was "just a friend" but I could tell she enjoyed the teasing.

We went to art galleries, explored hidden gems in LA, and even had a picnic by the beach, reminiscent of our first meeting, though thankfully, no IDs were required this time. Each time we met, I felt more and more drawn to her. Her kindness, her humor, her dedication to her craft – everything about her was captivating. I could tell, from the way she looked at me, the way she lingered a little longer when we said goodbye, that the feeling might be mutual.

One evening, after a particularly lovely dinner at a quiet restaurant, we were walking along a tree-lined street, the city lights twinkling around us. The conversation had drifted to more personal topics, our dreams, our fears, the things that truly mattered to us.

"It's weird, you know?" Lara said, her voice soft. "Being in this industry, you meet so many people, but it's hard to find someone who really gets it. Someone you can just... be yourself with."

"I know what you mean," I said, my voice equally soft. "It's the same with photography. You meet a lot of artists, but finding someone who truly understands your vision, or just listens without judgment... that's rare."

We stopped under a streetlamp, the light casting long shadows behind us. She turned to face me, her eyes serious, yet still holding that familiar sparkle.

"I feel like I can be myself with you, Y/N," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. "From the moment I saw you at the bar, the moment you teased me about my ID, I just... felt comfortable. Like I could say anything."

My heart swelled. "I feel the same way, Lara. You're... you're really special."

She took a small step closer, and I instinctively mirrored her, closing the small distance between us. Her hand reached out, gently touching my arm. "You are too, Y/N."

The air crackled with unspoken words, with all the feelings we'd been building up over the past few months. I looked into her eyes, and saw a reflection of my own longing.

"Lara," I began, my voice a little shaky. "I... I really like you. A lot."

A soft smile bloomed on her face, and her eyes softened. "I really like you too, Y/N."

And then, slowly, she leaned in. I met her halfway, and our lips met in a soft, tender kiss. It was everything I had imagined and more – sweet, gentle, and filled with a quiet promise. It was a kiss that felt like a beginning.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both smiling, a little breathless.

"Wow." she whispered, her cheeks flushed.

"Yeah," I agreed, my voice still a bit hoarse. "Wow."

"So," she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Does this mean I get a lifetime supply of non-alcoholic vacation mode drinks?"

I laughed, pulling her closer. "Only if you promise to keep letting me tease you about your ID."

"Deal," she said, leaning her head on my shoulder. "Deal."

From that night on, our relationship deepened. It wasn't easy, with her demanding schedule and my own commitments, but we made it work. We squeezed in video calls whenever we could, sent each other silly photos and encouraging messages, and cherished every moment we got to spend together in person.

Her friends, the rest of KATSEYE, were incredibly supportive. Sophia, Daniela, Manon, Megan, and Yoonchae quickly became my friends too. They still teased Lara about me, but now it was with knowing smiles and genuine affection. They saw how happy she was, and that was all that mattered to them.

One day, a few months later, Lara was back in LA for a major performance. I was there, backstage, watching her and the girls prepare. They were doing a soundcheck, their voices filling the arena, powerful and harmonious. I watched Lara, her movements precise, her voice clear and strong, and felt an immense surge of pride.

After the soundcheck, she came off stage, a towel draped over her shoulders, a wide smile on her face. She spotted me and immediately walked over, pulling me into a tight hug.

"You came!" she said, her voice a little breathless.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I replied, squeezing her back. "You girls sound incredible. You're going to blow them away tonight."

"Thanks," she said, pulling back slightly but still holding my hands. "It means a lot to have you here."

Just then, Megan walked by, giving us a playful wink. "Still can't believe you fell for the act that she did at the bar, Y/N."

Lara rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Oh, hush, Megan! She knew all along."

I winked at Megan. "She tried her best and it worked out pretty well for me, didn't it?"

Lara laughed, a bright, joyful sound. She squeezed my hands. "It really did."

As the crowd started to fill the arena, and the time for their performance drew near, Lara had to go. She gave me one last quick hug.

"Wish me luck!" she whispered.

"You don't need it," I said, kissing her forehead. "You're going to be amazing."

I found my seat in the audience, watching as the lights dimmed and the roar of the crowd grew. When KATSEYE finally appeared on stage, bathed in spotlights, the energy was electric. Lara, along with Sophia, Daniela, Manon, Megan, and Yoonchae, commanded the stage with confidence and grace. Their performance was flawless, their passion undeniable.

As Lara sang, her voice soaring through the arena, I couldn't help but smile. It all started with a simple ID check, a playful tease, and a shared laugh at a beach party. Who would have thought that a little white lie about ordering a "strongest" drink would lead to this? To find someone so special, so talented, and so genuinely wonderful.

The night ended with thunderous applause, and I knew, watching Lara take her bows, that this was just the beginning for her. And for us. Our story was just starting, and I couldn't wait to see where it would take us, one non-alcoholic drink, one shared laugh, and one beautiful moment at a time. 

a/n: This one's longer huh? I actually started this first but I was struggling a bit on how to make this cuter and whether I'll make this a two-parter. As you can see, I already decided not to do it. I hope y'all love this! I'll try to start the other requests tonight or just take a break. Another 🥛request, completed!!

[lexawritex]

text messages with gf!lara

⚠️ contains swear words, suggestive content

[laracide]

♯ ‘ GIRLFRIEND 101 ! ’

ɞ . abstract. being lara raj's girlfriend includes... ɞ . warnings / tags. smut at the end, but mainly fluff.

⋆ her posting you everywhere. there was no soft-launch. it was a very, very hard-launch. the second she knew she wanted you in here life, you were all up in her instagram.

⋆ her singing you to sleep. lara's voice is angelic, best when you're curled up in the sheets with her, head in her lap, as she gently cards her fingers through your hair.

⋆ you defending lara whenever you see hate comments on the internet. she thinks it's really cute, when you're hunching over your phone, brows furrowed in concentration, as you tell off some random person. she smiles, and insists you don't really need to bother, but it's hard not to.

⋆ it's even more adorable, when you're pouting about it afterwords, huffing that people have the audacity to talk about your sweet, loving girlfriend like that.

⋆ pet-names all the time, especially from her side. "angel," "baby," "cutie," "pretty girl." with no doubt, are you both one of those couples that call each other babe with every sentence, ironically... or not.

⋆ always sharing clothes. she'd absolutely melt seeing you in something of her's, or conversely, feel so comfy in just your old hoodie.

⋆ her sometimes getting nervous around you. lara doesn't get flustered often, but when she does, chances are; it's your doing. it doesn't take much, either. even just a simple compliment from you would do it.

⋆ matching! you two love matching jewelry. earring, bracelets, necklaces, literally anything. lara would probably adore a tattoo, too, because that's how much she loves you.

⋆ her never having a problem with p.d.a. if anything, she welcomes it. lara loves showing the world, that you're all hers. kissing, holding hands, cuddling; she just enjoys touching you in every way.

⋆ on the contrary, if you're not the biggest fan of it, that's okay. she'll take whatever you give her, because at the end of the day, lara just wants you to be comfortable.

⋆ her camera roll is filled with you, some to gush to her friends about, some only for her eyes. lara swipes through the various album, when she's away for katseye's reasons. if pictures aren't enough, then she'll call you, in hopes that you're free. (if you're not, you'll make time for her, anyways.)

⋆ or, sometimes, you'll call her, needy and glossy-eyed, desperate for her touch. since she's not there to help you out, she'll talk you through it, her own hands slipping under the hem of her panties.

⋆ sex that ranges anywhere from rough, to incredibly soft. if you need her to top you, tell you what to you, or fuck you until your limbs are rendered useless, just say the word. no need to ask.

⋆ occasionally, you'll want to take on the challenge of being the dominant one, and she'll flash that bright smile, encouraging you to try your best.

⋆ try, because lara knows, by the end of the night, you'll be under her, and you won't even remember your own name.

⋆ loving each other so hard, because you're soulmates. and the best kind of soulmates? two best friends that fell in love.

[lara4eclipze]

» Gameboy

sypnosis: if crying was fun, ill be having the time of my life — if loving you was a jump, yeah, i probably died a hundred-ten times

warnings: angst, fluff, implied relationship, jelousy, comfort and etc

talks: I'm in an angst mood so.... smut and fluff reqs might take longer

taglist: @ohmyhaely @nyssalvr @vrtualstar @c-yerim @jellaaa @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh

lara had taken you as her plus one in a hybe artists party — the night was truly a dream, music blasted all throughout the venue as lara was hand in hand with you

yet lara was close to her friends to be specific yunjin — hugging, pet names even small playful jokes, you drowned out your simmering jealousy with a smile and hugs

you thought to yourself that they were just close — maybe you are just less social, perhaps lara was just missing her friend — you are practically arm candy at this point anyways you shouldn't overthink it

yet as you stand at the corner of the venue you could argue is the best spot all you can see is her and lara, her and lara having fun — when you're the one she's supposed to be having fun with, you're the one she should be with

lara barely recognized your presence the rest of the night — she paraded around with yunjin clinging to her arm, laughing about a joke that was too cheesy for you to remember, what you do remember is a feeling that you didn't belong there, you didn't like the place nor the people

music blasted through the speakers, as everyone did cheers to katseye — as you ran up to congratulate your girlfriend, a hand pushed you away a guard to be specific "hybe idols only sorry" the guard stated, "I'm lara's plus one you can..." you looked again at the desi girl — there she was again ms,huh hugging lara and screaming loudly over the music, "nevermind, thank you" you cut off the rest of the sentence walking off

you sat at the table once occupied with the katseye girls now only you and a couple of unfinished plates of food — you didn't care about anything anymore, you wanted to come home — hug lara and ask for reassurance, that you were still who she wanted

of course, you fought yourself to stop overthinking don't mind it, yet the feelings overwhelmed you — you couldn't speak to anyone cause you were practically no one in this room, and you couldn't stand to look at the red-head at all

"hey you alright?" you heard the filipina ask you — snapping you out of your thoughts — you couldn't make out her features well because of the colorful lights blaring all around yet you knew she was worried

"yeah..just drained" you lied, the older girl knew you, you lived for parties like these — that the main reason you met lara, "come with me let's get some drinks" sophia eases and with enough convincing you agreed

you two walk to the bar, sophia orders a mango sunset for both of you — a mocktail cause shockingly the leader didn't like alcohol much

the feeling of loneliness left for a moment — as you and sophia talked, "hey i know lara can be so much sometimes — but she's never been better... you've changed her you know?" sophia says before bidding a short goodbye walking back to the middle of the room to interact with some illit members

you let the words sink in for a bit — has lara changed? has she changed for the better?, sophias words really strung a chord in your heart

until you felt warm tears paint your face — the trickled down like shiny diamonds embezzling your face, you really couldn't handle not being with lara neither

you've changed her the same way she changed you, you wipe away the tears yet they wouldn't stop falling, embarrassingly fast

"my love? where have you-" lara mutters before taking a look at your face "my god are you crying?!, are you alright my love I'm sorry i was just so caught up earlier" lara sputters an apology even though she didn't know what she exactly did to extract such emotions from you

you shush the girl only clinging to her — hiding your face at her neck as you inhale the familiar scent of home — safety and love

"i love you" you both say — lara nuzzles into your hair, smelling that coconut and vanilla shampoo she first offered you

lara would never know what hurts you — cause you didnt even know what did hurt you, its all a part of growing together — improving and nurturing each other even if that meant hurting

[amrluv]

THE KATS FIGHTING FOR READER LIKE THEY WERE FIGHTING FOR THAT DAMN PROMOTION IN THE GABRIELLA MVVVV PLEASESSSS

( warnings ) n/a

( #! ) oo the plot was too good i had to write a lot

there wasn't a clear indicator on when this all started, on when their madness began. but to you, this was truly never-ending.

from your earliest memory, it all started on new years eve. music blasted from the speakers, a random song only popular in the 2010s filling the house. the inside was crowded—a sea of tipsy, carefree individuals no longer caring if they stand in anyone's way. the smell of sweat, somehow, and weed hit you immediately; overwhelming your already alert senses. it was a nightmare in there, but you kept pushing.

pushing your way into the kitchen, a hand grasped at your wrist. it was gentle, but firm enough to make you pause. “you're here!”

the cheery voice of manon filled your ears—a stark contrast to the chaos around you. “come with me, i wanna show you something.”

as soon as she started to pull you away another hand pulled you in the opposite direction. sophia appeared by your side, a hand resting on your shoulder. “actually, i was thinking she should come with me. i've been dying to get to talk to her more.”

manon's smile cracks. it's small, but doesn't go unnoticed by sophia. “well i had her first.” she tugged at your wrist, earning a scowl from the raven haired girl. “this isn't some ‘finders keepers’ bullshit.” sophia spat back, her hand leaving you to instead shove the other girl.

manon glared at sophia intensely, her grip on you loosening before she finally let go. “the fuck is your problem?” the tension was thick, a few bystanders watching their interaction. shit, this wasn't something you wanted to get involved in.

while the girls were distracted, you slipped away from them, weaving your way through the packed crowd.

it was good for a while. you managed to lose the fighting girls—finally enjoying the party rather than worrying. you'd managed to settle down on a somehow not packed couch in the living room; downing a drink of whatever concoction you were given. before you could fully enjoy your peace, megan came around to break it.

"hey, you enjoying the party?" she sat down next to you without asking. she was close, too close for it to be friendly—her thigh touching yours, knees knocking together. "it's alright." you took another sip of your drink, hoping the liquor will ease your nerves of what was to come.

megan was silent, too silent that it teetered on being unnerving. the usually bubbly, loud girl was now watching you like a hawk. her gaze moved from your lips to your throat, watching as you swallowed the liquid. she let out a quiet hum, moving closer to you. "you know what would make this party even better?" she began, voice husky.

"mind if i join you?"

your eyes snapped up as soon as you heard a new voice. lara. of course.

without another word she sat down on the other side of you, sitting just as close to you as megan. now, you were sandwiched between two girls vying for your attention—their gazes sharp as they glared at each other from either side.

"it's almost midnight, you got a kiss?" lara suddenly asked you. though, her eyes remained on megan whose narrowed once she heard the question. "actually, lara," megan made sure to accentuate her name, "i was hoping she'd be my new years kiss."

lara's jaw noticeably clenched at her reply, cocking her head to the side to look at you once more. "well, why don't we ask her instead?"

suddenly, all eyes were on you. their desperate, yet irritated, eyes fell upon yours. it was uncomfortable. if you chose lara, megan would get upset. if you chose megan, lara would get upset. if you left, both of them would get upset. it was a lose-lose situation—and you didn't know what to do.

"i.. um.." you hesitated, glancing between the two girls who watched expectantly.

"what about me?"

fuck, another one.

daniela's voice broke the silence, eyes moving towards her standing figure. she watched with folded arms, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lip. "you two are just freaking her out. she should just be my kiss. i'd be better, anyways."

"what the fuck, daniela?" megan's voice rose in pitch, astounded by the accusation she placed upon them. lara was equally shocked, scoffing at the insinuation. "i'm not a bad kisser."

"mhm, sure." daniela nodded, voice dripping in sarcasm. the brunette let out a sigh, extending a hand towards you. "c'mon, there's only a few more minutes until midnight."

lara stood, trying to swat daniela's hand away. "no way! you're not winning this time, dani."

megan mirrored lara, placing her hands on her hips as she came eye to eye with daniela. "yeah, no way." she looked back towards you. "just let me be your midnight kiss."

objections came from the other girls immediately, bickering ensuing between the three women. the clocked ticked down, nearing closer and closer to the expected hour. closer to the moment you'd have to choose.

[meiyokbf]

i just know lara is so good at eating pussy would literally beg to eat reader out

you noticed that lara’s oral fixation started a little bit after she ate you out the first time. i mean, of course you knew she would enjoy it; the way she’s been begging you to finally taste your pussy made it pretty obvious that it would be something she would like. you just didn’t expect her to like it that much.

every time she would come home from practice, baby would practically beg for you to sit on her face for hours on end just so she could take her mind off of her stressful and tiring day. lara would unironically make you cum in her mouth until you felt dizzy; listening to your moaning and squirming would make her reach her high as well. her favorite thing in the world would be touching herself as she buried her face on your pussy so you both could cum together.

[ssivinee]

「 Clash of Pride 」

r. lara x butch ! f reader ✎𓂃 the attention is normal for both of you. known as serial womanizers, you two playgirls seem to take an interest in each other. the problem is, both of you deem yourselves as tops, but that's definitely not going to last long.

word count ! 12.4 k

tags ! top! reader, switch! lara, strap (L! receiving), ehem butch reader, ehem major femme lara, gay all around, tiny bit of degradation and overstimulation

There was a feeling of a cool breeze brushing against your skin, the sound of sputtering coming from the exhaust pipe of your motorcycle as you drove along the coast. You could feel the sunset hitting your face, casting a beautiful orange hue across the lane you were riding on.

The hum of the engine rumbled beneath you, your grip tightening on the handlebars as you took an exit off the highway.

As much as you wanted to ride longer, you had a feeling Sophia would yap your ear off if you didn’t make it to the dorm on time. Not wanting to worry her, you pulled up into the driveway and parked in the garage.

You turned off the ignition, locked the bike, hopped off, and waltzed through the white-painted door.

“What’s up, fuckers?” you yelled, spotting Yoonchae on the couch watching Squid Game part 3, giving you the nastiest side-eye of all time.

You let out a scoff, moving behind her just to whisper in her ear, “You know you love me, Yoonchip.”

You cackled as she swatted the air near her ear, looking at you in disgust. Just then, Manon walked in from the kitchen holding a bowl of noodles.

“Stop bullying my child, Y/n,” she said, plopping down on the soft couch and blowing on the steaming noodles twirled around her fork.

“Uhm, not your child—my child,” Sophia chimed in, coming down the stairs in a cute jean skirt and a cropped top that was very much see-through, a black strip across her chest keeping it PG.

“In better terms, our child,” you concluded, pointing between yourself and the other two oldest.

Yoonchae had asked the three of you for directions on her first day, and ever since, the four of you had become a package deal. Sophia would always make sure to find Yoonchae in the morning, then meet up with you and Manon at whatever random spot you’d all agreed on before classes.

“Gay ass,” Manon muttered, slurping up her noodles. Sophia leaned on the back of the couch, giggling as she looked between the two of you.

“Me?” you asked, mock offended, spreading your fingers across your chest and pointing at Manon.

“Says you,” Sophia laughed, almost spitting out her water, and Manon slapped her arm lightly.

“Why are you all dressed up?” you asked, hopping over the couch to sit beside the youngest. Sophia tapped on the badge pinned to her purse for the day, and you immediately recognized the colors.

“Ooooh, something you need to do with Kappa Wolf Theater?”

Manon cackled. Yoonchae held in her laugh as she kept her eyes on the screen, while Sophia gave you a death glare.

“Kappa Alpha Theta.”

“Yeah, that one,” you said casually, making her roll her eyes. She’d been your friend since high school, and you even stuck through her entire sorority rush process. But of course, you wouldn’t remember which one she actually joined… four years ago.

“Is it a party?” Manon asked, and Sophia shook her head, walking around the couch to sit down.

“We have a meeting. It’s about the fundraiser in like four days, then the party next week on Saturday.”

You sat up a bit, your mind catching on something. “Wait… then why’d you ask me here to be here early?”

Sophia gave you a guilty grin, your brows furrowing deeper. “I thought we were supposed to be hanging out?!”

“We can hang out after… if you give me a ride,” she said, pouting and giving you those annoying puppy eyes.

“You’re so sick,” you groaned, leaning back and pointing at Manon, who was still happily eating like this wasn’t her business.

“You have a car! Why don’t you take her?”

Manon gave you a side-eye, placing her now-empty bowl on the table. “For your information, I just got home from a seminar for my English class, so I’m pooped and will be waiting for you both to return.” She threw on a posh accent, whipping her hair back dramatically as she walked to the kitchen.

You couldn’t even say anything to Yoonchae—she didn’t drive or even have a license yet. Though Manon did mention she’d started teaching her last week.

“Oh, c’mon, it won’t be so bad. You’ll probably fuck someone from my org… again,” Sophia teased with an overly ‘sweet’ smile.

You gave her an unimpressed look, biting back whatever insult was at the tip of your tongue. Yoonchae shook her head, unfazed. Nothing new with your antics.

The three of you had basically adopted her—sharing rent, helping her settle in, and pitching in a bit more once she moved into the house.

Still, your first interaction with her was a bit rough. You had tried flirting with her. She responded by stomping on your foot—with heavy boots—then told you she was a minor and walked away.

That day, you swore you could’ve done a backflip off a skyscraper. You usually had a rule about asking what year someone was, but you’d assumed she was older because she was close with Sophia.

You caught the subtle look the youngest gave you and blurted out, “I SAID I WAS SORRY, OKAY!”

“You saying sorry doesn’t delete it from happening.”

“Fair point,” you muttered, raising your hands in surrender and scooting away. Yoonchae just shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips.

From that day on, she knew you were genuinely sorry. You made an active effort to make sure she wasn’t uncomfortable around you or your trio. You introduced her as your little sister to anyone new, cooked for her, gave her rides, and basically did whatever she needed.

At this point, Yoonchae saw you all as her older sisters, too.

“Chop chop, Miss L/n,” Sophia said, already heading toward the door. You rolled your eyes and followed.

She heard your keys jingle as you swung a leg over your bike, kicked up the stand, and turned the ignition.

“How long is this gonna take?” was the complaint that nearly left your mouth, but you held back.

“Like forty-five minutes. Now hush up and drive to campus, please.”

She had brought the helmet you gave her for Christmas last year—something you were actually proud of, despite usually sucking at gifts. You’d gotten personalized helmets for each of the girls, and they even had their own little shelf by the door, above everyone’s shoes.

The campus was about thirty minutes away by commute, but since two of the four of you had rides, the others would pitch in for gas here and there. It worked out, especially since you loved riding your motorcycle anyway.

Luckily, it was already 7 PM. If it had even been noon, Sophia definitely would’ve dragged you into a coffee shop, and you’d end up with the condensation of iced coffee clinging to the back of your shirt.

You pulled up to a tan, Greek-style building with the same symbol from Sophia’s pin displayed out front. She gave your shoulder a pat before hopping off and leaving her helmet with you.

So, there you were, slouched on your bike, unsure of what to do while waiting. You were even considering a walk around campus or grabbing a snack, but as you got up and started hooking the helmets onto your arm, something caught your attention.

A girl wearing an extremely short light blue skirt and a white, one-shoulder cropped tank top walked past you into the Alpha Theta building. She made it very clear she was checking you out—her eyes dragging slowly up and down your figure as she left you behind.

You were well aware of how sorority girls got down; this wasn’t the first time it had happened. It also wasn’t the first time you saw that brunette—you were almost certain she was a third-year on the volleyball team… and a team you were very publicly a fan of.

Looking around to make sure no one was paying attention, you slipped through the front door. To your luck, not many people were in the lobby—just mystery girl and her cute friend, who had blonde highlights.

They both locked eyes with you after hearing the door shut, giggling immediately.

There was a mischievous glint in their eyes, and you were more than willing to play along.

Miss Brunette beckoned you with one finger, while her friend didn’t break eye contact. Every time you glanced her way, her stance shifted just a little. You pointed at yourself—the clueless act always worked; girls seemed to find it cute.

They both nodded, giggling beside each other as they led the way down a hallway. You followed. When they entered a room, you picked up the pace and shut the door behind you…

And, well, you can probably guess what happened in there.

A quick twenty minutes later, you stepped out, leaving both girls practically collapsed in the room, hoping to get out before Sophia caught you in the dirty act. But when it came to your friends, you had the worst luck.

Because as you made your way out of the lobby, a soft, unimpressed “Really?” came from the top of the stairs.

You turned around slowly—like a kid caught stealing from their mom’s purse—and saw Sophia standing there, brow raised. Her group was beginning to file out behind her, a few of them waving at you with seductive finger curls as they walked past.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

Sophia knew you too well for her to believe that. She knew “I swear” meant I just finished fucking someone. She never got mad, though. In her opinion, it wasn’t lying if she already knew—just pathetic for you.

Which, really, is why your friendship with her worked in the first place.

Before you could sneak back to your motorcycle, the two girls exited the hallway behind you, clearly trying to fix themselves up.

The brunette’s pink lip gloss was smudged toward her chin as she adjusted her skirt’s waistband. The blonde did her best to straighten her heel-thong sandals and make sure her whale tail looked right beneath her low-rise jeans.

Sophia tilted her head at you— judgment radiating in one single look—as you gave her an awkward smile and slowly backed away. You hadn’t even asked for their names or numbers. One, because you suck at remembering names. Two, because the only people you actually text out of your hundreds of contacts are Sophia, Manon, Yoonchae, your older sister, and occasionally your dad.

They probably tried to catch up with you, and thanks to Sophia, they did.

You leaned against your bike as the two girls exited the building, arms linked. The blonde put on a shy act as if you hadn’t just seen her naked.

“I’m Jenna, by the way. And this is my best friend, Morgan,” the brunette said, giving a shy wave and barely holding eye contact.

You sat there, boredom written all over your face, but neither of them seemed to notice. They kept talking, voices fuzzy in your ears, everything they said going in one ear and right out the other. You just stared at them like they had three heads.

Your brows furrowed, confused as to why they were suddenly acting all shy and innocent. Just fifteen minutes ago, they were flirting like crazy.

“That’s all we wanted to say,” Morgan finished, then dragged Jenna away. Tried to, at least. Their skinny heels had them wobbling like deer.

What you didn’t know was they could walk in heels perfectly fine—they were just still shaking from... other variables.

You shook your head, pulled out your flavored vape, and took a long drag.

There was a point in time when you had a phase with cigs, but Sophia hated the smell. She told you to smoke if you had to—just not those. So now you were stuck puffing on this big, bulky, popsicle-colored vape that made you look like a kid. But it worked. It helped level out the post-rush adrenaline after... well, you know.

Deciding to walk around campus for a bit, you took another pull and pocketed the vape.

The sky had deepened into a dark, blue-purple gradient—like a glowing lampshade—while the walkway lights began to flicker on, a light breeze sweeping your hair back.

You wandered into a campus convenience store, grabbed a pack of salted nuts, tossed three bucks on the counter, and waved off the cashier on your way out.

Further into campus, you reached what everyone called The Garden. Despite the lack of actual flowers, the wide, grassy field made up for the otherwise dull atmosphere of school.

Picnic blankets were scattered across the grass, students lounging, snacking. A few girls waved at you like usual, and you flashed them a polite grin. You’d already had your fun today and needed to meet back up with Sophia in ten minutes, so you kept walking.

As you passed the library building, a group of girls crossed your path—two in front, chatting, with one trailing behind.

She had deep brown skin that glowed beneath the lamplight, long black hair cascading down just above her hips. She wore a yellow bikini top, a netted cropped sweater, and a mid-rise white bodycon skirt.

Her attention was completely locked on the phone in her hands, eyes scanning whatever she was reading.

But your attention was locked on her.

Time felt like it slowed down, like in one of those cheesy romance movies. A breeze lifted her hair like a perfectly timed movie scene. You rubbed your eyes. Maybe you were imagining things.

She didn’t even glance at you, simply brushed her hair off her shoulder, and kept walking.

“What in the fuck…?” you muttered, heading back toward the Alpha Theta building. Sophia was already walking down the stone steps when you arrived, her heels clicking with each step. She clocked your dazed expression immediately.

“You good?” she asked, raising a brow.

You shook your head and passed her the helmet from your arm. “Yeah. Just got confused by someone.”

“Mixed up one of the girls in love with you again?”

“Oh, shut up,” you said with a grin, giving her a light shove. Too light. You knew better. The last time you pushed her for real, she sprained her ankle and didn’t speak to you for a week.

Meanwhile, a block away, the same girl groaned as her phone buzzed nonstop. “She’s still blowing up your notifications?” Megan asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Yes! It’s getting annoying—I’m about to block her,” Lara said, dragging her hand down her face.

“Why do you even keep her around if you’re not together?” Daniela asked. Lara pretended not to hear. Well, she actually couldn’t—her on-again-off-again fling was blowing up her phone.

“She obviously likes them obsessed with her,” Megan teased. Lara rolled her eyes and shoved the phone back in her pocket.

“I just wanna get back to my room and chill,” she muttered.

Daniela raised a brow. “And see Tatum there? You’re gonna end up crashing at our dorm again—you know it.”

Lara didn’t respond because it was true. Her parents had told her to stay in the dorms for one more year before they’d buy her an apartment off-campus. They wanted to make sure she could handle herself alone.

So far, she’d managed—though she hadn’t actually slept in her own dorm since the first week.

First and second-year dorms were small, while upperclassmen got four-bedroom units. When Lara first got accepted, she quickly made a name for herself. Her first year, she partied every weekend, crashing in other people’s dorms—mostly because she was sleeping with their roommate.

She couldn’t keep it in her pants. And really, with how many hot people were on campus, could you blame her?

The moment she met Tatum, it was downhill. First day, Lara thought: she’s hot, I’m hot, let’s fuck.  Now, five months later, Tatum was practically living in her bed.

“Why don’t you just lie to your parents and get them to buy the apartment sooner?” Megan asked.

“If I rush them, they’ll get me a place that makes me feel ‘safe’—like if I complain about some crazy girl who won’t leave me alone. But Tatum’s not crazy crazy,” Lara argued. “And I’ve been good—I could get that three-bedroom for the three of us.”

“Tatum’s not crazy yet? Did you forget she ransacked your closet and flipped your entire side of the room?”

Lara rolled her eyes. That wasn’t even close to the craziest thing she’d seen someone do. She didn’t think it was that deep.

The girls entered the dorm building and headed to Daniela and Megan’s shared space. Their corner-unit dorm was surprisingly roomy enough for a small couch, and Lara had made it her permanent spot.

“I’ll thug it out—for the three of us,” she said with a grin.

Megan smiled. Dani shook her head, amused by the effort.

A phone buzzed. All three of them looked around to check whose it was. Lara almost rolled her eyes before pulling hers out, fully expecting Tatum’s name again.

But instead, she raised her brows. Lara pushed between the two girls, holding her phone out so they could all read the screen. Daniela squinted. Megan peeked. It was a notification from an anonymous user on Yik Yak.

Now, if you know about the app… well, then there isn’t much else to say about the kind of shit that happens on there.

But ever since Lara started uni, it had become her favorite app to scroll for all the piping-hot tea. It was also how she found out about every party—so when she showed the girls a post about a party Kappa Alpha Theta was throwing, she could barely contain her excitement.

“Oh, you know those sorority girls know how to throw one,” Lara said, a cheesy grin plastered on her face.

Dani looked at her suspiciously. “Isn’t Alpha Theta a pretty scholarly group?”

“They’re a sorority, and I’ve seen some of them. If they’re scholarly, it’s not all of them,” Megan chimed in, and her friends gave her amused looks.

“That sounds like it’s from experience,” Dani teased, chuckling as Megan shoved her shoulder lightly.

“Probably because of Harper,” Lara added, smirking. Megan’s eyes widened, not realizing how much Lara knew about her short-lived fling with the Theta girl.

“Harper Lin?” Dani asked.

Lara nodded, and Megan’s ears turned the lightest shade of pink at the mention. “Okay, next topic, please!” Megan rushed out, waving her hands.

They stepped off the elevator on their floor, and once they reached the corner of the building, Dani opened the door. Everyone rushed inside to claim their usual spots in the dorm.

“So, when’s the party then?” Dani asked, kicking off her shoes.

Lara reopened the app to check the details. “Next week. Saturday. Says it’s gonna be in West Hall.”

“The big one?!” Megan sat up straighter. “How’d they manage to rent out that place?”

“Probably made bank from their last fundraisers,” Lara replied.

“They’ve got another one coming up too,” Daniela added, pulling out her phone. She showed them a flyer from their school’s news app—it was for a small carnival fundraiser on campus, with a few student performances listed.

“We going to those?” Megan asked.

The three of them thought about it for roughly three seconds before giving a unanimous nod.

“Lara, I swear on everything—you better not get shit-faced drunk and fuck someone in a damn port-a-potty.”

“Okay, first of all, no promises. Second, ew—not a fucking port-a-potty... at least make it behind the tent of a booth.”

“LARA!”

Both girls shouted at the same time, and Lara just cackled, slouching even deeper into the couch.

“I don’t understand why I neeeeeed to be there, Fia,” you almost moaned into her ear. It hadn’t even been five minutes since the two of you got into the house, and Sophia was already dragging you into another unwanted expedition.

“Helping us out for the carnival would be fun!”

You stared at her as she ran up to her room. Shaking your head, you quickly followed, not letting her escape the conversation. She tried shutting her bedroom door in your face, but failed miserably at locking it. Before it could fully close, you swung it open with an easy shove.

“You guys have so many people. I don’t need to be one of them,” you argued.

But instead of giving you her full attention, she focused on stripping out of her clothes, and your face stayed scrunched in confusion as she began pulling off her top.

“Y/n, you’re like, one of the strongest people I know,” she said, shirt now tossed to the side. “It would just be nice if my best friend were there to help.”

You dragged a hand down your face. “How about Manon? Or even Yoonchae?”

“Both of them have classes on Thursday, while you don’t,” she replied, pulling her skirt down. She sat on the edge of her bed, fabric mid-thigh, and looked at you with soft, pleading eyes.

“How about this?” she offered, “help us out with the carnival setup, and I’ll make sure your entire carnival experience is free. You just need to help on Thursday, then come by Friday to enjoy it.”

Your eyes lit up instantly at the deal. “I get free churros? …Sick.”

“No churros, but there will be elotes.”

“Even better.” She could hear the excitement in your voice and glanced down at herself.

“Well then, can you leave my room so I can change in peace?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you mumbled as you closed the door behind you, only to hear her yell your name like you’d said the most outrageous thing in the world.

“I meant when we changed during gym in high school!” you called back. Heading down the stairs, you entered the open living room, where Manon was already cozied up on the couch with a blanket.

“Yoonchae went to bed?” you asked, walking around the L-shaped couch to plop down beside her.

“Yeah,” Manon replied. “She said she’s got an exam at eight that she needs to wake up for.”

You winced. “I’ll never understand how she does early mornings.” Manon chuckled. “First of all, it’s an online class—she just needs her camera on. Secondly, you know Yoonchae likes waking up early for some reason.”

“Again. Something I will never understand.”

You settled into the couch, legs slightly spread, arms resting comfortably on your lap as you sank into its cloud-like softness. Manon leaned her head against your shoulder, still wrapped up in her weighted blanket.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs as Sophia hopped over the back of the couch. Now dressed in fuzzy shorts and a tight tank top, she mirrored Manon’s position by laying her head on your other shoulder. Just like that, you became a human headrest for both of your best friends.

No one spoke. You all just sat there, eyes fixed on Pitch Perfect, a movie the three of you had sworn to rewatch together every other month. Halfway through, Sophia opened a bag of chips and passed it back and forth between you and Manon.

A quiet wave of tranquility settled over you—Anna Kendrick on the screen, the crunch of potato chips, and the scent of a tropical candle drifting through the room. These were the college days, you were truly grateful for.

Even if they were coming to an end soon due to graduation in literally three months.

But you don’t focus on the future. That’s never been your thing anyway. It’s why you mess around so much in the first place. You could just never get enough, huh?

Setting aside your womanizer tendencies for now, the two girls beside you had clearly dozed off. Being the night owl that you are, you stayed up to finish the movie. Every time one of them shifted or sighed in their sleep, you smiled a little.

Sophia clung to your arm, while Manon nuzzled her face deeper into your shoulder with slow, steady breaths.

When the credits rolled, you didn’t bop along to the music. Instead, you got to work. Sophia had latched on like a koala, so you figured she’d be first.

Gently, you moved Manon’s head with your free arm, trying not to wake her. Once Sophia was loose, you slipped your arms underneath her, lifting her bridal-style and carefully navigating the stairs.

Luckily, her bedroom door was open, and you tucked her into her mountain of blankets, turning on her AC and closing the door behind you like the best friend you were.

Next was Manon. You opened her icebox of a room ahead of time—you’d learned the hard way how difficult that door was to open with her in your arms.

But when you got back downstairs, you found her hunched over, sleepily blinking at you. She pouted, opening her arms toward you like a child asking to be carried.

It made you chuckle. The oldest of the three of you, yet such a baby sometimes.

“Come here, you big baby,” you muttered, scooping her up. She wrapped her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist, her blanket squished between the two of you. Her breath was soft against your neck.

You laid her into bed just as gently, her blanket tangled around her as you turned off the lights and closed the door.

Now, where did you sleep?

The marvelous basement, of course. Which isn’t as bad as it sounded. When you all moved in last year, Yoonchae’s room was originally yours. It was closest to the stairs, convenient, and average-sized. But once the three of you decided to offer her a room instead of letting her live in the dorms, you offered up your space immediately.

So now, you have your own basement kingdom. The lavender-scented air freshener greeted you as you descended. Somehow, the little thing managed to keep the whole place smelling clean.

You changed into a sports bra and shorts before flopping onto your full-sized bed. The space around you was personal and comforting. A seating area with bean bags and a rug. A large TV that you rarely use. A mini fridge, two large closets, and a snack cart. Shelves filled with boxing gloves, a camera, a jewelry case, and blind box figures. A whole wall of hooks for your hats and bags.

Your dresser was full of undergarments, oversized shirts, and let’s be honest—hella gay shit.

It was your ‘Y/n cave,’ as the girls lovingly called it.

Eventually, exhaustion crept up on you, and you passed out without realizing it.

The sound of your alarm had you stirring in the cold, cozy dark. The blanket felt like heaven, and the AC blasting was just dangerous enough to make you want to sleep in again. You blinked your eyes open to a pitch-dark room with just the faintest hint of light creeping in.

Your shoulders felt heavy as you pulled yourself out of bed and shuffled to the dresser for a shirt.

You trudged upstairs like a zombie, opening the door to find Yoonchae cooking breakfast. She was plating eggs and rice, with a side of kimchi, while you checked the time.

10:15 AM.

“Good morning, potato head,” she said with a peek over her shoulder. You groaned and headed straight for the coffee machine, pouring yourself a cup.

“Want breakfast?”

“That’d be great. Thanks, Yoonchip.” You nodded at her and took a seat at the island, sipping your coffee. Instead of heat, the coffee had cooled down, now warm yet smooth. It didn’t stop the black coffee from giving you a boost of energy either.

When she finished plating, you dug in. You always appreciated how openly Yoonchae shared her culture with you. Korean food was always welcome in your book. You still remember the first time she made Korean BBQ and handed you metal chopsticks—definitely a learning curve, but the food was worth it.

“You heading out later?” you asked. She sighed, chewing a bite of kimchi. “Yeah. I’ve got philosophy this afternoon.”

“What about Sophia and Manon?”

“Sophia-unnie left before my exam this morning. Said she had to turn in papers for Alpha Theta. Manon-unnie left a few minutes before you woke up.”

“I’ll give you a ride later. Just text me or Manon when you’re done.”

She nodded, smiling. The two of you ate in comfortable silence. Ten minutes later, you both finished, and you got to work hauling boxes from the garage into the house.

Sophia, being who she is in her sorority, handled most of the event coordination, which meant you handled the heavy lifting. Because, in her words, you were helpful.

“Gosh… It’s going to be a long couple of days.”

Finally, on decoration day, Sophia was up early, already finalizing decor plans and dressed in yoga pants and a sports bra. With how much movement she’d be doing all day, there was no point in wearing anything more.

She’d been banging on your door a few minutes ago until she finally heard your weak, muffled “I’m up.” That was enough for her to stop the noise campaign.

When she opened the door, she found you standing in the frame in a large T-shirt that somehow still fit perfectly across your broad shoulders. You’d paired it with some straight-leg jeans and sneakers, key in hand.

Sophia tilted her head. “Are you ready to go?”

You didn’t respond right away, mostly because a disheveled girl suddenly walked past you and rushed out the front door. Sophia blinked, recognizing her: Stacy, another senior from her Finance class.

Sophia just stood there, deadpanning.

“Now I’m ready,” you finally said, completely unfazed. She didn’t even bother replying—just shook her head as you grabbed Manon’s car keys.

You had talked to Manon the day before, letting her know you’d need to borrow the car. You told her if she needed it back by a certain time, you could always swing by and return it, taking your motorcycle and Sophia’s helmet instead. She agreed, which led to your current situation: loading heavy boxes into the trunk while Sophia handled the lighter ones and shoved them into the backseat.

When you finally arrived in the parking lot, it was already swarming with girls—likely Sophia’s sorority friends—unpacking their own cars and chatting away.

Sophia hopped out first, yelling a name you couldn’t catch as you stayed in the car, waiting for your inevitable instructions. Sure enough, after a minute, she knocked on your window. You sighed, turned off the engine, and stepped out to find a large cart for transporting the boxes.

Together, you and Sophia moved the supplies, and once all the boxes were out of the car, it became a game of follow-the-leader. You wheeled the cart behind her as she led you to the designated spot in the garden area.

Once there, she immediately switched into “event leader” mode, giving out directions to a dozen different people, yourself included.

Which is how you found yourself pitching up several tents in the middle of campus while the day was barely even underway. It felt like you were being pulled in eight different directions at once.

Sophia had you lifting crates, hammering stakes into the ground, adjusting the signage, testing the sound system, re-testing the sound system because it still wasn’t loud enough, and hauling props around like your back wasn’t going to be sore for the next three days.

Honestly, if you ever needed a workout routine outside of the gym, this was it. You hadn’t even stopped to sip water, and your shirt had a clingy sheen from your light sweat, not that anyone around seemed to mind.

You’d been here for a couple of hours now, and you were currently balancing on a ladder, arms above your head as you fiddled with a strand of fairy lights that refused to stay in place. Sophia stood below you, steadying the ladder with both hands like a concerned mom making sure her child doesn’t faceplant on the pavement.

“I swear, I should’ve made you wear a harness,” she muttered up at you with a furrowed brow.

“I’d rather fall and die than let you clip a safety belt around me like a toddler at a mall,” you grunted back, trying to wrap the thin wire around a cross beam overhead. The ladder wobbled a bit—just a little—before Sophia tightened her grip and let out a gasp.

“Do not test me today, Y/n.”

Still, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander a little. You’d been working your ass off, and a little break in the form of eye candy didn’t hurt.

And like the gods listened, a girl walking by in the distance caught your attention so intensely that it felt like the rest of the world fizzled out of your mind. Your hands stilled above your head. She wasn’t walking so much as gliding. Hips swaying with intention, and the outfit?

She wore a rust-colored halter top made of something light and flowy, low in the back and tied around the neck like a bow. Her cargo mini skirt hugged her hips just right, worn with knee-high black boots and silver jewelry that caught the light with every step she took. Her toned stomach peeked between the fabrics, and despite the casualness of the pieces, everything looked meticulously curated.

It was the girl from the other day.

That same warm-toned skin now glowed in the sunlight, and her sunglasses slid halfway down her nose as she glanced around the setup casually, seemingly unaware of the chaos she was causing, both around the field and in your chest.

You didn’t realize you were staring until—

“Hoy.”

Sophia’s voice, sharp Filipino accent, snaps you out of your daydream so fast you nearly drop the lights. You blink, looking down at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“Keep working,” she narrowed her eyes, clearly following your gaze, “Please. We are not doing this right now.”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain your focus, and returned to wrestling the fairy lights into place. She still stood below, arms crossed now, giving you that very specific brand of best friend judgment you were very familiar with. The kind that silently said, I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t like it.

As you adjusted the last clip into place, you caught some giggling behind you. You peeked over your shoulder and saw a group of younger girls—probably first or second years—standing near a table of bottled water. One of them was clearly mid-gossip, twirling her finger through her hair while trying to act casual.

“Is that Lara?” one whispered loudly—loud enough for your bored, eavesdropping ears to pick it up.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, wait—wasn’t she the one who slept with that girl from the basketball team and her roommate?”

You blinked. Your arms rested across the top of the ladder as you listened in, pretending to adjust the lights.

“She’s so hot, though,” another girl chimed in. “Even if she’s the way she is. My friend hooked up with her once and literally couldn’t walk straight the next day.”

You let out a quiet snort. You weren’t someone easily phased by casual gossip like that, but now you had a name for the girl that had you stunned, twice now by the way.

Lara.

It wasn’t supposed to mean much to you, but it stuck. You thought how fitting it actually was for her. Short but made a statement, and that seemed like her thing.

The ladder creaked as you stepped down and wiped your hands on your jeans. You and Sophia wrapped up the rest of your section and started heading back toward the car to start loading up the remaining decor for tomorrow’s booth.

Manon had texted you saying she had practically slept through her class, and to keep the car for now since she didn't have any plans.

“Alright,” you said, stretching your arms behind your back. “I’ll toss the signs in the trunk—can you go start up the car?”

Sophia gave you a suspicious look. “Why?”

“I’m gonna talk to those girls real quick. Think I might’ve met them before.”

She narrowed her eyes and muttered, “You better not flirt right now. I swear.”

“I won’t!” You said, too defensively. She rolled her eyes, took the keys, and left you in the parking lot.

As you walked over, the younger girls paused their chatter, looking up at you like they had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Hey, uh…” You started, scratching the back of your head, “Have we met before?”

One of the girls squinted. “Uhm… yeah, at that party last month? You were the one who drank the jungle juice and took one of the older girls to uhm, ehem, a bedroom ehem.”

“Ohhh, that’s right,” you said, remembering vaguely. “Sorry—I’m really, really bad with names.”

“I’m Ava,” the one with curls said.

“And I’m—”

“Wait, don’t tell me. I’ll forget,” you said with a half-laugh, pointing at yourself. “Just not my strong suit.”

They giggled, clearly not holding it against you, only if you knew how much your charm worked on people. “Can I ask something kinda random?” you added, trying to sound casual. “That Lara girl—you said she’s… what? Second year?”

“Yup. Lives in the dorms still,” Ava answered. “She’s like… kinda infamous, honestly. Super chill, but not the best record with relationships.”

“Yeah, but it’s college,” the other told you and shrugged. “Nobody really cares.” You nodded thoughtfully, absorbing that information with a neutral face, but your mind was already tucking away the little details.

Second year. Not a great track record. Insanely attractive. Seemingly unbothered by the world. Got it. She was basically just an alternate version of you.

“Thanks,” you said simply, giving them both a little chin nod. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

They waved, and you jogged back to the car, where Sophia was already in the front seat with the music turned up a little too loud for this hour of the day. “You done?” she asked.

“Yup.”

“You flirt?”

“Nope.”

She looks at you sideways, but you ignore her. The drive home was quiet in that nice, tired kind of way. You felt sore in your back and arms, and your shirt clung to you slightly as the air conditioning blew in your face. You leaned back against the seat, letting the day settle in your bones.

But your mind was just on that girl.

You didn’t know what it was, but you had a feeling you were going to see her again at the carnival tomorrow.

You were gonna make sure you looked damn good—just in case.

The next morning, you managed to wake up at a reasonable hour, perfectly timed for your noon photography class. Honestly, you could’ve slept in, but your brain was racing with thoughts about the carnival. Specifically, what might happen at said carnival? 

You didn’t even speak to anyone in the house that morning. Yoonchae was still eating cereal in her oversized tee, Manon was organizing one of her playlists for the stage performances later, and Sophia was already gone—probably at the Garden yelling about color-coordinated signage to a table full of hungover Theta girls.

You just showered, dressed, grabbed your things, and left. And you looked good, which was the most important part of the carnival.

Your outfit was effortless but said exactly what it needed to. You wore an olive green cutoff mesh tank that showed off the slope of your collarbones and hinted at your black sports bra underneath. The khaki cargos you wore hung low and loose on your hips, cinched at the waist just enough to show your shape. Your sneakers were worn but reliable, and your scattered tattoos were on display from the tank sleeves.

You slung your backpack low, and your helmet didn’t fit inside, nor did you want it to be a hassle, so you shoved it into a drawstring bag that clung to your side. The ride to campus was quick, the air hitting your face as your bike revved across the road like your own personal soundtrack.

Your only class of the day was your Photography Composition II course. Normally, you like it, but today made time feel super slow.

You sat near the window, leg bouncing under the table, trying to focus on your professor’s droning voice about depth and shadows. Meanwhile, all you could think about was the potential chaos of the carnival—the games, the music, the food—and, maybe, seeing her again.

When class finally ended, you were out of there fast, one of the first students to hit the hallway. Your fingers flew across your phone, texting Sophia a quick message.

You omw there  don’t put me to work today 😭

Fifi 👸 no promises but ill be waiting for u at the entrance

By the time you got to the Garden, the place was packed. Lines for cotton candy, carnival booths blasting music, a small ferris wheel lit up in the corner, and a stage where music majors performed everything from acoustic covers to chaotic band remixes.

People were everywhere.

You scanned the crowd, spotting Sophia’s high ponytail from yards away as she waved you down. She had that same clipboard she always did, but her face lit up when you approached.

“There she is,” she beamed, slipping a blue braided bracelet onto your wrist. “That’s your all-access pass. Everything’s free now—games, food, rides. Go wild.”

“Blessed,” you said, giving her a dramatic bow. She rolled her eyes but gave your shoulder a quick squeeze before rushing off again to probably go micromanage the popcorn machine.

You spotted Manon and Yoonchae under one of the larger tents with picnic tables, fries, and lemonade spread across their shared tray. You took a seat beside them, munching on a few fries like you hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

For a while, the three of you just wandered—watching someone try and fail miserably at a ring toss, laughing at a couple screaming on the spinning teacups, and judging outfits like it was your full-time job.

That is… until you needed a cherry slushie. You told them you’d be right back, waving your bracelet at the vendor like a hotshot and grabbing the oversized cup. You were sipping it lazily, turning a corner, when you ran into someone worth pausing for, not literally, though.

She leaned against the booth table, laughing at something the worker said, the dimples in her cheeks practically hypnotizing. Wearing a white fitted halter crop that laced up her sides and a low-rise pleated mini skirt that flared every time she shifted her weight.

A clear belly button piercing flashed from her toned stomach, and her hair was in a high ponytail. When she caught you looking, her lips quirked up immediately.

“Well damn,” she said, walking up with a sway in her step. “You’re exactly what I hoped to run into.”

“Really? I was just looking for my friends,” you said, eyeing her up and down slowly. “But I’m not complaining.”

“I’m Nylah,” she said, tilting her head, eyes already gleaming with flirtation. You took a step closer, lips curling as you offered your hand. “Y/n.”

Her fingers slid into yours and stayed there a little too long. Her nails were painted black and silver, and her grip was confident, thumb tracing your knuckles like she was testing the waters.

“Let me guess,” she said, voice teasing. “You're the mysterious type who breaks hearts and disappears before breakfast.”

“Only when I’m late for class,” you replied, making her laugh—an actual, cute laugh that had her biting her lip as she looked at you.

What you didn’t know was that Lara had just spotted you from a distance. She stood with Megan and Daniela near the elotes stand, still chewing on the last bite of her snack, when her eyes drifted over to the crowd.

She didn’t even mean to say it aloud, just blurting it out, “Who is that?”

Megan turned, saw who she was staring at, and almost choked on her drink. “You’re joking.” Dani blinked, “Wait—you don’t know Y/n?”

Lara furrowed her brows, licking sugar off her thumb. “I know of her.”

“Oh my god,” Megan muttered, like Lara had just admitted she barely used TikTok.

“Lara, she’s like you, but worse,” Dani said, half-laughing. “The hot masc who’s rumored to have fucked MANY girls on campus… and she’s a senior, so I mean manyyyy.”

Lara turned her full attention back to you now, finally taking you in—and yeah, it made sense. The mesh tank top was clinging to your torso in all the right places. Your cargo pants were hanging dangerously low on your hips, and that black sports bra peeked out just enough to distract anyone.

But what really caught her attention was the way your hand—those large hands—rested confidently on Nylah’s waist. A placement you were clearly an expert in.

Lara’s chewing slows down, her eyes narrow slightly as she watches you whisper something in the girl’s ear. Nylah giggled, curling closer into you, her fingers trailing down your arm, slow and sensual, stopping near your wrist as your other hand trailed up her spine with a familiarity that was way too hot.

Megan whistled low, “She’s working her magic already.” Lara said nothing, oddly, just watching. Your lips curled into a smirk, and you tilted Nylah’s chin with a single finger, lifting her gaze until she met your eyes. There’s confidence in your stance, you leaned in without hesitation—damn. 

And then you kissed her. It’s slow and deep, and Nylah had practically melted into you almost instantly, arms winding around your shoulders while your palm slid smoothly down to her ass. Her reaction was visible: face relaxed, eyes fluttering, back arching just slightly.

Lara’s lips parted, but a word never came out. Her mind was just racing.

Because, not even a few hours ago, Lara did exactly what her friends asked her not to do… well, part of it at least. 

She found a girl leaning into the masc side, took her behind a booth after much flirting, and made out. The girl had some decency, you know?

Lara had control. She loved dominance, and it was rare for her to give it up. But now, seeing you, made her curious. Would it be like that with you? Would you make her melt the same way Nylah just did?

She didn’t realize how long she’d been staring until the music from the stage kicked up behind her, pulling Megan and Dani’s attention. They turned, heading closer to the performance.

But Lara kept looking back as you dragged the girl away. Whisking her into an area under a tent that had some space in the back, behind a curtain.

Because now? She had you imprinted in her damn head.

A couple of days had passed since the carnival. And you hated to admit it, but you’d been in a bit of a daze ever since. Not even because of the girl from that night. Nylah had been in your bed the next morning, still naked, her bra on the floor. She kissed your jaw before leaving and left her lip gloss stain on your pillowcase.

But all you could think about was Lara. You hadn’t even spoken to her. You felt like you could still hear her laugh, even if she hadn’t been laughing anywhere near you. The magnetic pull wasn’t something you were used to, and it was pissing you off. No one ever made you the one to wonder, until now.

So the night of the Kappa Alpha Theta hit.

Sophia had invited you early, but you still showed up late, letting the chaos come about just so it wasn’t a bunch of girls trying to get at you.

The party had been moved to Kappa Alpha Theta's house due to the rumor spreading quickly about the hall, which had a counselor protest about it happening in that building. LED lights glowed in every corner, music thumped so loud the windows trembled, and the smell of weed, sweat, and sugary vodka clouded the air. Bodies were pressed together, some grinding in the living room, others making out against walls, and a few people had already migrated to the stairwell like a pack of raccoons.

You weren’t fazed, puffing your vape lazily—mango flavored—and walking through the cloud of hormones 

Your drink of choice tonight was straight whiskey. You poured it heavily and let it burn down your throat as you walked into the main room. There was a massive sectional couch lining the wall, bodies sprawled over it—some whispering in each other's ears, some dancing on it, and a couple so deep into each other's mouths.

You found a spot near the end of it. Distant enough to just watch and observe all the energy that surrounded you.

That’s when Lara walked in, wearing something that could get her arrested on the right street. Her legs looked long and toned in the short pleated skirt, while her lips were glossed like cherries.

She came in with Megan and Dani, but they all scattered quickly, so to loosen up, she headed toward the kitchen for a drink. Lara exits with a red-filled solo cup in hand, looking around the room. Her eyes fall onto your relaxed figure, and she smirks

The couch shifted beside you on your right, and your eyes grazed over to see who you’ve been wanting to meet. Sitting just inches away.

Lara didn’t look at you, just sitting there, watching the chaos around her with a casual smile on her face like she was bored with it all.

Neither of you said anything yet, letting your presence breathe. Eventually, you turned your head, gaze low and steady. “Hey.”

She smiled without looking. “Hey.”

“I’m Y/n.”

She turned to you then, finally meeting your eyes. “I know.” You raised a brow. “Lara, right?”

That made her pause. Her brow lifted, and her lips curled slowly. “So you know me, too.”

“Campus gossip,” you replied, taking another sip of your drink. “Hard to avoid.” She turned her body a little toward you, letting one leg drape over the couch casually. “So, you here to party?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. “Also supporting my best friend.”

“A sorority girl?”

“Mhm. Same one who had me almost crashing into a doorframe when I dropped her off at this house.”

That made her laugh. And right on cue—like a devil summoned by mention alone—the same girl from before the time you dropped Sophia off found her way to you, making a beeline in heels. A tiny, sequined dress clung to her like plastic wrap, and she didn’t ask before plopping down right on your lap.

You didn’t flinch. Just gave her a polite smile, sipping your drink. She leaned into you, brushing her fingers along your chest. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you all night.”

“I’ve been busy,” you answered flatly, still looking at Lara.

“Oh come on,” she purred, trying to kiss your neck. “You weren’t busy last week.”

You didn’t react, not even lifting a hand to touch her.

Lara watched all of it, amused. Her eyes sparkled, her lips twitching like she was trying not to laugh. The other girl tried again, shifting her hips against you.

Still nothing.

She finally got it, huffing as she stood up, giving Lara a glare before storming off into the sea of bodies. Lara laughed, turning fully toward you now. “That was brutal.”

You smirked. “Wasn’t in the mood.”

“Really? Girl in a slutty dress, on your lap, practically begging—”

“I was… getting to know someone else,” you said honestly. That made Lara quiet for a second.

She looked at you differently now. A flash of something unreadable passed through her eyes.

“You wanna get some air?”

You didn’t even wait for an answer. You stood first, and she followed along your trail. The backyard was just as chaotic, but easier to breathe in with the fresh air. Lights strung across the fences, the pool glowing from below. A couple of people were passed out on deck chairs, and someone was vomiting behind a bush. Thankfully, they were far away.

You found two open lounge chairs near the edge of the pool and took them. Looking over at her in the chair beside you, you spoke, “So… you have a reputation.”

“So do you.”

You raised a brow. “I saw you at the carnival, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” she teased. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Almost as much as you enjoyed mine.”

She laughed, tipping her cup toward you in a toast. “Touché.” You clinked your plastic cup with hers.

“So,” you said, tilting your head. Giving an icebreaker seemed to be your best bet to keep a conversation going. But you weren’t one to make it… boring.

“Top or bottom?” Lara didn’t hesitate. “Top.”

Your brows shot up. “Damn. Confident.” She shrugged. “I know what I want.”

You chuckled, taking another sip. “You’re rare.”

“Oh?” she smirked. 

“Femme top. Doesn’t happen often.”

She leaned in, eyes glinting with interest. “Would you try it out?” You smirked, thinking of it almost as a joke. Honestly, if it were anyone else, you would’ve just gone for it. Yet with Lara, you thought of it as a joke? “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

“I’m not joking.”

You met her gaze. “Yeah, but I probably wouldn’t let you win.”

“Wanna bet?”

You leaned forward, elbows on your knees. “What’s the wager?”

“If you win,” she said, eyes sharp. “You can call me whenever. I’ll show up. You know what for.”

You licked your bottom lip, trying not to laugh. “And if I lose?”

“You deal with Tatum.” You look confused, again… bad with names and all. “That girl is obsessed with me,” Lara muttered. “She keeps blowing up my phone. I need her to latch onto someone else. Preferably someone hot.”

“So I’m a… distraction?”

“You’re a challenge. And an escape.”

You stared at her. Just this determination in her eyes to make her wishes come true.

You smirked. “You’re on. Go upstairs, end of the hall, it’s a storage room.”

She nodded, not waiting for anything else. You got up slowly, walking back through the crowd, grabbing your bag from a room Sophia let you put it in, and making your way up the stairs. The hall was dim, but you found your way to the room.

Opening the door, Lara’s now sitting in a chair, she evidently unfolded herself, legs crossed, eyes glittering under the soft yellow light of a single lamp someone left in the corner.

You shut the door behind you. For some reason, this feels like a test, but if it were, you were sure to ace it.

The second you shut the door behind you, the air inside the storage room thickens. Your eyes drag up from Lara’s legs — crossed like she owns the world in that damn chair — to the slow smirk spreading across her glossy lips. 

She didn’t say a single word when you walked in. Just leaning back, arms loose on the sides of the chair, one hand toying with the hem of her skirt.

Your bag hits the table behind you with a light thump. You don’t look away and neither does she.

“So we’re actually doing this,” she purrs, voice sweet and challenging, like she didn’t spend the last few days burned into your brain.

“I don’t back out of bets.” You start toward her, slow and heavy-footed as she hears each step clearly. Her legs part just slightly in that chair, enough to invite, enough to taunt. “And I always win.”

Lara tilts her head, dark eyes scanning your body. That mesh tank of yours still sticks to your back in some places from the heat, sweat glinting at your collarbone. 

“That’s cute, it sounds like your already in denial.”

You laugh — quiet and sharp. One hand grabs the back of her chair, and you lean in, lips brushing her ear as you speak, and in a whisper, “I have enough experience, so I know I’m gonna win.”

Your voice is low enough to hit a nerve, because her thighs clench just slightly under you.

Lara doesn’t let that slide.

She stands up, slowly, and even though she’s a little shorter, the confidence drips off her as she backs you toward the nearby table with her body pressed close. Chest to chest, hips to hips. You feel her nails trace up your sides, her breath grazing your lips.

“Then prove it,” she whispers.

That moment was all you needed, your hands find her hips, spin her, and slam her against the edge of the table with a dull thud. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt her either, the tables were just hollow to make that sound. Lara gasps—not out of fear, but excitement. 

Your hand tangles into the back of her hair and tugs, hard enough to expose her throat. Her lashes flutter, mouth parted, letting out a tiny breath as you lean in and press a slow, open-mouthed kiss against her neck.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Lara,” you murmur against her pulse, tongue slipping just slightly against her heated skin. The way you said her name weakened her knees, luckily you had her bent over a table.

“Funny. I was gonna say the same thing.”

Before you can think of anything, she twists around, flipping your bodies so it’s you pinned against the table now. You were facing her as she trapped you in between her arms, and fuck—her knee comes up to wedge between your legs just right. Her hands find your wrists and pin them down behind your back to the tabletop, a wicked gleam in her eyes. 

She was extremely close to you, to the point where you feel her breath right on your lips.

“What now, big shot?” she taunts, lips ghosting over yours. “I’m being nice,” you grit out, using all your strength to begin getting out of her hold and feel her flinch as you begin to slip, “but keep talking and I’ll wipe that smirk off your face.”

Lara smirks anyway.

You were able to push her off you with enough force, and the sound of the chair scraping across the floor fills the room. She barely stumbles before your hand catches her jaw, thumb sliding across her bottom lip as you guide her back down into the chair—all of this is about to go your way.

“You like playing rough, huh?” you ask.

“Rough?” she laughs, breathless. “Baby, this is nothing to me.”

Oh, she’s cocky… but so are you.

You sink to your knees in front of her and watch her confidence flicker, if only for a second. 

Her breath catches in her throat. Your hands spread her legs, and you press open-mouthed kisses up the inside of her thighs—slow, just to tease. Her skirt rides up. Her hips shift, just a little, chasing more.

And then your teeth graze skin ever so lightly. “Fuck—” she whispers. You pull back, eyes dark.

“Say please.” She scoffs. “Not a chance.”

That was the wrong answer for you, but as your knelt, Lara does her best to move her leg. As you focused on the fabric covering her pussy, kissing it slowly, Lara uses her heels. Should’ve known she was going to get creative as you feel her heels rubbing against your core.

It’s an indescribable feeling, but the friction is preassurable that your groan. The sound could be felt by Lara, as little kitten licks combine with her juices were damping her underwear. Your tongue then drags up with a slow, yet devastating stripe.

The feeling has Lara grip your hair, and you smirk at her efforts. “You won’t be able to do that unless you ask nicely for it,” she challenged. Your face kept still, hands moving up quickly and before Lara can react, you push the lace underwear to the side.

“I don’t think you should be testing me while I’m here.”

She feels how you use a finger, swiping upward and hitting her clit. The action makes her jolt, a tiny yelp escaping her lips. 

“What a cute sound,” your fingers roamed slowly, “I wanna hear it again.” Lara feels you flicking upward again, at a quicker pace this time which has her jolting, this time a restrained moan tugged at her lips.

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s not what I was looking for,” you did the move again, and Lara gives in due to the speed. “There it is.”

Having you take control over her was nice, she would admit, but she wasn’t about to lose. Doing her best, Lara leans forward, even with your finger still grazing in between her legs.

Her hands find the back of your head, bring it close to smash her lips. Gosh, the flavors of whiskey and cranberry vodka intertwined as you feel her tongue against yours. Lara leaned forward, possibly trying to get you off-balanced as your hands find their way back up.

You hold her face with both hands, beginning to stand up but just enough to keep her seated. Her tongue swipes your bottom lip, and her hands travel down to the button of your cargo pants. “Frisky little hands,” you mutter into her lips, lifting up her top to expose her soft mounds. Fingers brushed against her nipples, feeling how hard they were. Smirking into the kiss, you pinch and she squeals, but only being drowned out by the way both of you began to breath heavily. 

Your hands palm her boobs, while Lara’s hand was slipping past your own undergarments. Only letting her reach so far, she feels like she’s so close yet so far as you shift your hips back a bit.

“I want you, now,” she practically snarled, sounding like a decent command. Shaking your head, you quickly moved your swollen lips down to her tits, sucking on one to give it a pop out of your mouth. The move has Lara shutter a bit, and her chest moved up and down, her breats bouncing a bit with the staggered breaths.

Backing up, you stand again, towering over her, dragging her up by the wrist and spinning her around to put her back on her original spot. She’s bent over the table now, and you press your hips against her ass as your hand reaches back to your bag and unzips it. The click of the harness clasps is loud in the quiet room. You know she hears it.

And she moans, you’re not even inside her yet.

She turns her head to look at you, eyes locked on the way you adjust the purple strap. Her chest rises and falls hard. 

She bites her lip. “You brought toys?” she breathes.

“I always come prepared.” You run a hand down the curve of her back, over the dip of her ass, before gripping it—hard enough to make her whimper. “Thought you’d want the full experience.”

You lean over her, lips brushing her ear. “Tell me who’s on top now.”

She huffs a laugh, but it’s shaky. Her fingers grip the table, as you drag your cock through her folds and watch her squirm, her body betraying her pride—wet and pulsing, ready to take it. 

You push in slowly at first, giving her enough to gasp and squirm—but not all of it is in yet.

“You’re dripping, Lara,” you say, almost entranced by the way her juices dripped down her thighs once you stood her up.

“Shit,” she curses under her breath but lets out a pleased sigh when you slowly move out a bit.

Your hips snap forward, bottoming out with a low groan in your throat, and she lets out a needy moan, hands gripping hard at the edges of the table. You stay there for a moment, fully inside, both of you breathing hard. 

But Lara wasn’t done yet. She pushes back—trying to take control again—but you slap her ass once, and she stills.

“You gonna behave?” you ask. She’s breathless, but answers, “Not a chance.”

You pull back and slam back into her, hand gripping her hip hard, forcing her to take it. She moans louder, her voice high and wrecked now, and it’s music to your ears. Your pace is brutal and relentless—her moans becoming broken gasps between curses.

“Fucking hell, Y/n,” she breathed out, now panting a bit. “This is too good.”

Your hand reaches her throat, pulling her back against your chest as you fuck her deeper, as the table shakes a bit at the force.

“You’re loud for a top,” you growl against her ear. “You like it,” she bites back.

You squeeze lightly, just enough for her to feel it, and her eyes flutter shut. Your free hand slips around her body, finding her clit and circling it in slow, tight motions while you pound into her. She shakes, nearly coming apart, and you don’t stop until she’s gasping, moaning, squirming in your hold.

And when she finally finishes, her body shudders, collapsing against the table, slick and weak.

That didn’t stop you, though. There was a small pause, giving her a moment to breath as she panted against the table. Lara’s too tried, too tired to even try and spin you around to even eat you out. 

But being the menace you are, you began moving your hips slowly while catching your breath. After every slow roll of your hips, Lara lets out a slow moan and she doesn’t even comprehend what your about to do. You lift one leg up, using one arm to hold onto the raised thigh. Making a slight adjustment, you bend your knees to make sure your hitting the right spots.

“What a nice view,” she hears you and looks over to find you smiling at her tired self. The sight was perfect, as you moves slowly, Lara’s tits and ass would bounce in sync with you. Ever the ‘dom,’ her eyes stay locked on yours as you begin to quicken the pace.

She tries to not give you the satisfaction, and she was going strong. Her lips pressed shut tight, and you shake your head with a chuckle. “You obey me, Lara.” Those words have her even more wet than before, as if that was even possible. You hips snap quickly, her juices having your strap coated, slipping in and out with ease.

“Ever felt like a bottom?” You ask, licking your upper teeth and she shakes her head, her eyes shutting against her will. “I’m honored to be the first then,” you spoke and your other hand finds her clit.

“What a sopping wet pussy. All because of me, huh?” Your fingers where going in circles and Lara’s thighs begin to tense.

You press down on her lower stomach, making sure you kept up with the pace. It was evident that she’s about to cum, Lara biting her bottom lip at the feeling. She can’t hold back, leaning up to kiss you as her brows scrunched. 

“Shit,” she squeaks against your lips, then kissing it again like it would stop the inevitable. You feel how her thighs shake at your sides, and you continue to fuck her until she setteles down, slowing your pace.

Lara’s now leaning on your chest, half naked while your also huffing out breaths. The sight of her tired figure on you makes you chuckle again, “soooo whose the top now?”

A small laugh escapes her lips as she hits your chest, now taking a needed break.

It had been a few weeks since that night in the storage room, and to be blunt, you still thought about it way too often. 

After that night, you believed that it would happen again. Especially after winning the bet and actually getting her number for the deal you guys made.

What started as a supposed fuck buddy deal quickly became something else. After exchanging numbers, you and Lara found yourselves running into each other more and more. Some of those times were planned, and some of them weren’t, but eventually… it didn’t really matter.

The two of you just started spending time together. Like—a lot.

There were nights she’d meet you after class to grab late-night tacos, or mornings you’d spot her on the quad and end up sitting in the sun together just talking. It felt, oddly, natural even if you didn’t know her for that long. 

Maybe it was because you guys fucked and are so similar. You weren’t really together… but the line blurred more and more by the day.

And it wasn’t just one-on-one anymore.

Lara had started joining you and your friends for chill nights at the house—she was there for random game nights, for Manon’s “mandatory movie marathons,” and even when Sophia was baking and needed people to test her creations. And just like that, you started hanging out with her friends too, often enough that Megan and Dani didn’t even question it anymore when you’d just show up at events Lara was already at.

It wasn’t like either of you were hiding it. But it’s not like either of you said anything, either.

Still… your friends noticed, and they noticed fast.

You were in your shared house, couch sunk, one arm over your eyes after a long-ass day. Sophia was pacing around the kitchen island with a bowl of popcorn, popping pieces into her mouth like a machine gun. Manon was scrolling her phone next to you. Yoonchae was curled up with a blanket and the TV remote.

The casual vibe didn’t last long, because your best friends like being nosey. “So,” Sophia suddenly said, sharp enough to cut through the quiet. “You and Lara.”

You blinked, dragging your arm down. “What about us?”

She gave you a look. “You guys act like you’re dating.”

Manon didn’t even look up from her phone. “Because they probably are.”

Yoonchae perked up from the blanket. “You literally shared her drink yesterday and wiped sauce off her lip.”

“She wiped it off my lip,” you mumbled, trying not to sound too defensive. “And it was one bite of my sandwich—”

“Oh my god,” Sophia muttered, putting the popcorn down. “That’s what couples do, Y/n.”

You sat up straighter, now regretting coming out of your room. It wasn’t serious or anything, but you hadn’t exactly made up your mind about how you feel. All you knew was the world seemed to stop everytime you were with her… on denial is a damn river in Egypt. “Y’all are delusional.” 

“Are we?” Manon asked, finally glancing over. “You let her braid your hair.”

“She was bored!”

Yoonchae chimed in. “You got mad when Megan made a comment about her boobs.”

You paused. “…That one was fair.”

All three of them stared at you like you were part of a museum, watching your brain try to do the mental gymnastics to pretend you didn’t care. But your pulse was quick, a little annoyed, and maybe… a little exposed.

Sophia raised a brow. “Where are you going, anyway?”

You grabbed your bag and keys. “To meet Lara.”

All three voices: “Exactly.”

Sophia threw popcorn at you and shouted, “You’re proving our point!” as the door slammed behind you.

Outside the main school building, the sun was soft, golden hour beginning to hit—the lighting that made Lara’s skin glow and made you hate yourself for noticing things like that so often.

You leaned on your bike, helmet hooked on one forearm and a second helmet dangling off your fingers. Your other hand tucked into the pocket of your baggy jeans, the breeze tugging at your loose thank top. You probably looked like some shitty college action movie cliché.

Lara spotted you from the steps, eyes landing on the helmet immediately.

“I still can’t get over how fucking hot it is that you ride a motorcycle,” she said, casually, like it was just a fact. That made you grin.

But before you could say anything else, a voice you didn’t recognize—shrill and weirdly desperate rang out, “Lara?”

You watched her face tighten and look over at the girl who called. “That’s Tatum,” she muttered under her breath, jaw tensing.

Tatum, her dorm roommate, was exactly the kind of girl who dressed like she still thought she was in a high school hallway drama. Lip gloss, skinny jeans, vans, and a graphic tea. She stomped over like she had a lot to say.

“Lara, you haven’t been answering me. I’ve been texting and calling—do you even care?” she said, completely ignoring you as she all but cornered Lara. “I miss you. Can we please talk back at the dorm—”

Before she could even get another word in, Lara stepped closer to you and wrapped her arms around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“She’s my girlfriend,” she said, point-blank.

You froze. Wait. Girlfriend?

Tatum blinked, thrown completely off. “You’re what?” Lara only smiled sweetly before looking up at you like it was your line now.

So you went with it.

You let your arm fall around her shoulder and pulled her closer, smirking. “Yeah,” you said. “I’m her girlfriend.”

And to seal the deal, you pressed a light kiss to Lara’s temple. It wasn’t weird for some reason. Not after what you two had already done. But it felt… intimate in a way that made your chest feel too tight under your shirt.

Tatum looked like she might explode. “What about us? What we had?” she snapped.

Lara didn’t even blink.

That’s when you stepped in. “I think that was all in your head,” you said calmly. “Because she’s with me now.”

Tatum’s eyes welled up fast, and before either of you could say anything else, she spun around and walked away, aggressively wiping her eyes and cursing under her breath.

Neither of you pulled away after the dramatic exit. You glanced down to find Lara already looking up at you, a smile teasing at her lips.

“Girlfriend, huh?” you asked. She tilted her head, playfully, “You like that idea?”

You chuckled softly, hand still on her shoulder, your body warm from her closeness. “Wanna make it happen for real?”

Lara laughed—a real, head-tossing kind of laugh. You’d think she was mocking you, but her face said otherwise. It was pure happiness and delight written all over her.

“Take me out on a date first,” she said, eyes sparkling.

You nodded once. “Deal.” Well… now its time to make the girl who you specifically remembered, officially yours.

[spiderb00]

- DOMESTICATED, L.R

"A stream with your friends may not go as planned when your girlfriend shows up to give you a warning"

warnings - fluff, reader is a streamer and a nerd, lara is bossy ;)

now playing - never lose me, by Flo Milli, SZA, Cardi B

"Tell me you don't ever wanna lose me"

Things were on fire on the live stream, the game you and your friends had chosen to play seemed silly at first, but soon things started to get a little heated between your friends.

Your friends' shouts were deafening to anyone outside, but the group of you didn't seem to be repulsed by the noise. The live chat didn't seem bothered either, spamming things and writing in caps lock just to match the tone of voice you were using.

You were red, the veins in your neck were popping and you'd lost count of how many times your mouse pad had been knocked off in the middle of a game.

The game you and your friends had chosen to stream today was among us, it had been a while since any of you had tried the game that had been a fever during the quarantine, so you decided to go back to the old days for at least one night.

“Oh no, you're going to blow that vein any minute...”

"IT WAS MEGAN! I'M PRETTY SURE SHE'S THE IMPOSTOR!"

“dude, it's already 1:00 am, your neighbors hate you :/”

You laughed lightly at Chat's comments, knowing full well that your studio has very good soundproofing, precisely because of the thousands of warnings and fines you've received for noise.

"Chat, I'm putting a bit of emotion into this game. I have to shout at these guys, or they'll just swallow me alive!" You protested.

You knew that your friends were just as noisy as you, so it was either scream or simply be devoured by the sea of voices.

Once again, a body was found, everyone gathering to discuss what had happened. You were controlling yourself, complying with the chat requests and trying not to scream so much, but fate wasn't cooperating with you.

Or at least Megan wasn't.

“Yn was close to the body... just saying!” That was a very big lie, you were doing your tasks, far away from wherever the little pink-haired liar had found the body.

“THAT'S A LIE!” Yeah, you couldn't control it.

"IT'S TRUE! I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES!" Megan shouted back, a small noise coming from her headset.

"MEGAN SKIENDIEL, YOU'RE A LIAR! AND PROBABLY THE MURDERER!"

“WHY WOULD I BE THE MURDERER?”

“WHY ARE YOU LITERALLY ACCUSING ME!”

“YOU'RE GUILTY!”

The shouting increased, your other friends joining in the discussion, some believing you and others believing Megan. The Chinese girl shouting at the top of her voice how everyone should vote for you.

“MEGAN, I SWEAR, YOU'RE A FUCKING LIAR...”

Suddenly, the door to your studio opened quickly, almost as if someone wanted to scold you about all your shouting and the unbearable noise coming from the room you were occupying.

When you saw Lara, your screams stopped, you let go of the button that allowed your microphone to turn on, and you took the headset out of your ears, letting it hang around your neck.

Your girlfriend was there, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, in her pajamas and with an angry expression on her face, even if her eyes still had a sleepy haze.

“You're shouting so loudly that I can hear you through the acoustic!” The black-haired girl raised an eyebrow, looking at you with the look you knew all too well. "It's one in the morning, babe. Are you losing your mind?"

Shrugging in your chair, you shrugged embarrassedly, totally forgetting that the live - audience could still see and hear you.

“Sorry, babe.”

And there it is, the voice soft and low, the voice the chat hasn't heard since you started playing. The veins in your neck have disappeared and the expressions on your face have softened since Lara entered the room.

“If you're not going to finish the live now, at least be aware that it's late.” The Indian girl approached, grabbing your chin and pulling you away from the camera.

Her free hand wrapped around your hair, pulling you into a slow kiss. Lara's lips made you dizzy, and your hands reached for her waist as if it were a law to be obeyed.

At this point, you didn't even remember that there was a camera capturing it all, but your fans were catching every second of it, either to make cuts, edits, or just commenting madly on the chat.

“Omg, people, she's SO domesticated!”

“The way her voice dropped sharply, lara knows better :0”

“I love it when a nerd gets a baddie 💅”

“Girl, are you going to get down on all fours and bark?”

Pulling away from the kiss, Lara winked at you, dumping you completely motionless on the gaming chair and leaving the room.

You leaned back in your seat, dreamy eyes glancing in the direction of the chat, only to see all the comments you'd missed during your girlfriend's visit.

“Hey, I'm not domesticated!” You said, getting up and sitting down properly in the chair.

Putting your headphones back on, you looked at the computer screen again, only to see your character being thrown from the spaceship, and the classic message saying you weren't the impostor appearing on the screen. You took a deep breath before turning your microphone back on.

“MEGAN!”

just a little fic for you guys, hope you enjoyed it. this is very short, cos it's just an idea I had while gaming with my friends.

anyway, what did you think of beautiful chaos? i just loved it, i think my top 5 is

1. gameboy

2. M.I.A

3. Gabriela

4. Mean girls

5. Gnarly

not that I don't like gnarly, don't get me wrong, but as I've listened to it many times, I'm really addicted to the other songs at the moment.

Anyway, stay safe and drink water,

xoxo, spider.

[sphvm]

under the covers — lara raj

lara raj x fem!reader

tags: face sitting, face riding, cunnilingus, begging(?), dom!lara, coming untouched, breath play(???)

masterlist

MEN AND MINORS DNI

as you lay in bed, wrapped in the warmth of the covers, the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains. you and lara are nestled together, sharing a lazy moment, some movie playing softly in the background and cuddling close together. you’ve been talking about everything and nothing, letting the hours slip away as you enjoy each other's company.

but just as you think the moment can’t get any sweeter, lara leans in suddenly. her lips brushing against yours with an unexpected aggressiveness. the kiss catches you off guard. it’s soft at first, a gentle connection that sends a shiver down your spine, but soon it’s rough, messy. your lips sliding against each other, her tongue making contact with yours as her large hand coming to grasp your jawline. you can feel the warmth of her breath on your lips as she pulls back, giggling at the flushed expression on your face.

“and here i thought we were having a cute, cuddly moment.” you spoke, entwining your hands as lara’s lips connected with your neck, sucking harshly then kissing the red spot tenderly.

she gave you a smirk before resting her hands on your hips, pulling you even closer. “well… i had something in mind.” she slid your thigh between her own, grinding subtlety. “fuck… baby can i ask you something?”

you blinked up at her, feeling yourself already getting wet. “uh y-yeah of course…” she grinded down again, your tits brushing against hers making you groan lowly.

“can i—oh fuck—can i sit on your face, honey?”

woah.

your eyes widened and you felt like your heart stopped. “i… i mean—“

lara paused to move her hands, cradling your face. “come on baby, can i? i’ve been wanting to see what your pretty face would look like in between my thighs for so long… don’t tell me no.”

you scoffed, a smirk crawling onto your face. “like id ever say no to that.” lara grinned, pushing the covers off of you. she moved fast, kicking her sleep shorts somewhere on the floor and slipping her underwear off. she climbed on top of you, giving you a chaste kiss before asking once more if you were okay with it.

we all know what the answer was.

she sat herself right above your face, peering down at you. she positioned herself so that her pussy was right above your mouth and you could already smell her arousal. you felt a thrill run through your body as you wrapped your hands around her hips and pulled her down, her whole weight on your face. she moaned as you started to slide your tongue up and down her folds. your hands were pulling her onto your mouth harder, leaving crescents on her thighs. her hand eventually made its way to your hair, tugging you closer to her. you moaned at her taste, sending vibrations through her body.

once your tongue entered her, she let a high whine out and ground her hips down, making you groan in unison. “fuck—baby just like that mm…” your tongue found her clit, sucking lightly before alternating licking. she was dripping into your mouth and writhing around, moans getting louder as you pulled away to ask, “ride my face?” her eyes were lidded, looking down at you. “please? just a little? it’ll make you feel even better and—and i want it too…”

she could never say no to her baby

lara sighed as she moved her lips, chasing the feeling of your tongue sliding around her folds and clit. she raked her fingers through your hair, grabbing a fistful and using your mouth, just like you asked. “mmf—fuck you love this pussy right? shit—“ you nodded as best as you could, your eyebrows furrowing at the feeling of her thighs clenching around your head. lara knew you were having a hard time breathing, but it only made her leak more slick into your mouth.

her moans were getting louder and louder, and it slightly scared you that her members could hear her. you detached one of your hands from her thigh and slid it to her clit, starting to put pressure on the bundle of nerves.

“o-oh baby keep—fuck! —doing that!” she was bucking her hips, you knew she was close. you were watching her with hooded eyes, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter at the image of her back arching, hands gripping her own body with her mouth slack and eyes closed. she looked beautiful.

she didn’t need to announce when she came. her body shook violently, one of her hands gripping your hair just a little too tight. one final squeeze of her thighs to your head slightly cut your oxygen off for a little longer than it should’ve, making you come in your shorts, a loud moan vibrating through lara’s pussy.

she giggled at you, reluctantly moving off of you with shaking thighs. “did you just come from eating me out baby? you enjoyed it that much?” you nodded weakly and she gave you a kiss, wiping your mouth after.

“i love you, baby.” she suddenly said, pulling the covers over you both once again and holding you close, kissing your forehead. “thank you so much.”

“i love you too.” you turn to face her. “i’d do anything for you.”

[kkoga]

Injuries and accidental exposure lara raj x fem!reader

From this ask!

Warning ! Foul words, idk like hospital visit or sum shit help me out here guys i havent posted in a month

Disclaimer ! Everything written here is pure fiction. Every person is not a real portayal of themselves.

Now playing ! Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex

WC — 1.36K

Synopsis ! Sophia, your sister, received a call from the hospital. She was told you were injured, and in panic, immediately told the other members and their manager they were heading to you ASAP. One of her members however, seemed a tad bit more worried about you than she was.

TRANSLATIONS (For non-Filipinos)

“You’d think she was Yn’s sister”¹

“Sister”²

“Can you calm down!”³

 A ding from Lara’s phone alerts her of your reply. The girl furrows her brows at your text, contemplating whether she should come visit you instead.

The girl couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle, unable to resist your “loser charm”— or at least that’s what you call it. Lara thinks it's just you being cute though.

“Girls! Back to practice, hurry up we don’t have all day!” Sohey says as he claps his hands to catch everyone's attention. Lara gently puts her phone down, preparing herself for another seven hours of nonstop practice.

This was going to be a long day.

Lara lets out a breath of relief after she chugs down on her water, nearly choking on it. Megan snickers at Lara’s near death experience, never missing the chance to tease her best friend.

“Calm down Lara, nobody is stealing that water from you.”

Lara rolls her eyes and nudges Megan by the shoulder.

As Lara tightens the lid of her water bottle back on, Sophia suddenly receives a call, catching everyone's attention. The Filipina mumbles a short “Sorry” before answering the call.

“Hello? Yes, that’s me.” Sophia said with a polite and confused tone, clearly unsure of what the call was about.

Her mood however, suddenly drops. A look of concern and dread on her face.

“Sophia? What’s wrong—?” Before Daniela could finish asking, Sophia immediately pockets her phone.

“We’re going to the hospital.” Everyone could clearly tell this was serious. Sophia was not one to make jokes about leaving practice after all.

“Hospital? Who’s at the hospital??” Yoonchae asked as Sophia and the others grabbed their bags.

“My sister is in the hospital.”

Lara felt her heart drop.

You were at the hospital? What the fuck happened? Were you okay?

Thoughts of the worst possible outcomes plagued Lara’s mind.

She snapped her head to Sophia,

“Yn? What happened to her?!” Lara was panicking. She knew you haven’t been feeling well for the past week. She should have gone to check on you.

“A motorbike accident. Someone hit her as she was crossing the road.”

“WHAT?! WHICH HOSPITAL IS SHE AT?! WE’RE GOING RIGHT NOW.” Lara stormed out of the practice room along with Sophia, the other members following close behind.

Lara was too worried, too concerned for the well being of her girlfriend to notice the way Sophia looked at her.

“I understand being worried for my sister… but why is she so— affected? Akala mo naman sya ung ate ni Yn.” Sophia thought to herself.¹

Even the other members were a bit bamboozled. Lara seemed to care too much— maybe even more than Sophia. Your own fucking sister. Megan and Manon couldn’t help but throw suspicious glances at Lara as the two entered her car.

Lara immediately took off, almost going past the speed limit. She swears that if she ever meets the driver responsible for your injury— then they better pray someone is there to hold her back.

 Because if it ever happens, then he isn’t going to jail. She is.

You were just patiently waiting for your sister to arrive. You were informed she was going to be visiting soon— and with other people too. You assumed those “other people” would be your family, so you didn’t really mind.

You looked around the room, thinking about what you were supposed to say to your ate. You knew she was going to flip.²

You had broken a bone, an obvious fat cast on your right arm. The doctor had informed you it wasn’t that bad, but you still needed about a month to heal. You sighed.

If Sophia wasn’t going to kill you first, then the homework that would slowly pile up will.

And Lara?

 Lara was definitely going to cry and stay with you until dawn.

But that’s probably after Sophia and the guests—who you assume to be your family—leave.

“I’ll just call her to let her know when to come.” You thought to yourself.

Your thoughts however, were interrupted by the loud creak of your door being forced open.

There, you saw Sophia. Great. She was here and you still had no idea what excuses you were going to spout.

But then you looked behind her, and you saw…. Megan? Manon…?? Katseye…???

That meant…

“YN!” Lara shrieked as she rushed to your side—sitting next to you on the bed—cupping your face and tilting your head left to right, trying to check for any injuries on your face.

“Lara? Why are you here?” It was only then that Lara noticed the cast on your right arm. You could already feel the tears on her eyes start to develop. You knew her too well— she was going to cry if you didn't comfort her right now.

“Lara look, I’m okay I promi—” You were quickly interrupted by Lara. Your girlfriend presses her lips onto yours, as she gently caresses your cheek with her thumb.

You went along with it for a second, but then your eyes dart to the right. And you see your fucking sister, staring at you and Lara, mouth wide open.

Oh shit. Right. The other Katseye members were here.

 You were going to protest, to ask her to stop, but Lara only pulled away to kiss you elsewhere. She kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead— anywhere she could possibly reach.

After a solid ten seconds of showering you with kisses, the girl stops and hugs you, burying herself in the crook of your neck.

You were glancing back and forth at Lara and the other Katseye members.

“I— I thought something really bad happened to you when Sophia got that call.” Lara sobbed, voice cracking.

That was when you snapped back to your senses. Who cares if Katseye was watching? If ate Sophia was watching?

Lara was more important. Your sweet, soft, beautiful girlfriend— the one who is currently crying in your arms right now.

“H—hey I’m okay…” You tilt Lara’s face to meet yours, “See? I’m okay. Don’t cry.” Lara leans in for another kiss before someone interrupts.

“WOAH, okay, yeah enough of that.” Everybody turns their head to Sophia. Her brows were furrowed, a slight frown on her face.

“First off, what the hell is going on here? Explain to me why the fuck you’re kissing my sister like your life depends on it Lara. And second, get off of her! She’s very obviously tired and you're pouncing on her. You could hit her cast! And lastly—”

“Ate! God, kumalma ka nga!” Sophia’s eyes widen, before she moves closer to you, an eyebrow raised. Lara sits up, realizing that she just made out with you in front of her members. You two were cooked beyond belief.³

“Okay. Let’s hear your explanation.”

 You took a deep breath before you spoke.

“Me and Lara are dating. I know you’re disappointed I haven’t told you yet, but I have my reasons ate.” Sophia’s eyes softened. She knew you weren’t exactly that comfortable with being vulnerable— especially near family members. It was a mentality most Laforteza kids had to grow up with. Including her.

“I promise we treat each other well.”

At this point, the other members had already taken a seat on the room's couch. Sophia picks up a chair near the table, and drags it next to your bed before taking her seat.

“Are you two happy?”

The question caught you and Lara off guard.

“Yes!”

“The happiest I’ve ever been.”

Sophia sighs, a smile on her face.

“Then that’s all I needed to know.”

Relief flooded your senses. You didn’t know how Sophia was gonna take it— it’s not exactly normal to be dating your sister's band member. But she was thankfully okay with it, even though she seemed a bit skeptical. You could live with this.

You looked at Lara, eyes hopeful. Sophia and the other members were probably going to bombard you with questions later.

But everybody knew not to— at least not yet.

You didn’t expect to go public like this, but it worked out anyway. Better than you thought it’d go.

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕭REAKING HEARTS ᝰ! S.L.

˚⟡˖ ࣪౨ৎ summary: girlfriend material sophia strikes again, and this time round, she has no intention of keeping how much she cares about you a secret. best be known you don't mess with sophia laforteza when it came to you... she'll be breaking a lot more than hearts thats for sure

disclaimers: obvious!sophia, mostly fluff, protective!sophia, younger member!reader, everybody simping for ya’ll

prev, next (so many of yall are threatening to kill my family if i don’t do more sophia content so here she is 🫶)

Y/N AND SOPHIA PROVING L/NFIZ DEFINITELY DOES (NOT) EXIST PART. 2

17.2k likes | 330k views | 18th Dec, 24

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] join a y/nfiz hangout <3 You and Sophia started a live while waiting for the girls to come home from a schedule

You sat beside the Filipina leader, your collared shirt unbuttoned and creased, your hair a slight mess and your day-old make up still on your face. The fans loved the domestic look you always seemed to serve when you were at home, and it was safe to say they noticed Sophia was too.

Whilst she ranted on about some silly story you had already heard her tell a million times, you checked yourself out in the camera, the crease in your white shirt collar gave you an itch you desperately needed scratched.

Your hands came up to pop open the collar to your shirt more, revealing your bare chest down the low V cut of the button-up. The fans had begun tuning Sophia’s story out too, because gradually, the chat flooded with comments on your peculiar choice in styling, which caught the attention of the rambling woman. She glanced between you and the comments on the screen, her hand instinctively shooting up to grab your shirt.

user01 raw. next question.

user02 Omg she’s actually tryna kill us w the fit

user03 don’t be shy pop it open a little more ^^

user04 y/n baby save it for the bedroom

“Yo, watch it,” Sophia warned, adjusting your collar so you would be covered up to the base of your neck.

Your hands grab hers gently as you chuckled at the tense expression on her face. “Fia, calm down, I’m like twenty-one, I can wear an open-collared shirt if I want to.” You nodded towards the thirsty comments, smirking. “Besides, it sounds more like the fans want me to.”

Sophia grimaced, her face twisting into something negative before adjusting her sitting position so she was in front of you. She was in an oversized hoodie, so it shielded your body from the camera perfectly.

“Absolutely not if I have something to say about it,” she shook her head, moving her body so she would be shielding you away from the camera. “What’re you all looking at, hm?”

user05 dang baby ain’t nobody tryna snatch her😭

user06 It’s okay cuz if y/n was mine I would gatekeep too

user07 ntm on my girl sophia yall know damn well you’d do the same thing if y/n was your girlfriend

user08 SOPHIA SHARING IS CARING

You sighed, lips quirked at the older woman’s antics. “Can I talk to my people, Laforteza? Or are you gonna hold my shirt like this for the rest of the live?”

“Are you gonna button this all the way up?”

Your eyes widened, “All the way up? What am I, somebody’s Christian mom? Absolutely not!”

“Then yes, the rest of the live.”

user09 sophia confirmed brat tamer

user10 This is too much for my brain man

user11 Idk what’s crazier y/n’s fit or Sophia going all overprotective girlfriend

Eventually, Sophia would shed the hoodie she was wearing and drape it over you, despite your apparent protesting. The friends made note of the way she still seemed adamant on keeping you in the background as your hands peeked through the long sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt.

[ are they looking for a third to their marriage? ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* KATSEYE MANA Dance Practice; Sophia’s behind the scenes interview

All the members were asked to send you a message. You were out sick and couldn’t make it the day they filmed the dance practice (you did eat so hard at MAMA don’t worry), and as the girls were asked about their feelings, their experiences working towards an award show like MAMA and what they took from this opportunity. Sophia, as the leader, her interview was put last, and she got asked the most hard-hitting questions.

She knew you were getting some backlash from being sick that PR day, it made things much more exaggerated, as if you weren’t present for a lot of things.

[ y/n defender till i die. if i see one comment calling her lazy or untalented, i WILL be reporting you ]

The question: “How have you managed to keep yourself motivated and help support the girls through this journey towards achieving such a milestone?” Immediately, Sophia being Sophia begun ranting on about how every member did their jobs amazingly, how she could not be prouder, how she could not imagine herself fulfilling her dream with such a beautiful group of passionate artists. She then spun her rant away from Manon being a pillar behind the scenes to you, whom your manager had asked her to give a message to.

“It’s actually been really disheartening,” she sighed, her wide smile faltering just the slightest. It was obvious, the way you could see genuine emotion seep through the cracks of her pr training. “y/n’s been sick for about a week, she can barely get out of bed and she just—She’s been working especially hard for this, because this has always been a dream of hers. Most days, we have one of our phones on facetime with her at home. You can actually see her following along next to her bed, and she gets teased so hard for it.”

[ my poor baby, i’m glad she put health first ]

Sophia chuckled softly, “That girl—that girl is so stubborn. I’ve told her so many times to just stay in bed and get better soon so she can actually practice with us here, but I never win that argument.” The camera angle switches to a closer look at Sophia’s expression. Her eyes pan from her hands back up to main camera off screen, glossy and brushed with a tinge of melancholy. “It breaks my heart to see her cry. She loves doing what we do, and not being able to do it makes her feel like she’s disappointing everybody. And the girls do a really good job of making sure those thoughts eventually leave, but she’s just so hard on herself. That is… definitely part of what makes her such an amazing performer, but it’s also what we, as a group, as a family—as Katseye, stand for.”

She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. The words, “The members messages to their missing friend:” appear.

“y/n, if you’re watching at home, I love you. The dance room’s not the same without you here, we all miss you, and we really cannot hope any harder for you to feel better soon.” She blew the camera a kiss, “I’ll see you at home. Love you.”

[ she said i love you twice… SHE SAID IT TWICE ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Katseye Christmas Video; a segment of the video had the members paired off and decorating their ugly sweaters, naturally, to atone to popular demand, you and Sophia were coupled up

“Yours is not looking good right now,” you teased, snorting at the third glop of hot glue yanking the little fibres off the sweater. You, yourself, didn’t have the most impressive artistic ability, but you enjoyed watching the older pout and grow fussy whenever you would make a comment about her struggling to bring her vision to life. “What is that supposed to be, Rudolph’s distant cousin Rude elf?”

Sophia rolled her eyes, letting out a whiney grumble. “It’s not even that bad, it has a good personality. Stop judging it!”

[ y/nfiz fans getting fed everyone say THANK YOU HYBE ]

You rummaged through the box of decorations you were provided, feeling your attention momentarily divert from the heat exhuming from the show lights. You pulled out a couple streamers, Christmas balls before you found a particular piece of decor that caught your eye.

Apart from the sweaters, you had to make a hat, and you knew everybody was in competition for the most ridiculous design. Inspiration struck, and you had the best idea.

When the sweaters were done, you slipped it on. Yours was a pastel shade of red, with the words “Wish list: Eyekons” spelt out with stickers. You looped the streams along the sleeves, taking the balls all over the sweater. As you stood in front of the slow-mo camera for your glam shot, you could see Sophia smiling at you in your peripheral. You smiled into the camera, blowing them a kiss with a cheeky wink.

[ she’s so fine i need her i need her i need- *gunshots* ]

Back at your table, you added the last touch of glitter before fully giving the camera another close look at your creation. You turned to the Filipina, who adjusted her on.

“Wait, Fia, you gotta look at this.”

She glanced at the camera, a nervous grimace sprawled across her face as you bent behind the table to pick up your hat. “You and creative genius do not mix, like I have a seriously bad feeling about this—!”

You set the hat on your head, a fedora you wrapped in Justin Bieber Christmas wrapping paper. Around the base tied a long rope of frills, strung at the very front a tiny, dangling piece of mistletoe flailing just inches away from your eyes. You beamed, proud of the hat. You eyed the cameras, before puckering your lips in an exaggerated manner. Your hands clasped together, eyes closed. “I’m waiting.”

[ #thisisthemostiveeverrelatedtoanidol ]

Sophia slapped a hand over her forehead, scoffing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, there’s no way you did that.”

“You gotta respect the tradition, Laforteza, come on!” you ushered, leaning in closer as you pouted. “I want my kiss.”

[ sophia’s stronger than me i would’ve folded right there ]

Sophia eyed something off camera, getting a sleek look of approval from your manager.

“Fine, come here.” She sighed, an amused smile on her lips. She cradled your face carefully, tilting her own head before pressing a gentle kiss onto your cheek. When she pulled back, the camera zoomed in on the lipstick stain nearly touching the corner of your mouth. “Merry Christmas, l/n.”

You shot the camera the widest smile, “I must’ve been a good girl this year, cuz my Christmas wish just came true.”

[ no cuz the editors knew what they were doing keeping this bit in for the starving y/nfiz truthers ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ KATSEYE VLOG ] Here are four separate occasions from the same video where Sophia just can’t keep her hands off you

Clip one: You stood up from your seat, second from the left and right in between Sophia and Daniela. You threw pumpkin guts at Lara, who wouldn’t stop making fun of the way you couldn’t balance on your heels earlier when you were filming winx club tiktok’s. Sophia’s hand cupped the back of your skirt, her own pumpkin long forgotten. She pressed the piece of clothing against your thighs, making sure you wouldn’t flash the entire world as you focused on dousing the Indian singer in your pumpkin’s insides.

Clip two: As the six of you waited for Megan to finish up in hair and makeup, Sophia’s arm wrapped around your neck. You, Yoonchae and Manon were deep in conversation about the last time the group was altogether for a schedule, with Sophia mindlessly watching you talk. Fans pointed out her apparent gaze switching back and forth from your eyes to your lips, a small smile perched on her own lips as she watched you joke around with your bandmates.

Clip three: The two of you were pulled aside, tasked to organize the girls into groups to set up a quick little jumpscare for Megan as a surprise to celebrate her official return to Katseye activities since her back injury. Though the video showed a wide are of the studio where you two stood, Sophia seemed adamant on staying just inches away from you, her attention solely fixed on the way your eyebrows furrowed at the ipad they had handed you. Fans noted this as one of the more subtle but iconic l/nfiz moments.

Clip four: As Daniela thanked the fans for tuning in to watch the special Halloween edition of Katseye vlogs, Sophia could be seen grabbing at your hip. Given, her other arm was around Yoonchae, but her hand merely dangled off her shoulder, unlike the sure grip you could see she had on your waist.

[ let’s play fanservice or just gay for the 193837th time ]

*Loud technical difficulty transiition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] Manon and Daniela being big mouths ;)

“I’m pregnant with talent… I’m pregnant with star quality,” Manon announced confidently, earning a judgemental look from her roommate beside her.

“That’s one way to put it, that’s for sure.” Daniela mocked.

“Where are the others—Okay, hold up, I got this. Let me cook!” Manon set her brush down, raising a finger, the other hand pointing at that finger. “Lara’s out with her sister, Yoonchae’s sleeping next door right now, and… Megan’s still at home seeing her family.” Daniela hummed, “Yeah, her flight’s tomorrow.” Manon nodded, “Yeah, so Megan’s not back yet. And Laffy and n/n are out on their little date right now.”

Daniela squealed, slapped her in the arm, “Stop! People are gonna take that outta context!”

Manon faked a scared gasp, going back to fixing her hair. “Hybe, if you’re watching, I didn’t say that.”

user01 l/nfiz on a date… i can die happy now

user02 MANZ JUST CONFIRMED L/NFIZ LESGO

user03 never EVER pr train this woman

“Yeah, wait, I think Sophia posted it.” Daniela pulled up a Weverse post Sophia had put up not long ago of her in a movie theatre in front of a movie poster. “y/n’s been meaning to watch the movie for her favourite actress and Sophia, of course, agreed to go with her. They’re getting us dinner on the way home, so I’m praying y/n does the shopping. Sophia always tries to trick us into eating healthy.”

“Yeah, she thinks she’s slick too,” Manon snorted, “Let’s be so for real though, y/n opens her mouth and I ain’t ever heard Sophia respond with ‘no’, that’s all I’m saying.”

user04 Manon is so messy I love her

user05 so she’s a down bad girlfriend huh…

user06 manon is a mindset i want to embody

“Yeah, y/n just exists and Sophia’s smitten. Bro, last time they went out for a ‘quick grocery run’, they came back with bags on bags of shopping. I know this little gold digger did not pay with her own money,” Daniela chirped, “I was in the living room when Sophia’s dad called to ask why her card was maxed out.”

Manon sighed, “Chat, let me tell you, Sophia spoils y/n rotten. And I mean, rotten. This woman don’t need no sugar daddy, she done made a sugar momma outta Laffy.”

“Sophia plays favourites. I don’t appreciate it.” Daniela joked.

[ so basically sophia’s THAT type gf, ok, ok… taking notes for science rn ]

[pohtaytoh]

UNSEEN

.° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ Lara Raj x Idol!Reader

In the dazzling, fiercely competitive world of fame, Y/N, a rising star from Huntrix, and Lara Raj, a captivating idol from rival group KATSEYE, share a love that defies every rule. Their secret, a fragile flame nurtured in stolen moments, threatens to ignite a scandal that could shatter their careers.

At a grand award show, a single, lingering glance, a moment meant only for them, is caught by eagle-eyed fans. Suddenly, whispers turn to shouts, and the internet explodes with theories, dividing their devoted fandoms. Their powerful companies, desperate to control the narrative, impose a harsh silence, forcing Y/N and Lara apart, pushing their hidden connection to its breaking point.

As the pressure mounts and their futures hang in the balance, Y/N and Lara face an impossible choice: cling to a love that must remain hidden, or risk everything to bring their truth into the light. Will their bond survive the relentless glare of the public eye, or is some love simply destined to remain Unseen?

part: one. two. <three.> four.

The forced separation was a heavy weight, crushing Y/N. Every day felt longer than the last, an endless stretch of time without Lara. Y/N felt a constant ache in her chest, a hollow space where Lara used to be, a silence that screamed louder than any noise. Her dorm room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a lonely cage. 

Every public appearance felt like a performance within a performance – smiling, laughing, acting perfectly normal, all while her heart longed for a glimpse of Lara, a sign that their love was still real despite the cruel distance.

They were kept apart by their companies, their schedules carefully managed to avoid any accidental meetings, any chance encounter. It was like living in a silent movie, where all the feelings were happening inside, a storm of emotions, but nothing could be shown outside. The world saw a composed idol, but inside, Y/N was breaking.

In her quiet moments, late at night when the dorm was asleep and the city lights outside were dim, Y/N poured all her pain and longing into her music. Her songwriting became her only escape, her only way to speak.

She started writing a new song, a slow, heartfelt ballad she called "Secret Love Song." It wasn't about a specific person, not directly, but every line, every melody, whispered of hidden feelings, of love kept under wraps, of missing someone you couldn't be with. 

She sang about stolen glances, unspoken words, and the desperate hope that one day, their love could be free and seen by the world. The lyrics were so raw, so honest, that her Huntrix members, who knew her secret, couldn't help but notice the deep sadness woven into the beautiful melody.

"Y/N, this song… it's really beautiful," Minji said softly one day, her voice full of concern, after hearing Y/N practice it alone in the studio. "But it sounds… really sad. Like you're singing about something very personal. Are you okay?"

Y/N just nodded, unable to explain more, but her members, who now carried the weight of her secret with her, understood the unspoken pain. 

When Huntrix eventually released "Secret Love Song" as a B-side track on their next album, it quickly became a fan favorite. Fans connected with its deep emotion, its universal theme of longing, but the "shippers" especially latched onto it with fierce excitement. 

"Is this about Lara?" they whispered online, their theories gaining traction. "It just has to be. The lyrics fit perfectly with what happened at the award show! The hidden glances, the forbidden love!" The song, meant as a private outlet for Y/N's pain, instead made the fans even more curious, fueling the fire of speculation, rather than putting it out. 

Both Y/N and Lara, in subtle ways, would sometimes hint at the song, maybe humming a line during a live stream, or posting a photo with a caption that seemed to connect to its meaning, tiny breadcrumbs for those who were looking, a secret language only they and their most dedicated fans understood.

Meanwhile, Lara was struggling just as much, if not more. The forced distance from Y/N was agonizing, a constant, sharp pain in her heart. Every day felt like a battle to keep her emotions hidden, to plaster on a smile for the cameras when all she wanted was to scream. 

One evening, after a particularly tough day of endless company meetings, strict rules, and a public appearance where she had to pretend Y/N didn't exist, Lara was in the KATSEYE dorm. She was curled up on the couch, a blanket pulled tight around her, looking utterly heartbroken, her eyes red and puffy. The other five members – Sophia, Daniela, Manon, Megan and Yoonchae – saw her pain. Their usual lively chatter had died down, replaced by quiet, heavy concern.

"Lara, you look awful," Daniela said gently, sitting beside her and putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. "You haven't been yourself lately. We're worried."

Manon nodded, her voice soft. "Yeah, we all know it's about Y/N. How are you really doing? Don't hide it from us."

Lara sighed, a deep, shaky breath that seemed to carry all her sadness. Tears welled up in her eyes, finally overflowing. "It's… it's so hard," she whispered, her voice cracking with raw emotion. "I miss her so much. Every single day feels like a year, an eternity without her. We can't even text. We can't even look at each other at events without risking everything, risking our careers, our groups." She looked at her members, her eyes full of a deep, aching pain. 

"I love her, guys. I really, truly love Y/N. More than words can say. And it kills me that I can't show it to the world. That we have to pretend like nothing happened between us. Like she means nothing to me, when she means everything." She buried her face in her hands, a quiet sob escaping her.

Yoonchae reached out and gently squeezed Lara's hand, her own eyes tearing up. "We know, Lara. We see how much you hurt. We're here for you."

Sophia, the wise and strong leader of KATSEYE, listened quietly, her expression thoughtful and determined. She had watched Lara, her dear friend and group member, slowly fade, her usual bright, confident energy dimmed by this secret pain. 

She also saw the impact on the entire group, the constant pressure of the scandal, the endless questions from fans, even with the company's desperate "damage control." But more than that, she saw Lara's genuine, undeniable love for Y/N, a love that was clearly destroying her from the inside out.

"This can't go on," Sophia finally said, her voice firm, a new, steely resolve in her eyes. She stood up, walking to the window and looking out at the city lights.

"You're hurting, Lara. We're all feeling the stress, the constant scrutiny. And the fans aren't stupid. They're still talking, still connecting the dots. 'Damage control' isn't working, it's just making things worse, making us all feel like we're living a lie." She turned back to her group, her gaze sweeping over each of their faces. "We need to do something real. Something big. Something that changes the narrative completely."

The next morning, Sophia walked into their company boss's office, her mind fully made up, her resolve unwavering. She knew it was a huge risk, a move that could end her own career, but she had to try. She sat across from Mr. Kim, the CEO, who looked even more tired and stressed than usual, a stack of negative reports on his desk.

"Mr. Kim," Sophia began, her voice steady despite her racing heart, "I need to talk to you about Lara and Y/N, and the current situation."

Mr. Kim sighed, rubbing his temples, clearly annoyed. "Sophia, we've been over this. The official statement has been released. They are not to interact. We are moving past this. This conversation is closed."

"But we're not moving past it, sir," Sophia countered, her voice gaining strength as she pushed a tablet across the desk. It showed countless fan posts, trending hashtags, news articles, and detailed analyses, all still linking Y/N and Lara, many quoting lyrics from "Secret Love Song," comparing it to their award show moments. 

"The fans aren't buying it. They're smarter than you think and Lara is suffering, deeply. We all are. This isn't just about a scandal anymore, it's about two people who genuinely care about each other, and it's affecting our group's well-being, our mental health, and our ability to perform."

Mr. Kim looked at the tablet, his face unreadable, a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he saw the sheer volume of continued speculation. "What do you propose, Sophia? Another fake statement? A public apology that will only draw more attention?"

"No," Sophia said, taking a deep breath, her gaze locking with his. "Something different. Something that turns this negative into a massive positive. Something real, something honest." She leaned forward, her voice filled with conviction. "I think KATSEYE should collaborate with Huntrix. Specifically, Lara and Y/N. On a song."

Mr. Kim stared at her, speechless, his jaw dropping slightly. "Are you insane? A collaboration? After all this? With a rival group? And them? That would confirm everything!"

"Yes," Sophia insisted, her voice unwavering. "A song that speaks to their story, but in a way that the public can accept and even celebrate. A song about freedom, about breaking free from expectations, about finding your own path and being true to yourself. We could call it 'Free'." She leaned even closer, her eyes burning with passion. 

"It would be a huge hit, Mr. Kim. A groundbreaking, industry-changing hit. It would show both companies are strong enough to work together, that we're listening to the fans, that we support our artists' genuine emotions. And it would give Lara and Y/N a way to express themselves, to connect with their fans in an honest way, to finally tell their story, without breaking any rules directly. It could turn this whole messy, damaging situation into a triumph, a legend in history."

Mr. Kim leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed, thinking hard. The silence in the room was heavy. It was a crazy idea, a wild gamble, a complete reversal of everything they stood for but the current "damage control" wasn't working. 

The scandal was festering, hurting their artists and their bottom line. And the idea of a massive, groundbreaking hit song, a collaboration between two popular groups, driven by a real, emotional story… it was incredibly tempting. It was risky, yes, but perhaps less risky than letting the scandal slowly destroy their artists and their groups from the inside out.

"I'll talk to Huntrix's company," Mr. Kim finally said, his voice slow and thoughtful, a hint of grudging respect in his tone. "This is a long shot, Sophia. A very long shot. They might say no. But… you've given me something to seriously think about."

Sophia left the office, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and exhilarating hope. It was just a first step, a tiny glimmer of light in the darkness, but it was something. Maybe, just maybe, Y/N and Lara's love story could finally be heard, not in whispers and fan theories, but in a powerful, public declaration of freedom, echoing across the world.

previous part. // next part.

a/n: Thoughts? I feel like Sophia in this story would definitely do something similar in real life. She's in leader mode and we all know how much she loves her members and take care of them. Also the song choice? We all know Secret Love Song hits different and it fits this story so I had to.

[huntingcupid]

BMW WITH LARA RAJ

Ikaw ang laman ng passenger seat empty road four-seater para meron tayong space sa likod ating sulitin ang hamog magsisilbi na taklob ang hiling 'di malagot na masilip sa loob

⌗ LARA — fem!reader, smut, swearing, semi-public(?), teasing, soph x reader mentioned, getting caught, on live, fingering, etc...

⌗ CUPID — anon req, pretty short and straight forward

it started innocently, with lara offering eyekons a live — you two were in her car waiting for sophia cause she was in a meeting with the katz manager, lara's bmw to be specific, you scroll on your phone waiting for people to join, well until there was at least 10 thousand people in

“hello eyekons!” lara giggles, she positioned the phone up, only showing the upper halves of your bodies, “hey eyekons” you smile at the phone

suddenly you felt lara's hands trailing on your thighs, you were wearing baggy sweatpants and some hoodie for context, you look at the girl smiling awkwardly, “this isn't prerecorded eyekons” lara laughs avoiding your gaze — you suck your teeth knowing your in for a smile

“comeback?, no spoilers!” you try to talk yet you felt your breath hitch as laras fingers slowly enter your sweats, playing with the lace of your underwear, her fingers skimming your skin, her rings cold against your pelvis — you bit your lip fighting the moan that was about to leave your mouth

“its so warm-” you look at the girl “in here…” lara lightly giggles which you internally rolled your eyes at, “why are you so quiet y/n, eyekons are asking” lara looks at you, and just as you were gonna speak she plunges her digits into you, “i uh- i- feel s-sick” you stutter, closing your eyes tightly, lara hums going a steady pace, her thumb circling your clit as she reads the comments

one moment she pulls out only to push so deeply in, “f-fuck” you quiver, eyekons were concerned for you thinking you were really sick, “awh, look y/n they are worried for you” lara whispers into your ear directly, you look at the comments only nodding afraid to speak — “l-lara” you murmur, “is taking care of me don't worry” you smile

lara's other phone dings, a message from sophia your leader, she reads it and laughs a bit, only turning her phone off again, curious you open her phone and check the text

[soph] : lara, thats nasty as fuck — are you fucking y/n on live?!

[soph] : i have 6 more minutes in this conference room when i get back you two are getting scolded istg.

you blush feeling embarrassed, lara takes the phone and turns it off checking the time, “we only have 5 more minutes eyekons” lara says pouting, she fasten her pace making you whimper out, sweat poured from your forehead as you neared your climax, lara's fingers are so long that it kept hitting that perfect spot

“awh thats time” lara says in faux disappointment ending the live, “you're gonna cum now y/n we don't have time” lara mutters kissing the side of your neck as she pushed her digits further in, good thing the windows are tinted dark enough that no one can see inside — you moaned shamelessly as you felt a coil in your stomach beginning to tighten

“what the fuck?!” sophia says as she opens the door at the perfect moment as you came on lara's fingers, she looked disgusted and lara just smirked smugly, “oh come on, you want y/n too don't lie laforteza” lara teases and sophia smirks

you froze there silently, obviously flustered snd more importantly needy, sophia tilts her head to the side, “is it too late to join?” sophia laughs joined by lara

took "two bad bitches at the same damn time" too literally i guess

wc: 600 words

[rosachae]

bend (her) like beckham | manon x reader

⁍ requested: yes! thank you anon ⁍ genre: slowburn fluff, angst. idol!manon x soccer player!reader. posh spice/david beckham dynamic spinoff. wingman megan and wingman beabadoobee (soccer player!bea) ⁍ a/n: thank you so much for requesting this, anon! as i've said in previous posts, sorry for the delay in getting this out. i hope this is what you were looking for. i had a lot of fun writing this. ⁍ w.c: 20.3k ⁍ warnings: curt language, nsfw/suggestive themes, mentions of painkiller abuse and injury. ⁍ synopsis:

y/n is one of the best midfielders the sport of women's soccer has ever seen. manon bannerman is a part of the global girl group sensation, katseye. they couldn't be any more different. that much was made clear after a chance hookup lead to their paths crossing once again at a pregame performance. who knew a little note would be the start and end of everything?

los angeles glittered in a way that felt almost artificial, like a city made for the lens of a camera instead of real life. you’d flown in the day before, checked into your hotel, and tried not to overthink the weight of the season opener. it wasn’t your first time playing in a packed stadium, but the buzz around this match was different. the whole country was watching. so were the brands. so were the scouts. so was everyone who had ever told you you were too young, too bold, too much.

but tonight wasn’t about that. tonight was bea’s birthday.

you hadn’t seen her in months, not since the team usa off-season camp in colorado. she played for angel city fc now, and technically, she’d be your rival on the field tomorrow. but friendships like yours didn’t vanish just because you wore different kits. when she called earlier in the week and said “don’t you dare miss my party,” you hadn’t even pretended to hesitate.

the house was tucked high in the hills, the kind of place only athletes, actors, and internet famous people seemed to know about. you’d barely made it out of the car before you heard someone call your name. 

bea was already there, walking up to your car with a large shiteating grin on her face. 

“would you look what the cat dragged in. y/f/n. i thought you were gonna flake,” 

“beatrice laus. funny seeing your dopey face. you won’t be so happy when i wipe the field with your ass tomorrow.”

bea grimaced when you dropped her full government name, but then shook her head with a short laugh. “shit talking already? and on my birthday? have some class.” 

you rolled your eyes playfully when she leaned in for a quick hug, the tattoos on her arms glittering under the strobing lights filtering through the windows of her house. you hug her back stiffly, wincing slightly at the heavy smell of alcohol seeping into her clothes. 

“jesus, bea. how the hell do you plan on even waking up tomorrow?”

bea shrugged, her grin not once slipping from her face as she looped her arm through yours. she practically tugged you up the stairs and into her house, voice raising to be heard over the thumping music. 

“nevermind that, why don’t you have something to drink? live a little!”

you narrow your eyes. “this sounds like some shitty attempt at sabotage if i’ve ever heard it. you know we have a game to play.”

she waved her hand dismissively. “you only live once. let me enjoy my night.” then she trailed off when something catches her eye in the far corner. “while you go be mopey somewhere else, i have some babysitting to do.”

the last thing you heard before she disappeared into the crowd was a loud “hey! get off my chandelier!” before the music droned out any and all legible string of sentences. 

you shook your head, laughed under your breath, then let your gaze wander the room. you didn’t recognize many people. a few fellow athletes, a handful of streaming personalities, a tattooed actor from that one netflix show. everyone was dressed like they had nowhere to be the next day. there were polaroids passed around and a tray of neon shots no one really wanted to take but did anyway for the aesthetic. 

if you were being honest with yourself, you’d have rather been anywhere else. the music was too loud, the house too crowded, and the air smelled like expensive perfume and the kind of liquor that burned going down. it wasn’t like you to be out so late the night before a game, especially not one like this. season opener. national spotlight. everything to prove.

but bea had asked, and saying no to her had never been your strong suit.

still, as the night wore on, your patience wore thin. you were tired of smiling at people you didn’t know. tired of pretending to care when someone told you they’d seen your nike ad. you’d already dodged a half-hearted attempt from some girl you vaguely remembered, the one who thought flirting was a sport and boundaries were optional. you were sick of people trying to shove shots into your hands like you hadn’t worked your entire life for the game. you knew what coach would say if he saw you here. not angry. just disappointed. the thought alone made your stomach twist.

you kept your face neutral. unreadable. it was easier that way.

with a quiet sigh, you peeled yourself away from the crowd and wandered toward the back of the house. the hallway was long and dimly lit, the thrum of bass dulling the farther you walked. you passed a bathroom, a guest room, a door that was half-cracked open with coats spilling out like it had given up trying to hold everything inside.

eventually, you found the balcony. or maybe it found you.

it was empty except for a flickering candle on the railing and the city stretched out beneath you like a lit-up promise. out here, the air was cooler. you could finally breathe. you stayed there for a while, long enough for the hum of the party behind you to fade into background noise. the city had a rhythm of its own. the occasional whoop of a car down in the canyon, the buzz of neon from somewhere in the distance, the faint echo of music bleeding out from other houses stacked along the hills. the kind of place where it felt like everything was happening all at once.

you were so caught up in the quiet of it that you didn’t notice her step outside.

not at first.

it was the click of the sliding door, soft but intentional, that pulled your attention. you glanced over your shoulder, only half-interested. and then you saw her.

she stepped into the light like she didn’t care who was watching. slow, unhurried, utterly unbothered by the idea of being seen. dark eyes, high cheekbones, that exact kind of poised elegance that didn’t feel practiced so much as inherited. her dark brown boho braids framed her face in a way that had your breath catching in your throat. several strands of hair framed her face like they belonged there, delicate against her smooth complexion. she wore low rise jeans and a tank top that showed off her toned stomach, the belly chain around her stomach ricocheting light as if they were diamonds on her skin. for a second, you genuinely thought she might be a model.

you looked away before you could be caught staring.

didn’t matter. she noticed anyway.

“you hiding, too?” she asked, voice low and smooth like she’d spent the whole night not saying much and was only now deciding to use it. 

you couldn’t place her accent but the little teaser you got was enough to have you wanting to hear more. 

you huffed a quiet laugh. “something like that.”

she walked over, leaning on the railing beside you. just far enough to be polite, just close enough to make your skin buzz.

“i get it,” she said. “it’s loud in there.”

you nodded. “and a little too… curated.”

she smiled at that. not wide. just a tug at the corner of her mouth like she wasn’t used to smiling for strangers but decided to anyway.

“you here for bea?” she asked.

you nodded. “old friend. team usa.”

“ah. so you’re an athlete.”

you glanced over, eyes narrowing a little. “that obvious?”

“the way you stand. the way you didn’t drink the shot someone tried to give you. and…” she paused, letting her eyes drag across you for just a second too long. “the quads.”

you laughed, caught off guard. “okay. fair.”

she tilted her head, curious. “soccer?”

“football,” you corrected, smiling despite yourself.

“right. of course.”

a beat passed. the silence was comfortable now.

“you?” you asked.

she shrugged. “just here with friends.”

you raised a brow. “you don’t seem like a ‘just here’ kind of girl.”

“maybe i’m not,” she said, and you couldn’t tell if it was a challenge or an invitation.

maybe it didn’t matter.

because five minutes later, you were still talking. ten minutes after that, your hands brushed. twenty minutes later, the city wasn’t what you were looking at anymore.

maybe it was the way she looked at you.

not with expectation, not with hunger, but with this quiet kind of curiosity that made your skin feel warmer than it should have in the night air. like she was studying you. like she wanted to figure you out without asking for anything.

the ride back to the hotel was quiet. you’d called the car, sat side by side in the back seat, close but not touching. her knee bumped yours when the car hit a bump on the freeway. she didn’t pull away. neither did you.

when you got to the room, you unlocked the door like you’d done it a hundred times before. the key clicked, the door swung open, and you stepped inside without looking back. you tossed your phone onto the desk, kicked off your shoes, and reached for the bedside lamp. the soft yellow glow filled the room, casting long shadows over the rumpled comforter and the single armchair pushed against the corner.

you heard the door close behind you.

she lingered near it, one hand still on the handle like she hadn’t made up her mind. her gaze swept the room, thoughtful, slow.

“this what five-star athletes get?” she asked, lips twitching like she was fighting a smirk.

you glanced over your shoulder. “you coming in, or just here to rate my accommodations?”

she smiled then,  slow and deliberate, before stepping inside and letting the door click shut behind her. “depends. you planning on entertaining your guest?”

“depends,” you said, mirroring her tone. “you planning on staying?”

she walked the room like she had all the time in the world. dragged her fingers along the edge of the desk, paused at the foot of the bed, tapped the corner of a framed photo of some abstract skyline you hadn’t noticed before. her presence filled the space without effort. you weren’t sure if it was the way she moved or the way she looked at everything like it might tell her a secret.

“nice view,” she murmured, peeking through the sheer curtain.

you didn’t answer. you were watching her.

she turned, eyes landing on yours again. “you always bring strangers back to your hotel room?”

“only when they look at me like that.”

she tilted her head, feigning innocence. “like what?”

“like they want something.”

“maybe i do,” she said. then, after a beat, “maybe i don’t.”

you crossed the space between you without thinking. your fingers found the edge of her jeans first, then slid up to the curve of her waist. her hands came up to your collar, light and curious, not pulling you in but not letting go either.

“this where you ask for my name?” she asked, voice low now.

“do you want me to?”

she considered it. “no.”

you nodded. “then don’t tell me.”

the kiss was slow when it landed, soft and searching, her lips brushing yours like she was figuring out how you liked to be kissed before committing to it. she tasted like peppermint and a whisper of something floral. her skin was warm under your hands. 

you didn’t rush. didn’t fumble.

the pace stayed lazy, deliberate. clothes came off in between teasing comments and almost-touches. her mouth ghosted over your throat and she muttered, “what are you thinking about?” against your skin.

you breathed out, “only you.”

she laughed quietly, a little smug. but she said nothing more when you pulled her down with you onto the bed.

whatever came next wasn’t about knowing each other. it was about the way her hips moved against yours, the way her hand held the back of your neck like it meant something, the way she moaned into your mouth when you bit her lip a little too hard. it was about how quiet the room got except for the sounds you made together, the rustle of sheets, the rhythm of bodies learning each other’s language one kiss, one breath at a time.

she didn’t ask anything of you. neither did you.

but when she kissed your shoulder, your jaw, the place just under your ribs like she wanted to remember it, you wondered if she might be trying to leave something behind.

only by the time morning came, the space next to you was empty.

she was gone.

for a moment, you wondered if you had imagined the whole thing. but then you spotted the note. it was folded in half and placed neatly on the pillow, written on the hotel’s stationery in small, looping handwriting.

thx for the night. –meret

you sat there with the note in your hand for a long while, memorizing the name, the shape of it, the way her face lingered in your memory even though you hadn’t known it for more than a few hours.

you didn’t know her last name. you didn’t know what she did or where she was going next. you just knew her name was meret, and she had vanished like smoke. without a sound, without a trace, save for that single line in ink.

you slipped the note into your bag before getting up.

by the time you stepped into the stadium that afternoon for the pregame warmups, you’d almost convinced yourself to forget her.

almost.

__

‎ 

manon didn’t get back to the hotel until almost four in the morning.

technically, it was closer to four-thirty. the sun was already brushing against the edges of the horizon, and downtown los angeles looked too clean for how she felt. her braids were coming undone, her shirt was buttoned wrong, and she had the faintest mark under her jaw where someone’s teeth had lingered longer than they should have. she didn’t bother adjusting any of it. the lobby was empty, the elevator was slow, and when she caught her reflection in the mirrored wall, she just looked at herself once, then looked away.

she tried to be quiet pushing into the room. she really did. but the key card stuck a little in the lock and her boots thudded against the carpet when she kicked them off. that was enough to wake sophia.

“manon?” sophia’s voice was raspy, low with sleep. “is that you?”

a rustling followed, then lara’s voice came from the second bed. “god, it is her. jesus. what time is it?”

“you’re lucky we’re not on live right now,” daniela mumbled into her pillow. “i’d be exposing your walk of shame in real time.”

manon didn’t say a word. just slipped into the bathroom and shut the door. but that didn’t stop them.

“i want a full debrief in the morning,” megan called out. “i want names, timelines, weather conditions.”

“was she pretty?” lara asked, her voice high with curiosity.

“was she good?” daniela countered, only to be met with silence. she continued after a beat. “she’s quiet. that means yes.”

manon returned ten minutes later in fresh clothes. she looked clean but guilty, more ammunition to fan the fire.

megan sat up, stretching like a cat. “you smell like someone else’s perfume.”

“and success,” sophia added.

“how was she?” lara asked, immediately elbowed by yoonchae.

manon finally spoke, voice dry. “you’re all freaks.”

megan gasped. “rude.”

“don’t dish it if you can’t take it,” sophia said, tossing a pillow at her. “you disappeared with a stranger and came back looking like a victoria’s secret campaign. we’re allowed to be nosy.”

“it’s a sisterhood,” daniela said solemnly. “this is what you signed up for.”

manon climbed into bed besides lara without answering. she kept her expression neutral, but they all clocked the faint smile she tried to hide when she turned toward the wall.

she only managed to get two hours of sleep before she had to get up and prepare for the day ahead of her. 

they had spent the morning rehearsing, the afternoon getting glammed, and now they were all dressed in stage outfits that shimmered when the sun hit them right. hair slicked, nails done, in-ear monitors already tucked into place.

by the time the van pulled up to the stadium it was 2p.m. the teasing had died down, replaced by the kind of focused energy only performance days brought. manon sat by the window, earphones in, sunglasses pushed up into her hair. she hadn’t said much since leaving the hotel. the others assumed she was just in the zone. none of them noticed the way her fingers tapped restlessly against her thigh, or the way she kept glancing down at her phone like it might tell her something she didn’t know yet.

the van pulled into the private tunnel, slowing to a crawl. stadium security swarmed the entrance, and huge vertical banners hung from the outer walls. each one showed a different player. bold block letters. intense, stylized headshots. pure american sports propaganda.

the others were talking about stage positions when manon saw her.

it wasn’t just recognition. it was impact.

her gaze snapped to the banner like she’d been physically pulled by it. the face on the vinyl was unmistakable. same mouth. same eyes. same jawline that she had kissed in the dark just a few hours ago.

manon didn’t move. didn’t blink. for a full three seconds, she forgot to breathe.

megan caught the shift immediately. she felt it in the way manon’s posture changed. the sudden stillness. the air around her turning sharp and quiet.

megan leaned forward, her voice low and curious. “hey. you good?”

manon didn’t answer right away. then she blinked and turned her head, too fast to be casual. “yeah. fine.”

megan narrowed her eyes. “you sure?”

manon nodded. too quickly. “just nerves.”

megan didn’t push. not yet. but she filed the moment away, sharp and clean, and said nothing else as the doors to the van opened and the sound of the crowd roared in from outside.

your face was the last thing she expected to see.

if manon was being honest with herself, she still didn’t know why she went back to your hotel last night. it wasn’t like her. that kind of impulse,  reckless and raw, didn’t usually make it past the filter she kept up in public. especially not in a city like this, where eyes were always watching. 

maybe it was the way you looked at her on that balcony, like she had hung the stars herself. like all of los angeles could burn and you wouldn’t notice, not with her standing there in front of you. 

maybe it was your mouth, the way it curved just slightly at the corners when you smiled, like you were holding back a secret only she was allowed to know.

whatever it was, it pulled her in. and now, seeing you again like this ten stories tall on the side of the stadium, all fire and focus and unapologetic light, she froze. manon wasn’t sure whether to laugh or run.

not that it mattered. alas, the decision was already made for her.

katseye was being ushered through the underground tunnels, their in-ears already clipped in, stage crew calling out cues like the whole night balanced on a stopwatch. they’d prepared for this for months. late-night rehearsals, endless fittings, vocal run-throughs in hotel lobbies. she was ready for this. or at least, she had been.

but then the lights in the stadium dropped to black, the crowd erupting as the announcer’s voice boomed overhead, and manon felt her pulse stutter.

she was center-stage, spotlight trained directly on her, and all she could think about was the way her stomach flipped.

the beat dropped. the opening note hit. the others moved like second nature, muscle memory taking over. but manon’s breath caught. because across the pitch, down the sideline tunnel, she saw you.

you were half in shadow, your kit not even fully visible yet, but your face was unmistakable.

the distance between you was too far for logic, too far for clarity, but somehow, impossibly, she saw it. the way your expression went slack, the way your mouth parted, the way all the blood seemed to drain from your face.

and just like that, the lights weren’t the only thing that came crashing down.

you knew, and so did she.

it was only going to get complicated from here.

the pregame show was electric. clean transitions, perfect harmonies, not a single misstep. katseye had performed in bigger stadiums before, but tonight felt different. louder. tighter. like the air was wired. manon didn’t know if it was the fireworks or the roar of the crowd or the way the grass looked under the lights, but something about the whole thing made her chest feel like it was being wrung out.

then the game started and the pressure shifted. the girls were all but ushered off field and into a private viewing box, given barely a minute to greet fans.

the stadium stayed loud, the drums kept pounding, but manon’s attention had narrowed. she was supposed to be watching the match, they all were. but the second she saw you step onto the field, she forgot the plot entirely.

you were everywhere. cutting through defenders like they were suggestions. calling for the ball with that calm, commanding urgency. scoring once, assisting twice. but it wasn’t your footwork or your stats that had her losing her mind.  it was the fact that you were you.

because what were the odds? what were the actual, statistical, cosmically humiliating odds that the girl she’d kissed breathless in a los angeles hotel room would turn out to be you?

manon sat frozen in her seat, arms crossed tight over her chest, trying not to freak out visibly.

megan noticed anyway. the chinese girl peered over at her, speaking quietly so none of the other girls could eavesdrop but just loud enough for manon to hear. “you okay?”

“fine,” manon said, too fast.

“you look like you’re about to throw up.”

“just hot. adrenaline. post-performance crash.”

megan raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. not yet.

manon wasn’t too sure how much time had passed of her sitting uncharacteristically still, her eyes following you as you ran up and down the field. it was almost unfair how good you looked, she decided. memories of the night before kept flashing in her mind against her will, an embarrassed flush crossing her cheeks just subtly for sophia to give her a weird stare. but, within what felt like minutes (but was most definitely an hour and some change), the game ended. your team had won. it was only the opening game of the season, but the crowd ate it up regardless. 

manon didn’t clap. she couldn’t. she was too busy staring at you, her mouth slightly open, her thoughts absolutely feral.

after a beat, she turned slowly. “hey… what’s number fourteen’s name?”

megan looked at her like she’d just asked what two plus two was. “are you serious?”

manon blinked.

“you mean y/n?”

“y/n,” manon repeated under her breath, like it tasted different now that it had a name attached. “what’s her whole deal?”

megan looked suspicious. “why do you sound like you’re about to launch a background check?”

“just answer the question.”

“okay… let’s see. olympic medalist. league mvp. rookie of the year. huge nike deal. she’s on the cover of like, three magazines this month. wait, didn’t you guys go to bea’s party last night? they’re pretty close friends. i’m surprised you didn’t run into her. they played on the national team together.”

manon couldn’t help but whistle lowly, a teasing grin crossing her lips despite the thoughts running rampant in her mind. 

“damn, mei. who knew you were so well versed in this sport?”

megan simply grinned widely. “what can i say? brainrot tiktok doomscrolling leads you down paths you don’t come back from.”

then she cut herself off, her mind already jumping to the next factoid to spit out to the older girl.  megan continued after a hum. “she’s also apparently really private, hates interviews, has this weird thing about not letting anyone film her workouts, and—wait. wait.” she narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping. “why are you asking?”

manon stayed quiet.

then, like clockwork, megan’s jaw dropped. “no.”

“megan—”

“no. manon. no.”

“i didn’t know it was her.”

“you hooked up with y/n and didn’t even ask for her name?!”

“i was going to,” manon mumbled. “but then i panicked and left.”

“how do you panic after-“ she paused, looked left and right, then whispered aggressively.“- s.e.x?”

“i don’t know! it was intense! i needed to breathe!”

megan stared at her like she was watching a slow motion car crash. “manon, you ghosted the golden girl of women’s soccer and now you’re sitting here looking like you want to crawl into the grass and die.”

manon’s cheeks flamed a bright shade of crimson. she looked anywhere but at megan. before she could come up with a comeback, the door to the private viewing box and opened and in walked their manager, clipboard in hand. his voice cut through the room loudly. 

“alright, time to move!”

manon groaned softly but pushed herself up, more than happy to move on and pretend the conversation never happened.

megan gave her a pointed look. “oh, this isn’t over. not by a long shot.”

manon forced a pained half smile, still feeling the heat of embarrassment, and followed their manager out.  the words between her and megan hung unfinished in the charged air, the other four girls none the wiser of the war raging in her mind. 

the universe sure did have a funny way of bringing things full circle. 

__

‎ 

over the next week, your thoughts had been completely tangled around meret manon bannerman. at least, that’s what a quick google search said her name was. you practically held the note she left to your chest the very second you got back to your hotel room after the game. 

thx for the night. -meret 

the words were crinkled now, the pen ink smudged. 

every time you closed your eyes, you could still feel the way your heart dropped in your chest when you saw her pregame. you could still feel the way your blood ran cold when she looked in your direction in that brief, electric moment. 

she was stunning. 

her movements were engraved into your mind as strong as your earliest childhood memory. her every move was captivating, her pretty face full of expression every time she appeared on the jumbotron. the more you thought about it, part of you was embarrassed you hadn’t recognized her sooner. especially after the night you spent together. 

yet, stronger than whatever embarrassment you felt, here you were. unable to shake the phantom trace of her hands on your skin, the way she looked under those bright stadium lights. how the light caught her body in just the right way, how her stage outfit made her stand out like her own special star. 

perhaps you shouldn’t have been so surprised when bea approached you after the game, a knowing gleam cemented across her face. 

‎ 

“so? spill.”

you turned to face her when she approached you in the athlete tunnels. she was sweaty, just as tired as you, and yet she still found the energy to seek you out and level you with those teasing eyes. if she was bothered by her teams loss, she didn’t show it. she had far more ‘pressing’ matters to attend to. 

you narrowed your eyes. “what are you talking about.”

she practically scoffed as if the answer was obvious. “you and manon, that’s what. don’t forget it was my party you left together. which, by the way, fuck you for ditching so early.” then she shook her head, her faux aggravation shifting into something softer. “what happened when you guys left?”

you glanced away, unwilling to meet her gaze. “nothing happened. we just talked.”

bea raised an eyebrow. “really? because you played like someone was watching you.”

you crossed your arms defensively. “i’m not going to give you the whole story.”

bea’s grin widened. “come on, you can trust me.”

hesitation tightened your throat. the weight of bea’s gaze felt heavy like she was waiting for something, a truth you weren’t sure you wanted to give away just yet. for a moment you looked away, the memory of that night flickering in your mind. the way manon’s laugh had sounded, the heat of her hands sliding along your skin, how the world had shrunk to just the two of you. you took a slow breath, chewing on your words as if deciding whether to swallow them whole. finally, you let out a quiet sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing just enough. 

“okay,” you said, voice low and a little reluctant, “we hooked up.”

bea’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction. “thought so. now, spill the details.”

‎ 

and you did. kind of. you didn’t tell her everything, just enough to stop her wicked grin and avoid the flood of questions you knew would come next.

but that was a week ago.

now, as you waited for the practice facility’s elevator to open with its little ding, you realized one simple fact. perhaps you’d made your biggest mistake yet by trusting that information with beatrice laus of all people. 

it was supposed to be your day off. but, of course, here you were. fresh out of an impromptu strategy meeting with your coach, clipboard in hand, scanning over a revised game plan you barely had time to digest. the soft thud of your sneakers echoed as you walked through the quiet corridor, music and chatter spilling faintly from a nearby training room. you pressed the elevator button, already planning to retreat to a quiet corner and study your matchups in peace.

the doors slid open with a calm mechanical hiss. you stepped inside without looking, preoccupied with your notes. but the second they closed behind you and the soft red glow above the buttons lit up, you realized you weren’t alone.

you heard it first. a small, startled sound, like someone had just choked on their own breath. you looked up, and against all odds, there she was.

manon.

she was standing off to the side, spine straight as a rod, arms folded tightly across her chest like she was trying to make herself smaller. her eyes met yours for only a second before flicking away, as if even looking at you might unravel whatever thread of composure she had left.

you froze. your brain fired off a thousand questions, all scrambling for space at once. still, you managed to speak, your voice quieter than you expected.

“meret…? what are you doing here?”

for the briefest of seconds, manon flinched when her name dropped from your mouth. she’d almost forgotten she left a note for you the morning after, the reminder sending a chill down her spine. but she didn’t correct you. in some way, it sounded almost special coming from you. 

despite whatever awkward nerves consumed the space between them, manon somehow conjured enough confidence to unlock her phone and flash the screen in your direction. a text chain between herself, bea, and megan was all you saw. 

“i was told there was some kind of conference room,” she said, voice trailing off as she glanced back at her phone. “megan said bea was giving her a tour of the facility. told me to join.”

you didn’t say anything. you didn’t have to. the moment your eyes skimmed the screen, the truth of it was written all over your face. manon noticed immediately.

with a sigh that sounded more tired than angry, she shoved her phone into her jacket pocket and leaned back against the elevator wall.

“right. clearly i walked into a setup.”

you scratched the back of your neck, guilt crawling in slow and steady. “yeah. sorry. that’s probably… my fault.”

for a moment manon simply stared at you. it took a moment for your words to fully register, but when they did, she knew what you were talking about instantly. the admission that another person knew of your hookup had her nervously itching the skin above her wrist. 

some part of you couldn't help but feel surprised as you watched her. the way she looked down, embarrassed. the way she bit the inside of her cheek as if she could will herself to disappear from this moment and hightail it back home as if nothing happened. she was so different to how she was the night you spent together. it was almost like night and day. 

after a moment, you sighed. 

“you need a ride home?” you asked before you could stop yourself, heart racing.

she looked surprised. for a moment she seemed to mull over her thoughts, tentative. and then she nodded with a resigned sigh. 

“please.”

‎

the drive was quiet at first, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional shuffle of manon adjusting the sleeves of her jacket. los angeles glowed outside the windshield, all neon haze and soft gold streetlights stretching across pavement. you kept your eyes forward, fingers flexing slightly on the wheel, trying not to let the silence settle too heavy between you.

she didn’t speak, and neither did you. the only thing she did say was a low “chateau marmont” and a frustrated “can’t believe i flagged my driver and guard away.” other than that, nothing. 

you flicked on your turn signal even though no one else was on the road. something about the sound filled the space, made it feel less like the two of you were suffocating under the weight of a memory you still hadn’t figured out how to name. every few minutes you could feel her shift in the passenger seat, like she was building herself up to say something but couldn’t quite manage it. you didn’t push. you didn’t dare.

you had run every possible version of this drive through your head. in one, she pretended it never happened. in another, she confessed she regretted it. in one especially (oddly) hurtful version, she looked at you and said it was a mistake. so now, with the real thing stretched out before you, you kept your mouth shut and tried to focus on the road.

manon cleared her throat softly.

you glanced over, just briefly. she was staring out the window, jaw tight, fingers curled into the hem of her sleeve like she was grounding herself with the fabric.

“so,” she started, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it, “we’re really not going to talk about it?”

your grip on the wheel tightened just slightly. your stomach twisted. “i wasn’t sure you wanted to.”

she didn’t answer right away. she turned her head slowly, eyes on you now instead of the window. 

”well… how about we start with the acknowledgement that this is a pretty awkward first impression we could have possibly had of each other.”

you let out a quiet breath, a short laugh escaping before you could stop it. “yeah,” you said, glancing at her again, this time longer. “i guess jumping straight to a hotel room isn’t exactly the standard getting-to-know-you route.”

manon smiled, just barely, but it softened the tension in her face. “you think?”

you shrugged. “could be worse. you could’ve never left a note.”

“i almost didn’t,” she admitted. “i panicked. wasn’t sure if you’d think it was weird.”

“i thought it was nice,” you said honestly, drumming your fingers lightly on the wheel. “though if i’m being honest, i’m surprised you signed your name as meret.”

she blinked, caught off guard. “why’s that?”

you glanced at her, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. “i googled you after the pregame show. figured out real fast who i’d been in bed with.”

manon groaned and buried her face in her hands. “oh my god.”

“to be fair,” you continued, teasing now, “you were kind of impossible to ignore. all that hair whipping around, the outfit, the lights.”

she peeked out from between her fingers, face flushed but amused. “so you’re telling me you learned everything about me before we even had this conversation.”

“not everything,” you said, shrugging. “just the basics. stage name. discography. three fan edits.”

manon laughed, the kind that crinkled her nose and made you bite back your own grin. “you’re worse than i thought.”

“you were very memorable,” you said simply and that shut her up again, her gaze flicking back to the window, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“besides, not everything,” you continue, eyes back on the road now. “just enough to feel like you're completely out of my league.”

she blinked. “why would you think that?”

“because you’re manon bannerman. international popstar. face of like five brands. terrifyingly attractive. meanwhile, i’m just a girl who likes to kick a ball really hard.”

manon grinned. “you’re kidding, right?”

“not even a little bit.”

“well, now you’ve made me feel like i need to impress you,” she said, and her voice had taken on something lighter, like she was letting herself breathe for the first time in the car. “we didn’t even do proper introductions.”

you pulled up to a stop sign and looked over again. her expression was softer now, curious, open.

“okay,” you said, shifting in your seat so you could offer your hand between the console. “i’m y/n. professional ball kicker.”

manon let out another laugh. “manon. i think all your googling saves me the backstory.”

you took her hand, your fingers brushing hers in a way that felt more deliberate than casual. you held it just long enough to feel the warmth of her skin, the quiet weight of the moment.

“nice to meet you, manon. officially.”

her mouth curled into the faintest smile, something soft and unreadable in her eyes. “likewise,” she said, and her thumb swept lightly across your knuckles before she let go.

there was a brief silence, charged and delicate, before she spoke again.

“and for the record,” she said, voice lower now, “i signed the note with meret because that’s who you were with that night.”

you turned toward her just slightly, pulse quickening. her gaze was steady, unwavering. there was no teasing in her voice, no sarcasm. just truth.

“so which one are you right now?” you asked, quieter than before.

her lips parted, a breath caught between sentences. she didn’t answer right away, but when she did, it was slow and sure.

“i don’t know,” she said. “but you make it really hard to pretend like that night didn’t matter.”

your hand shifted on the steering wheel, grip loosening, breath catching just for a second. you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat.

“did you want it to mean something?” you asked, the words barely a whisper, edged in something raw and real.

she didn’t answer at first. but she didn’t look away either.  that silence said more than any ‘yes’ ever could.

she was quiet for a long time. you didn’t rush her. the hum of the engine filled the silence, a steady rhythm under the buzz of traffic.

you turned down a quieter street, one lined with swaying palms and golden-orange streetlights, the sky above slipping from dusk into something darker. it was the kind of road where the world felt paused, like whatever existed beyond your windshield didn’t matter as much as what was happening inside the car.

the tension between you hadn’t disappeared. it still lingered, heavy and unspoken, but it softened somehow. it didn’t cut anymore. it settled, warm and aching beneath your skin.

then manon hummed, low and thoughtful, and it made something pull taut in your chest.

“tell me something about you.”

you glanced sideways. “suddenly interested?”

a short laugh slipped from her lips before she could stop it, as if the absurdity of the situation was finally kicking in. “i think we skipped every step that comes before a casual hookup. why not start now?”

you scoffed, but it came out quieter than you intended. “you can’t just put me on the spot like that. not when the only thing i can think about right now is you.”

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. it was thick. charged. like even the air between your bodies was listening. you weren’t sure where your sudden boldness came from, but it sat between you now like a weight. she didn’t flinch. if anything, her breath hitched just slightly, and her lips parted like she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

the hotel came into view far too quickly. the moment the security guard popped open the boon gates and you pulled into the parking lot, the car slowing and stilling in a shadow cast by the building, the tension was harder to ignore. the music from the radio played low, a dull thrum in the background.

manon didn’t move to unbuckle her seatbelt. didn’t reach for the handle. she just stared ahead, and after a pause that felt like an eternity, she finally spoke.

“i keep thinking about it,” she said quietly, voice almost lost under the music.

you didn’t ask what she meant. you didn’t need to.

you swallowed, your hand twitching slightly on the gearshift. the air between you was tight again, warm with memory.

“me too,” you said, the words dragging out of your chest like a confession.

she turned to look at you. then it happened. one moment all you saw was a familiar fire in her eyes, the next she practically crawled over the console to straddle your lap behind the wheel. her knees pressed into either side of your thighs as she settled into you, the steering wheel digging into the small of her back. but she didn’t flinch. didn’t adjust.

it wasn’t tentative. it wasn’t soft. it was immediate and wanting, like she had been holding her breath since the moment she saw you and finally let herself exhale. your hands found her hips automatically, gripping tight through the fabric of her low rise jeans as if that might ground you in the moment. it didn’t. nothing could. not with her mouth on yours, not with the way she moved against you like she remembered exactly how your body felt the last time she had you.

there was something about her. the way she kissed you like she was starving, like the memory of your touch had kept her up at night. she was all urgency and heat, her fingers slipping up the back of your neck, threading into your hair like she didn’t care how messy it got. your breath caught in your throat when she rolled her hips just slightly, seeking more, daring you to pull her closer.

it was messy. too hot. too fast. it felt like a freefall, and still you didn’t stop. couldn’t. not when your heart was racing in time with hers, not when every nerve in your body lit up under her touch.

she pulled back just barely, her lips brushing yours, her breathing heavy. her eyes were darker now, glassy in the dim light.

there was just something about her that was so numbingly intoxicating. clearly, she felt the same way. 

finally, she broke the silence. “i want to keep seeing you,” she said, voice low but steady.

you swallowed hard.

 “i want that too.”

she leaned in again, slower this time, her eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes and back like she was trying to memorize the moment. your breath caught as she got closer, her hand grazing your jaw, the air between you thick with heat.

but then she shifted.

her hip nudged the wheel with just the right force for the car horn to explode into the quiet night, loud and jarring. she jolted in surprise, and in that split second, her forehead collided hard with your nose.

“fuck!” you hissed, the sharp crack of impact making your eyes water instantly. pain bloomed, fast and hot, and before you could even register what happened, you felt something warm drip over your lip.

“oh my god,” she gasped, immediately pushing back off you. manon’s face was a mask of panic. “i’m so sorry. i was trying to be smooth, not concuss you!”

you gave her a weak, bloody smile. “well. you left an impression.”

“okay, no,” she muttered, already reaching for the door handle. “you’re coming upstairs. i’m fixing this.”

‎ 

megan clocked you the second you walked through the hotel suite door, her eyes lighting up with immediate mischief. she was curled up on the couch with her phone in hand, idly scrolling through unread text messages. but the second she saw you and manon step inside all flushed, tousled, and  breathing just a little too hard, she knew. her lips parted into a slow, satisfied grin.

clearly, her and bea’s plan worked.

then her gaze dropped to your nose, the blood streaking down. whatever teasing remark she was about to toss out died in her throat, replaced by a sharp snort she couldn’t hold back even if she tried.

“what the hell did you do?” she laughed, eyebrows raised, eyes dancing between the two of you. 

manon groaned beside you, dragging a hand down her face. “i’m never living this down, am i?”

from across the room, sophia’s head snapped up the second megan snorted, her brows pulling together in confusion. for a moment she thought maybe daniela, lara, and yoonchae had come back already from their ice cream run. instead, she saw you. her eyes widened when she caught the mess of your shirt sleeve trying to stop the flow of blood pooling from your nose. 

“oh my god— what happened?” she stood from where she was sitting, already making her way over before either you or manon could answer. her hands hovered near your face, gentle but firm. “are you okay? does it hurt to breathe?”

you blinked, a little overwhelmed by how fast she’d turned into someone’s concerned older sister.

manon could feel her soul leaving her body. “i headbutted her. didn’t mean to. i swear i didn’t mean to.”

sophia gave her a quick look but didn’t stop her fussing. “you definitely nailed her. jesus, you’re lucky her nose doesn’t look broken.” she reached for the tissue box on the counter and pressed a wad of them gently into your hand. “come on. bathroom’s this way. let’s clean you up before anyone passes out.”

“it’s not that bad—” you tried, but she was already halfway down the hall.

“i’m not negotiating with someone who’s actively bleeding,” sophia called back. “manon, get over here. you’re helping.”

manon let out a quiet, horrified sound and followed like a scolded dog. behind her, megan cackled into a throw pillow.

“god, this is better than anything i could have hoped for,” she said between fits of laughter. “and lara thought nothing juicy would come out of this week. girl’s gonna scream when she hears about this.”

manon shot her a scowl over her own shoulder, a warning glare. the chinese girl simply doubled over even harder. 

sophia stood over you in the cramped hotel bathroom, gently tilting your chin back with a practiced kind of care. the light above the mirror buzzed softly, casting a faint glow over your blood-streaked shirt and manon’s guilty expression lingering in the reflection behind you.

“you’re lucky,” sophia said as she dabbed carefully at your nose with a damp cloth. “it’s not broken. just a nasty bump.”

you nodded stiffly, trying not to move your head too much. “thanks. sorry for barging in like this.”

sophia gave you a half-smile. “not your fault. though next time maybe try ringing the doorbell instead of bleeding through it.”

manon hovered awkwardly near the bathroom door, arms crossed tight against her chest. “i didn’t mean to slam into her. it just… happened.”

megan, leaning on the hallway wall just outside, snorted. “yeah. so did that lipstick on your neck, babe.”

you nearly choked, eyes widening as you instinctively reached for your collar. manon’s ears flushed deep red.

“megan,” sophia warned, but there was no real heat behind it. “don’t make her pass out from embarrassment while she’s still mid-bleed.”

“hey, not my fault they walked in looking like they just got thrown around in a wind tunnel,” megan shot back. “this is gold.”

you let out a weak laugh, unsure where to look. “uh… i’m y/n, by the way. we didn’t really get to do introductions with all the blood and chaos.”

sophia’s expression softened as she rinsed the cloth out under the tap. “sophia. and you’ve already met our resident menace out there.”

megan popped her head back in. “pleasure to meet you, superstar. bea’s been talking you up for months.”

your brows raised. “she has?”

“mmhm,” megan said, clearly enjoying herself. “but i guess someone didn’t get the memo.” she nodded her head very aggressively in manon’s direction. 

a quiet beat passed before you turned slightly toward manon, barely thinking. “guess you should’ve been paying attention, meret.”

it was instinctual, the name slipping from your mouth like muscle memory. you didn’t even realize what you’d said until you heard the sharp intake of breath from behind you.

sophia froze mid-dab. her head whipped around so fast it was a miracle she didn’t pull something in her neck. the look on her face was immediate, intense, like you’d just said something sacrilegious.

“i’m sorry,” she said slowly, setting the cloth down on the sink. “what did you just call her?”

you blinked. “meret…?”

sophia stared at you for a long second, then turned slowly toward manon, who now looked like she wanted to crawl into the floor.

“oh,” sophia said, voice dropping just enough to sound dangerous. “you’re the one.”

megan cackled from the hallway. “i’ve been trying not to say it all night.”

you looked between them, suddenly very aware of just how small the bathroom was. “what one?”

“the girl,” megan grinned. “the one she snuck out of bea’s party with.”

“you didn’t tell them?” you asked, turning to manon.

“i didn’t tell anyone except megan.” manon muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. 

sophia folded her arms, expression unreadable but not unkind. “well. it’s nice to finally meet you properly. meret doesn’t show up often.”

manon gave her a tired glare. “can you not?”

sophia held up her hands. “just saying.”

you smiled awkwardly, wiping the last of the blood from your upper lip. “well… it’s nice to meet you both too. even if i’m bleeding and weirdly exposed.”

megan appeared in the doorway again, smug as ever. “if this is how you usually meet people, i get why bea said you needed help.”

“megan,” manon warned, shooting her a glare.

sophia just laughed, stepping back to rinse her hands in the sink. “honestly, this is kind of iconic. blood, secrets, confessions. what a night.”

“okay,” manon muttered, suddenly pulling open the bathroom door. “i’m walking her out.”

you blinked. “you don’t have to. ”

“i insist,” she said, already stepping into the hallway, clearly in need of escape.

you followed her past megan, who gave you a little finger wave and an exaggerated wink. “good luck, superstar.”

manon didn’t stop until you were at the hotel room door. she reached for a small notepad from the side table, scribbling quickly, her handwriting sharp and messy. then she tore the page off and shoved it into your hand with a bit more force than necessary.

“here,” she said. “for your shirt, if you want me to cover the dry cleaning bill. or whatever excuse you decide to use.”

you looked down at the number, then up at her. “you really think i’d let you pay for dry cleaning?”

she shook her head. “i think you’re not gonna throw away a perfectly good excuse to text me.”

you didn’t deny it. “i wasn’t planning on it.”

her eyes lingered on yours for a second too long. “good.”

before you could say anything else, sophia’s face twisted into a look of displeasure. “manon, ask her if she wants to stay for tea or something! don’t just shove her out like a scared raccoon!”

“go!” manon hissed, practically shoving you outside of the hotel room and shutting it firmly in your face. 

for a moment you just stood there, overwhelmed and confused. but then you moved. you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face as you stepped into the hotel elevator, sliding the note with manon’s handscrawled phone number into your pocket. another momento of the enigma that was meret manon you could add to your collection. 

whatever this was, it definitely wasn’t nothing.

__

‎ 

you weren’t exactly sure when the shift happened.  when something casual and unspoken between you and manon began pulling at the edges of something deeper. maybe it was the moment you finally worked up the nerve to text her, her number saved under a single lowercase ‘m,’ always sitting stubbornly at the top of your messages, no matter how many hours passed between replies. you’d fall asleep with her words still open on your screen, wake up to find she’d responded in the middle of the night, like she couldn’t help herself either.

maybe it started in switzerland.

katseye was in zurich for a tour stop, the city glittering beneath early spring skies, and you were there too. you were called up for a friendly between team usa and team switzerland. you hadn’t planned to see her. hadn’t even thought she’d answer. but you sent the text anyway, a plain “u free?” with no punctuation and more hope packed into two words than you’d admit out loud.

what followed wasn’t what you expected. she met you outside a station, hood pulled low, no cameras, no glam team. just manon, just meret, just her. it was supposed to be a quick drink, something light and easy, but it ended in a motel outside the city center, the kind with too-thin walls and a view of nothing but train tracks. her body curved beneath yours, soft and certain, her breath catching every time you said her name. her curls were free from their usual boho braids, dark and wild against the pillow. she looked impossibly beautiful, more so than you remembered, more than you thought you could handle.

or maybe it started when you were both in the states, the girls in town for a broadcast performance set to air on every major american network that weekend. katseye had already taken over the charts. now they were coming for television too.

‎ 

you were deep into training, your jersey soaked through and clinging to your back from hours of drills under the unforgiving florida sun. the number fourteen on your shoulders practically burned beneath it, your skin hot, your body running on muscle memory and stubbornness alone. you were the best midfielder in women’s soccer for a reason. no way were you letting a little heat slow you down.

but then you saw her.

she was standing just inside the athlete tunnel, mostly hidden from view, like she hadn’t quite decided whether or not she wanted to be seen. it felt almost cinematic, like the roles had flipped. your brain flashed back to the season opener, that first impossible moment when your eyes found hers in the middle of the chaos. and just like that day, everything else faded.

you stopped cold. for the first time in over three hours, you shot the soccer ball into the net one last time and turned away from the field. you tuned out the ache in your thighs and the gatorade keg that practically had your name written on it. all you could focus on was her.

she wore a baseball cap pulled low and a facemask that covered most of her face, but you knew the shape of her by now. the curve of her shoulders, the way she leaned to one side like she didn’t have a care in the world, her fingers brushing along the hem of her hoodie like she was waiting for something to happen. you jogged toward her, skirting around a bench and ignoring the sting in your calves. and then you hugged her, no hesitation, no second guessing.

if she was surprised, she didn’t show it. if anything, she melted into you, pulling you closer, both of you half-hidden by the shade of the tunnel. you were still catching your breath when you pulled away, sweat clinging to your forehead, eyes searching hers for a reason.

she didn’t give one.

instead, manon slipped her mask down to her chin and bit the inside of her lip without meaning to. her gaze dragged over you slowly, like she didn’t care that you were a mess. your face was flushed, your jersey damp, your socks streaked with dirt. and still, to her, you looked annoyingly good. you smelled like sun and effort and something warm she couldn’t name. her heart was pounding and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss you or stare at you forever.

you blinked, thrown by her silence. “what’re you doing here? is everything okay?”

she nodded, and her smile curled into something that made your chest tighten. her palm pressed flat against your chest like she wanted to ground herself in the heat radiating off you. her voice was soft but certain.

“yes. i just wanted to see you.”

one thing led to another. it always did with her.

you don’t even remember how you got there exactly. one second you were standing in the tunnel, manon’s hand still resting against your chest like she didn’t want to let go, and the next, you were both slipping through a side entrance to the locker rooms like you had done this before. maybe not here, not in this exact spot, but the rhythm of it felt familiar. inevitable.

the hallway was quiet. the air conditioning inside was a stark contrast to the heat outside, but your skin still burned, pulsing with leftover adrenaline and something else entirely as manon led you by the wrist down the hall, past rows of lockers and benches, until she found an unlit corner behind a set of closed doors. it wasn’t glamorous. scuffed tile floors, abandoned water bottles, a broken clock on the wall.  but it didn’t matter. you weren’t thinking about any of that.

she pushed you gently against the wall, eyes searching your face like she needed to make sure you wanted this too. you didn’t say a word. you didn’t need to. your fingers were already curling into the hem of her hoodie, pulling her closer until there was no space left between you.

her mouth found yours, warm and insistent, tasting like strawberry chapstick and something sweeter, something that made your knees weak even though you’d been running drills all morning. you kissed her like you hadn’t seen her in weeks, like the sound of her voice saying your name in that low, accented way had been echoing in your head nonstop since the last time. maybe it had.

her hands were everywhere. your waist, your jaw, your thighs, her fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts with a quiet urgency that made your breath catch. you pressed your forehead against hers, noses bumping, eyes half-lidded as your pulse pounded in your throat.

“we shouldn’t,” you muttered, barely believing it even as the words left your mouth.

manon just smiled, slow and wicked, and kissed you again. “i know.”

but neither of you stopped.

the locker room was quiet but your breathing filled it, ragged and uneven, her soft moans barely restrained as she rocked against you. your back hit the wall again, and you let it, let her take whatever she wanted, gave it willingly because god, you wanted her just as badly.

‎ 

or perhaps, counter intuitively enough, it was that night in seoul. 

‎ 

you had flown in for a friendly against south korea, the stadium packed, the energy wild with national pride. katseye happened to be in the city too, riding the chaos of a promo week that had them performing on every major music show and showing up to every brand partnership event possible. you’d barely caught glimpses of manon through screens. a fan cam here, a blurry group photo there, but nothing real. not until megan messaged you late one night, her name lighting up your phone with a simple question. 

  [9:30 p.m.] can u come? she won’t admit she’s sick but she needs someone.

you knew who she was talking about instantly. 

despite your body aching from ninety minutes of pushing yourself to your physical limit, despite the early call time you had the next morning, you were already grabbing a hoodie and digging through your backpack for whatever you could carry. pain meds. electrolyte packets. a heat patch from the drugstore across from your hotel. a bag of honey-dipped crackers and one of those vitamin drinks that tasted horrible but worked. little things she had mentioned once, weeks ago in passing. things you didn’t even realize you had remembered until you were stuffing them into your arms.

megan met you by the emergency exit of their hotel. she didn’t say much, just pressed the keycard into your hand with a meaningful look.

“she’s in 1903. don’t be weird. and don’t let the staff see you.”

you laughed under your breath, heart pounding with nerves, but still you nodded. “thanks, mei.”

when you slipped into the room it was dim, the curtains drawn tight. manon was bundled into the bed, hoodie half-zipped, hair loose and messy around her pillow. she didn’t look glamorous. she looked pale and worn out, her skin too warm under the soft light of the bedside lamp, a tissue box on one side of her and her phone facedown on the other. her eyes fluttered open when you came in, and for a second she didn’t say anything. just blinked at you like she wasn’t sure if you were real.

“you actually came,” she said finally, her voice rough and barely above a whisper.

“of course i did,” you said, your own voice quieter than usual. you slipped off your shoes and dropped the bag onto the edge of the bed. “megan said you were dying. this is me saving your life.”

she laughed, tried to at least, but it turned into a soft cough. you sat beside her, pulling out everything you brought, lining them up on the nightstand. her eyes followed your hands as you laid down the heating pad, the tea sachets, the exact brand of menthol patches she liked for muscle aches.

“you remembered,” she murmured.

“yeah, well. you kind of say a lot of things when you’re drunk on post-show adrenaline,” you teased, but the warmth in your voice gave you away.

she didn’t answer right away. just watched you with this look in her eyes, like you had peeled her open without trying, like it scared her and thrilled her all at once.

you helped her sit up, propping the pillows behind her, your fingers brushing hers every time you adjusted something. she was burning up, and it made your chest hurt. she shouldn’t have been performing that hard. she should’ve been resting, drinking soup, wrapped in seven blankets and watching cartoons like she used to as a kid.

“do you want me to go?” you asked after a while, once she had taken the meds and curled back under the covers.

her answer was immediate.

“no. stay.”

you didn’t climb into bed, not right away. you just sat there, your back against the side of the mattress, close enough that her fingers could find yours if she reached. she did, eventually, her hand falling limp into your lap. you held it gently, your thumb tracing the faint calluses along her palm.

it was quiet. not tense. not charged. just… quiet. comforting. the kind of silence that made your chest ache in a way you weren’t used to.

after a long stretch, manon spoke again, barely above a whisper.

“this is scary,” she said. “how much i like this.”

you looked up at her, and for once, she didn’t look away. she let you see it all. the vulnerability, the truth, the walls she had built so carefully, now lowered just enough to let you in.

“then don’t be scared,” you said softly.

she didn’t answer, but she didn’t let go of your hand either.

you stayed there until the sun began to rise. no kisses. no tension. no clothes tangled on the floor.

just her hand in yours and the quiet question over whether something had shifted. 

‎ 

but it didn’t. it never had.

you and manon had defined the rules from the beginning, sharp and clear like lines drawn in chalk. strictly physical. a situationship that worked when your paths happened to cross. a night here, a hotel room there, nothing deeper than sweat and stolen time. you were constantly on the move, bouncing from city to city with your team, and she was prepping for katseye’s world tour, about to disappear into stages and spotlights across six continents. it made sense this way. clean. easy.

besides, you were polar opposites.

you felt most like yourself with your cleats in the mud, jersey soaked, surrounded by teammates shouting directions and coaches losing their minds on the sidelines. 

manon thrived in controlled chaos under stadium lights and camera flashes, her body moving in perfect rhythm, her expressions rehearsed and weaponized. 

you liked quiet mornings. she liked the buzz of late nights. and neither of you believed in fairy tales.

the night you first brought up boundaries, it had been her who said it out loud.

‎ 

“no feelings,” manon said, sitting cross-legged at the foot of your hotel bed, her fingers twisting the drawstrings of her hoodie. “just fun. that’s the deal, right?”

you nodded, trying to ignore how the word ‘feelings’ lodged like something sharp in your chest. “right.”

it should’ve been enough.

but sometimes she said things that chipped away at the walls you both worked so hard to keep up. like the night in sacramento, when her lips were still pink from kissing you breathless and she laid on her side, staring up at the ceiling like she was scared of what she’d see if she looked at you. her voice was quiet, but you heard every word.

“i’m not ready to be a headline,” she said. “megan still gets tagged in edits with that livestream where they basically forced her to come out. like it was content. and lara…” she trailed off, jaw tightening. “lara got eaten alive for being honest.”

you understood. of course you did. you had teammates who were careful with who they followed on instagram, who they sat next to at press conferences, who they hugged too long after a goal. women who chose privacy over peace of mind. you’d done the math too many times to count.

“then we keep it simple,” you said finally, your voice steady even though your stomach was twisting. “just us. when we can. no strings.”

and you meant it. you both did.

but it was getting harder by the day.

harder when her name lit up your phone and your heart jumped before you could stop it. harder when her voice dropped to a whisper just for you, even when her whole group was around. harder when you caught her watching you after you’d already looked away.

you told yourselves the rules were still in place. but deep down, you both knew the game had already changed.

‎

truth be told, manon wasn’t sure when everything started to change, either.

she told herself it was still casual. convenient. she liked the way things were. the thrill of control, the ability to slip in and out of someone’s life without consequence. it was easier that way. clean. you were supposed to be just that, a beautiful complication she could walk away from whenever the schedule got too packed or the spotlight too harsh.

but somewhere along the way, she stopped walking away.

it was sophia who called her out first.

they were backstage at a commercial shoot waiting for touch-ups, manon’s face already half-painted in shimmer. sophia sat beside her, legs kicked up on an unused stool, casually sipping her coconut water like she wasn’t about to drop a bomb.

“is it just for the sex?” she asked, not even looking at manon when she said it.

manon blinked, caught off guard. “what?”

“you and her. is it just the sex?”

there was a beat of silence. manon forced a laugh, but it came out tight.

“obviously,” she said. “i mean… that’s the whole point.”

sophia looked at her then, eyebrow raised. “you’re lying.”

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

manon didn’t answer after that. she didn’t have to. the lie was already starting to fray, tugged loose thread by thread every morning she woke up. with every text she sent you between layovers, when she should have been sleeping or doing vocal exercises or scrolling past the mess of her notifications.

you had started becoming a part of her rhythm, tucked into the margins of her day like something familiar and necessary. it wasn’t defined. it wasn’t labeled. but it was there, humming beneath everything like background music she couldn’t turn off.

and then the tabloid dropped. a headline splashed across one of the biggest entertainment sites. 

katseye’s manon skipping practice to be with mystery lover?

the photos weren’t all that incriminating. a blurry shot of her slipping into a black suv, another of her walking through a hotel lobby with a baseball cap pulled low. but the article did what it was designed to do. it stirred the pot. people started speculating, naming names, dragging innocent people into a story they had no business being in. her phone exploded in minutes.

the group was shaken and management was furious. manon got defensive. sharp-edged. she told them she was giving her all, and she was. she hadn’t missed a single show. she was nailing every vocal, every formation, every interview. she was doing everything right. but inside, she was spiraling.

she hated how exposed it made her feel. how the idea of being seen with you now felt like a risk instead of a relief. she hated how much it scared her, not because of her career, but because of what it meant. what it had already become.

so she shut everything down.

she stopped replying to your messages. stopped opening them, even when she saw the little preview on her lockscreen. she told herself it was necessary. strategic. protection. but the truth was simpler than that.

she was terrified.

even when you were in the same city, just blocks away, she didn’t reach out. not when she passed by the cafe you mentioned stopping at before matches. not when she saw a clip of you post-game, sweat glistening on your forehead as you gave an interview. not even when megan threw her a pointed look and said, “you know she flew out on her own dime just to be here, right?”

radio silence. it was easier that way.

at least, it was supposed to be.

__

‎ 

the scans were already up on the screen when you walked into the medical suite on crutches, your sock balled in your fist, blood from a turf burn drying on your shin. the pain in your foot throbbed with every step, but you barely noticed it. not compared to the ache twisting behind your ribs.

dr. vasquez didn’t say anything at first. just motioned for you to sit, then turned back to the monitor. the x-ray glowed quietly behind her.

“third metatarsal,” she said finally, voice calm, clinical. “clean fracture, just above the base. you’ll need to be non-weight bearing for at least three weeks, maybe longer, depending on how your body responds.”

you stared at the image, the thin white line splitting the bone like a crack in porcelain. it didn’t feel real. it didn’t feel like your foot.

you should have seen it coming.

but your head had been somewhere else entirely. still spinning from the headline you saw that morning. you’d already re read it ten times over since it dropped. it was a tabloid splash with manon’s name in bold, alongside a photo that could have been anywhere, but you knew. the angle, the outfit, the timing. it was from the day you snuck out the back of the hotel after one of her shoots. your hood up. your hand brushing hers just before she pulled away.

katseye’s manon skipping practice to be with mystery lover?

your fingers had gone cold when you saw it. not because of the implication, but because she hadn’t said a word. no explanation. no warning. just silence. it had been days. messages unopened. voice memos unplayed. nothing.

you were still thinking about all of it when the ball ricocheted across the scrimmage line. still thinking when you pivoted to intercept, not noticing carly’s sprint until it was too late.

you remembered the moment in pieces.  the sharp twist of her cleat, the angle of her hip, the deliberate weight behind the collision that sent you crashing down. she hit you low. too low. too late.

you couldn’t prove it, but you knew it was on purpose. the way she looked at you when you hit the ground, the flicker of something smug in her expression before the medics were even called. she had always hated how much press you got. how coaches praised your instinct, how you never had to fight for minutes. jealousy made people reckless. sometimes it made them cruel.

and now you were here, sitting under sterile lights, the pulse in your foot screaming with every heartbeat.

“what’s the recovery window?” you asked finally, voice hoarse.

dr. vasquez’s expression softened, but her tone stayed steady. “if we’re aggressive with rehab, maybe six to eight weeks. but that’s pushing it. you’d be cutting it dangerously close.”

your stomach dropped. you did the math before she even finished.

“so i’m out.”

she didn’t say yes. she didn’t have to.

you leaned forward, burying your face in your hands. the shame hit first. then the anger. not just at carly, or at the injury. but at yourself, for being distracted. for letting manon live rent-free in your head while everything you’d worked for slipped through your fingers.

there were fifty-two days until the world cup.

dr. vasquez sat beside you, softening just a little. “i know this is hard. but if you push too soon, you risk long-term damage. you could make it worse. you could lose more than just this tournament.”

you nodded, even though every part of you rejected it. your fingers clenched the edge of the bench so tightly your knuckles ached.

“you’re going to have to sit out,” she said gently. “even if the team makes it all the way, it’s unlikely you’ll be cleared in time. i’m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything. you couldn’t.

your whole life was built around movement.  training, matches, chasing the ball like it was oxygen. and now you were expected to watch from the sidelines while the biggest tournament in your career unfolded without you. 

all because you let yourself care about someone who didn’t even bother to check if you were okay.

‎ 

you didn’t cry until later.

not in the medical suite, not in the locker room when you sat numbly in your uniform for another forty minutes, not even when you hobbled to your car and stared at the steering wheel like it might tell you what to do next.

but later that night, with the lights off and your foot elevated on a stack of pillows, a half-eaten protein bar abandoned on the nightstand and the taste of metal in your mouth from biting down too hard on your molars.  that was when it cracked. when it finally all broke open.

it started slow. the kind of crying that barely makes a sound. a quiet leak of emotion that felt more like an exhale than a sob. but then it grew, sharp and raw, a frustration so tangled you couldn’t pull one feeling free from another.

you were furious. at carly, at your bad luck, at the way the world moved forward even when you were stuck standing still.

but most of all, you were hurt.

manon hadn’t reached out. not once. not even after the tabloid dropped. not after the photo. not after your injury, which was now spreading across headlines too. 

usa star midfielder suffers metatarsal fracture ahead of world cup.

it was too much. the noise, the silence, the pain.

so you shut it all out.

you turned your phone off. stopped checking your messages. stopped opening apps. even the sound of a teammate’s voice on your voicemail made your stomach twist.

the pain in your foot was manageable at first. dr. vasquez had prescribed a standard course of anti-inflammatories, mild painkillers. but it wasn’t just the break that ached. it was everything else. your body didn’t want to move. your head didn’t want to think. every reminder of the game, of the tournament slipping by, it all made your chest tighten.

so you took more than you needed. then something stronger. then something else altogether when the first bottle ran out.

days blurred together after that. your crutches leaned against the corner of your room, untouched for hours at a time. dishes piled up. emails went unread. you had your surgery, but rehab appointments were missed, then rescheduled, then ignored.

you told yourself it was fine. that you just needed time. that you’d bounce back.

but weeks passed, and you were still stuck in the same space. not just physically, but in your mind.

the silence between you and manon stretched like a fault line. neither of you said the words. neither of you reached across the gap. and maybe she had her reasons. maybe she was scared. maybe she didn’t know what to say.

but so were you.

what was there to say when everything you had built—  your career, your momentum, your carefully guarded heart— was crumbling around you, and the one person who made you feel less alone in all of it had disappeared without warning?

you were benched. fractured. falling into something you couldn’t name yet, not fully. not until the days started feeling like fog and the nights like nothing.

you had always been the strong one. the composed one. the one who never buckled under pressure.

but now you were slipping, and no one knew just how far.

‎ 

you didn’t hear the knock the first time.

it was the second, louder, more impatient, that made you jolt upright on the couch, a thin line of drool drying on the corner of your mouth. your ankle throbbed where it was still loosely elevated on a pillow, your muscles aching from staying curled in the same position too long. a sharp pain shot up your spine as you moved, and you cursed under your breath, blinking toward the door.

when you opened it, half-limping, half-squinting at the afternoon light, bea was already pushing her way inside.

“jesus christ,” she muttered, eyes scanning your apartment. “have you moved in the last three days?”

you didn’t answer. didn’t really need to. the answer was all around you. plates on the kitchen counter, unopened mail, a cluster of pill containers on the coffee table. a heating pad sat unplugged on the floor, next to an untouched resistance band draped across a crumpled pair of joggers.

bea toed a pile of athletic tape with the tip of her shoe, then turned to look at you, arms crossed.

“i texted you a dozen times.”

“i know.”

“and called.”

you nodded.

she paused, letting that hang for a second, before exhaling slowly. “okay. you want to be mad, you can be mad. you want to shut people out, fine. but i’m here now, and i’m not leaving until you stop looking like the ghost of someone i used to win olympic gold with.”

you looked away, your jaw tightening. “i’m fine.”

“you’re not.”

there was no judgment in her tone. just fact. clear and simple.

you sank back onto the couch and ran a hand through your hair. your fingers brushed the edge of your temple, where a dull headache had been living for most of the day.

“my foot’s fucked,” you muttered.

“yeah, i figured.”

you closed your eyes for a beat. “world cup’s gone.”

“for now,” bea corrected, sitting on the arm of the couch. “not forever. you’ll get back there.”

“you don’t know that.”

“no, but i know you,” she said. “and you’re not the kind of person who gives up. or hides out like this. what’s really going on?”

you didn’t answer. not right away. bea gave you time.

finally, you said it. “i’ve been taking the meds.”

her gaze flicked to the bottles.

“more than prescribed?” she asked quietly.

your silence was enough of an answer.

bea sighed and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “okay. look. i’m not here to lecture you. i get it. you’re in pain. physically, emotionally, whatever. but this?” she gestured at the mess, the closed blinds, the lingering haze in your eyes. “this isn’t you.”

you bit the inside of your cheek.

“you need to go to rehab,” she said, gently now. “not just for your foot. for your head. your heart. get back to feeling like a person again. you owe that to yourself.”

you stared at the floor. “i just… i can’t even think straight.”

“then let someone help you think,” she said. “start small. one step. you talk to dr. vasquez. you get back in the gym. you cut the pills. even if you don’t believe you can, just act like someone who might.”

your chest hurt. not in the physical way, not like your foot, but in the deeper, heavier way. like something caved in.

“she hasn’t even called,” you said suddenly. it slipped out before you could swallow it back.

bea blinked. “manon?”

you nodded.

“do you want her to?”

you didn’t know how to answer that either. 

it felt silly. no matter how many times you wracked through your brain trying to make sense of the hurt you felt, it never made sense. why were you so bothered? you weren’t even dating. manon had made it very clear that whatever you had going on meant less to her than it did to you. 

still, you knew the answer was yes. if the swiss girl was to call in that moment then, you would have answered without hesitation. 

after a beat, bea sighed.

“okay,” she said, softer now. “then leave that part. for now. focus on what you can control. your body. your recovery. get strong again. then decide what comes next.”

you let the silence stretch out again. not as long this time.

eventually, you nodded.

you didn’t say thank you. didn’t have to. bea saw it in the way you started stacking the pill bottles into a bag. in the way you pulled the blinds open an inch. in the way your voice didn’t break when you finally asked, “will you drive me to the clinic tomorrow?”

“yeah. of course.”

for the first time in weeks, you let someone help you.

__

‎ 

manon hadn’t planned to ghost you. not really.

when the tabloid dropped, splashing her name across headlines with words like “mystery lover” and “missing rehearsals”, her stomach turned so hard she almost threw up backstage. it didn’t matter that the photo was grainy or that she hadn’t missed a single scheduled rehearsal. what mattered was that katseye’s name was being dragged, and her face was at the center of it.

management was livid. not at her directly, not at first, but at the optics. they didn’t ask questions about where she’d been or who you were. they didn’t want the truth. they wanted control. so she apologized, bowed her head, promised to focus, promised it wouldn’t happen again. she cut off the distraction.

you.

it was supposed to be temporary. just enough time to let things cool down. she performed like everything was fine. every camera flash, every dance rehearsal, every note sung like her lungs weren’t filling with something heavier each day.

it worked. kind of.

the group dynamic stabilized again. management backed off. the scandal passed, replaced by some other trending story. the comments under katseye’s posts stopped mentioning the photo.

but something in her didn’t settle.

she felt it when megan looked at her for a second too long during vocal warmups. when sophia threw her a side glance during dinner, chopsticks paused mid-air. when she hesitated before asking if she was “doing okay” in the most nonchalant tone she could manage.

then one night after practice while the group was sprawled out in the dorm’s main room, pizza boxes open and a drama humming softly on the tv, lara finally said it.

“you know you’ve been weird lately, right?”

manon looked up from her phone, blinking. “what?”

“standoffish,” daniela added from where she was braiding yoonchae’s hair. “like, emotionally constipated but in french.”

“i’m literally fi—” manon started.

“you don’t have to lie,” sophia cut in gently. “we know it’s about her.”

for a moment manon didn’t say anything. she looked back and forth between the faces of the five girls looking back at her. all knowing, all patient, and all careful as if they were afraid the wrong word would set her off. 

manon then turned to sophia and megan pointedly, her face twisting up in betrayal. “you told them?”

lara interrupted with a soft shake of her head, reaching a hand out to gently grasp and squeeze manon’s knee. an action rooted in comfort and reassurance more than anything. “don’t be mad at them. we all kinda put two and two together. you were practically glowing after florida.”

“then you started moping after the tabloid,” daniela added, less accusing than concerned. “you ghosted her, didn’t you?”

manon didn’t answer, and they didn’t push. they didn’t need to. the silence said enough.

megan was the one who broke it.

“you should call her,” she said quietly, tugging her hoodie sleeves over her hands as if trying to make herself smaller. “it’s not too late.”

“yes it is,” manon snapped, the words escaping before she could stop them. too quick, too sharp, more reflex than thought. she wished she could pull them back the moment they were out in the air, but no one flinched. they just looked at her like they already knew she felt that way.

sophia leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. her voice stayed calm. “she probably thought you didn’t care.”

manon’s jaw tightened. “i do.”

“then tell her,” yoonchae said softly, barely above a whisper. “or at least let her explain. you owe her that much.”

and maybe they were right. maybe she did owe you something.

but the part no one understood, not even herself most days, was that caring about you terrified her. you were everywhere. in her chest, in the spaces between her ribs, in the long silences after the lights went down on stage and the applause faded and she found herself alone with her thoughts.

so she nodded. not to them, but to herself.she’d call. eventually. that was the plan. 

that was, at least, until the photos showed up. they found her in the middle of dance rehearsal.

her phone buzzed twice in her pocket before her instructor scolded her into checking it during a water break. and there it was. a text from megan with just a link.

she clicked it.

the article wasn’t long, but the headline was bold.

star midfielder y/n l/n sparks new romance? mystery woman spotted leaving rehab clinic with athlete.

and underneath it, a gallery of images.

you, stepping carefully down the concrete steps, a compression boot still strapped to your foot. you, shielding your face with a hoodie. and beside you, a woman. one hand steadying your back as you climbed into a car.

manon felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

it didn’t matter how innocent it might have been. didn’t matter how professional the woman looked.

she shoved the phone into her bag and didn’t finish rehearsal. didn’t wait for approval or sign out. just walked straight out the back exit and into the evening air, rage clawing up her spine and sinking deep into her shoulders. jealousy bloomed before she could even name it. bitter and sour and fast.

you looked good. better than the last time she saw you. like you were getting stronger. like you didn’t need her. and maybe you didn’t. maybe she’d made it that easy to walk away. to replace her.

she hated that she had no right to be angry. hated even more that she was anyway.

her fingers hovered over your name in her contacts. the one still saved under something stupid. not your full name. not even your nickname. just a little sun emoji, because that’s what you were. what you’d become. blinding. impossible to ignore.

but she didn’t call. you were still in the same city, at least for another few days. 

perhaps she should have. 

‎ 

by the time she was outside your hotel, she didn’t have a plan. she shouldn’t have come, she knew that much. bea had texted megan your hotel and room number, and one thing led to another. 

the next thing she knew, she was knocking on your door.

one knock. then another. then silence.

her hands clenched at her sides, her pulse screaming through her eardrums. when the door finally clicked open, there you were. eyes tired, hair damp like you’d just gotten out of the shower, wearing a hoodie that was too big and probably stolen from one of your teammates. your boot was still on. your expression crumbled the moment you saw her.

“manon.”

“who is she?” manon asked, skipping hello. skipping anything remotely human.

you blinked. “what?”

“the woman in the photos. is that what you do now? go from one secret to the next?”

your face paled. then hardened.

“you don’t get to ask me that,” you said quietly.

manon’s throat burned. “so it’s true.”

you exhaled like you were trying to hold it together, like the air itself was too sharp. then you turned your back to her, walking back into the room, and left the door open for her to come inside. 

she did.

when you opened the door you expected bea. maybe one of the team trainers, perhaps even room service. but the second you saw manon standing in the hallway in a zip-up jacket and baseball cap, mouth drawn tight, your stomach dropped.

“you could’ve called.” you said when she stepped in behind you, the door slamming shut. 

manon tugged her cap off and with it, the air shifted. it always did when she was close.

you didn’t speak and neither did she. not until her eyes landed on the overnight bag by the couch, your rehab paperwork half-tucked beneath it.  

“who was she?” manon asked, again, sharp. “the one in the photo. leaving the office with you.”

you frown. “it’s not what you think.”

it truly wasn’t. your rehab caseworker was a woman nearly twice your age, a woman with a husband and kids. she was helping you. 

truthfully, at this point you didn’t think manon even deserved the answer. 

“really?” she laughed bitterly. “because from here, it looks pretty obvious.”

your jaw clenched. you couldn’t begin to describe the emotions embroidering themselves into you in this moment now. anger. frustration. disbelief. you were angry at yourself for staring, for still being so inconceivably taken aback by her sheer beauty despite it all. you were angry for still finding her so breathtaking even after seeing her for the first time after weeks of silence. she ghosted you. she left you to pick up the pieces of something she left shattered. 

above that, you were angry she had the guts to show up and demand answers like you owed her anything.

you didn’t even bother asking how she knew where you were, you knew bea had something to do with it. 

instead, you scoffed. “you’ve got some nerve, meret.” you say her name with a kind of venom that made her flinch, even if she tried not to show it.

she took a step closer. “don’t turn this on me.”

you shake your head disbelievingly. “what do you want from me? you show up after leaving me in the dark, and expect me to welcome you in with open arms?”

“you think I wasn’t losing my mind watching my name go viral for something that wasn’t even real?”

real. you scoff, biting your tongue. the words you wanted to say begged to be let out. instead you shook your head. 

 “you didn’t have to disappear.”

manon laughed, hollow, like it scraped something raw inside her. “my career was on the line.”

“so was mine!” you nearly shouted, and the sound of your voice bouncing off the hotel walls startled you both. you closed your eyes for half a second, forcing yourself to breathe. “but I didn’t ghost you. I didn’t pretend like none of it happened.”

“i wasn’t pretending,” she said, softer now, but the edge hadn’t fully left her voice. “i was trying to fix it before it got worse. management was on my ass. the girls were on edge. and then that headline—”

you shook your head, stepping away from her. your foot ached as you moved, but you didn’t care. the pain grounded you more than anything she said. you cut her off. 

“you ghosted me to save your image, fine. but don’t you dare come in here accusing me of anything.”

her eyes narrowed. “so you admit there’s something to accuse you of?”

your chest heaved. “no. i’m saying you don’t get to act like a victim.”

she was silent for a beat, long enough for the air between you to feel toxic. then she gestured toward the bag and the paperwork she’d seen. “what even is all that?”

“don’t act like you care now, manon.” you scoff. 

manon’s face twisted up with a kind of hurt that she felt in the core of her being. for a moment she just stared at you. she so badly wanted to say all of the things that plagued her mind the months you’d known each other. she wanted so badly to drop to her knees then and there, to swear on her life— her career — that not a single day had passed where you didn’t cross her mind. 

instead, her frustration got the better of her. 

“we weren’t even together,” manon snapped, eyes flashing.

“i know we weren’t.”

“we said it was just sex. fun.”

“yeah,” you said, louder now, “but it stopped being fun a long time ago, didn’t it?”

manon had nothing else to say. knowing that you felt the same way she did should have felt like relief. like a breath of air. instead, it felt bitter. it left a taste in her mouth she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to swallow. 

your words weren’t a confession, and she knew it.  

she swallowed. “it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

you laughed. a melancholic, tired kind of sound that shook your body with the weight of all your pent up emotions. “then let’s just pretend like none of this happened. that’s what you wanted, right?”

the words hit their mark. you saw it in her shoulders, in the flicker in her jaw, in the way she wouldn’t meet your eyes now.

you stepped back, your boot knocking into the corner of the bed.

“go.”

manon grabbed her cap off the counter, turned to the door, and paused. 

“maybe this was a mistake.”

the door clicked shut behind her with a soft finality that sounded louder than the shouting ever had. and just like that, the room shifted. heavier, colder, emptier. the silence rushed in all at once, like water filling a void. you didn’t move for a long time. just stood there, breathing shallowly, your pulse still racing from everything she said. from everything she didn’t.

it wasn’t until your eyes dropped to the floor that you saw it.

a piece of paper, half-tucked beneath the corner of the nightstand. crumpled, like it had been carried around too long. worn thin, like it had been folded and unfolded over and over again. you weren’t sure when she’d left it. maybe when you turned your back, maybe before the fight even started.  but somehow, it felt like the loudest thing she’d said all night.

you hobbled over slowly, the pain in your foot barely registering now beneath the weight in your chest. when you picked it up, your fingers shook. the ink was faded in places, smudged at the edges, but the handwriting was unmistakable. familiar. careful.

i think i love you. –meret

you stared at it for a long time, something breaking open inside you with every second that passed. all the things she hadn’t said, all the chances you both missed, pressed into six quiet words. not a plea. not a promise. just the truth.

and it came too late.

__

‎ 

another week passed since your argument. you were still in los angeles, and there were now two days until the world cup opener. 

the stadium was completely empty, silent except for the distant hum of the city beyond the floodlights. you sat alone on the cold metal bleachers, the late afternoon sun sliding slowly behind the stands, casting long shadows across the empty pitch. the grass looked impossibly green, the goalposts still standing like silent sentinels, and every inch of the field called out to you with a quiet ache you couldn’t ignore.

you looked down at the note again, the ink smudged where your fingers had held it too tightly. the weight of those six words felt like a stone inside your chest, heavy but delicate all at once. then your eyes shifted to your foot. the boot had been taken off only a day ago, but every time you put weight on it, there was a sharp reminder that your body was still fragile. the pain was duller now, not enough to keep you off the field, but enough to remind you that your foot had betrayed you once, and you weren’t sure if you had forgiven it yet.

your team had made it through without you. barely. sitting on the sidelines, pacing the hospital halls with a phone pressed to your ear, hearing the whistles and scores secondhand had been a slow kind of torture. but somehow they had pulled through. by grit, by luck, and by sheer will. it should have been enough to light a fire inside you, something fierce and unbreakable, ready to carry you onto the field again.

but your mind was elsewhere.

you could still hear manon’s voice when your eyes closed. the way she had said your name in the hotel room, the way her frustration had cracked just enough to show something softer underneath. the fight had burned through every part of you, but it was the silence after that cut deepest. the click of the door, the empty room she left behind. it stayed with you like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

you knew katseye was still in la. you knew it was their final stop before they headed back to europe for an undetermined amount of time. you probably wouldn’t see her again for a while. 

in twenty minutes you had your final medical exam. it was the moment that would decide if you were really ready to play. you should be getting up, walking to the clinic, proving to everyone including yourself that you were ready to play. but your body refused to move. your foot still ached, but more than that, your heart did too. the ache in your chest pressed down like the cold metal seats beneath you, heavy and inescapable.

you almost didn’t register the feeling of someone approaching you. you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. the sound of her sneakers on the metal steps had been careful, deliberate, but not quiet enough to mask the familiarity.

“i thought i’d find you here,” bea said quietly, her voice floating down like it belonged to the quiet.

you didn’t turn around. not at first. the note was still warm in your hands, soft from how many times your fingers had traced its edges. you knew the creases by heart now, the way the folds had started to tear, the way her handwriting had smudged just enough to feel like a memory slipping away.

bea eased down onto the bleacher behind you, one row up, her elbows braced on her knees, eyes fixed on the same field you hadn’t been able to stop staring at. for a while, she didn’t say anything else. just breathed next to you, steady and quiet. then she hummed knowingly. “you’re gonna miss your checkup.”

her tone wasn’t urgent, but the weight of what she was reminding you of pressed in anyway.

you nodded slowly, the answer already formed before she asked. “i know,” you said. your voice came out low, but solid, like the decision had already rooted itself in you. “i’m not going.”

the silence that followed wasn’t surprised. it was careful.

“what do you mean?” she asked after a beat, not accusing, just trying to make sure she understood you.

you finally turned your head, just slightly, just enough to look at her over your shoulder. “i mean i’m not doing it. i’m not going. i don’t think i can.”

bea leaned back a little, her brow creased, confusion shifting into something quieter. “you’ve waited for this for weeks,” she said, not unkindly. “the whole rehab, the work, everything. all of it.”

you nodded again, the motion small but sure. “i know. but something in me still doesn’t feel right. my foot’s almost there, yeah, and i’m technically cleared to test it. but it’s not the pain that’s stopping me.”

she didn’t press you. didn’t speak. just stayed with you in the quiet, letting it stretch a little, like she knew there was more and she was willing to wait for it.

you took a breath and let your eyes fall back to the field, the light now golden and low. “everything else in me still feels shaky,” you said. “like i could take the field tomorrow and my body would show up, but the rest of me wouldn’t.”

you didn’t realize you were gripping the note until your thumb brushed over the paper again. the edges had curled, worn thin from the way you kept holding it like it might hold you back together.

“she left this,” you said, your voice quieter now.

bea glanced at the paper in your hands, then back at you. “how do you feel?”

the question sat in the air for a long time before you answered. “like i was halfway in love with her the second i saw her.”

bea tilted her head, her eyes gentle. “is it still there?”

“yeah,” you whispered. “it never really left.”

she looked down at her hands, then up at the empty field. “you know… we’ve both played through pain. done it for years. and i get it. sometimes you have to. but this?” she nodded at the note. “this doesn’t sound like something you should be playing through.”

you stayed quiet.

“you love her,” bea said, not a question this time, just a quiet truth placed between you.

you nodded again, barely, the motion so small it might’ve been missed if she hadn’t already known the answer.

for a while, all you could hear was the buzz of the stadium lights overhead, the slow groan of one flickering to life after another. the field looked too perfect, too green, too untouched. it felt like a painting, still and silent, waiting for someone to step into it.

“so why are you still here?” 

you exhaled slowly, staring straight ahead. “because if i miss this exam, i don’t play. and if i don’t play, then what was all of it for? the injury, the rehab, the sacrifice… what was the point?”

bea didn’t look away from you. she stayed still for a moment longer, then finally spoke again.

“maybe it wasn’t just for the game.”

you turned your head, uncertain.

“maybe it was for more than that,” she said. “for learning that your worth isn’t measured by the next match. for giving yourself permission to want something you can’t chart on a scoreboard. for figuring out that there’s a difference between playing through pain and playing like you actually want to be there.”

you looked down at the note in your hands again, your voice almost too soft to hear.

“i don’t know if she wants to see me. not after how we left things.”

bea didn’t hesitate. “then find out.”

“it’s too late,” you said, not with certainty but with fear.

“it’s not,” she said. “she’s still in the city, right? the tour ends tonight?”

you nodded, barely. “yeah. the bowl.”

“then you don’t need a plane. you don’t need a manager or a doctor or a pass. you just need to go.”

you opened your mouth, hesitating. “what if i’m wrong? what if i go, she doesn’t want to see me?”

bea gave you a look. not harsh. just steady. “then at least you’ll know you weren’t too scared to try.”

the stadium around you was still. the sun nearly gone now, the lights casting that familiar pregame glow over the field. the ache in your foot felt distant for once, like your body had finally decided to follow your heart’s lead.

“the medical team—” you started.

“i’ll cover for you,” bea said. “i’ll tell them you needed time. they’ll deal.”

you stared at her, overwhelmed. “why are you doing this?”

she gave a small smile. “because i’ve seen you fight for everything else in your life. now i want to see you fight for this.”

you blinked hard, throat tight.

“thank you,” you whispered.

bea stood with you, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “go,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “before i start getting emotional and ruin my whole cool persona.”

you let out a breath that was half laugh, half something closer to release. “too late for that,” you said, your voice shaky but warm.

and this time, when you turned and started walking down the bleachers, it didn’t feel like you were leaving something behind.

‎ 

‎ 

the show had ended, but the air still pulsed with it. every surface backstage hummed like it had absorbed the sound and refused to let it go. the concrete beneath your feet felt warm, as if it had held the energy of thousands of stomping feet and was still deciding whether to let it fade.

somewhere beyond the heavy doors, the crowd was still roaring. you stood near the back exit, just out of sight, half shielded by a wall of black storage trunks marked with shipping labels and tour codes. it smelled like sweat and vinyl and adrenaline. somewhere along the drive, bea must have called megan to give her a heads up that you were on your way. it was likely megan’s doing that you were let backstage without any hassle.

you hadn’t planned what to say. not on the drive over. not in the slow, stalling walk through the backstage corridor. your mind had been too loud and too blank at once.

your phone hadn’t stopped vibrating since you arrived, tucked deep in your jacket pocket. it buzzed again and again. the coaches, the medical staff, your name probably floating across a dozen group chats in varying degrees of concern, irritation, disbelief. you’d silenced everything. not because you wanted to be reckless, but because this moment didn’t belong to anyone else.

you needed it to be yours.

when the door opened from the far side of the stage, a fresh wave of cheers rolled in, muffled but still enormous. then the sound shifted. boots against metal, quick voices calling for clear paths, crew shouting directions over each other as the final load-out began. a golf cart beeped somewhere near the loading dock.

and then, in the middle of all that movement, she appeared.

manon.

she was walking with the rest of them at first, laughing at something, her head turned toward one of the other girls. her shirt clung to her back with sweat, her hair damp and tangled from the heat of the stage. her face was still flushed, bright from the lights, from the movement, from whatever high came with finishing something that had taken months to build.

you almost stepped back when you saw her. the way your breath caught felt involuntary, like your body had been holding it in anticipation for longer than you realized.

and then she saw you.

she stopped like she’d hit something.  like her whole body forgot what it was supposed to do. her mouth parted slightly. one step, then another, slower this time. the girls kept moving without her, unaware or pretending not to notice. now that you thought about it, you definitely didn’t miss the sly glances megan and sophia shot your way. but, before you could dwell on it, your attention was brought back to the woman of the hour.

the sound around you blurred for a second, not disappearing but dulling. like someone had turned the volume down on everything except the space between you and her.

her eyes stayed on yours, wide, searching. her lips moved before her voice did, like she had to try it out first just to believe it was real.

“you’re here,” she said. not an accusation. not even a question. just a quiet fact she hadn’t expected to say out loud.

you nodded. “i couldn’t miss this.”

manon blinked, slow and dazed, like she was surfacing from deep water. she looked exhausted, like the kind of tired that clings to your bones. but still, impossibly, unfairly beautiful. there was a glazed softness in her eyes, as if the stage had taken something from her and left behind a quiet kind of wonder. strands of hair clung to her damp temples, her breath still unsteady, and yet she carried herself with the kind of grace that made it hard to look away

you stepped closer, letting the words rise from the place where they had been buried for too long. she didn’t step away. you fished into your pocket and found the note she left you. not the first one where she thanked you for the good night together, but the second. you couldn’t shake its words from your mind no matter how hard you tried.

her eyes dropped to the note and recognition flickered across her face in an instant. her lips parted slightly, then pressed together as she swallowed. the weight of memory settled in her throat.

you hesitated for a moment, opened and closed your mouth. there were so many things you wanted to say. maybe an apology, an icebreaker to dull the hurt you made each other feel in that hotel room. instead, your words slipped out before you could fully register them, second nature.

“i love you.”

manon froze, her breath catching as if your words had cracked the stillness between you. for a long moment, neither of you moved. the air felt thick, heavy with everything left unsaid, everything too fragile to touch. then, slowly, her eyes lifted to meet yours. wide, uncertain, searching. a flicker of something raw and unguarded passed through her gaze, breaking through the stunned silence.

she swallowed again, voice barely above a whisper.

 “i… don’t know what to say.”

you continued so she didn’t have to. you take another step closer so that you were only a foot away, swallowing for the nth time since you arrived. you folded the paper delicately in front of her and placed it back into your pocket with the kind of care fit for gold. when you talk your voice is barely above a whisper, but she hears you loud and clear.

“you don’t have to say anything. i just needed you to know.”

manon’s eyes softened. you didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t the way her chest slowly deflated like she was finally releasing a breath you hadn’t even noticed she was holding. her face relaxed, the tension in her body collapsing as if your words made everything right. as if suddenly, everything made sense. 

she closed the distance between you, her voice slow and careful as she lifted a hand to rest on your arm, hesitant. she moved with the softness of someone afraid their very touch would burn. she didn’t want you to pull away. 

“i didn’t want the world to ruin what we had,” she admitted, her voice soft and honest. “but i almost did that myself.”

you nodded slowly, feeling the tightness in your throat, the weight of everything that had passed between you. the words tasted bittersweet but true.

she reached out then, her fingers trembling just a little as they lowered from your shoulder and brushed against your hand. the touch was tentative, fragile, but it grounded you both in the moment. you didn’t rush.

“i love you, too,” she whispered.

it was all you needed to move.

when your lips finally met, there was none of the noise or flashiness you might have expected. no fireworks burst in the air, no grand gestures to announce your feelings to the world. instead, the kiss was steady and gentle, as if it had been waiting patiently for this moment to arrive.

it was quiet, a soft meeting of lips that felt like a secret finally shared between two souls who had been searching for each other in the dark. the warmth of her mouth against yours was steady and sure, offering comfort instead of urgency. it was a calm reassurance, a slow and deliberate connection that spoke louder than any shouted confession ever could.

the kiss deepened just enough to hold the weight of everything you’d both been carrying. frustration, hope, regret, love. it was like the first solid step after a storm, the foundation beneath your feet that had been missing for so long. 

when you pulled apart, her smile hit you like a burst of sunlight, lighting up her entire face. you barely noticed the soft rustling and muffled giggles as megan tumbled to the floor, caught off guard by the moment. she, yoonchae, sophia, daniela, and lara were practically piling on top of each other behind the corner, like a comically awkward tower of kids trying to sneak a peek at the kiss. their eyes wide and curious, they peeked around the edge in a jumble of limbs and whispered excitement, struggling to stay quiet but failing spectacularly.

even when megan clambered back up, embarrassed. even when manon rolled her eyes at them before turning back to you with a warm smile.

all you saw was her.

__

you didn’t win the cup.

the team barely made it out of the group stage before collapsing under pressure, slipping out of the tournament with a loss that tasted more like betrayal than defeat. the fine came quickly after. five figures. stern wording. a statement released to the press so the league could pretend like they were doing something about it. you didn’t necessarily expect that purposely missing your health examination would lead to such a big consequence, but you didn’t fight it. didn’t argue. didn’t even flinch when the payment went through. because the truth was, you didn’t regret a single thing.

being off the field meant time, and time meant manon. 

katseye had left for the european leg of their world tour two days after the tournament ended, and you went with them. not officially. not publicly. but you were there. slipping into venues through side doors, helping manon rehearse choreography by counting beats on your fingers, sitting backstage with a spare towel and gatorade like it was the most normal thing in the world.

the phone calls changed, too. they got softer. longer. manon stopped hanging up first. she stopped hiding behind excuses, stopped changing the subject every time it got too close to sounding like love. somewhere between paris and prague, you spent more time together. long train rides across europe, cheap hotel rooms between tour stops. the kind of nights where everything slowed down just enough for both of you to exhale. 

by the time the new season came around and you flew back to los angeles, the fear that used to wrap itself around manon’s ribs like wire had finally started to loosen its grip. the phone call confirming you were cleared to play the next season was celebrated, the two of you spending the night together in the best way you knew how.

carly wasn’t so lucky.

she didn’t just get benched, she got dropped. her contract terminated, her name wiped from the team’s socials like she was never there to begin with. the league didn’t offer an explanation, but they didn’t have to. everyone had heard the recording. it passed through group chats and newsrooms like wildfire. her voice, smug and casual, bragging about how she’d gone in harder than necessary during that scrimmage. said she was tired of you being treated like you were untouchable. like some golden girl. said you needed to be humbled.

jealousy cost her everything. and for once, you weren’t the one left picking up the pieces.

the season opener came fast. same stadium. same energy humming under the lights. bea’s same infuriating grin across the athlete tunnel as the crowd was already spilling into the aisles.  drums echoing in the distance, flags waving.

 but something felt different this time. like the tension had shifted.

katseye was there, dressed down in team hoodies and dark glasses. they weren’t performing this time, but rather watching. not for the cameras. not for a paycheck. just as fans.

manon stood at the edge of their section, fingers curled around the railing. her shoulders were straight, her posture easy, and stitched across her back in bold white lettering was your number.

fourteen.

you didn’t see her at first. you were too locked in. cleats tapping against the tunnel floor, eyes scanning the pitch. everything sharp and focused and familiar. until the sound shifted. a wave in the noise,  sharper, higher, a cheer that didn’t quite match the moment. and when you turned, she was there.

stepping down from the suite, walking toward the sideline like she belonged there. like she’d done it a hundred times before. her expression unreadable, her pace calm and sure. security didn’t stop her. the cameras didn’t look away. and when she reached you, she didn’t pause.

her hands came up to your face, warm and steady, and she kissed you. right there. in front of the fans. in front of the world. it wasn’t a stunt. it wasn’t a reveal. it wasn’t soft or hesitant or staged. it was real.

open. certain. hers.

the photos hit twitter before the first whistle blew. your name and hers started trending in less than ten minutes. a thousand different versions of the same headline began circulating.

 power couple. surprise romance. soft launch, hard launch, everything in between. it couple status: confirmed.

for a while, it felt like everything tilted off its axis. interviews you hadn’t agreed to. red carpet invites with both your names spelled wrong. paparazzi waiting outside practice and tabloids stitching together timelines that didn’t make sense. people fell in love with the idea of you before they even understood the reality. they cropped photos, made edits, wrote essays on your love like it belonged to them.

but beneath the noise, beneath the flashbulbs and thinkpieces, the truth stayed simple.

you chose each other.

even when it was inconvenient. even when the schedules didn’t align. even when you were halfway across the world, talking through time zones and static and exhaustion. when your bodies were too tired to move but your hearts still found ways to reach.

you fought for it.

and manon, who once thought being loved out loud would cost her everything, now wore your hoodie through airport terminals, took your hand in front of fans, leaned her head on your shoulder when the cameras flashed like she wasn’t scared of being seen anymore.

she hadn’t expected any of it. not the attention. not the weight of being talked about like you were something bigger than just two people trying to love each other the best way you knew how.

but when she looked at you, she knew she’d do it all again.