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edamameimei · 9 days ago

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losing my head (megan skiendiel x reader)

"baby, there will always be a space for you and me, right where you left it."

synopsis: the first words spoken to you by your soulmate is imprinted on your skin like a birthmark. people spend their entire lives trying to find their other half, keeping their ears open for those magical words. however, what do you do if your other half ignores destiny? what then? tags: angst, soulmate!au, idol!megan x collegestudent!reader an: this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. CW: swearing, alcohol + drug use (not graphic) wc: 9039

⏯ now playing: always - daniel caeser

“Are you… Are you breaking up with me?” The words you have been dreading come out of your mouth as a whisper. You stare at your girlfriend, your brows furrowed in disbelief. She stands in front of you with a tired look in her eyes, as if she has no fight left in her. The will to continue arguing about what has happened seems to have exhausted the other girl, but you, on the other hand, continued to stand your ground, eyes pleading as your lip trembled at the thought of the brunette slipping through your fingertips.

You didn’t even consider this to be a possibility. She’s your soulmate– it’s literally written in destiny. The stars and planets aligned just at the right time, so that you can be in this space with her.

And now, she wants to break up, despite what was already laid out for both of you.

Megan takes a sharp breath and closes her eyes tightly, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes dart around your dorm room to avoid yours, and this frustrates you even more. You grip your arm tightly as you think about the words inscribed on it. You felt betrayed, not only by Megan but also by the universe itself. “You’re breaking up with me.” The finality in your words causes your voice to break.

Your tears begin to stream down your cheeks as she slowly nods, still avoiding your eyes. “I just… Think it would be better for right now, you know?”

But you don’t know. You don’t think you will ever know.

You jump at the sound of Keeho slamming his hands down onto the table, leaning over it with his eyes wide after you give him the rundown of the events that occurred the night before. You lean back in your seat to look up at him, your heart beating loudly in your chest. “Are you fucking crazy?!” You hiss. Your eyes begin to dart around the library you’re both occupying in hopes you won’t find someone paying either one of you any attention.

He stands his ground, his eyes keeping the same amount of intensity (or insanity, whichever way you look at it). “I’m fucking crazy?! You just lost your soulmate! That’s fucking crazy!” You shush him quickly, getting up from your seat to grab his shoulders. You attempt to push him back into his chair, but he holds onto your arms, somehow getting the upper hand. “How are you not freaking out right now?!” His voice booms throughout the quiet library, and it makes you wince.

You manage to push him back into his seat, and for a moment, you try catching your breath, still standing over the table. You look down at him and suddenly remember what you two were talking about in the first place. Your fists clench when it catches up to you, and your jaw tightens when the memory of losing Megan comes back at you with full force. Your heart twists painfully in your chest, and you want to scratch the words off of your arm, tear it easily off of your skin as if it were a band-aid.

Suddenly, you fall back into your seat in defeat. “It just doesn’t feel real.” You quietly respond. Your shoulders slump, and you keep your eyes on your lap.

Keeho stares at you and frowns, rubbing the back of his neck in slight embarrassment over his theatrical reaction. “I’m sorry, Y/n…” He sighs deeply. When you don’t respond, he leans forward once more and places his elbows on the table. He whispers, “Did she say why? I mean… This is a lot.” You can’t help but let out a bitter laugh in response to his words.

You pick your head up and give him a slight, strained smile. “She said we’re young. And we should experience being young before committing to anything…”

He furrows his brows. “What? Dude, if I found my soulmate, I wouldn’t even bother with dating anymore.” He leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Like, that’s it. That person is all I’ll ever need.”

You shrug at his words and look away again, your eyes scanning the library silently, observing the other college students who occupy the space. “I think it’s because I’m…” You run your hand through your hair, trying to find the words to explain the thought that has been haunting your mind since you started noticing the changes in your relationship with Megan. “I don’t know… I think it’s because I’m, you know, me.” The last part comes out quietly, although loud enough to voice your insecurities.

You attempt to avoid the conversation by staring at a group of students at one of the study tables. They loudly discuss one of their classes– you pick up on it being ‘Soulmate Theory 110.’ A required class for all students in the college. You took it freshman year, and you wish you had paid more attention, especially now.

“What do you mean? You’re a catch, friend.” He tells you with a bewildered look in his eyes. His words cause you to let out a chuckle, shaking your head at his attempt at being lighthearted. You turn away from the group of students to look at Keeho with a slight smile tugging at your lips.

“She’s a literal popstar. She’s probably in the studio right now while I’m sitting here with you.” You emphasize the last part, enjoying the way he rolls his eyes at your implications.

Keeho huffs and keeps his arms crossed. He looks at you worriedly as he replies, “Do you… I mean, is there a chance for her to come back? I mean, it’s not like she has any other choice, right?” You bite your lip as you think about his question. Your eyes find your arm again, and a bit of hope resonates throughout your body.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

‘You looked lonely over here.”

You always found the inscription to be somewhat ironic.

Before meeting Megan, you had always wondered what the situation would be like. You used to stay up past your bedtime when you were younger, fantasizing about the interaction you would have with your soulmate for the very first time. You used to practice how you would reply, taking guesses at what your own first words would be. The concept of soulmates has always fascinated you. The idea of someone being curated just for you seemed like a dream, and you found yourself always hopeless.

When you do finally meet Megan, it is the farthest thing from magical.

You were admittedly high out of your mind and sat outside the porch of someone’s house that you couldn’t for the life of you remember. You knew they were the host, and you knew it was one of Keeho’s famous influencer friends that he managed to make during his internship last summer with a big music company in Los Angeles. The moment you were told there would be a little weed and a little booze, it would have taken more to convince you not to go than not.

However, after having more than a little weed and no booze at all, you begin to regret your life choices as you sit slumped on one of the patio chairs, staring up at the sky and creating your own constellations out of the stars that sit above you.

Suddenly, the sliding door opened, but the obnoxious squeak it made still didn’t stir you from your current, mindless task. You continued to sit there, unmoving, not even noticing the intruder coming to sit next to you on the patio.

After a few minutes of silence, the intruder cleared their throat. Her voice was so quiet that it didn’t quite register in your head what she said. “You looked lonely over here.”

You turned your head toward the unfamiliar girl, your eyes hooded as if the lights were on, but no one was home. You squinted at her, whispering back, “Who do I look like?”

Her eyes widened. You noticed how she suddenly froze, unable to respond to your question. You tried to rewind the interaction in your head, figuring out what could have been the source of her sudden shift in demeanor. Then suddenly, it registered.

Her first words to you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and felt your body becoming hot with slight embarrassment over missing what had just happened. You whispered again, “Wait– What did you say?”

She bit her lip, tucking a strand of her ginger hair behind her ear shyly. The girl in front of you lets out a nervous giggle– a sound that makes your heart flutter in your chest. She looked down at her arm and smiled. “I said, “You looked lonely over here.”” She then extends her arm out to you, displaying the words inscribed into her arm. You read every word, memorized every letter and syllable that stood out to you like it was code only you and her could decipher together.

“Wait, I said that?” Is how you chose to respond. You look up at her, your cheeks red and a sheepish smile on your face. The sight of you made the girl, your soulmate, laugh loudly. She smiles widely through her laughter, and you can’t help but join her. It felt ridiculous. You pictured this moment for so long, just for it to be messy, nothing short of a disaster.

But as you take another glance at her, seeing her whiskered dimples in her cheeks, you knew the moment was perfect in its own right.

When her laughter subsides, she continues grinning and scoots her chair closer to you. “It’s you.” She whispered as if declaring to the universe that they’d done their job. She looks at you, her eyes brown and gentle, providing you with a warmth that only a soulmate could provide.

You whispered back, “It’s me.”

It’s been a month since Megan broke up with you, and all the videos you’ve been seeing of her on different social media outlets have made you almost deactivate every single one of your accounts.

In all of them, she looked so happy, so carefree. There was one of her recently at WeHo Pride that made you stare for far too long. But then, you remembered you were no longer together, and you ended up throwing your phone across the room.

Now, with no more Megan and $800 down the drain, you feel rather discouraged.

You trudge to class tiredly after pulling another all-nighter. To avoid thinking about your ex, you’ve had your nose buried in textbook after textbook, completing assignments quickly as they come. You never had an interest in the inevitable economic collapse in the United States. Still, you’re confident that if you were given an exam right now, you’d ace it in ten minutes flat. Your coping mechanism could have been worse– Honestly, you could have tried a Schedule 2 drug at this point just to feel something again.

But hard drugs have always scared you, and you’ve always been too afraid to try new things.

There’s an ache in your back as you step inside the classroom, letting your legs guide you to the seat you claimed earlier in the quarter. However, you stop in your tracks when you see a girl you haven’t seen before sitting there. You notice how she has already unpacked all of her belongings, ready for the lecture that awaits. A migraine begins to settle inside your head as you take a sharp breath, opting to take an open seat in the back of the room instead of fighting a new battle. You drop your stuff onto the ground and plop into the seat, immediately letting your head fall onto the unfamiliar desk with a thud.

The words on your arm burn with every image of Megan that flashes through your mind.

You lay on Chaewon’s floor, your eyes focused on her ceiling fan as you air out the one and only grievance you’ve had on your mind all day.

“Someone stole my fucking seat in class today.” You suddenly blurt out. Chaewon hums in acknowledgment, letting you know she is listening but doesn’t want to turn around to pay you attention. You turn your head toward Keeho, who sits criss-crossed on Chaewon’s bed, hugging one of her Squishmallows in his lap.

He raises an eyebrow at you, a slight smile tugging at his lips over your dramatics. “Is it assigned seating?” He snickers, resting his chin on top of the Squishmallows’ head.

You sigh, shaking your head. “No… But it’s like. University 101 Etiquette. The seat you picked at the beginning of the semester is your seat forever.” You’re aware you’re whining, but after everything you’ve already lost, to lose something else feels like a low blow.

Chaewon looks at you through the vanity mirror that she sits at, pausing her makeup routine just to give you a look of disbelief. “Did you… Tell her that was your seat?” You turn your head toward the girl and pout. Before you can respond, Chaewon looks away from you and continues curling her lashes. “So, you didn’t. Therefore, that is the consequence of your own actions.”

You groan, rubbing your face with your hands. “Chae, stop being mean, I’m sensitive right now.” Your words are slightly muffled, but it doesn’t stop the smirk that spreads across Keeho’s lips.

“Exactly. You have bigger problems than some random girl stealing your seat.” He claims, shaking his head at the way you continue to pout.

Under your breath, you murmur, “Seat snatcher,” as you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at Keeho, who continues staring at you with amusement. Your eyes fall onto his arm, and you raise an eyebrow. “What does your arm say again?” He lights up at your question, extending his arm out for you to see the words more clearly.

“That was really brave of you.”

Chaewon snorts, which grabs your attention, snapping your head toward the girl who has moved onto the lip part of her routine. Keeho tilts his head at the brunette. “Now, why are you laughing?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. Chaewon caps her lipstick and finally turns around in her seat to look at you and the boy.

She smiles softly before replying, “All your soulmate is asking for is for you to stop being a pussy all the time.” The moment the words leave her mouth, Keeho starts to defend himself, making excuses for the reason as to why he hasn’t met his person. Chaewon engages in this argument more so to continue rage-baiting the poor boy. As they bicker, you observe the characters on Chaewon’s arm.

It’s in Korean. In English, it’s, “Is this seat taken?” You found hers to be so beautiful. The concept of soulmates being able to transcend a language barrier despite the existence of thousands. The fact that there are people out there who learn an entire language just to communicate with the love of their life, just to understand them, fills you with an adoration toward humanity. It makes you believe, for a brief moment, that love really is enough.

As the bickering between Chaewon and Keeho begins to subside, her eyes wander over to you, widening when she realizes you’ve been crying. She gets up from her seat and quickly walks over to you. “Y/n? What the hell?” Chaewon kneels and pulls you into a tight hug, allowing you to cry in her arms.

Keeho jumps off the bed and kneels on the floor beside you. “Y/n… It’s okay…” He whispers gently, placing a comforting hand on your back. You don’t know how it happened or what caused you to break down suddenly, but at some point, it just became too difficult for you to hide.

“I don’t– I don’t get it.” You manage to say through your broken sobs. Your head falls against Chaewon’s chest, and you try desperately to control your breathing, but it’s as if the walls have finally closed in on you. It’s been a month since Megan broke up with you, but it also means you would have spent seven months together. It would have been seven months since finding her, and in theory, it should have been an infinite amount more.

It’s what the fairy tales talked about. All the stories passed down from one generation to the next taught you. You’re born as half of a whole, and one day, you’ll find that other half. Their first words to you are engraved on your skin like a promise. It’s what the prophets call destiny– the poets call it a human’s life purpose.

But there isn’t a crash course for what to do when your other half ignores the universe.

Unfortunately, an instruction manual isn’t available to your disposal to get through this.

Megan loved you loudly. She loved you so much that you believed it would be difficult for her to do otherwise.

When it came to her being a rising global popstar sensation, (the group’s words, not yours. An inside joke, they told you through a fit of laughter), it was only natural that her schedule would be all over the place.

But she made the time to be with you. Against all odds, she somehow managed to attach herself to your hip even on her busiest days. Megan loving you meant taking you on drives to her secret places, the windows down with your shared playlist blasting through the speakers. It meant even though Geffen told her to keep your relationship on the down low, she still wore the matching necklaces you bought together. She’d wear the bracelet you got her in public; the photos taken with fans would have her displaying it proudly. Instagram posts would have you in the background, or you were her photographer for the day.

Megan’s love for you was vivid. It was better than anything else you could have conjured up in your head.

But then, without warning, the love felt quieter. Inside jokes would go unheard, tired eyes not meeting yours across the table, her hands not reaching for you even if you were only inches apart. It went from never having time in a day to never having it during an entire week. It was an unwelcomed change, but you told yourself not to worry so much. It was her first comeback with you, and you knew the work it required would be overbearing.

However, when Gnarly finally dropped and its promotions began, the love felt almost silent. It became dead air, especially when she was in Korea.

In her past travels, Megan loved to send you update after update. She would tell you everything on her mind, both before and after the chaos, like clockwork. Megan often told you stories about what might have happened before an interview or performance, even telling you her coffee order from that morning, even if it’s the same every single time.

But this time, she didn’t respond as much, and when she did, her texts were short and to the point. The regular FaceTime calls after her performances never came, and the one time she finally reached out, it was a five-minute conversation about your classes until she had to leave again.

You rationalized it was the time difference. Maybe her service was spotty, and she couldn’t call and text as much as she would’ve liked.

Then she came back, though. And nothing felt the same.

Your breaking point was a photo of her at a bar with a couple of her friends from Dream Academy and other influencers in the area. It circulated all over the internet, and for the first time since being with Megan, you felt jealous. An ugly feeling that crawled up your throat with its claws dug deep into your skin. You try to avoid this feeling at all costs. It felt stupid, why feel jealous when she’s your soulmate?

But she told you she was staying home that night. You were supposed to meet for dinner, but she changed plans at the last minute.

And then you found out through Twitter where she actually was.

This discovery led to that night in your dorm. It began as a quiet discussion that quickly turned into an argument. It was a blur as if you were looking at her through red-stained glass, cracking at every word that was said.

“I can’t do this anymore!” She shouted. “I wasn’t even ready to meet you this early!”

Then it shattered.

The sun was rising at this point. Its light spilled onto the floor to tell you it’s a brand new day. How unkind for the world to continue its existence when a part of you left without another word. Not even a whisper to fill the silence that followed after.

Now, Megan lives her life loudly. It’s a life that you can’t be a part of, and you wonder, if you weren’t some random person she met at a party, if things would go differently. Maybe, if you had something to your name, loving you would be worth the schedules. There would be no need to hide from the public eye because you would be a somebody.

You sit at your desk in class, writing notes as if your life depended on it. Because it’s a brand new day. You write the date at the top of your paper.

Two months. You wonder how you would have spent eight months together.

And then after three months without contact, Megan texts you out of the blue.

After your mental breakdown in Chaewon’s room, you knew it would be in your best interest to at least try moving forward in your life despite the curveball Megan decided to throw in your direction. It wasn’t easy, but you’ve been making more of an effort to take care of yourself. The conversations you’ve been having with your friends have become less about what has happened and more about what will happen, such as plans for dinner, plans for going out, and so forth.

Three months have gone by, and you’re starting to feel like a human again.

The moment Megan’s name lights up across your phone, you feel a lump form in your throat. The feelings you’ve tried so hard to bury beneath your feet slowly start to resurface as you begin to hypothesize what the girl could possibly want at 2 in the morning. Your phone shakes in your hands as you unlock it, revealing the contents of the message.

Megan: Hey, have you been okay?

You bite your lip, your fingers ghosting over the keyboard as you think about your response. Begging for her to come back didn’t feel like an option, so you opted for honesty.

You: I’ve been getting better

You: You?

You wait. The homework you were working on becomes ignored as you stare at your phone. A picture of you and Megan sits on your desk, and it stares at you until you fall asleep. You waited until 6 AM, until the drowsiness that consumed you finally took over.

When you wake up, it’s 11 AM. You don’t even notice the fact that you missed your 9:30 AM class because the only thing you see when you check your phone is the three new messages from Megan. You check them embarrassingly fast, getting your passcode wrong again and again as your heart beats rapidly in your chest.

Megan: I’m good.

Megan: I’m glad to hear you’ve been getting better.

Megan: Just wanted to check in. I’ll talk to you soon.

You raise your hand, ready to chuck your phone again across the room. But you manage to stop yourself, placing it face-first onto your desk. You look at the picture of you and Megan. She still had her ginger hair, and she still loved you unconditionally, without a weight on her shoulders.

Unfortunately, you don’t have another $800 to drop, and you still don’t have Megan in your life.

So, you store the photo in the bottom drawer of your dresser. It’s better to have it haunt you when you need a new pair of socks.

“Have you talked to the rest of the group?” Chaewon asks during lunch one day. After the brief interaction you had with Megan two nights ago, you called your friends for an emergency pick-me-up (unfortunately, the meeting had to be postponed to today because, college has been kicking your ass).

You continue gnawing at your straw absentmindedly, your brain not registering the question she presented to you. Chaewon notices this and snaps her fingers in your face, causing you to jump away from your drink. You place it back down onto the table sheepishly before responding, “Sorry, what?”

Keeho snorts beside you, eyeing you both as he continues eating his fries. Chaewon just sighs and shakes her head. “I asked if you talked to any of the other girls.”

You nod, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. “Right. um… Lara reaches out here and there, the other girls, though, not so much.” You tap your chin, trying to remember if anyone else has spoken to you since your breakup, and then your eyes light up. “Wait! Yoonchae sometimes sends me game invites…”

Keeho laughs at this, covering his mouth due to the amount of food he stuffed in his face. “That checks out,” he says, although a bit muffled.

Chaewon gives the boy a disgusted look before looking back at you with a nod. “What do you and Lara talk about?” She steals one of Keeho’s fries as she speaks, popping it into her mouth with a smirk. Keeho rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest with a huff.

“Just about how I’m doing and stuff… Nothing that crazy.” You place your elbow on the table and rest your chin against the palm of your hand. “Sometimes she’ll tell me about how Megan is doing.”

Keeho raises his eyebrow and pops another fry in his mouth. “And how is Megan?”

You bite your lip, your eyes finding the table more interesting to look at. “She’s good.” You say flatly. A silence follows your words, and you want to make another comment that’s more lighthearted, wishing to avoid any really serious conversations about the situation. But you keep your mouth shut. Knowing your friends, they’ll see right through your actions and make it harder for you to hide behind your facade.

“Have you thought about, you know, dating casually?” Keeho suddenly asks. You turn toward him with narrowed eyes, and he raises his hands in defense.

Chaewon looks at him incredulously and leans over the table to swat at his arm. “Not everyone can be like you and just date whoever we want. Some of us get attached too easily…” She sits back in her seat, looking away from him with flushed cheeks. You glance at the girl and frown, remembering Chaewon’s last attempt at casual dating. It ended with you both having to take the girl back home and rub her back as she hunched over a toilet, sobbing her eyes out.

You shiver at the memory. Not just at what occurred, but the person who broke her heart. She’s at the top of your hit list.

“Okay, I get it. But it might help a little. Get some of that frustration out, you know?” It’s your turn to swat Keeho’s shoulder, and he winces, rubbing the area that will most likely bruise later. You slump down in your seat, the thought of Megan seeing other people making your brain go into overdrive. For it to be a possibility never registered in your head, but then people like Keeho exist.

The people who won’t wait until they find their person. The people who will love until the one comes in and sweeps them off their feet.

You glance at Keeho with pursed lips. You steal one of his fries before replying, “Maybe I’m just not as brave as you.”

The end of the semester is close to its end, and the reminder makes you grimace. The passage of time has always bothered you, and you hate that you’re now keeping track of it through the number of months it has been since Megan left.

It’s been four if anyone is wondering.

The task for today’s class is to complete a packet full of the things that you’ve learned throughout the semester. It’s a review of the material, most likely to help students in the class prepare for the final exam. Usually, you’re nervous about exams. But with how hard you’ve been working this semester (against your will, you want to add), it doesn’t seem all that bad. Your professor allowed the class to work either in groups or alone, and as you look around the room, you figure it would be easier to let this be a solo assignment.

As you’re filling your name out at the top of the paper, you notice someone’s presence towering over you. You can’t help the sigh that escapes your lips at the intrusion, but you still pick your head up, recognizing the person in front of you to be the seat snatcher.

You came to learn her actual name is Huh Yunjin. But seat snatcher is fitting.

You can’t help the way you squint at the redhead, feeling a slight irritation at the way she smiles at you. “Yes?” You ask, looking back down at your paper, so you could force yourself to stop glaring daggers at the seat snatcher.

Your eyes begin to skim through the questions, not even bothering to look up at the sound of her voice. “You looked lonely over here.”

You freeze. The words knock the wind out of you, and you wonder if you heard her right. You snap your head up to meet her eyes once more, and she continues to look at you softly, tilting her head as if intrigued by your reaction. “Are you–?”

“What words are on your arm?” You cut her off, furrowing your brows in slight confusion. You can’t even remember what you said to her previously; you were too petty to give her a chance at redemption.

Your question causes her to widen her eyes, and you watch as she tugs at the sleeve of her sweater as if anxious to show you what could be the answers to an unsolved equation. The reaction makes you frown at the realization that you might have been a bit harsh with Yunjin. If you were being honest, you would much rather have her still be considered a seat snatcher than a soulmate; It wouldn’t make sense for the latter.

You found your soulmate already. This would be impossible.

The grip on her sleeve tightens, and your eyes flicker from her face to her arm multiple times before deciding to take matters into your own hands. You quickly push yourself away from your desk, clumsily pulling the hoodie you wear off your body. The hoodie falls onto the floor as you extend your arm toward Yunjin. She looks down, grabbing your wrist gently to get a closer look. The small physical contact makes you blush slightly, but you ignore it, keeping close attention to the Korean girl’s reaction.

The way she covers her mouth with her hand worries you. No, no, no, you think. This can’t be happening.

When she lets go of your wrist, she finally decides to show you what’s been written on her arm. She slowly pulls her sleeve up her arm, and for a moment, you’re confused. You see nothing on her arm.

That is, until you do.

Unlike others you’ve seen, Yunjin only had one word, three letters, and a question mark.

“Holy shit,” You breathe out.

Megan is cozy sweaters, a vanilla scented candle lit during a thunderstorm, with the fairy lights turned on to illuminate the darkness. She’s jumping in puddles, running through the rain with a wide smile on her face because life is too short to allow the rain ruin a date. She’s pinky promises, practicing a handshake until it’s perfect, and lips pressed against the back of your hand as if to tell you, “I’m here.”

You remember one night in your dorm, your backs against your headboard, shoulders touching as you both watched a movie on your laptop. She had her head resting on your shoulder and held your hand, tracing letters into your hand with her thumb that seemed to spell out the words on your arm.

Megan also loved you softly. She loved you so warmly that it always felt like Spring when you were around her. You often took subtle glances at your girlfriend, loving the way the brightness of the screen lit up her face. She would crinkle her nose at the funny scenes, cuddling into your side impossibly closer.

“I love you,” She says suddenly in one single breath. Your eyes widen, your head snapping toward your girlfriend. Surprisingly, it’s the first time you’ve heard those words come out of her mouth, and although you knew it was inevitable, it still makes your heart stutter in your chest.

She turns to look at you, a shy smile on her face with a bright twinkle in her eyes. “I love you.” She says again, this time a little louder, more confident.

Megan is the plane finally landing in the last destination, the knock on the door, being home at last.

“I love you, too.” You whisper. It lingers in the space you both occupy, with the universe dancing in celebration above your heads.

“You’re nervous,” Yunjin says, observing your tightly clasped hands on the table as she takes a sip of her Matcha. She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiles a bit shyly. “I get that.”

A chuckle escapes your lips. You feel a bit sheepish, but you promised Keeho and Chaewon that you’d try. “Yeah… I don’t know. I just feel kind of weird, I guess.” Yunjin sets her cup down onto the table and nods, looking back at you with a tilt of her head. You notice a twinkle in her eyes as if she’s daydreaming about what this would mean moving forward.

Yunjin places her elbows on the table and leans forward, resting her chin in her palms. She keeps her head tilted as she replies, “Why weird?” You bite your lip to try and hide the smile that wants to form. For some reason, it feels disloyal to Megan to meet another girl like this. Even if this is what she wanted, for you, it feels different.

Huh Yunjin could be your real soulmate. The way she looks at you reminds you of that night you met Megan.

The memory makes you dig your nails into the back of your hands. Your eyes narrow slightly, and Yunjin notices, reaching out to place her hand on top of yours. You almost slip your hands away on instinct, but her touch doesn’t burn like you thought it would. You bite your lip and stare at your hands, silently pleading with your heart to stop beating so fast.

Yunjin squeezes your clasped hands gently, rubbing her thumb against the crescent-shaped scars that will soon form on your skin. “You can be honest, I’m a good listener…” She pauses suddenly, letting out a shaky laugh. “Well. My friends tell me I’m a yapper, but I can also be a really good listener, honest!”

You laugh at her words– a genuine, loud laugh. For the first time since your breakup with Megan, it feels a bit easier to breathe. You shake your head and look up at Yunjin, your expression turning serious. “Can I be real?” You ask shakily. Yunjin nods quickly, squeezing your hands again.

You nod and take a deep breath. Your throat feels tight as you force the words to leave your lips, “I already met… My soulmate.”

Yunjin widens her eyes in surprise. You feel her remove the hand that sat on top of yours, but you quickly react, grabbing onto it before she can take it back completely. You furrow your brows at her before looking down at her arm, carefully turning it to reveal the “Yes?” on her forearm. The sight of it makes your breath hitch as if it hits you all over again. “But. She broke up with me… And now I’m just really confused.” You tilt your head, keeping your eyes on the birthmark. Tears spring to your eyes as you continue, “And now I’m even more confused because, how am I going through this the second time?”

The grip on Yunjin’s hand tightens– not painfully, but tight enough to make sure that she’s real. You tear your gaze away from her arm to look at her face. She looks at you tentatively, her complete and undivided attention on you. You look at each other in silence, unsure of what to say next. You can’t help but feel bad for the redhead, knowing she came into this expecting a happily ever after. But as fate would have it, of course, it wouldn’t be that simple.

It’s such a shame they would do this to someone who seemed as sweet as Yunjin. Even if she did steal your seat at the beginning of the semester, you’re here now, supposedly soulmates.

Yunjin then holds onto your hand, her grip loose yet firm at the same time. The twinkle in her eyes comes back as she looks at you and says, “We can figure it out together, then.”

Her warm tone ignites something in you. You stare at Yunjin, her brown eyes containing a safe space for you to jump into. It’s right there in front of you, and there’s nothing that could stop you from making that leap.

It’s been four months without Megan. But you continue holding Yunjin’s hand and nod.

Without even realizing it, you start to familiarize yourself with the freckles on her cheeks. The small mole on her nose.

Maybe there’s an entire universe in her eyes, waiting patiently to be discovered.

When you arrive at the party with Keeho, you don’t know what to expect.

Keeho told you that Megan would be here, and that was enough for you to pull away from the conversation, not wanting to put yourself through more emotional trauma. It was already enough to lose your soulmate once, but then finding someone else who could actually be the one has sent you down a deep, never-ending spiral. Nonetheless, you decided to man up last minute, throwing together an outfit for the occasion and texting Keeho to come pick you up, now.

But now, you are back in the house where you first met Megan, and you can’t help but regret your decisions all over again.

Keeho notices the sullen look in your eyes and pats you on the back, smiling reassuringly. “I’ll stick by you all night, don’t worry. I’ll fight her, if anything.”

That gets a laugh out of you. You look at your friend with amusement in your eyes. “Please don’t fight my ex.”

“She might not even be your soulmate, so I think I have every right to do it,” He scoffs, and the reminder causes you to wince. Even if he is right, it still hurts to think about.

As you continue navigating the party with Keeho by your side, you feel it becoming easier to feel looser. Albeit it’s definitely due to the alcohol you’ve been consuming, you start to feel lighter, maybe even a little happier. At some point, you found yourself in a conversation with Keeho and one of his friends from his internship. You listen tentatively to one of their stories from the summer time, an amused gleam in your eyes as you take another sip from your cup.

And then, ‘Gnarly’ begins to play loudly over the speakers.

You down your drink completely before looking at Keeho, who is already giving you a knowing look. Your lips form a straight line when you hear familiar laughter coming from behind you. It’s a mixture of Megan’s laugh along with her other members’. They must have decided to take their escapades to the dance floor, which makes sense— it’s their song, for god’s sake.

You know you should move somewhere else. For your sanity, it’s a good decision. But sometimes when you drink, you don’t usually pick what’s best for you.

So, that’s why you turn around instead. The urge to see Megan again in real life consumes you. It’s been a very long six months without her, and even if you’re only able to catch a glimpse of your ex, you’d like to think it would be enough.

You watch as she dances with her friends. Unashamed, so full of life. The sight of her happy and well brings a bittersweet smile to your face. For months, you had been wanting a sign that she missed you. You’d look closely at her pictures on Instagram, the photos posted by fans, just to see if she wears the bracelet you gave her. Maybe the matching necklace.

But it’s nowhere to be found, most likely collecting dust in her jewelry box.

You continue to stare at Megan, getting lost in a sea of memories inside your head. It plays like a montage: Megan pulling you onto the dance floor, Megan picking random flowers and sticking them behind your ear, Megan stealing your hoodies, Megan looking at you as if you were everything she ever needed in this world.

You blink a few times, the tears in your eyes threatening to fall as the tape in your head continues to roll back. You feel Keeho place a hand on your shoulder, but you stay where you are, eyes locked on Megan.

But then, she spots you across the room, and your breath hitches.

You lie with Megan on the couch, her back against you as she plays a round of Mario Kart with Yoonchae and Sophia. Your girlfriend has a competitive spirit that you’ve always found amusing, especially with the other girls. You watch her take first place, and you take it as an opportunity to poke her sides, jabbing your fingers into the spots you know are her most ticklish.

She squeals loudly and tries to jump away from your touch. However, you wrap your arms around Megan, pulling her back against you. “Y/n! Look! Now I’m in 6th place, what the fuck!” Yoonchae giggles at Megan’s reaction, and Sophia only shakes her head, keeping her focus on the screen.

Lara watches you two in amusement from the loveseat. Megan continues to try to wriggle out of your arms, but it’s no use; you intend to never let the girl go, no matter what.

“You guys are so lucky, you know?” The Indian girl sighs dreamily, her eyes returning to the TV as the game continues. “You met each other so young… Like, I don’t think my parents met until their late 20s.”

Daniela sits on the floor in front of Lara and looks up at her, nodding frantically, popping a chip into her mouth. “Mine too!” She says behind her hand as she chews. The Latina looks at you and Megan with a gleam in her eyes. “And it happened so like… what’s the word?”

Lara chimes in, taking a glance at Daniela before looking back at the TV. “Organically?”

“Yeah! That one.” Daniela confirms, looking at the TV just in time to see Sophia get hit with a blue shell, allowing Yoonchae to take first place. The Latina laughs loudly when Sophia lets out an aggravated groan.

Manon snatches a chip from the bowl on Daniela’s lap and quickly puts it in her mouth before the girl can notice. She turns her head to you and Megan to make it seem like nothing happened. “I can’t wait to meet my soulmate. We’re gonna be just as disgusting as you guys.” She says while she’s chewing.

Daniels scoffs and looks at Manon with a raised brow. “I can’t even imagine how your love story is gonna go,” She points at Manon’s arm and lets out a giggle. “No offense, but can you guys keep it down?” Like, excuse me?”

“And they probably said what they had to say!” Manon exclaims, rolling her eyes playfully at her best friend. The exchanges between everyone make you smile, happy that they’ve welcomed you into their tight-knit family.

You lean forward and press a quick kiss to Megan’s cheek. “We feel really lucky.” You announce, resting your chin on her shoulder as you continue watching the round.

But what you don’t notice is the uncertainty in Megan’s eyes. The smile on her face doesn’t reach her eyes. You comment that Megan is now in last place, but unbeknownst to you, she sits deep in thought over the words of her members. She can’t help but wonder if there’s more to life than what she shares with you.

It feels like one of those movies. The ones where the main character meets eyes with their love interest, and in that moment, they just know, it was always meant to be. The love interest was always right there in front of them, this entire time.

You continue looking at each other, eyes locked in a staring contest. It’s as if you both wait to see who would look away first, who would give up.

Surprisingly, you tear your gaze away before she does, walking with Keeho to another part of the house. You don’t look back as you follow him toward the kitchen. A part of you screams to look, to check if she’s still there with her eyes on you. The feeling reminds you of a story you read in your Mythology class.

“To love someone is to look back, despite the risk.”

You excuse yourself from Keeho as you step inside the kitchen, telling him you needed a breath of fresh air.

Your legs guide you outside to the back patio. The breeze kisses your skin as you close the sliding door, and a slight chuckle escapes your lips as you remember the last time you were out here. It was warmer, and you had nothing to lose.

You sit in the patio chair, and a sense of déjà vu overcomes you as you stare up at the sky. There aren’t as many stars as last time, and you allow them to be as they are.

Suddenly, the sliding door opens, the obnoxious squeak snapping you out of your daze. You turn around and see Megan standing there, a sheepish smile on her lips. Your throat tightens at the words that come out of her mouth: “You looked lonely over here.”

You turn away, your cheeks flush as you hear her walk closer to you. She sits in the chair next to you, and you clasp your hands together tightly in your lap as you avoid her eyes on you.

She speaks up again, her tone lighthearted. “You look like you’ve been doing okay. Is school still beating you to death?” Megan laughs through her words, but you only force a smile in response, your eyes still in your lap. You’re unsure on what to say, on how to feel. It has always been easy with Megan, but after your discovery two months ago, you aren’t entirely sure how to move forward with your ex.

From the corner of your eyes, you notice how she looks down at her drink and swirls the liquid in the cup around. “Our comeback has been so crazy! But, we’ve been getting so much love for it and I’ve been so-”

“I met someone,” You suddenly blurt out, picking your head up to look at her, finally. Megan looks up at you, her brown eyes wide at the sudden interruption. She opens her mouth but closes it, her lips forming a thin line. You watch as she puts her empty cup down on the side table next to her, and you notice how her hand shakes.

When she looks back at you, she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s fake and deceiving, unlike all the videos that have been trending all over social media that portray her happiness. The pictures you’ve seen of her have her smiling, laughing, and, most importantly, enjoying her life.

That’s what she wanted, to be free. To live in her 20s without a weight on her shoulders.

And against your wishes, you allowed it. It’s because you love her. It’s because, despite everything, there was a chance she’d come back.

Megan clears her throat and leans against the chair. “That’s good. I mean, Emily was telling me how it’s actually really healthy to date other people for a little bit before meeting your soulmate– I mean, I know we met, but I just think we’re so young and we have the rest of our lives to–”

“Megan.” You cut her off again, avoiding her eyes. You sigh deeply, looking up at the stars again, silently begging them for a sign. “I met someone and she… The first words she ever said to me are the ones on my arm…” You say quietly, turning your head to look at your ex.

A flash of hurt crosses her eyes. Her bottom lip trembles as she replies, “That’s not possible, Y/n.”

But you ignore her claim, continuing, “And my first word to her is on her arm.” You watch as the brunette crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at you.

“I don’t believe you.” She breathes out, a shakiness in her voice. Your heart breaks at the way she looks at you. The vulnerability in her eyes was exposed, despite her attempts to guard herself. She shakes her head and scoffs. “If you’re fucking with me right now, I’ll seriously lose my shit.”

There’s bite to her words, but there’s not enough fight in you to feed it. You just look down at your hands with a bitter smile. “Why would I lie, Megan?” You bite your lip before sighing in defeat. “I don’t have a reason to.”

Megan suddenly stands to her feet. The action surprises you, causing you to look up at the girl. She looks at you with tears in her eyes, brows furrowed in disbelief. “But we’re soulmates. We already figured that out!” She shouts, the volume of her voice making you jump in your seat.

You stand up as well, driven by your emotions. “But what if we were wrong? What if it actually isn’t us?” You say breathlessly. Megan shakes her head frantically and grabs your arms. Her grip is especially tight on the arm that contains the words that supposedly belonged to her. She looks up at you, her eyes shining under the moonlight.

Megan’s lip trembles as she speaks, “No, no. Don’t say that…” She reaches up, cupping your cheek with her hand. Her thumb grazes your skin gently as if she were familiarizing herself with the feeling against her fingertips. “Don’t say that. It’s not true…”

You place your hand on top of hers and squeeze it gently, leaning into her touch. You look at her with surrender in your eyes, silently telling her that you’ve given up. Slowly, you remove her hand from your face, and you notice the panic starting to settle in her expression. “Megan…” You whisper but she doesn’t let you finish.

“Fuck what I said a few months ago, okay?” She pleads, her hands waving around wildly before grabbing her hair in frustration. “Fuck everything I said. I don’t care about any of that shit, I don’t. I–” She chokes on her words, tears streaming down her face as she looks at you in desperation. “It’s you. Okay? It’s always going to be you, and I know it is.”

You turn your head away from Megan and take a step back, not wanting to continue listening to her words. However, she reaches up again and cups your cheeks, turning your head back toward her. You want to cry, but there’s no more tears to shed. You’ve fought this battle for six months.

And then it dawns on you. Six months.

“I want to be with you. Now and forever, okay? It’s us…” Megan whispers, her voice breaking as she rests her head against your chest. Her hands move down to your arms, and you feel her fingertips trace the letters on your skin.

You wrap your arms around Megan, pulling her closer. Your chin rests on top of her head as you whisper, “It would’ve been a year together by now.”

You wonder if the universe is listening. You wonder if they planned this all along.

“I love you, Y/n,” She whispers into your chest. Megan holds you tightly, and you can feel her tears staining through your shirt. She holds you as if you’d disappear, as if this would be the last time she’d ever be able to. “I love you so much. I know it’s you.” She pulls away slightly to look at you.

You wonder if there’s a life where you don’t have to miss Megan. Maybe somewhere, you don’t have to wrap your arms around a memory you called home.

“I’m glad you get to live your life.” You tilt your head, a strained smile on your lips as you look back at her. There’s a warmth in her eyes. A glimmer of hope.

But as the planets align, as the stars watch your every move, and as your birthmark continues to burn on your skin, there’s one thing you do know: Love is enough.

“Continue doing it, without me, okay?”

And if it’s meant to be, Megan would still be at the airport, waiting for you to come home.

a/n: before yall ask, yes there will be a pt. 2! it wont come quickly but do not fear, i wont let yall think it ends like this. or does it? >:) lmk what u guys think!!!! i hope yall arent too mad or upset

requests are closed

#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #megan skiendiel #daniela avanzini #manon bannerman #lara raj #sophia laforteza #jeong yoonchae #katseye #megan skiendiel x reader

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ssivinee · 10 days ago

Text

「 Call Me Sirene 」

l. sophia x f reader ! ✎𓂃 You and Sophia are just from two completely different worlds. She's the rich, smart, and it girl on campus, while you're the kid no one really knows. Usually busy with work, you weren't aware that the two of you had been paired up on a project. When working on the project begins, feelings begin to go all over the place, and now you're mainly worried about Sophia getting involved in your world, especially when you start to fall for her.

word count ! 25.4 k

tags ! a tad bit of Manon x reader (fwb implications), tons of violence, blood, gore, drugs, underage drinking, alcohol, men being pigs, smut

author's note ! GUYS THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT AND POSTING IT, SO PLS BE NICE. I also locked in for ya'll on this one, so enjoy! This is also kind of inspired by Weak Hero on Netflix since that's what I watched on my small writing break last week, so... yea :3.

On screen, living in Los Angeles seemed like a paradise available in the States. The portrayal had always been a place where anyone could make it big.

However, that is only if you have luck with it.

Because to the average person, that was all just a fantasy — unfortunately, you seemed to be one of those ‘average’ people. Well, maybe even less than average.

In your own dictionary, an average person meant a decent house, proper food every night, and a loving family. Yet life always seemed to be against you, like a magical force of the universe kept kicking you while you were down, pummeling you.

You’d felt that for as long as you could remember. Those days in your adolescence almost felt like a dream now — something you still held onto, even if it lived somewhere in the back of your mind.

These thoughts always spiraled first thing in the morning. You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, the ringing in your ears dulling the rest of the loud noise echoing through the house.

Hair tied into a messy ponytail, you washed your face after spitting out the minty toothpaste. A deep breath in — eyes shut — then you rushed out of the bathroom, heading back to your bedroom, doing your best to avoid both your parents.

Well. Supposed to be parents.

They were only fosters, after all — and terrible ones. Your ‘father’ was a drunk who constantly laid his hands on you and your ‘sibling.’ Meanwhile, your ‘mother’ was okay, but she had Borderline Personality Disorder, which made the sudden shifts in her behavior hard to endure.

You weren’t a bad kid, either — even helped pay for your mom’s medication when you could. You had accolades to your name, a scholarship at the academy where you studied. Frankly, they had nothing to worry about. But none of that seemed to matter.

Frantically looking around, eyes scanning for your black zip-up hoodie. After rummaging through the stack of laundry on top of a computer chair, you slipped the hoodie on and ran out of the house.

Walking to school wasn’t ever eventful — hoodie covering your head with wired earphones in and your head down. It was your way of staying unbothered, making sure no one noticed you.

You had hoped — just hoped — for a normal day at school, at least. But then your phone buzzed, and you froze.

Pulling out the phone, you read the message you assumed was coming.

??? We need you right now

“Sophia?” the professor called, glancing up from their schedule as the Filipina raised her hand, a kind smile gracing her lips.

“Professor Hardin wants to talk to you about the assembly tomorrow, so see him after all your classes, please.”

Sophia nodded and continued organizing her notes and papers for Playwriting. As usual, the theater major kept her focus, taking her academics seriously. She heard rustling behind her, followed by a small gust of wind, and turned to see Lara settling into her chair, an iced matcha drink in hand.

“Did she call my name yet?” The younger whispered out of breath, and as Sophia shook her head, “Lara?”

“Here!” She excitedly announced as she took off her purse and put it right behind her.

“You were late just because of a matcha latte?” Sophia asked, eyes flicking to her with a knowing look. Lara immediately looked offended.

“First off, I was almost late. Secondly, it’s an iced matcha latte. You know I can’t function without it on early mornings.”

Sophia let out a chuckle, going back to jotting down her notes.

“What class is that for now?” Lara looked over, a bit concerned that she didn’t recognize anything on Sophia’s paper.

“It’s Playwriting, so don’t worry.”

Lara sighs in relief and takes out her iPad, then sips on her drink as the Professor begins the lecture. “Heard Professor Ortiz is giving out pair projects, so fair warning during your last class,” now Sophia sighs at Lara’s whispered warning, hating anything other than solo projects since she did the majority of the work every time.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, but Sophia’s dread lingered — especially with the looming thought of finding out who her partner would be. By the time she sat down in the smaller lecture hall used for acting classes, her hands were clammy, clenched tightly in nervousness.

The Professor walked in and immediately put down his clipboard.

“As you guys may have heard, you’ll be having a project that will be done in pairs. It’ll be due in a month, but it's for a thirty-minute mock play. How well your time is used, how much time is used, and the quality of the script will affect your grade.”

He moved in front of the desk and leaned against the table, listening as dramatic sighs filled the room. Sophia only shook her head, frustration bubbling beneath her calm demeanor. But the professor raised a hand to silence everyone.

“Now, now — I know some of you aren’t thrilled about the pairing, but I think you’ll enjoy this project. You’ll have creative freedom, with just a few limitations,” he continued, as papers were passed around outlining the project’s criteria.

“With all that being said, I’ll assign your partners now.”

Sophia sat straight, listening carefully while students around her reacted with either cheers or groans as their partners were announced.

She felt a glimmer of hope as the names of people she didn’t want to work with were called — maybe, just maybe, the universe would finally cut her a break?

“Sophia Laforteza and Y/n L/n.”

Her face reacted before her brain did — confusion and irritation flashing across her features.

Sophia was determined to at least talk to her professor about it. ‘Because who in the hell was that?’ She asked herself.

As if on cue, across town, you felt the burn in your knuckles as you stared down at an older man’s face. He looked shocked at your strength, clutching his aching jaw as he lay on the ground, propped up by one elbow.

“What the hell was that for!?” he shouted. You crouched down, wincing at the volume in his voice — your ears never did well with yelling.

“Shut up for a second,” you grunted as you gave him a forceful soccer kick to his abdomen.

He let out a groan, curling over as you reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair. You watched the fear settle into his eyes as he looked past you, desperate for help. His gaze landed on a woman leaning casually against the brick wall behind you, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. The shades she wore hid the glint of amusement in her eyes.

“Can’t you help me?” He begged her.

Your grip tightened, yanking his head so he had no choice but to meet your gaze.

“Didn’t we say you pay up when messaged?” You said calmly. He nodded quickly, looking like he was about to piss himself.

“Then why has it been a week, and we still have nothing from you?”

He couldn’t respond, the panic taking over as you felt him shake.

He couldn’t answer. His panic had taken over — you could feel the trembling in his body.

“You know he gave you a chance to pay it back,” a husky voice chimed in beside you. You raised a brow at the woman stepping in — Manon, smirking like always. She hovered behind you and leaned in close, voice low. “But sadly, a week is our limit before we start terrorizing you.”

“Right?” Manon whispered in your ear, and your body nearly shuddered — but you stayed focused on the trembling man beneath you.

“This one’ll be visiting you every day until then,” she added, patting your shoulder. “But you wouldn’t want that, right?” He nodded frantically, eyes wide.

You were ready to throw in another punch, just to get it out of your system, but Manon pulled you back, steering you toward the car and practically shoving you into the driver’s seat of the ride you took care of like it was your own.

“Did you really have to push me in?” you muttered, exasperated. She slid into the passenger seat with that signature charming smile that always made it impossible to stay mad at her. “It was time to go before you started rocking his shit.”

“Isn’t that why you guys pretty much hired me for?”

She nodded, pulling a blunt from her bag and lighting it. After taking a long drag, she exhaled slowly out the window. “Yeah, but~” She turned to look at you, lowering her shades to the bridge of her nose. One hand reached over, her finger brushing lightly along your jaw.

“You know how you get when we meet clients like that. All hot and bothered.” Now, you rolled your eyes. Her ever-so-flirtatious actions never ceased, but it’s kind of why your friendship worked.

It was how you managed to find some kind of fun in your life.

She gave you a quick smooch on the cheek, then glanced down at her phone. “He said if you're finished, you can go.”

That was all you needed to hear before pulling off. You could feel Manon’s gaze lingering on you. “Make sure you at least remember to drop me off,” she teased, and you nod knowingly.

Falling into this lifestyle wasn’t something you planned. It just… happened. Not like you were proud of the job — but it paid way better than anything else you could get. It helped with saving money up for at least a small apartment, and your mom’s medication.

So what exactly was the job?

It’s a bunch of things, honestly, but your boss likes calling it being an ‘enforcer.’ Your boss was a businessman who sold many things, and it was your job to make sure those people paid up.

Thankfully, it never went beyond beating someone within an inch of their life — but the job did make you feel like someone else entirely. A double life, almost.

And even if you weren’t proud of it, you were guilty of enjoying it. That confession may sound crazy to the normal person, but with the environment you lived in, this was a way to release some steam.

Your whole life had been spent trapped in that shitty home, trying to survive as a perfect student. So when you were offered this gig in your second year of college, you were hesitant. But after shadowing another enforcer doing their job, there was a spark you felt.

After that, you never looked back.

You brought the car to a stop, double-parking in front of a run-down warehouse. Manon let out a relaxed sigh beside you. “You can take the car to school,” she said. “He’ll probably ask you to come back later anyway.” Before getting out, she leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips, which didn’t even phase you — that was just her usual antics.

Rushing back to campus, your tires screeched slightly as you pulled into the nearest parking space on campus. You barely put the car into park before grabbing your bag and booking it across the lot and into the building, the wind breezing at your face, with Manon’s expensive scent lingering on you.

Reaching for your phone in your back pocket and glancing at the screen, you exhaled in relief — you’d make it to your last two classes at least. Your stomach growled, and you clutched it in embarrassment, but luckily, no one was around. The empty ache gnawing at you, so you made a beeline for the common area, weaving through multiple students and half-hearted conversations.

Inside, the faint smell of espresso and citrus snacks filled the air. You slid a few crumpled bills into the snack machine from your front pocket, buying a cold coffee and a small bag of chips. The annoyingly loud clink of coins echoed into the machine.

Meanwhile, across the lounge space, Sophia sat at the round couch near the window, her expression visibly irritated as she waved her hand in emphasis.

“I don’t understand why he grouped me with someone who barely even shows up to class,” she complained, arms folded across her chest. Her brows furrowed as she recounted the short conversation with her professor.

She had gone straight to him after class, hoping to reason her way out of the random pairing. But instead of hearing her out, he dismissed her concerns without so much as a second thought.

“You know we don’t prioritize attendance much,” he had said, “but Y/n does well in every single one of her classes.”

That answer didn’t sit right with her. Sure, professors didn’t assign much digitally — it was a performance-heavy major. Most of the work had to be done in person. Still, if you were barely there, how could your grades be that solid?

It didn’t matter, since she couldn’t trust his word for it, because she just couldn’t believe it at all. “This is so… UGH!” she groaned, throwing her head back in frustration.

Yoonchae, Lara, and Megan exchanged small giggles at her dramatics, clearly fond of the rare spirals Sophia has. “It shouldn’t be that bad,” Yoonchae offered with a soft shrug, the youngest of the four trying to ease the mood.

She looked to the others for support. “She’s right,” Lara chimed in, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re Miss Sophia Laforteza — you’ll make it work.”

“Exactly,” Megan added, leaning back with a stretch, her elbows resting on the armrests of her seat. “Besides, Y/n can’t be that bad if she’s on a scholarship here, right?”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but does anyone actually know anything about her?”

That question was met with synchronized shakes of the head. Sophia let out another groan, letting her head thunk softly against the back of the couch.

“Wait!” Megan suddenly perked up, her eyes darting across the room. “I think Daniella is friends with her. I’m pretty sure they hang out sometimes between classes.”

The group followed her gaze as she craned her neck, scanning the far end of the common room. Then her finger lifted and pointed subtly. “Bingo.”

Sophia followed the line of Megan’s finger and spotted a table tucked into the corner by the windows. You sat there, slouched slightly in your seat beside the Latina and, oddly enough, you looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

“Oh… she’s hot,” Lara blurted without shame. No one even flinched at the comment; Lara’s bluntness was the norm by now. But Sophia blinked, stunned by how not what she expected you were.

You had this quiet intensity about you — tired eyes that looked like they didn’t tolerate bullshit, with knuckles looking a bit pink in color. The hood of your zip-up hung loosely over your head, stray pieces of black hair framing your face.

Your hoodie was unzipped low, revealing a plain white tank underneath, snug against your frame, and a tattoo of lilies peeked out across your right collarbone that reached toward your shoulder blades.

Your lips were plush, parted slightly in amusement at whatever your friend said beside you, and there was the faintest curl of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. You looked like someone who didn’t ask for attention. Which is technically a success if Sophia didn’t know who you were until this project.

“Should you go intro—” Lara began, but Sophia was already ten steps ahead, her heels confidently clicking across the marble floor as she strutted toward your table. “Oh no,” Yoonchae muttered, watching the possible trainwreck about to unfold with a sense of secondhand embarrassment coming over her.

You took another slow sip of your strong, cold coffee, the flavor biting against your tongue as the sound of approaching heels pulled your attention away from whatever Daniella had just said. You looked up, brows pulling slightly together at the sight of the one and only Sophia standing in front of you.

Daniella blinked beside you, just as confused, her head tilting slightly as she asked, “Uhm… hello?” more out of instinct than anything welcoming.

In the back of Sophia’s mind, she had come in ready to make demands, set the tone, maybe even give you a strong few words. But standing in front of you, with your unreadable expression and calm aura, she instinctively knew that wouldn’t go over well. Something about your posture warned her not to try it.

Her expression shifted quickly, the stoic look changing into a practiced, polite smile.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but are you Y/n?”

You didn’t answer immediately — just stared at her for a moment. You could feel Daniella’s curious gaze flicking between you two, waiting to see where this was going. You finally gave a short nod.

Sophia cleared her throat. “We’re partners for Professor Roland’s project in Playwriting. I’m So—”

“I know who you are,” you said plainly, cutting her off with no hesitation. Your voice wasn’t rude — just firm enough for Sophia to believe her intuition was correct about being smart with you. “I’ll talk to him about the project first thing in class tomorrow. Just give me your number, and I’ll reach out.”

You pulled a pen and a tiny pad of yellow Post-it notes from your bag and slid them across the table with the casualness of someone used to giving orders. Sophia hesitated, lips parting slightly in surprise, almost scoffing, but bit it back. Instead, she scribbled down her number, leaning forward and murmuring, “If you’re even coming into class tomorrow.”

You weren’t phased at the comment, just staring right back at her. “I’ll act like I didn’t hear that.”

Sophia’s brows lifted slightly, more in relief than defiance, as she clasped her hands together, putting on her smile again. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

You watched her walk away quickly, her posture a little stiffer than what you’d assume. Across the lounge, her friends immediately perked up like a pack of gossiping birds, leaning in as Sophia dropped back into her seat with an audible sigh.

“That didn’t look too bad,” Megan commented, eyeing her curiously. “How’d it go?” Yoonchae asked, genuinely curious.

“She’s a bitch,” Sophia muttered under her breath as she slumped into her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can change her,” Lara said dreamily, already gazing across the room like she was mapping out an entire future with you.

“Okay, so it did go bad,” Yoonchae concluded, but Sophia shook her head. “It’s not even that… she’s just bossy!” Her voice pitched up, nearly too loud, and the group hushed her immediately.

“Ohhh, what I’m hearing is… you’ve met your match,” Lara teased, already grinning. “Love a good top,” she added with a smirk, half-joking — but only half. Megan let out a stifled giggle, covering her mouth.

“Not the time,” Sophia muttered, shooting them a glare while Megan and Lara both raised their hands in mock surrender. “Copy that,” Megan mumbled through her smile. “So what now?” Yoonchae asked again, chin resting on her hand.

“She said to give her my number and she’ll talk to Roland tomorrow.”

“That’s if she even comes in tomorrow.”

“That’s what I said!” Sophia huffed, pointing at Yoonchae like they were in sync. She slumped back again with a sigh. “I guess I’ll see how it goes.”

“Don’t forget any details, babe,” Lara said, casually chomping into her sandwich, eyes still flickering toward your table.

“That was odd,” Daniella muttered beside you, her fork hovering in mid-air. You just shrugged, eyes still lingering in the direction Sophia had disappeared. “I’m guessing Miss Perfect isn’t too thrilled about being partnered with me.”

That made Daniella chuckle, nudging you lightly with her elbow as she poked toward Sophia’s group with her fork. “It did seem like she was holding back.”

“Then she made a good decision.”

Daniella tilted her head, one brow raised, giving you that don’t be a menace look. “Be a little nice, please.” You stared at her like she’d just spoken a foreign language. “Am I not nice?” She didn’t even hesitate, “You can be a bit bossy sometimes.” She took another bite of her chicken, chewing with zero shame. “And honestly, you don’t want to make her your enemy. All your brains won’t mean shit if she decides to make your life hell.”

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. “I can handle her.” Daniella hummed, not convinced. “Sure~ you can.” Even if you weren’t at school every day, you knew plenty about Sophia Laforteza. The Filipina was rich, driven, smart, popular — basically a walking main character, and people liked her… or at least pretended to.

“Oh, are you coming over for dinner tonight? My mom’s cooking.”

“What’s tía making?” you asked, instantly more invested in the conversation. “Vaca Frita.”

You let out a soft, involuntary sound — almost a moan — just from hearing it. But then your shoulders slumped, the responsible part of your brain taking over. “I’ve got work later. Can’t tonight.”

Daniella knew well enough not to push. “Your loss then, girl.” She checked her phone and jolted slightly. “Crap, I gotta head out — class starts in five. I’ll text you tonight?”

You nodded, watching her grab her bag and head out. You opened your chips, the crinkling bag filling the air as you leaned back, letting the salt hit your tongue.

The rest of your day passed without issue. You sat through your classes, sped through the majority of your notes, and eventually made your way to the parking lot just as the sunset tinted the sky.

As you walked out, Sophia and her friends were standing at the campus entrance, waiting for her chauffeur. She glanced around absently until her eyes landed on you. You’d pulled something from your backpack, likely your keys, right before a sharp beep echoed across the lot. Her head turned automatically toward the sound.

And then she saw you slide smoothly into the driver’s seat of a Lexus, shutting the door. “She owns a Lexus?” Sophia asked, barely hiding her surprise. Lara leaned forward, eyes tracking you as if she were witnessing a twist ending. “Well… she’s now officially even hotter in my eyes.”

“I definitely agree,” Megan chimed in, while Yoonchae snorted softly, shaking her head at the chaos that was her friends.

Without a care in the world, you made it to the warehouse—the usual weathered, run-down building squatting between two abandoned lots. You pulled into the large garage, parking among a handful of high-end cars that didn’t fit the look of the building.

You took off your hoodie, the heat causing you to sweat, with tattoos peeking through your white tank, and the scars along your arms could be faintly seen from the multiple fights you’ve been in all the years of working your job. As you entered the building, you saw thick with smoke, smelled cheap liquor, the scent of weed, and whatever stale cologne some of your other coworkers practically drowned their bodies in.

People were scattered across the room: gambling, arguing over cards, drinking, flirting, and lounging around like a normal day.

You spotted Manon near the office door, legs crossed, poised as she sat in her favorite chair. Of course, she’d be waiting for you. It was pretty much her usual thing to do when you guys worked together for the day.

“Did he say anything to you?” you asked, stepping closer. Manon’s eyes swept over you — a slow, deliberate drag — taking in the tank top, the ink, the tough skin. “He said he just wants a report on that guy.”

“Donovan,” you corrected.

“Yeah… Donovan,” she echoed, distracted as she walked up to you. Her eyes flicked to your lips as she hooked her arms lazily around your neck, pulling herself closer with a practiced ease. You leaned your head back with a sigh, already over her antics. “Not now, Manon,” you muttered, slipping out of her hold with ease.

As your hand reached for the office door, her voice trailed behind you, sounding innocent and sweet. “Then later?” You glanced back, lips curving just slightly. “Maybe.” She evidently lit up at your words, and you pushed through the door before she could say anything else.

Inside, the boss sat at his desk, flipping through a mess of paperwork with the focus of someone who’d seen too much. You stopped in the center of the room, hands instinctively clasped behind your back.

“How did it go with Donovan?” he asked without looking up. “He’ll pay by the end of the day tomorrow,” you said plainly.

“And if not?”

“Then he’ll have a broken arm before midnight.” Your voice didn’t waver, and the way you spoke came out with normalcy. That alone made him smile. “And if he still doesn’t—Y/n?”

“Then I’ll deliver him to you personally.” Each line came out as if a soldier were speaking to their commander. But he liked that about you the most — you were his most reliable enforcer. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”

You rolled your shoulders, neck cracking as you stretched, and asked, “Anything else you need, Rai?”

“No. You’re done for today,” he said, eyes back on the papers. “Stick around if you want.” You nodded once and slipped out. The air outside the office felt colder, and the multiple AC units were working overtime to cool the concrete-covered place. You walked back to where Manon was — in the same seat, more secluded than the rest of the room.

Everyone knew that was her spot. She is Rai’s favorite woman after all, and unlike most women in this place, she didn’t earn her power by flirting her way up.

Some might think Rai favored you both for the same reasons, but they’d be wrong. It wasn’t about attraction for both of you. It was about the consistency in how much money you make for him, the unwavering loyalty you gave him, and the usual great results. He’s seen it in the weekly reports he had for each of his workers.

It’s why the two of you were usually grouped together, allowed to use any one of his cars, and could even ask for help whenever. Both of you assumed that was the reason he had both of you partnering up during jobs often.

Being an enforcer also didn’t just mean beating up people for their debt, but also protecting the woman who worked with Rai. None of the women did anything crazy, but if they did, Manon wasn’t one of them. She’s just a terrifyingly amazing actress with a face that most men couldn’t resist falling for.

Yet you were lucky enough to clearly see that Manon had a thing for you instead.

Although she made it clear that she wasn’t interested in a relationship, at least at this point in her life, that didn’t mean she wasn’t attracted to you. Never stopped her from showing how bad she wanted you, either.

Like now, in the way she’s currently straddling your lap, knees pinning you in place, her face dangerously close, and that signature smirk was slowly spreading across her lips.

“Think you’ll be around tomorrow?” she asked, her voice soft between the light kisses she pressed along your jaw, then to the corners of your mouth. Her weight settled fully into your lap, your hands gripping her thighs with ease. It was Manon’s usual thing, and it was only up to you if the two of you would go any further.

“Probably not. I’ve got things to do for school,” you muttered, feeling her lips stall at your words. Manon pulled back just enough to pout, her eyes softening into that look, the one that always made you sigh without meaning to.

“Will you come here for me then?” she asked, the tip of her finger lightly tracing your collarbone. You exhaled, already defeated. “Not until midnight. I’ve got a project I can’t skip.”

She inched in closer, just enough for her breath to ghost across your lips slowly. “Make sure to make time for me?”

You huffed a short laugh, head tilting back slightly as you looked at her. The absurdity of this woman who is so wanted by so many people, sitting in your lap like you were the only one who existed.

“I’d honestly rather be with you every day instead of working with my project partner, so…”

Her grin curled wickedly. “I’m not hearing a no, Y/n~”

You felt her body shift forward again, like she was daring you to stop her, and when her lips hovered over yours again, just close enough to taste, then whatever self-control you had cracked.

“I’ll make it work,” you whispered against her lips.

She kissed you then, soft at first. You felt her breath from her nose against your cheek as her lips melted into yours, the faint feeling of her lip gloss catching on your tongue when she deepened the kiss.

Her hands slid up your torso, nails grazing at your sides as you feel them through the thin fabric of your top, before curling around the back of your neck. She held you close, anchoring herself against you as her mouth moved with a slow rhythm.

You wrapped your arms tight around her waist, pulling her flush against you with no space left. Her hips shifted a bit in your lap, “shit.” You could only whisper before locking lips again, and you swore you could feel her smirking.

Her tongue slipped past your lips, like she’d done it a hundred times — and yet, it always made your body heat up. The slow drag of it against yours had your fingers digging gently into the backs of her thighs, feeling every move, breath, and hum that vibrated from her throat into your mouth.

The kiss grew messy since Manon had a need for you, clearly less patient than when she first started. Her hands tangled in your tied-up hair as you tilted your head, kissing her deeper, harder.

Eventually, she pulled back just a bit, breath shaky, her eyes still half-lidded as she looked down at you with a grin that showed her satisfaction. Her gloss was smudged, lips slightly swollen, and you knew you looked just as wrecked after all of it.

“Midnight, huh?” she whispered, fingertips tracing your jaw lazily. “I’ll be waiting.”

The comment had you chuckling as she slid off your lap. She grabbed her purse from the side of the chair, pulled out another blunt, and offered it to you with a lighter. You raised a brow, tempted since it had been a long day.

“For me?” you joked, and Manon tilted her head, her lips twitching at the corners. “Thought you might want a treat.”

“So what we just did wasn’t my treat?” you asked, more genuine this time, which had Manon giggling before pointing a warning finger at you.

“Don’t tempt me, Y/n. You know I’d take you right here, right now.”

You shrugged a shoulder in casual agreement—and yeah, you did know. She’d grinded on you during slow nights during jobs at the club, whispered filthy things in your ear just to see you react, and once even tried to convince you to fuck her in the back of one of Rai’s cars after literally beating two people up.

Now taking the blunt from her fingers, you perched it between your lips and sparked the lighter, letting the flame burn the edge. Manon watched, gaze hungry, as you took a pull, then grinned as you exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

“Why are you so hot?” she asked, her voice sounding frustrated yet admiring.

You looked at her, the blunt resting soft on your bottom lip, a slow grin creeping across your face. In your head, the attraction people had toward you never quite made sense. Maybe it was some psychological bullshit. That’s what you liked to blame it on.

Sure, the tattoos and piercings screamed fuck-girl energy, and maybe the way you carried yourself didn’t help. But to you, you were just you. If that made any sense.

You took another drag, felt the burn in your lungs and the heat settle low in your gut, then puffed out a slow stream of smoke before handing the blunt off to Manon, who took it with a satisfied hum.

“So what about this project partner you clearly can’t stand?” she asked, taking a pull herself and letting the smoke drift lazily from her mouth.

“Just a prissy rich girl, honestly.”

“Is she hot?” she asked, deadpan. You cut her a look. “Of course you’d want to know.”

She just shrugged, unfazed. “It’s a valid question.” You rolled your eyes, but still, the question had you pondering. If you were being truly honest with yourself, she’s undeniably beautiful. That’s why people flocked around her and added the money, the intelligence, and the reputation into the equation; you aren’t stupid to not admit she’s hot.

“She isn’t ugly,” you muttered, finally admitting it. Manon cackled at that, familiar with your deflection. After working together for four years, she could read you like a damn book.

“So that’s a yes,” she teased, smug. “Fuck yeah, she is.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” You snatched the blunt from her fingers again, taking a deeper pull as she sat back, visibly entertained.

“You’re clearly about to have a rough few weeks, so good luck to you.”

‘...Yeah, good luck to me,’ you thought, watching the smoke swirl into the air as you took one last drag.

The next day, you walked into your Playwriting class wearing a black long-sleeve compression shirt tucked into your grey baggy sweats. Sophia’s eyes found you immediately as you strolled down the aisle of the small lecture hall, one hand gripping the strap of your book bag while you chatted with Professor Roland.

She watched from her seat, quietly observing the way he nodded along to nearly everything you said. He pulled out a paper, Sophia assuming it was the same one the class received the day prior, and handed it over without question. He was explaining a few things while you listened, head tilted in that way that made it look like you actually gave a damn.

Roland was one of the more chill professors anyway, so it didn’t surprise you when he let you off easy.

You glanced around the room, eyeing your seating options. It was still early, so only about half the seats were filled. That’s when you spotted Sophia, already looking at you, her lips pulled into a tight-lipped smile.

You chuckled under your breath at the expression and made your way over, figuring it’d be smart to sit next to your partner in case class time was given to work on the project. Sophia subtly shifted in her seat, leaning to her right like she was trying to physically distance herself from you.

“You’re here today,” she said, more sarcastic than she probably meant to sound. “I told you I would be,” you replied, setting your bag between your legs as you pulled out a notebook. “I don’t go back on my word.”

She didn’t respond, just glanced at you again—and this time, she didn’t stop. If she wasn’t going to talk to you, maybe she could get a read on who you were by just observing… It was also a good way of checking you out, but she wouldn’t say that out loud.

You gripped your pen, scribbling something down, and she caught sight of your handwriting, which, to her surprise, was actually rather neat. Her gaze then traveled to your hands, which looked strong. A little roughed up, your knuckles having gashes on them and looking a bit darker than the pink she saw the day before. She caught herself wondering what they’d been through to look like that.

You noticed and peeked over at her. “Am I distracting you?” you asked, amused. Sophia snapped her head away, clearly caught. “No, you aren’t.”

You scoffed quietly, fighting a smirk. “What do you want our play to be on?” she asked, tapping on her tablet like she hadn’t just been staring at you.

You shrugged. “You can pick. I’ll go with it.” That made her glance at you, brows slightly raised. “You sure you can handle it?”

You met her gaze with a certainty. “I know I can.”

Setting your pen down, you gave her your full attention. She hesitated, but then answered.

“Fine. A tragic love story.” You nodded once, lips slightly pursed. “I’m cool with that.”

Sophia went back to her tablet, and for the first time since she found out she was paired up with you, she didn’t seem so tense. She could already see the way you were scribbling ideas in your notebook, outlines of scenes, bits of dialogue, maybe even character notes.

It surprised her how quickly she started to feel… not annoyed? Almost like she didn’t mind this. Then the realization hit her.

…You’d have to act this out… Together… Just the two of you.

She palmed her forehead, cursing herself under her breath. “Wait — how about—”

“No take backs,” you said smoothly, not even looking up from your notebook. Sophia gave you a side-eye, reluctantly amused. “I hate you.”

You grinned. “You don’t even know me yet.”

Yet, by the time class ended, Sophia had to admit that every idea you suggested was actually good. You worked fast and didn’t waste time, pretty much realizing that this was one of the reasons why you continuously passed your classes despite not coming into school.

She still didn’t know what to make of you entirely, but she could work with this and maybe even enjoy it. “Hey,” she said as you both gathered your stuff. “Do you want to work on the project at my place after classes?”

You glanced over at her. “I can. But only for a few hours — I’ve got work later.”

“That’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’ll text you once all my classes end. Then send the address.” You tell her and she nods, slinging her purse around her arm. You left her, making sure to meet up with Daniella off campus for the day since she texted you early enough about her many professors canceling classes.

With Sophia, back in the Common Area, she walked in to find her friends lounging in their spot. The second Lara spotted her, she raised her brows with a smirk. “Okay, details now,” Lara demanded.

Megan perked up, and even Yoonchae tilted her head in interest. Sophia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto her lips.

“…It wasn’t awful,” she said, settling into the seat next to them.

“Ohhhh, not awful?” Lara teased, grinning. “We’re already making progress.” Sophia shook her head, reaching for her drink and hiding her face behind the straw.

“She actually does work!” Sophia cheered, throwing her hands up. Yoonchae giggled at the reaction, finding it dramatic for something so basic. “That’s one thing to be happy about,” she said, sipping from her bottle.

“Are you guys working on the project today?” Megan asked between slurps of her noodles. Sophia nodded. “Yeah, for like a couple of hours at my place. She’s got work, so I’m not sure how much we’ll get done.”

Lara leaned back with her iced tea, stirring it lazily with her straw. “I wonder what she even does for work?”

“Probably something with heavy labor,” Sophia replied absentmindedly. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, since her hands are so muscu—”

She froze when she caught the three of them staring at her with matching expressions. “What?” she asked, blinking.

“How long were you staring at her hands?” Megan asked bluntly, while Sophia felt the heat creeping up her neck. Lara squinted, a grin spreading across her face as she spotted the soft pink peeking beneath Sophia’s makeup. “You know, I don’t blame you,” she teased, “but it is kind of unexpected coming from you.”

Sophia rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. While the girls were busy poking fun at her, across campus you were heading into the café near campus.

Your eyes scanned the tables and landed on Dani, who was sitting by the window, scrolling on her phone. Just before you reached her, you texted Sophia a simple ‘hey, it’s Y/n,’ so you wouldn’t forget to hit her up later for her address. She sent a quick thumbs-up reaction on the bubble before sliding into the seat across from Dani.

“You order yet?” you asked, dropping your bag onto the floor beside you. “I got garlic bread for us to split, iced chai for me, espresso for you.” You smiled, appreciative. “That works. Thanks.”

She waved you off like it was nothing. “So, how was work yesterday?”

“Easy,” you answered plainly. It had just been a chill check-in with Rai — nothing intense. “And Manon?” she asked, eyeing you over the rim of her cup. Your brow rose instantly. “What about her?”

The name had slipped out during one of those way-too-late conversations you and Dani tended to have. Which was the worst mistake ever since she didn’t even know what Manon looked like, but that hadn’t stopped her from being your number one shipper since.

“Did you guys… You know?” Her voice dropped like she was about to tell you a secret. Your eyes widened at the implication. “We didn’t do it yesterday,” you hissed, before you could accidentally announce it to the whole café.

“Right~” Dani smirked, all smug satisfaction, and you didn’t even have time to come up with a comeback before the server arrived with your order.

You grabbed a slice of garlic bread like it was your saving grace. “What about Sophia?” she asked after a few bites, but she was more curious this time.

“She’s gonna send me her address,” you replied, mouth still half full. “We’ll work on the project for, like, an hour or so. I’m not planning to overstay. Then I’ve got work later tonight.”

“Like… later later?”

“Yup~” you nodded, voice a little sing-songy.

Dani didn’t say anything, just leaving her knowledge of that again. She didn’t know everything about your job, not that you ever hid it from her, but she definitely knew what “later” meant. Someone was likely going to get hurt by you, she just didn’t know to what extent.

“Think working with her is gonna be a breeze, though?”

“Oh, not at fucking all. Have you met the girl?” you deadpan, and Dani bursts out laughing. “Hey, at least you get to experience the rich life for both of us,” she teases, and you just shrug, not entirely convinced that was a good way to think of it.

If anything, the idea of spending the next few weeks going between your job and someone else's luxury felt more suffocating. The anxiety had been bubbling beneath your skin all day, and getting Sophia’s address right after classes didn’t help. Her place was further than you expected, tucked away in some grand neighborhood that showed up on Google Maps.

If you tried commuting the whole way there and back, it’d be at least an hour each trip, more if traffic hit or the trains got backed up. And by the time you’d need to leave, buses would be packed with people going home from whatever crazy routine they had.

‘Shit,’ you muttered to yourself, slipping your phone into your back pocket. The only solution you could think of was borrowing one of Rai’s cars for the next couple of weeks. You didn’t love the idea since it felt like you were using his kindness, but you figured if you got the project mostly done ahead of time, maybe you wouldn’t need to use the car for a longer time.

After your last class, you texted Rai about taking the BMW, waiting by the edge of the warehouse until you got the simple text.

Rai Keys are in the box Don’t scratch her

You smirked, unlocked the silver car, and peeled out of the lot. What would've been an hour-long commute was shortened to about thirty minutes, the engine feeling more luxurious than expected, and low music from the stereo let your anxiety calm down a bit.

Then Google Maps made you pull up to the large gates. They were black and high—crowned by jagged tips cemented on top of a thick, pale concrete wall. The house behind them was humongous. Spanish-style architecture, with reddish roof tiles and tall windows that reflected the sun right through the dark-tinted windshield.

Your eyes flicked to the intercom. You pressed the button and leaned in, awkward and unsure. “How can I help you?” a woman’s voice asked through the speaker, calm and clipped.

“Uhm—yeah, I’m Sophia’s partner. For the project?”

“Full name?”

“Y/n L/n.”

A moment of silence, then a well-oiled gate started sliding open to your right. You drove in slowly, watching the path wind past perfectly cut hedges and a tiered fountain. Parking just in front of the entrance, killing the engine as the front door opened. An older woman in a maid uniform greeted you with a practiced smile.

“Please come in. Miss Laforteza should be down in a bit,” she said kindly, stepping aside to let you in.

The air inside was cool, air filled with a soft citrus scent and sparkling marble flooring that made you aware of every single scuff on your sneakers. The foyer was already the size of your entire house, and your gaze swept the curved staircase and twinkling chandelier.

Yeah, you were gonna need a minute to get used to this. Shifting in your stance, your fingers tighten around your bag strap as Sophia appears at the top of the stairs. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she was wearing lavender sweats and a snug white baby tee with ‘babygirl’ written in pale pink bubble letters.

The contrast from everyday polished heels and a designer outfit made your brows raise slightly.

“Didn’t think I’d see you in sweats,” you said, more amused than anything. Sophia rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. “I am home, so it makes sense to get comfy.”

She turned to the maid, politely asking for drinks and snacks to be brought to the library.

You blinked. “I mean... I’d say this is more than a house,” you muttered under your breath as she waved for you to follow.

“We can work in the library,” she said over her shoulder. You stared at her like she just said, ‘We can work on Mars.’

“Library?” you echoed, brows raised. “Yeah? Is that a problem?” Sophia glanced back, confused. “I guess not,” you replied quickly, trailing behind her. You weren’t really sure what the right response was.

‘Oh, cool, I’ve got a library too. It’s called a public one, and I wait forty minutes just to use a computer over there.’

Every hallway turn just screamed wealth, and a little voice in your brain repeated poor over and over again.

When she opened the doors, the scent of paper greeted you instantly. Warm lighting glowed from sconces on the wall, giving the room a soft amber hue. Everything was dark mahogany—bookshelves stretching up the walls, thick wooden tables, chairs with cotton cushions, and old mirrors.

It didn’t feel warm temperature-wise, but it looked warm. You exhaled slowly, trying not to feel out of place. “All the books in here probably cost more than my entire scholarship fund,” you mumbled, shifting the strap of your bag.

Sophia giggled under her breath, then gestured toward one of the long tables. “Sit wherever. Do you have any ideas?” You nodded, already sliding into the chair and placing your notebook on the table, the exact same one she’d seen in class.

You flipped a few pages, landing on one that was scrawled with notes. Some scene concepts, bits of dialogue, and even sketched thumbnails of stage direction.

Sophia glanced at the notebook, her brows lifting slightly as she skimmed the mess of notes. Only that it wasn’t a mess, the ideas just seemed to be scribbled and out of order. The lines were neatly sectioned, with little arrows pointing to rewritten ideas and stage cues. She blinked at a few of them, caught off guard.

“You wrote all this… already?” she asked, leaning in a bit more, her voice softer now.

You shrugged, tapping a corner of the book with the back of your pen. “Just what came to mind last night and in class. Didn’t know what kinda story you’d want, so I scribbled a couple of options. A revenge arc. A slow-burn. A dual-perspective thing. This one here’s more metaphorical, could be staged minimalistically since it’s just the two of us acting it out.”

Sophia didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached out to scroll down on her own screen, silently clicking and pulling up a document. “Let’s… do the slow-burn one,” she murmured, still processing what you wrote down.

Your eyes stayed on her, noticing how she sat more relaxed. She wasn’t leaning away from you like she had in class. Instead, her eyes darted between your notes and her laptop as her fingers sped through each letter on the keyboard.

The door creaked open a few minutes later, and the soft clinking of glassware drew your attention. Her maid stepped in quietly, placing a polished silver tray on the end table. It had two tall glasses of mango juice, a porcelain bowl of salted crackers, and a plate of rigid potato chips. She nodded politely and stepped back out without a word.

“Thanks, Ate Mel,” Sophia called out, before glancing at you again. “In case you were gonna say you didn’t eat.” You smirked, reaching for a chip and flicking a brow. “Didn’t say that. Just wasn’t gonna ask for anything.”

She laughed, surprising herself with how natural it came out. “You’re not really what I expected,” she admitted, reaching for her own glass. The condensation already wet her fingertips.

“That makes two of us,” you quipped, then pointed to one of the sections in your notebook.

“So this—scene two—I imagined a turning point. There’s a moment where one of them is standing in a room full of people, but they only feel her. It’s crowded and loud, but everything dulls except the moment their hands touch. That kind of quiet tension.”

Sophia’s lips parted slightly, and she just blinked again, not quite sure how to respond to the imagery. She read over your note more carefully this time, mouthing a few of the lines. “This is… really good. Like, it’s layered. I didn’t expect you to be so detailed about it.”

You gave a short laugh, looking back at your notebook before murmuring, “Scholarship students kinda have to overcompensate, y’know? We don’t exactly get to breeze through.”

You didn’t sound bitter, but you did sound honest. Sophia studied you in the amber glow of the room’s lights, the way the light kissed the curve of your cheekbone, casting a soft shadow down your jaw. She thought of the way you walked into class like you didn’t care, only to show up with a notebook full of genius-level notes.

“I get it now,” she said quietly. You looked up. “Get what?” She tucked a leg beneath her and smiled, sincere this time. “Why you got into the school.”

You tilted your head but didn’t say anything. Just tapped your pen, smirking lightly under your breath.

Before you knew it, time went by quickly after she gave you such a generous comment. You filled up newer pages; she had opened and closed multiple tabs throughout the past few hours as well. The project, piece by piece, started shaping itself into something you both felt proud of.

Eventually, your eyes caught time on your phone, where it buzzed as a notification appeared from Rai. You started closing your notebook, brushing stray crumbs off your lap, and adjusting the waistband of your sweats.

Sophia noticed how your energy shifted from an easygoing project partner to this serious version of yourself. “You’re leaving?” she asked, watching as you slipped your notebook back into your bag.

“Yeah. Gotta bounce in like fifteen if I don’t wanna be late.”

“Work?” she guessed, leaning her elbow against the table, chin balanced on her knuckles.

You nodded. “Yeah. Late shift.”

Your voice lowered, in a tone that sounded more wary, like you weren’t happy about going, but you would anyway. Sophia stood with you as you slung your bag over one shoulder, following you out of the library. Neither of you said anything as you made your way down the long hallway, down the winding staircase again.

Outside, the early evening had cooled a bit, and the sky was a blend of lavender and gold. You headed for the car, and that’s when she saw the metallic silver BMW. Her brows twitched up subtly.

It wasn’t judgment in her mind, but more like curiosity and surprise. You didn’t seem in need of money, but you also didn’t seem that rich to own two cars like that.

She didn’t say anything, though. Just walked with you out of the house with arms crossed loosely. You turned around before getting in. “Text me if you think of anything else, yeah?”

Sophia nodded, biting back the thought that was stuck on the BMW. Instead, she just asked, “Same time tomorrow?”

“Works for me,” you said, tugging the car door open. “Thanks for the juice, by the way.”

She smiled and leaned against the stone pillar door frame. “Don’t be late for work.”

You smirked at that and slid into the driver’s seat, the door shutting with a satisfying thud. As you pulled away, Sophia stood there a second longer, arms still folded as she waited for you to leave completely.

Almost hoping, any thought that lingered in her mind would go away as soon as you left her view. But you seemed to have a chokehold on many women’s minds.

While pulling up to a red light, your phone buzzed. Rai’s message popped up with an address attached. He added nothing else to it, but it didn’t take much to guess it was Donovan’s location. Your heart began beating rapidly as you turned onto the highway, weaving through traffic like muscle memory. The lines of each lane seemed blurry to your vision, and your grip on the wheel tightened.

You parked a block away, turned the car off, and walked slowly, realizing that you probably should’ve brought a hoodie for less attention. Hearing the asphalt scraping under your shoes, the faint sound of cars driving from the highway far behind you.

You kept your head down, with eyes scanning each building as you walked down the sidewalk. Apartment complexes and ruined houses filled the street, and you were mentally making notes to start checking each door you passed—until he showed up first.

Donovan strolled into your view like he owned the block, a grin that made your skin crawl stretching across his face. His eyes locked on yours, noticing how smug he looked.

You stopped walking, arms folding across your chest. “What’s this?” you asked flatly, narrowing your gaze.

He let out a shrill, ugly laugh. “You know, it’s so~ sad that you’re such a pretty lady,” he said, and just as he spoke, three guys rounded the corner behind him. One was bulky, arms evidently thicker than your thigh. Another looked like a gym bro in his ‘off’ season. The last was leaner, but that may work in his favor. Assuming that he brought them here to scare and jump you.

“Maybe in another universe, this could’ve been different,” Donovan added, his voice dropping into something slimy. His tone and the way he implied something more, and the way his eyes stared at you for far too long. Your face showed pure disgust, head pulling back slightly like you could physically distance yourself from whatever the hell he thought that was.

That reaction was enough to piss him off. He licked his teeth, like it’d help his ego. “Have a good time with my friends.”

The three men spaced out, walking toward you with caution. You were standing dead center now, their footsteps echoing faintly off the pavement as they boxed you in.

You blinked, unimpressed. “What kind of movie are we filming right now?” you muttered, then gesturing lazily toward Donovan. “You really pulled a goon trio on me? What, Craigslist wasn’t hiring?”

He just smirked like he knew this was going to work in his favor. “A petite girl like you can’t do anything against them.”

You tilted your head, eyes sharp now. “Yeah? Well, this ‘petite girl’ also kicked the shit out of you yesterday.”

The lean guy twitched. He was losing patience, and you figured he’d be the one to start. He had a crazy look in his eyes, and he… licked his lips in an icky way.

His steps closed in quicker than the others, and before you could even sigh at the predictability of it all, his fist swung wide toward your face. He was clearly excited for a ‘beat down.’

It connected, which had your head snapping slightly to the side. You blinked, let the sting settle for half a second, then turned back to face him slowly. You licked the inside of your cheek and gave a smirk.

“I wanted you to hit me first,” you said calmly, voice flat. “If we get caught here, at least I can say it was self-defense.”

Your hand snapped forward, fingers wrapping around the lean guy’s wrist, pulling him forward just enough to slam your knee into his ribs. The second knee had him grunting, as he almost staggered away from your hold, and you stepped in closer to elbow him square in the temple. He dropped, his body thudding on the sidewalk.

You weren’t sure why people never just went in at the same time; that could be a way to win, but no one ever did. The biggest of the three hesitated, giving you a window. You went low, kicking one shin hard enough that he fell. You hear a tiny crack from his back hitting the pavement, but he caught himself with one hand, scrambling back up quicker than expected.

Maybe he didn’t stretch?

But you backed up, your breathing regulated as your chest rose and fell. Experience would be on your side every time. Being in multiple fights will have you bleeding, sobbing, and clawing for survival, especially as a woman in this job.

He lunged at you again, aiming for your waist this time, trying to lift you up, maybe slam you against a concrete wall. But your body twisted, and you slammed your elbow down into the base of his neck. His arms dropped enough for you to shove him off, and you followed it up with a sharp kick to his stomach. The heel of your sneakers is digging into his navel. He leaned over, holding onto his lower stomach.

You turned just in time to dodge a right hook from the burly one.

He was the real problem for you here. Having thick arms, bulky shoulders, and the kind of weight that could crack bone if hit in the right place. You ducked, using your smaller frame to slide around him and catch him off balance. You went for his knees, aiming a kick to the back of one. He faltered and gave you the opening to jump onto his back and wrap your arm around his neck in a tight hold.

His hand shot back, trying to grab you, and he managed to elbow your side hard enough to make you gasp for air. But your grip held, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep you on. You counted seconds, about fifteen seconds, until his legs finally gave, and you released just before he blacked out completely. He just slumped onto the ground, looking like a drunk man after a crazy Saturday night party.

The second guy tried to sneak you from behind, but you turned around just in time. Gripping the front of his shirt, and headbutted him right to his nose, breaking, blood spurting instantly as you hear a gnarly crack. He staggered backward with a groan, hands covering his face, and you ended it with a kick to the side of his knee that buckled him flat to the ground.

All three were down, and you were breathing heavy, knuckles sore, the ache from that first punch settling into your jaw. You wiped the blood at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, turning your head slowly.

Donovan hadn’t moved, just standing there as he watched his plan fail within three minutes. Probably expected them to jump you fast and leave you crying for help.

“You fucking idiot,” you muttered under your breath, walking toward him. His cocky expression faltered as he tried acting all friendly now. He still thought he could talk his way out of it. “Hey, listen—”

You weren’t hearing any of it as your hand grabbed his wrist and twisted fast, too fast for him to register what was happening until you heard the pop out of its socket. He screamed and began panicking like the first time you met him.

You stepped in closer, inches away from his face, while fury coated your voice.

“You really thought that was gonna work?” you asked, twisting again just enough to make his knees buckle lower. “Three guys, on the sidewalk, taking me on? That’s your plan?”

“I—wait—Y/n, c’mon—”

You heard another crack as you took his other arm, faced his palms up, and punched his elbow with enough force that broke his arm. He dropped to the ground with a sharp sob, curling around the pain. His legs trembled beneath him.

“I should’ve done that yesterday,” you spat.

A few passing cars honked in the distance, someone muttered something on the opposite sidewalk, but no one stopped. No one was dumb enough to involve themselves in this area, but some people would be smart enough to call the cops. So you had to get out of the area as fast as possible.

Dragging him up by his shirt collar, you pulled his limp body to the passenger side of Rai’s BMW, opened the door, and shoved him inside like garbage. He moaned, trying to clutch his arm, but the two broken limbs made it impossible. You didn’t even care about any blood coating you… Or him, in all honesty, but you warned him, yet Rai wouldn’t be happy with his little stunt either way.

“Don’t bleed on the seats,” you warned.

You drove straight to the warehouse. The sound of your foot against the pedal and Donovan groaning quietly in the seat beside you, every bump had him sounding like a soundboard noise in pain.

When you pulled up and parked, you got out and walked to the other side. Ripped the door open and grabbed him by the collar again, hauling him out.

Rai stood near the entrance, cigarette between his fingers, already waiting. You tossed Donovan forward like trash day came early. “Here’s your boy,” you said, dusting your hands off. “He’ll need a doctor. Or don’t. Up to you.”

Rai blinked, exhaled smoke through his nose. “Broken wrist?”

“And both arms.”

“…Damn.” You just rolled your eyes. “Next time he pulls this shit, I’ll break his legs too.”

You spit right beside him, the metallic taste of blood leaving your mouth as you went over to the car to get your bag and walk home.

Two weeks went by, and Sophia could admit that everything had been going smoothly. You were both down to the final stretch of your project, with only the acting portion left to do at the end of the month.

And safe to say… she’d started liking having you around. Maybe not in a head-over-heels romantic way, but there was definitely something there. That she even believed to be mutual, especially in the way she would catch you staring sometimes.

She even caught herself changing in a way she wasn’t expecting.

Every time you came over, Sophia found herself preparing like she was about to go on a date instead of a project. She’d hop in the shower the second she got home, scrubbing her skin like she needed to get rid of every spec of dirt she felt on her body. Then she’d do her hair, careful to make it look effortless, like it was naturally that way, but still stylish.

Her regular routine makeup would then follow next making her look much fresher rather than looking like the school air attacked her throughout the day. A touch more gloss, a little more highlight on her cheekbones. She’d make sure her lips looked much more plump to the point they were kissable.

And the comfy clothes got... comfier. Sweatpants were replaced with booty shorts that clung onto her thighs, tank tops cropped shorter with thinner fabric, just enough to maybe catch her bra peeking through.

Still, even with all that effort, seducing you wasn’t exactly the priority. That wasn’t what was on her mind when you were around.

Because during those late-night sessions and snacks in her house library, Sophia started noticing small things. The kind most people wouldn’t catch unless they were looking too closely.

Like the faint bruises, hidden under a layer of foundation, where a bluish shadow near your jaw could be seen. The purplish-yellow spots that faded around your knuckles. Tiny cuts near the corners of your lips, sometimes barely noticeable unless you stare blatantly at your lips.

She wasn’t stupid; you were clearly getting into fights. Multiple at that, and from the way you moved, you didn’t want her to notice.

Sophia knew better than to ask anyways. You weren’t close enough for her to pry, and she wasn’t sure what answer she’d even want from you if she did.

She wasn’t even sure if she should be concerned… because you being roughed up was the reason why this sexual attraction came up in the first place. Like Lara said, you were ten times hotter, and it almost made her feel guilty.

Sophia should act like a normal human being and care, maybe even ask if you were okay, but it just never came out.

While you sat cross-legged on the chair, scribbling down notes for the script, Sophia’s mind had drifted somewhere else. Once you glanced up, you caught her staring blankly at her laptop screen, eyebrows lightly pinched like she was deep in thought, but definitely not about the project.

Leaning forward slightly, you tilted your head to get closer to her line of sight. “Miss Sophia the First?” you asked, your voice teasing, just inches from her face.

She jolted in her seat, eyes growing wide. “Jesus,” she muttered, trying to play it off while she raked her fingers through her hair, smoothing it down even if it didn’t even need fixing.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you chuckled, watching her fiddle around longer than anticipated. “You didn’t,” she insisted, brushing it off way too quickly.

You tilted your head, unconvinced but amused. “Right. Totally.”

She kept her eyes on the screen, but you could feel something looming in the back of her mind. You weren’t sure if she wanted to talk about it, but you didn’t see the harm in asking.

“What were you thinking about?” you asked, leaning back, casually counting off the instances in your head. “This is what? The fifth time you’ve spaced out today?”

“It’s nothing,” she said with a quick shake of her head, though you could see whatever was still weighing in her mind through her hardened face.

“Nothing, in girl code,” you said, tapping your pen against your knee, “means there’s absolutely something. So spit it out, Lafortezza.”

She sighed like she didn’t want to ask. “What do you do for work?” she finally said, voice a bit too quick, the question had been rehearsed in her head several times before she just spat it out of her system.

You blinked at the sudden change. It wasn’t a surprise to normal people. You hadn’t exactly been subtle with the bruises. The makeup was there mainly for professors, so Sophia wasn’t who you were hiding it from.

“Just some dangerous stuff,” you answered vaguely, offering a shrug like it was no big deal.

“Is it boxing?”

“No.”

“Wrestling?”

“No.”

“Are you selling drugs?”

You snorted, caught so off guard by that one, you nearly gave yourself whiplash trying to look at her. “What—? No, Sophia. I’m not selling drugs.”

She frowned, her concern written all over her face. “Then why are you hurt every day?”

Her voice was softer this time, in a more careful tone. You felt your heartbeat quickening as her eyes searched yours. That worry she voiced was real as her eyes pleaded.

“I just work in a dangerous environment, Sophia. I promise, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“But what if you get hurt… like really hurt next time?” she asked, rubbing at her arm like she was comforting herself as much as she was asking the question. You smiled gently, touched by the concern. “Then I’ll deal with it,” you said. “This is the work I chose to do. So whatever happens, I have to handle it.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes dropping. She knew you were old enough to make your own decisions, but still, seeing the aftermath of whatever life you were living made her stomach twist a little more each time.

The secret was how it also riled her up, the vibe causing her to find you even sexier than the first time her eyes laid on you.

“I get it,” she murmured, backing off, letting it settle.

There was a pause before she cleared her throat, trying to move on. “Uhm, Lara’s having a party this weekend.”

You raised a brow. “Are you just telling me… or are you inviting me?”

She immediately started waving her hands in a panic, the words tumbling out fast. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to come!” You burst out laughing at her reaction, watching her release a huff into a pout. “I’d love to go. Just text me the details.”

A soft little “yeah” slipped from her lips, her face still slightly pink as she turned her attention back to the script, trying to bury her fluster in the keyboard.

You scooted your chair closer, peering over her shoulder to read what she was typing. The chair let out a small creak, and you leaned in without thinking, voice near her ear.

“Are all the stage directions written down?”

Sophia froze, her fingers pausing mid-keystroke. You were so close, like a literal inch from her face. Close enough that she could smell your perfume, which smelled of citrus, and feel the faint brush of your breath against her shoulder.

“Yeah,” she managed, voice shaky as her hands started fumbling across the keys. So much typing, backspacing, retyping again.

“And all the notes are in?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool. Email it in, then we’re done.”

There was a lightness in your voice that she hadn’t heard before. A kind of happiness she had never realized you were capable of expressing.

But then a thought hit her, this was almost over. The project, the only way to see you every day, the shared late nights, the quiet moments, and the banter were all about to end. After this, you’d go back to your usual schedule. Showing up in school only when it was necessary, and seeing you every now and then in the school’s common area instead of sitting next to you in class.

Sophia didn’t want that, and inviting you to Lara’s party was only a step into seeing you more often out of a serious setting. It was a way to keep you around, but only for one night, and that wasn’t enough.

She had to find another way. A way that made it clear she wanted to see you more, and hoped that maybe you wanted to see her more, too.

The two of you kept working, in silence, as you reached the final stretch. Luckily, just before the clock hit 10 PM, the document was attached to a quick email, your name typed on the subject line, and sent off to your professor for the night.

You started packing up your things in a slow manner, your hands moving absentmindedly as your attention drifted to Sophia. She closed her laptop and let out a quiet sigh, sliding down in her chair until her head leaned back and lightly touched the backrest.

“So, what are your plans for tonight?” you asked, the words slipping out without thinking.

She turned to look at you, caught off guard for a second. You couldn’t see her struggling not to say something like ‘oh, just lying in bed and texting the group chat about you.’

“I might watch a movie?” she finally spoke. “I’m not too tired yet.” You nodded, slinging a strap of your bag over your shoulder. “It is Friday. I’ll probably knock out later than usual anyway.”

“What are you planning on watching?” you asked, finishing up the last zipper of your bag. Sophia, not prepared for a follow-up question, blurted out the first movie that popped into her mind. “Train to Busan.”

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at her. “Train to Busan?”

She gave a half-shrug, trying to play it cool. You thought it seemed a little out of character for her, not seeing her as the horror type, but you did love that movie.

“That’s actually one of my favorite zombie movies,” you said with a hint of surprise in your tone. She perked up instantly, straightening in her chair. “You like zombie movies?” You nodded, sliding your phone into your pocket. “It’s one of my favorite genres for movies and shows. Like ‘Kingdom?’ Top tier.”

Her whole face lit up at the mention of the show. “I love ‘Kingdom’ too!”

You smile at her enthusiasm. “Well, maybe we can rewatch it together sometime.” She paused. Then, immediately asks, “Are you busy tonight?”

You shook your head, brow furrowing slightly at the sudden question. “Not really. Why?”

“Then why don’t you stay for a while?” she offered. “We can watch ‘Train to Busan’ tonight. ‘Kingdom’ can be for another day.”

You could tell she was trying not to sound too excited, but there was a look in her eyes that told you she really hoped you'd say yes. And honestly, you were pleased with the invite. You didn’t have any work tonight, so a quiet night in didn’t sound bad at all.

You gave her a small smile. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Sophia stood up, stretching her arms up, and began to exit the library. Without hesitation, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled down the quiet hallway. "Can someone bring up ramen and mango juice again?!" she called out.

Her voice echoed down the hall before you heard a muffled ‘okay’ from the lower level of the house. Sophia turned back to you with a smirk. "Hope you can handle spice."

You scoffed, raising a brow. "I can." There was a tone of confidence that just made her grin wider. "Alright then! Add the whole packet of spicy sauce to both!" she shouted once more.

Then she led you to her room, walking further down the corridor. You trailed behind her, and the faint sounds of your footsteps could be heard until she opened a large white door. "Come on in."

The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the soft scent of… jasmine? It’s subtle enough that taking a deep breath wouldn’t hurt your head. Your eyes begin to scan the room, seeing a minimalist aesthetic to it. The walls were a pure white, not a speck of dirt in sight. Some greenery in grey stone pots added some color to the room.

Against one wall was a large vanity with a bunch of bulbs surrounding the mirror, its table full of high-end makeup brands and gold-handled brushes that were organized. It looked like a luxurious beauty store. A plush light pink egg chair is placed in front of it, and it looks extremely comfy.

Across the entrance of the room, her bed stands out from the entire space. It was king-sized, with a modern bedframe in white. Champagne-colored satin sheets shining due to the lights. Lying over the top was a massive, fluffy comforter in a baby blue that looked like it could swallow. The pillows were fluffed, unlike your wilting, lifeless pillows at home.

Facing the bed directly was a large flat-screen TV that was mounted on the wall. It legit looked like a Pinterest picture in real life. You couldn’t help but wonder if this room was purely for sleep or if she actually hung out in it like a normal person.

"Take a seat. Get comfy," she said, already sliding into the bed. She sank beneath her comforter with her head slightly peeking out while her hands reached for the remote like muscle memory.

She looked cute, but that wasn’t something that would come out of your mouth. Not to Sophia at least… yet.

You hesitated for a second before sitting on the edge of the bed, rigid and upright, looking stiff as a board. You didn’t know how to relax in a space this expensive. You were JUST getting used to the library after coming around for two weeks. Maybe you should’ve assumed every room you walked into would feel like a different dimension in the large house.

Sophia didn’t notice at first as she scrolled through the variety of movies and shows, finally clicking on Train to Busan. The lights had already been turned off before the movie started with the use of a damn remote, the only light now beaming from the large screen.

You stayed sitting like that for a good ten minutes, which you were somewhat used to since you would stand in front of Rai that way during reports to him.

The room was quiet except for the movie, and you watched, but it wasn’t really registering. Because your focus kept drifting to how warm and soft the bed was under you. Meanwhile, Sophia was already snuggling in the comforter.

Eventually, she side-eyed you and sighed. Your tense posture was physically stressing her out. You looked like you were about to fall off her bed and march out of the room.

"You look like you’re about to fall off," she said, deadpan.

You looked over at her, meeting her gaze briefly before looking back at the TV. "I’m good." She raised a brow, “You’re sitting like I’m gonna bite you.”

"I’m fine," you repeat, but your tone didn’t help you at all.

“Lie back,” she told you, her soft voice sounding like she’s coaxing you, and it was working. You hesitated because something about getting comfortable in her space felt... weird. Like the moment you let your guard down, it would change whatever dynamic you and Sophia had going on.

But you leaned back slowly after taking off your shoes, back finally pressing into the fluffy comforter. Your body feels like it melted straight into the bed. Your legs stretched out beside hers, your brain hyper-aware of where her body was, like a foot away from you under the covers.

Across both your faces, flashes flickered, in what felt like every scene of the movie, as the tensions began rising. People were starting to notice things were off as screams began to come from the back of the train. You could hear the sound of glass breaking and the frantic thump of feet as people ran. The moment always entertained you, no matter how many times it was watched.

You loved it because to you, this was ‘pure cinema.’

Sophia hadn’t moved much, but every now and then, you felt the comforter shift. What you didn’t know was her adjusting to get sneaky glances of you.

You stayed still, eyes glued on the screen, and didn’t say anything. Just as you got used to the position, the door cracked open, and one of the maids came in. She carried a large wooden tray in her hands, two steaming bowls of buldak noodles, and two glasses of mango juice with chopsticks beside them.

"Thank you," Sophia whispered as the tray was set beside the side table near her. She passed you one of the porcelain bowls with chopsticks. Both of you now sitting up as you ate, and the occasional sounds of slurping and coughing from Sophia could be heard.

She was the first to break the silence, reaching for her mango juice after her third bite, eyes watering slightly as she coughed some more into her elbow. “Okay, damn,” she muttered, fanning her mouth. “That spice isn’t playing around.”

You kept eating like it was nothing, taking pretty large bites, and the spice didn’t faze you. Your lips were a little red, but you weren’t huffing and puffing or asking for your glass of juice. Sophia stared, eyes narrowing. “How are you not dying right now?”

You looked at her mid-bite as the noodles drooped over your bottom lips and into the bowl, giving her a simple shrug. “This isn’t that bad.”

“Mild?!” she coughed again, immediately going for another sip of mango juice. “You’re not human.”

You chuckled, setting your bowl back on the tray and asking for your own drink, NOT because it was spicy but because the spice was making you thirsty. “I told you I could handle spice. Besides, this tastes like the pink one.”

Sophia groaned dramatically, setting her bowl down on her lap and leaning back into her mountain of pillows. “You said it so confidently, but I thought you were being cocky.”

You smirked, stretching your legs a bit further under the covers. “I was being for real.”

Her eyes were watery, but she was still adding humor while in slight pain. “I feel like my tongue’s been set on fire. I’m in physical pain right now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, mixing with the low rumble of the movie’s background noise. Sophia grabbed her mango juice again while hissing to get cold air. “This better not be how I go out,” she said, taking a long sip. “Killed by ramen.”

You give a satisfied smirk, eyes flicking back to the screen. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a eulogy.”

She threw a pillow at you, missing by a mile as it shot past your head and onto the floor. “You’re literally the worst.” But she was smiling, still with tears in her eyes and the slight sweat on her brow.

Time ticked by, and the silence was there again after both of you finished the ‘bowls of pain’ in Sophia’s words. While your attention stayed mostly glued to the movie of interest, Sophia just couldn’t stop looking at you. Her eyes would glance to the side every now and watch how the TV cast a glow across your features. Highlighting your cheekbones, casting shadows along your jawline, and each scene reflecting through your eyes.

But then, the movie reached that scene.

The one where the father, Seok-woo, held his daughter close as he sacrificed himself to save her. His face was bloody and broken after everything they’d been through on the train. Then cued the slow music, adding to the drama of the scene. You had watched the movie many times, to the point where you didn’t cry during the sad moments anymore. But as you watched, you heard a soft sniffle.

You turned your head slightly, finding a single tear streaming down Sophia’s cheek, a crystal-like path layered above her skin like glass. The light from the screen made it shimmer, and oddly enough, there was something heartbreakingly beautiful about it. Her lips trembled just a little. Her brows furrowed, her subtle expression twitching every time she hitched a breath.

You didn’t even think about anything, as your body moved on its own. You push yourself over to the right and carefully lean over the upper half of her body. Gently, your thumb grazed the tear off her cheek, as your other arm settled right beside her head as you hovered over her.

Sophia’s eyes widened, lashes fluttering as her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but nothing would come out properly.

Your hand, for some reason, caressed her cheek and kept its spot. Your fingers shifted slightly, brushing the side of her jaw now as neither of you looked away. Sophia was scared that if she did, none of this would be real.

The space between you felt thinner while the noise of the movie started becoming nothing but background sound as the two of you lay there, like time had paused.

Her breath was shallow, and yours wasn't much steadier. And in that quiet moment, her face leaned just a little closer. So did yours.

You couldn’t process pulling away, and instead, your body leaned in more comfortably as your hand lingered on her jaw, heart thudding loudly in your ears.

Then your lips connected, the soft bond of the kiss. Her lips were warm, pillowy, still tasting like a hint of mango and spice. There was a second where neither of you moved, just letting it all happen.

She tilted her head slightly, deepening it as her hand grasped your wrist, not wanting you to move away. You exhaled into the kiss, pressing in a little more as you let your body rest on top of hers, chest brushing against each other. The comforter shifted between your bodies as the two of you kept tilting heads wanting more, the flicker of the movie dancing across your closed lids and warm skin.

There felt like a shared illusion that time was holding still. Sophia’s thumb grazed along the inside of your wrist, slowly trailing down to your waist. Her breath was warm against your skin when the kiss finally softened again, slowing but not stopping, like neither of you knew how to break away from each other.

But then the TV let out a scream, maybe a line of dialogue, and just like that, you pulled away. You were both catching your breath, lying back down into your original positions as you stared at the screen with heavy breaths filling each other's ears.

Neither of you said a word.

Sophia swallowed hard, eyes staring back at the screen as if nothing had happened, but her mind was clearly spinning. She wanted to ask or say something, like wanting to know what it meant, if anything. But she felt tongue-tied as her body remained still, as if she could pretend it didn’t just happen… or that it did, and she was still in it.

You couldn’t handle the silence or the weight that began to settle on your chest.

It felt like everything happened so fast. One moment you were watching, the next you were eating, then you were sucking each others faces off. For once, the confidence left your body, and you didn’t know how to function… and that in itself scared you more than any fight you had ever been in.

So, after a moment, you sat up. The warmth of the comforter was gone, and the shift in weight on the bed made Sophia subtly flinch as you stood up from your spot.

“I should head out,” you said, your voice trying to sound calm.

Sophia nodded, her expression unreadable. She wanted to say something to make you stay, or just talk about it, but nothing right came out. “Okay,” she said quietly, almost like it hurt to respond.

You grabbed your bag with unsure hands, walking toward the door like the air had turned thicker around you. You couldn’t even dare look back at her because you felt like a wuss for not speaking up for yourself.

Your thoughts were everywhere. Confusion and hope that almost made you start hyperventilating as you walked out of the room. Hope that Sophia feels it too, maybe of you not ruining something by crossing a line.

The hallway felt colder on the way out as your fingers clenched the strap of your bag tighter than usual, trying to stop thinking about it. But Sophia basically imprinted herself in your mind, her breath, her lips, the way she didn’t pull away.

Meanwhile, Sophia sat there long after you were gone, as the movie's ending credits began running. Her lips still tingled while admitting to herself that she wanted more. That much was obvious.

But she didn’t know what you wanted. And she was afraid to ask. Because rejection wasn’t scary. If anything, it was a part of life, but rejection from you made her assume it would crush her and take a long time to recover.

Her fingers brushed the spot you’d been just moments ago, where the warmth of your body still lingered even with a blasting AC in her room. It was stupid to hold onto it, because maybe the kiss was just a kiss.

Her thumb moved up toward her lips, pressing against the bottom softly—still able to feel the phantom weight of yours on them.

She’d tried to make herself more noticeable, choosing risque ways like skimpier outfits at home, applying thick coats of gloss. But she hadn’t expected it to work, and had you kissed her in a way that felt so natural. Not how it somehow made her breath catch in her throat.

But what hit her harder than the kiss itself was how fast you left. The feeling was too much.

Sophia turned her head toward the TV again, only to realize the movie had ended and was now stuck on the menu. Her heart still beating quickly for her to even care, so she turns off the TV to let her thoughts simmer.

Maybe she’d misread everything. A heat-of-the-moment type of deal. But it didn’t feel that way when you wiped her tears and stayed hovering just inches over hers, gaze flicking between her lips and eyes like you couldn’t decide what part of her to focus on.

…Yeah, no matter what way Sophia tried to twist the narrative in her head, it just wasn’t helping her feelings. In fact, it was driving her mad in the way she tried denying her blooming crush for you.

She sighs, turning over to bury her face into the pillow that still smells faintly of you. Sophia knew she wasn’t going to sleep right away as she kept replaying the way you looked at her right before the kiss, and the way your breathing stuttered for half a second after your lips brushed hers.

You, on the other hand, speed walked without even thinking about what direction your legs were taking you at first. You weren’t the type to run away from your feelings. Especially, not when someone had just kissed you like that, and not when it felt that good.

Hell, you had made out with Manon multiple times, and that surely felt good. Even going way further than kisses, to her being completely undressed beside you.

But your head was spinning, and you didn’t know what to do with it. The chill of the night didn’t even bother you. Instead, it was waking you up, helping calm your body down before you could spiral any more.

You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, heart still racing as you walked through the quieter streets of town and down the block toward your place.

The memory of her lips on yours wouldn’t go away, not even for a second. Yet you didn’t want it to.

Even stepping into your house didn’t do much. The usual clanking of your dad’s alcoholism would usually have you feeling irritated as your mother tried acting as if everything was normal, but you just walked upstairs to your room and shut your door.

Swinging your back against the wall, you took off your jacket and crashed onto your bed while your knees hung off the side. You were usually better at controlling yourself. It was quite literally part of your job to do so, or else you would go insane with the possibility of beating someone to death.

She didn’t know what kind of life you lived. Yeah, she was smart enough to figure out bits and pieces, but not the full scope of things.

You were okay with being friends with her, but her getting involved with you could be dangerous. It made you think of the way you woke up sometimes with blood still under your nails, or how your ribs still ached if you pressed on them wrong. Even aspects of your life at home.

It was something you didn’t ever want to burden anyone with. The job and school were your escape for that reason.

So a kiss like that would scare the hell out of you. Because it felt too good and with a pristine person, which didn’t make you feel any better.

You hadn’t even said goodnight, and it made you want to punch yourself.

‘What the hell am I gonna do?’

It had been five long days since you left Sophia’s room and shut the door. You couldn’t even fathom returning to school after that Friday. You did not want to avoid her, but also couldn’t fathom seeing her or saying anything.

Luckily, you were known to not show up on campus unless something important needed to be done, and there were two weeks before performances were happening. So, you stuck to what you knew best. Instead of staying home like a regular person, faking a sickness, or lying about classes to their parents, you buried yourself in work.

Rai didn’t question the sudden amounts of availability in your schedule. If anything, this was something that would work in his favor, giving you many of the dangerous jobs with your high success rates. It was basically back to normal, the late nights, money exchanges, and bloodied knuckles. One of the things on the list of priorities you’d have would be stopping by campus, and sliding assignments under the professor’s office doors in manila folders with your name neatly written across the top.

You’d show up for about twenty minutes max, showing up to about six offices around the building, then go right back to the warehouse. Sometimes you’d sit around pretending to read, headphones in, jaw clenched tight enough to pop as your mind drifted to space.

Trying to get Sophia out of your head was literally mission impossible. It seemed like everywhere you looked or focused, on reminded you of her. Which made you want to scream at yourself because some things were just so far-fetched, your mind just clinging onto the idea of her.

Like when you saw a bunch of teens eating ice cream, one of them having a tall strawberry cone while walking home. THE COLOR PINK WAS MAKING YOU THINK OF HER.

So, you thought of distracting yourself in another way, and it was by doing what you were best at.

Hitting people, who deserve it, of course, extremely hard. And now with thoughts spiraling in your head, you lacked a tad bit of self-control, which was out of the norm for you.

But it seemed like out of the norm was the pattern for the past few weeks.

So when Thursday night hit the calendar, you and Manon had a drop scheduled at one of Rai’s partner clubs. These were clubs Rai did business with caution and the safety of his employees. This one in particular was one of those neon-lit places that always smelled like sweat, money, and a lot of perfume since women seemed to like the aesthetic of the place.

It wasn’t your favorite location, preferring the clubs that took place on rooftops for fresh air, but this was a job that had to be done. It was all about business anyways.

Manon wore a black halter mini dress in the color black that looked sleek and showed enough skin, just the way Rai preferred her to wear during these meetings. You hated that part because even with the friends-with-benefits dynamic going on, she is still your friend. The men who bought from your boss rarely treated the transaction like it was purely business with you, now could you even imagine how Manon’s transactions would go with those kinds of men?

Your eyes were sharp the moment you walked in, trailing behind her so the customer wouldn’t notice, watching every movement of the client she was meeting. Rai had given you the rundown on this guy. He’s a new possible client and is trying out the product for the first time. Apparently, just a curious rich brat from uptown looking to "feel something real."

Well, you weren’t liking what he was beginning to feel. Although even if this place was one of Rai’s business partners, it was still open to the general public—no moves were made by you.

It started with him leaning in too close, whispering some things to her in her ear as she visibly shudders at the feeling of his breath, and not in a good way. He chuckled too much as he made obscure gestures with his hands.

Then he moved it to her hip, and you watched her shift uncomfortably. Manon gave a visibly forced laugh, eyes flicking up to you as she subtly took a step to the side to try and create some distance between them. The small look wouldn’t have been caught by him, but you noticed.

Your jaw locked as your knuckles twitched into a fist. She gave you the same look that she usually did when she figured a guy was gonna be a problem. So when you see her locking eyes with you, you give her the smallest nod and look over to the back. Manon received it well and knew what she had to do.

She played it perfectly by smiling sweetly, murmuring something about somewhere quieter. He followed, like the idiot you assumed he was. Guys like this were drunk on their own audacity instead of alcohol.

You followed behind them, and one of the club’s bouncers glanced your way, then looked away just as fast. Rai’s reputation was enough to keep people from asking questions. That and the fact that he paid the club well for instances like this.

Once Manon lured him into the narrow hallway near the back storage room, she stopped walking. He turned to face her, a tipsy grin on his face, thinking he was about to get lucky tonight.

That’s when you march past the two of them, grabbing him by the collar in the process as you walk further back.

Before he could get a word out, you slammed him into the wall. His head thudded hard enough to echo.

"Hey! What the—"

Your fist cut him off, a punch landing across his jaw. The second one then hit his nose hard, and it was too quick for him to even react properly. You didn’t stop, and without hesitation, your fists began a vicious beatdown on him. Like every thought about Sophia—the memory of her laugh, the way she looked at you before you kissed her, the sting of her silence after—was fueling each hit.

Blood began coating your knuckles, even staining your arm and the collar of your shirt as he jerked around after each hit. He tried to block it, tried to sputter out some sorrys, but you didn’t care to stop.

"Don’t ever—" You landed another punch. "—touch her—" And another. "—like that again."

It wasn’t even about Manon anymore. It was about every second of that kiss haunting you. The time that passed while pretending it didn’t mean anything when it meant so fucking much.

Eventually, Manon stepped forward, her voice cutting through the haze. "Okay. That’s enough."

You didn’t hear her.

"Hey—hey," she grabbed your wrist, firm but not rough. "It’s done. Come on." You were breathing hard, the man slumped on the floor, face engulfed in swollen flesh, with blood dripping from his nose and mouth. His groans were low, incoherent, and you looked down at your hand, bloodied and trembling slightly, then at Manon.

Her face wasn’t even angry, just worried.

You stayed silent, fists still balled, adrenaline pulsing as she led you through the back exit of the establishment. Manon looked over at you, eyebrows raised. "You good?" You exhaled through your nose, finally letting your muscles relax. "Yeah."

She tilted her head slightly. "You’ve been hitting harder lately."

"Just needed to let something out."

Her eyes lingered on you for a second too long. She knew you well by now and knew that even if someone touched her that way, you wouldn’t beat them almost half to death. This was about something completely different.

You hated that even now, in the middle of blood and bruises, you still thought about Sophia. Because now, you were beginning to feel dirty when mixing those thoughts. She was too precious in comparison to the lifestyle you lived.

Manon did her best to lead you through the parking lot toward the car without anyone seeing you. If anyone did, they would call the cops at the slightest look at your hand. You willingly get into the driver's seat and start the car even before Manon takes a seat in the passenger seat.

Before moving, you get some baby wipes out of the center console, wiping all the fluid off your hands. Then you move the gear shift and begin reversing out of the spot before driving back to the warehouse.

The ride back was quiet, you had one hand on the wheel, the other still stained with dried blood, wrapped loosely in a towel, Manon kept in the glovebox. She was able to put it on during a red light, seeing your hands looking incredibly swollen as your veins popped through.

She waited a minute before speaking. "You gonna tell me what’s going on or do I have to guess?" You didn’t answer. "You don’t usually go that far… unless something’s seriously eating you." You gritted your teeth. Eyes locked on the road.

"It’s Sophia, isn’t it?"

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel. She exhaled, not surprised at the name, but surprised at how much the woman affected you. "Did something happen?"

You didn’t say anything again. "Let me guess," she continued. "Something did. And now you’re pretending it didn’t." Your consistent silence was enough confirmation. Manon shifted in her seat to face you better, her voice softer this time.

"You don’t have to tell me the whole story. But whatever it is, bottling it up and using some poor bastard’s face as a punching bag isn’t gonna help."

You finally spoke, barely above a whisper. "I kissed her." Manon looked confused but tried to understand. "Okay."

"And then I left. Didn’t say anything. Haven’t talked to her since." She nodded slowly, processing. "Did she kiss you back?" You hesitated. Then nodded.

"Then why are you running from it like it’s a goddamn plague?"

Your jaw clenched. You didn’t have an answer you liked. "Because it felt like something," you admitted, voice tight. "And I wasn’t ready for that." Manon sighed, leaning back comfortably against the seat. "Life is all about never being ready for things like that, Y/n. You know that better than I do."

The rest of the drive passed in silence again. When you finally pulled into the lot outside the warehouse, Manon reached for the door but stopped.

"You should talk to her. Before it starts eating you alive, please. Miss Sophia may have won you over, but you're still my friend, and I care about you." You barely give her a nod, but she saw it.

“Good. Let me know when you do, because I want to hear all about the woman who was successful enough to have your heart in a bunch.”

She shuts the door, and you now begin sitting back, thinking about Manon’s advice. Seeing her likely was the best course of action, so you decide to face your problems head-on, like you usually do. You were going to talk to her at the party.

On Friday, you took the opportunity to give Rai a heads up, not be able to come in the next. You didn’t even have to tell him anything, you're still young and he knows the way ‘the youngins’ think, his words, not yours.

After work, you went home, just to lie in bed and think about everything that happened. Your thoughts were just a bunch of storms in your head, which almost got you to sleep for the night. But then you heard a loud crash of glass, followed by a woman’s voice yelling at the top of her lungs.

You jumped up immediately, mainly hoping your sister wasn’t anywhere near it since she would be home for the weekend. The second you cracked open your bedroom door, you saw Zaria, your seventeen-year-old sister, standing at the top of the steps, just listening to all the chaos coming from downstairs.

“Hey, why don’t you just wait in the room just in case?” you said gently, because yelling and making her do it wouldn’t help at all. She nodded without a word, already knowing the drill. If your dad saw her, she’d get dragged into it too, and you wanted to avoid that as much as possible.

You waited until her door shut, then crept down the stairs, trying to assess the situation. The crash was your dad falling straight onto the glass coffee table. Now it shattered beneath him, and he was clearly drunk as he lay there limp.

Meanwhile, your mother looked like she was in the middle of having an episode. It probably started as soon as he walked through the front door, triggering something from an old argument.

You rush back up and into their bedroom and grab her medication, your hands moving without even thinking due to muscle memory. When you ran back downstairs, she looked at you with eyes wide and on edge, but you gave her the softest smile you could manage.

“Mom, it’s time for your medicine, okay?”

At first, she shook her head no furiously, backing away slightly, but you’d been through this before. It was exhaustion and fear that made her uncooperative. In a gentle voice, you tell her, “Once you take these, you can go to bed. I’ll deal with Dad.”

You held out the pills in the palm of your hand, and after a long moment, she finally nodded.

“Alright,” she murmured, taking them and washing them down with water from the cup on the counter. Like a switch flipped in her head, she turned and headed upstairs, her movements a little shaky but steady enough.

You followed the walk under the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room and stood there, just staring at your father. Laid out across broken glass, out cold and acting like his useless self. At least there wouldn’t be yelling or any violence tonight. You sighed, rolled up your sleeves, and began fixing what you could.

It took all your strength to lift his heavy body and dump him onto the couch. He groaned at his landing, but you ignored it. Your only priority was to clean up the mess he made because it was going to be an eyesore.

You headed to a storage closet and pulled out a clear plastic trash bag. It was one of the unused ones for recycling plastic and metal. You picked up the larger shards of glass by hand, moving carefully, then grabbed the broom to sweep up the rest from the wooden floor.

You made a mental note to remind your mom and Zaria to wear slippers around the house until you could mop and vacuum again—just in case. After tossing the shards into the recycling bin outside, you finally trudged back upstairs and lay down, eyes wide open, trying your best to just breathe.

You guessed it was enough to go to bed, because the next morning, you woke up abruptly from the sound of a large truck honking past your house.

Before realizing how much time had passed, you’d already taken a long shower, just relaxing your tense body against the hot water. You did some light makeup, mostly to cover the remnants of past fights still on your skin. The coverage is just enough to make you look more lively. Then you changed into something comfy but stylish enough not to look like your normal plain self.

Your phone buzzed just as you were tying your shoes.

Sophia see u there *location pin dropped*

You blinked at the message, no “hey,” or “r u still coming?” Her playful emojis weren’t there, causing the nerves to rack up as you stared at the address. Tapping on the pin she sent, you realize the party was happening just a few blocks from her place. You should’ve guessed that was the case since her friends are theeeeee rich girls on campus.

At least it’s a route you've come to be familiar with.

You walked down the warehouse to text Rai about borrowing a car again. Luckily, this man never cared due to the number of cars he owned, because he just gave you a thumbs up as a response. You chose the BMW you had used previously, and forty minutes later, you were pulling into the neighborhood, as you looked for the right house. You didn’t have to look hard, though.

Cars were already lined up along the front entrance of a house and even into the spacious lawn. Everyone parked like they were playing Tetris, and you knew it was going to be a pain to leave your spot, so you opted for a spot outside of the gate. Music was vibrating faintly through the pavement from the outside of the house. You then rolled up the windows all the way before parking, trying to psych yourself up while your stomach rolled with nerves.

The house itself reminded you of a modern version of Sophia’s home with the white, grey, and black colors spanning across the exterior of the house. Seemed like a rentable Airbnb for parties like this, but you could only assume this was actually Lara’s home.

A guard stood by the front door… of course, there was a guard. He didn’t move at first, just stared you down until you got closer. Then he glanced at his clipboard. “Name?”

You almost laughed, the moment feeling ridiculous like you were on a job at one of those nightclubs. But you said your name anyway, half-expecting to be turned away because this just wasn’t your kind of scene.

The parties you were used to were the ones at Rai’s warehouse, when all coworkers would become friends for the night.

Instead of being turned away, he gave a short nod and stepped aside. “You’re on the list.”

Of course you were. Sophia probably pulled some strings on that list. When stepping inside, immediately hit by the overwhelming bass of the loud music, scents of perfume, sweat, and weed mixing in the air. People were going in every direction, some teens doing shots in their little corner, guys doing way too much on the dance floor, and girls holding up their phones under the colorful lights to get the perfect angle for their stories.

You had to blink a few times to adjust to everything happening.

Your job is probably much more chaotic, but it isn’t chaotic fun like this. This was much more anxiety-inducing than you expected. You took one step forward, and even before you could make any sensible movement, “Holy shit.” A blur of movement, as someone bumped into you, then paused. Sophia told you a bit about her friends for you to be able to recognize the younger girl, Megan.

Her wide eyes flicked over your face, a grin stretching across her lips. “Wait. Wait, Y/n?” You gave a half-smile. “Yeah.”

“I haven’t seen you for some time, Dani looks a bit lonely surrounded by all the dance majors,” she joked, nudging your shoulder lightly. “You clean up nice.”

“Thanks,” you said, chuckling once under your breath. She glanced around, then leaned in a bit. “Looking for Sophia?” You hesitated. “Sort of. But a drink would be nice first.”

“Kitchen’s through there,” she pointed down a hallway to your left. “Fridge is stocked with beers, seltzers, and everything.”

“Noted,” you nodded, already making your way through the crowd. You weave between people like until you reach the kitchen, which was still full, but not as packed as the main room. At least it had lighting that didn’t make you feel like you were in a music video. You tugged the fridge open, eyes skimming past lines of beers and hard seltzers.

None were for your taste, not exactly a big fan of the strong liquors. Then, rows of Buzzballs were near the bottom shelf. You grabbed one instantly, flipping the small blue ball-shaped can in your hand. Better than whatever beer and other options were in there. It was at least sweet to cut through the alcohol.

You cracked it open, letting the fizz rise, then took a long sip. It was helping the heavy feeling on your chest relieve itself, even if it was still there. You then begin looking around, realizing that somewhere in the crowd was the woman you came here for.

Sophia wasn’t the type to check her phone obsessively. At least, not until this past week.

When she sent you the text a few hours ago, she caught herself unlocking the screen just to stare at the “read” receipt under her last message, and she hated the feeling. Sophia Laforteza wasn’t someone who got nervous; if anything, she was headstrong.

But when she saw the little “read at 7:09 PM,” she clutched her cranberry vodka a little tighter. School should’ve been normal, she literally only met you recently. Yet every class was a blur, the corridors felt much emptier, and even her friends couldn’t get her out of the rut she was in. Sophia wasn’t able to focus on anything properly, and Miss Perfect was showing signs of cracking because of you.

Lara and Yoonchae were in their own little world beside her, laughing at something stupid, and for a second, Sophia managed a ghost of a smile. Then Megan appeared out of nowhere, swinging her drink around with so much energy as she leaned in.

“Guess who I just saw,” she grinned, her voice practically teasing. Lara was the first to bite. “Oh no. Who?” Megan swirled the cup, teasing the girls a bit. “Y/n.”

Sophia blinked, confused for a second until it hit her. Her heart did that annoying skip it always did when it came to you, and her eyes darted to Megan like they needed confirmation. “You saw her?” she asked, way too quickly.

Megan nodded, grinning widely. “She went to the kitchen and grabbed a Buzzball. Looked hot, by the way.”

Sophia couldn’t breathe for a second until Lara nudged her gently. Yoonchae, all sweet and too observant when it comes to the older, smiled knowingly. “I think someone’s happy.”

“I’m—” Sophia tried to speak, but her throat felt dry. She took another sip from her red solo cup, but it didn’t help.

What if you were just there for the party? To let loose, escape your job for the night. Meanwhile, you had just finished chugging the last of your first Buzzball, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Your shoulders are now less tense, making the haze of bodies and loud music less suffocating.

You reached back into the fridge and grabbed another. If you were gonna do this tonight, you needed all the liquid courage you could get. You popped it open and muttered to yourself, “Alright. You can do this. No big deal. Just a conversation.”

Just a conversation with the girl you kissed. Who hadn’t texted you anything else all week… Yeah, just a conversation.

You stepped back into the crowd, scanning. Eyes weaving past couples who were grinding and suckin each other's faces off, people playing drinking games, someone hesitantly trying to do a backflip while people cushioned him. But then, just past the ‘dance floor,’ you saw her.

Sophia was in black jeans and a sleeveless cropped hoodie, holding a red cup while her hair was styled in that effortless, slightly messy ponytail that made your heart quicken because she looked that good without trying.

She looked up and saw you.

Just her eyes locking with yours, widening just a bit. Her eyes were so hopeful, and you could feel it from across the room. So you started walking before you could overthink anything. When you reached her, you didn’t waste time pretending, just blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“Hey,” you said. “Can we talk? Somewhere quieter.”

Her voice caught a little, but she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She grabbed your hand lightly, barely even touching you, and led you upstairs. You kept your eyes forward while she didn’t even look back, but her grip on your hand was telling enough.

Past the noise, the crowds of people, she opened a door to what looked like a spare bedroom. Unused with lights that were dim… a little moody actually, and once she stepped inside with you, she turned the lock behind her.

There wasn’t complete silence, but neither of you had spoken up yet. The bass of the music still vibrated through the floorboards, muffling everyone who yelled over the music. You could kind of hear her exhale. Hear the sounds of your drinks as you both sipped at the same time, nerves kicking all over again.

She stood near the dresser while you hovered near the edge of the bed. Neither of you moved an inch, but you wanted to get this over with. Manon was right, you were going to face the problem and end it, so you wouldn’t go crazy.

“I didn’t come here for the party,” you said, finally meeting her eyes. Sophia’s fingers tightened a bit around her cup. “I mean, technically I did,” you added. “But not for this party. I didn’t even plan on drinking.” You glanced at your half-empty Buzzball. “Clearly that didn’t last.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, but it faded quickly. “I came because of you,” you continued, heart pounding against your chest as you finally let out those words. “Because I’ve been trying not to think about that night. But that’s... not really working out for me.”

Sophia’s lips parted slightly, her breath shallow. She looked like she wanted to interrupt, but she held back her tongue, wanting to hear what you had to say for yourself. “I didn’t know if it meant something to you. I didn’t even know what it meant to me at first. But I keep replaying it in my head several times a day. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since—even with you right in front of me.”

You laughed a bit, sounding dry and nervous. “I guess I just... needed to know if I was the only one feeling that way.”

Sophia finally moved then, stepping a little closer. Her eyes searched your face like she was making sure this was all reality and not her dreams. “You’re not,” she whispered just loud enough for you to hear.

And for a second, the tension grew stronger as she came a bit closer to you. She placed her cup down on the dresser, then reached out, brushing her fingers against yours.

“You left,” she said. “After that night, I waited every day for something. Anything even, because I thought I did something wrong.”

“I was scared,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “You make me nervous.”

“Good,” she murmured, stepping even closer. “You drive me crazy, you know.”

And just like that, there wasn’t much distance between the two of you anymore. It felt nice, seeing that you were getting somewhere, but your heart did feel like it was about to burst with how fast it was going.

Whatever happened next might be the liquor doing its thing, but neither of you seemed to really care. Drunk thoughts are real thoughts, right? Not that you were drunk, but the Buzzball was definitely helping this go smoothly.

Sophia’s breath hitched when your fingers brushed over hers. Her voice came out a bit louder than the first time she spoke. “You make me nervous, too.”

The confession made your chest feel tight and your skin feel too warm. You tilted your head at her, letting your hand slowly turn to lace fingers with hers. “Good,” you murmured, echoing her from earlier. “Then we’re even.”

There was a flicker in her eyes in some amusement, even maybe some disbelief. Her hand squeezed yours like she needed to make sure this was happening, that you were here, saying this, standing in this room with her, not just rushing out and disappearing again. The space between you started to shorten.

Then her eyes dropped to your lips, and back to your eyes, which could only make you feel giddy. ‘What the hell was even happening at this point?’

Sophia stepped forward, and her body was warm. You could feel the heat of her skin even with clothes still separating you. Her hand moved to your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek like she was trying to memorize your face by touch.

And then, this time, she leaned in and kissed you. This kiss wasn’t as soft as the first one; you felt that she wanted to make it worth it. After what she went through, well, what both of you went through this week, you owed it to yourselves.

You kissed her back roughly and didn't want to let her go as your hands found the sides of her waist and pulled her closer and closer, like it still wasn’t enough. Sophia moaned against your mouth, and something about the sound made you feel dizzy.

She broke the kiss only to speak against your lips, voice husky and uneven. “I thought about this. Ever since I started to get to know the real you.” You swallowed hard, forehead leaning into hers. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her hands sliding around the back of your neck, fingers playing with the hair at your nape. “The way you kissed me that night.”

You let out a shaky breath, pressing your body flush against hers until she backed into the edge of the dresser with her cup on it. Her hands tightened around you as her back hit the wood.

“I’ve thought about you, too.” You kissed her again, harder this time, teeth just slightly catching her bottom lip. Her nails grazed your shoulders through your clothes, and her breath hitched again.

The buildup of tension, frustration, and longing seemed to be catching up as you wanted more of her. You slowly trailed your lips to her jaw, then down to the hollow of her neck, where her skin was already warm. She gasped softly, tilting her head back against the wall. You took your time there, letting your lips graze just enough.

“Screw it,” Sophia whispered breathlessly, her voice ragged. The grin that pulled at your lips was confident. Now this was what you were known to do, but it was different. It was with someone you genuinely liked this time.

You grabbed her by the hips, lifting her onto the dresser effortlessly. She gasped again at the motion, legs parting subconsciously to make space for you between them. Her hands rested on your shoulders, and you could feel them twitching to restrain herself.

Your lips met hers again, much more heated, as one of her hands tangled in your silky hair and the other gripped your shirt like she was holding on for dear life. You let your hand travel up the outside of her thigh, tracing over the denim seam of her jeans, and felt her shiver beneath you.

Sophia’s head tilted to the side, her lips brushing over your jaw. “If you’re trying to drive me insane, congratulations,” she muttered. You chuckled low in your throat, letting your thumb slide just under the hem of her top, grazing the bare skin of her waist. “I haven’t even started yet, and you're already needy.”

She looked down at you then, breathless, eyes heavy, lips red and swollen from kissing. “Then what are you waiting for?”

That was the breaking point. You crashed your lips onto hers again with a groan, hands gripping her thighs as you pressed into her, both needing it right now.

"Can I?" you asked, voice husky, while Sophia looked messy, but she still looked gorgeous in your eyes. She nodded, but you paused with hands on her waist, "Words, baby. I need words."

As you spoke to her, she felt herself being lifted and wrapped her legs around your waist, tight as you settled her onto the large bed.

"You can," your gaze softened, lifting her arms to help her remove the cropped shirt. But there was a shift in your eyes, they darkened as you roamed over her exposed skin, taking in her tan figure that was only covered by a red lacey bra.

Now you weren’t expecting to see such a risque look, but you definitely weren’t going to ruin the moment by saying anything. "Beautiful," you whispered, fingers tracing the curve of her waist. "I can finally show you how much I need you."

You leaned in, pressing your lips on her exposed collarbone, then lower, following the lines of her abs with your mouth. She gave under your touch, the way your lips felt on her just had her melting, wanting to surrender to you completely.

"We can go as slow as you need," you mumbled against her skin, but Sophia seemed to have other plans. "I don't want slow," she admitted, pulling you closer. "I want you."

There was now a smile on your swollen lips—not a playful grin, but something much dirtier. "Then lie back on the bed and let me take care of you."

She complied, watching as you leaned back further to pull your own shirt over your head, revealing more of your tattoos scattered across your ribs and shoulders. Now crawling back onto the bed after throwing your shirt somewhere in the room, you straddle her with a confidence that made her groan at the sight of you on top of her.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," you said, leaning down to kiss her again. "I can't believe you're mine for tonight."

Your words had her shudder a bit as your hands tugged on the waistband of her jeans. Slowly, you unbutton and unzip them to undress her completely, pausing to appreciate her entire body with both your eyes and mouth. "Fucking hell," you quietly sighed as your eyes didn’t stop trailing all over her body. You lick your lips at the sight of her perky breasts.

"Tell me what you want, baby," you whispered with urgency, your breath growing heavier. "Tell me what you need."

"You," she spat, much more controlling than intended. "Everything. Your hands. Your mouth." You smiled against her skin, "So demanding."

Your lips trailed down her body, every kiss placed softly with intention. The feeling of your fingers exploring her hips had her body feeling on fire. You would caress over every curve until you made your way to her thighs, and she gasped at the touch.

You were on her inner thighs and gave them a kiss before shifting down your entire body. Arms hook under her legs, and she feels your firm hands grip her around the thighs. You didn't even need to do much, and she already felt her core aching, "God, Y/n," she hums lowly.

"Does that feel nice?" you asked, voice breathy and teasing as your fingers traced patterns on her inner thigh. "You like it when I touch you here?"

"Yes," she whined, not even noticing how she squirmed at the feeling. "How about here?" Your fingers inched higher, feeling your fingers right beside her pussy. She whimpers again at the feeling, not being able to trust a word to come out of her mouth.

You laughed softly, "I'll take that as a yes." Mouth replacing your fingers, giving little kisses until you got to her cunt. She sighs at first, your actions having her body relax into the bed. That was until she felt your tongue flick her clit, her body jolting in shock and a sudden moan came out.

She feels you smile as you sucked on her pussy again, "god if I knew how good you tasted, I would've done this a lot sooner instead of thinking so hard."

"Can you shut up a-" she was about to say, but you cut her off as you lick a long strip up her wet core, making her groan. "You're not in control right now, baby. I am."

She feels your tongue go in, and she almost shrieks at the feeling, covering her mouth with both hands. Not even a second on her lips, your hand lifted them off her face. "I wanna hear you," you hummed against her, sending vibrations all over her body, and relentless moaning came about.

"Fuck, Y/n. Feels too good," her breath hitched at the pleasure as she feels her body heating up, sweat beginning to cling to her skin. Her hands found your hair, needing something to anchor herself. You then moved your mouth away, the cold air grazing her wet core.

She looks down, about to complain about the lonesome feeling, until she sees you. Gosh, you looked sexy, gaze droopy as your mouth glistened, covered in her own juices. "I'm not done yet, baby. Don't worry," you said as you felt her tensing at the emptiness.

Your hands went to her pussy, rubbing slow circles around and she can't help but lean her head back. "Shit," she moans, it was slow but it had her throbbing. "You look so good like this under me, Fia," you grunted, and she feels your fingers tease her entrance.

Slowly, you pushed in a finger, and she arched her body up, while feeling the pumping in and out. She crumbles when she hears you speak, "Look at you reacting so well to my fingers." She whimpers as you took your other thumb, rubbing her clit at the same time.

"Y/n," she gasped your name. "More baby, please," she whines, and you sit yourself up a bit. Hands make their way up to her breast, fondling her hard nipples. "How pretty these are," you mumbled, then dove down. Your mouth latched onto them, tongue playing as they flickered while being coated in your saliva. She moaned, wanting more than this.

"Faster, please," she calls out and when looking down, your eyes stuck on her as she sees your lips curving upward despite the continuous sucking. You come up to her mouth, smashing your lips against her. She feels your pace quicken between her legs as she tries to moan, but it was muffled by your needy kiss.

Your fingers slipped in and out, her wetness helping with the quickened pace. "Feel how wet you are for me?" You mumbled against her lips, and she couldn't help but just kiss back in response as her brows furrowed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/n," she begs, shifting her head to the side, the feeling becoming more overwhelming for her to resist. You knew exactly what that meant, moving back down to her pussy. Mouth returning to your spot, tongue sinking back into her core, tongue fucking her until she chokes up a moan.

"This wet cunt, just for me, hm?" You hummed against her, the vibration adding another layer of sensation. "I've got you," you promised, two fingers joining her mouth in a rhythm that quickly had her cumming.

"Shit, Y/n," she came as your steady hands hold her while she trembled. Before she could fully recover, you moved up her body, capturing her mouth in a kiss that let Sophia taste herself on your lips.

Your eyes fix all over her face, a bit worried, “Feeling okay?” Sophia giggles at the newfound concern you have for her, finding it cute. “I’m more than okay,” she hears a sigh of relief as you lie down next to her, and she feels warm as you wrap an arm around her naked figure.

“What does this mean for us?” Sophia spoke up, unsure if that’s what she should’ve asked after the time you just spent together. You look at her as she stares at the dim ceiling, wanting to tell her the truth.

“I… I want this to be real. But my life is just completely different from yours, Sophia.”

You told her honestly, which made her turn towards you, shaking her head. You stop her from saying anything, “Involving you in my life could be dangerous for you.”

“Then teach me to fend for myself, trust me. Protect me, Y/n,” she told you with authority in her voice. You were slightly taken aback by her passion, but smiled at how badly she wanted this, just as much as you.

“Fine. I’ll do everything in my power, blood, sweat, and tears to make us work,” Sophia smiles at your words. Giving you another kiss before pulling away and just leaning on your frame, head resting on your chest.

“Can we stay like this for now?” She murmurs, and you nod, complying as both arms now wrap around her body, wanting this moment to never end.

“SO WHEN WERE YOU GONNA TELL US ALL OF THIS?” Lara yells a week later, sitting in the common room area of the building, as Sophia gives her friends the rundown of what happened at the party.

“I just wanted to see where this would all go before I told you guys, okay?” She confesses, gaze drifting toward you as you sat with Daniella again across the room. You laugh about Dani’s mom making fun of her again, which causes you to find Sophia’s eyes.

Smiling at her, you wave as her face goes bright pink. Since that night, you have been making an incredible effort for Sophia. Instead of focusing on your job, you had asked Rai to free up your schedule more. The excuse was that the semester was coming to an end and many exams would be approaching, not want to use Sophia just in case he would say no.

After the party, you had been in school every single day, sitting next to Sophia during classes you shared with her, sharing notes with each other, even bringing her mango juice you would buy every morning before school.

Life seemed to be heading in the right direction for you as well. You were extremely close to buying a good apartment that fit you, Zaria, and your mom with the money you had been saving for the past year.

Thankfully, Rai paid you well, and it wouldn’t take much longer.

Wednesday night, you even visited the warehouse to report that a client handing over their payment properly, and told Manon about what happened on Saturday. You didn’t go into detail about it, feeling it would be a bit weird to explain how you slept with Sophia… with a person you had slept with in the past.

She was genuinely happy for you, joking a bit, “Well, now that you're off the market, can you introduce me to that Daniella friend of yours?” You nudged her arm and laughed, then talked more about how you felt about Sophia. Manon clearly saw how smitten you are with the Filipina.

She was also a girl’s girl and respected what was happening, so she wasn’t planning on pushing anymore boundaries.

On Thursday, you went over to Sophia’s house, and while spending time with her as she cuddled against your chest, you had told her everything about your life that you possibly could in that moment.

Your job, who you worked for, your situation at home, how you planned on moving out, Daniella being a childhood best friend of yours, and, yes, even about Manon. She stared up at you as you explained each thing, carefully listening to each topic. Sophia didn’t care so much about Manon after learning how emotionally unavailable you were with each other.

It also did help that she was asking soooo many questions about your feelings for her. She would ask when you first started liking her, what kinds of dates you would take her on, and how you would protect her at any moment. Each answer made her heart swell even more for you.

Now the two of you were in school on Friday, and Sophia now had to deal with her friends bombarding her about everything.

“How was it?” Megan asked excitedly as Lara calmed down in her seat. “It was amazing-”

“Are the two of you together now?” Lara butted in, leaning closer to Sophia as the older answered, “Not yet but we’re working on it.”

Megan and Lara were about to ask something again, but Yoonchae beat them both to it first. “Are you happy?”

Now that was a legitimate question that actually made the older smile, just nodding as she kept her head down, a bit embarrassed. Lara and Megan squeal at the reaction while Yoonchae sways in a rhythm, happy that Sophia wasn’t worrying about only being perfect in school anymore.

She now had to think about her feelings for you. If she loved you, when she had to worry about you, the memories she was going to make with you. They were all feelings that made love real and a beautiful thing.

Sophia wouldn’t jump the fence and say she did it out of right love for you, but she was sure that the feeling was close. Because, despite finding the roughed up version of you all hot, she was pleased to see you less hurt in the past few days and just healing up.

“Fia?” She heard to her left, and she looked up to find you. You had this goofy grin on your face, and all she wanted to do was squeeze your cheeks. “Ready for our next class?”

Sophia nodded and got up, collecting her belongings in the process as her friends watched the two of them. You held her hand and waved at her friends, while Sophia told them she’ll be going and how she’ll text them later tonight. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Lara tells the two, and you chuckle as Sophia walks with her head down while you whisk her away to your last class.

Like the past couple of days, you sat down right beside her once you entered the classroom, getting comfortable as you got out your trusty notebook.

“Should we run lines tonight?” You whispered in her ear, and Sophia shuddered at the feeling. “Yeah, my place right after this?” You nodded as you gave her a small peck on the side of your forehead, making her smile like a high schooler who talked to their crush for the first time.

The class was pretty boring, you and Sophia focusing on taking down notes like the studious students you are. The hour passed by quickly, the professor already dismissing everyone and reminding them about the dates of their exams the following week.

Sophia dragged you to the entrance of the school, waving off the attention of random people trying to greet her, only glancing back to make sure you were keeping up before heading toward the parking lot.

Luckily, her driver was already in front with the big black SUV, standing at the back passenger side like always. Loid, her driver, was dressed in his usual tuxedo and stayed quiet while giving you a polite nod as he opened the door for you both.

“Hey, Loid,” you greeted him with a small smile, sliding into the backseat after Sophia.

He bowed slightly. “Miss L/n.”

The car was comfortable, like usual, since you had been going to Sophia’s place time to time after school. The leather is light brown, the temperature is cool inside, and both of you stayed quiet, just soaking in the silence of the drive after the tons of yapping each professor did in school today.

Your hand found hers instinctively, and Sophia glanced at you, then down at your intertwined hands. Instead of saying anything, she just smiled softly to herself, eyes flicking back out the window. Without warning, Sophia pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and rested her head on your shoulder.

You tried to play it cool, not wanting her to see the way your cheeks were heating up or how much you suddenly couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot. You were kind of obsessed with her at this point. And the fact that she hadn’t let go of your hand the whole ride only made you feel all warm inside.

By the time the car pulled up to her house, you had to mentally shake yourself out of your lovesick brain. The school play was already on Monday, and the two of you had to focus and make sure everything was perfect.

Because let’s be real, even when you called Sophia Miss Perfect, you were as well when it came to school, if you removed the fact that you didn’t show up much.

You played Aria, the daughter of a harsh politician, while Sophia played Gina, a girl from a poor family. Think Romeo and Juliet, but make it sapphic and kind of switching your roles in real life.

Gina and Aria weren’t supposed to love each other, and they weren’t even supposed to meet.

But of course, fate would do the exact opposite to them… and of course it ended badly.

You both went into Sophia’s room without saying much, the comfort between you two becoming natural now. She handed you a printed script with notes scribbled in pink pen, then plopped on the edge of her bed with her own marked-up copy that had purple ink instead of pink. The sunset streamed through her window, casting an orange hue on the white walls and floors of the room.

You ran through scenes quickly at first, blocking, line emphasis, and pacing. Sometimes she’d accidentally mix up her lines or stare at you for a little too long and get distracted, but it wasn’t like you were any better. You weren’t exactly immune to her entire existence, and the way she acted almost had you in awe.

Just almost, though, because you also had a slightly massive ego when it came to your own acting, but you wouldn’t even admit that to yourself. Things stayed lighthearted until the final scene.

You barely had to flip to the last page to know the dreaded ending came next. The final confrontation at the pier between Gina and Aria. You, standing behind her, acted torn between staying and finally choosing the life her family expected of her.

Sophia cleared her throat, sitting up straighter while you followed her actions, adjusting yourself because of how serious this was about to be. Sophia then said her lines, “If love is a curse, then I guess I was damned the second I met you.”

Her voice wavered slightly, but she did her best to keep going. “You’ve made my life so much better. Made me feel strong through everything that I was going though.”

You stepped forward slowly, moving according to the light blocking your scripts had assigned, and said your own lines. “Gina… I won't ever stop loving you. This is just the only way to keep you safe, away from my father.”

Sophia’s eyes flicked up at you, already glassy, the scene hitting harder than she expected, even if you two were the ones who wrote it. Her lower lip quivered, but her voice stayed strong. “Then you might as well kill me. Because I’ll never feel safe without you.”

You exhaled slowly, stepping closer, watching her eyes closely as you delivered the final blow. “This is it for us, Gina. I’m sorry.”

That was the line that shattered her. Sophia’s breath hitched as a tear slipped down her cheek. Then another and another as tears just kept falling. Her chest rose and fell like she wasn’t getting air fast enough.

“Fia,” you said softly, script falling to your side as you set it down on the bed. She sniffled, eyes squeezing shut for a second before she wiped at them quickly. You take a step toward her, reaching out for her hand. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, but the way her voice broke at the end said otherwise. “No, that was… honestly? That was incredible.” You swept away one of the tears, giving her a soft, crooked smile. “You just made me emotional with a line I’ve heard fifty times.”

Sophia laughed wetly, leaning into your palm, her body finally relaxing as she let her shoulders drop. “It’s just… I don’t know. Something about it hit harder this time.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re too good at this,” you teased lightly, trying to ease her emotions. “You practically made me forget we’re not actually Aria and Gina.”

You didn’t say anything at first to let her calm down, then you smiled once she stopped hitching her breath and leaned in. “Want to run it one more time?” you whispered. Sophia shook her head.

“No,” she whispered, pulling you a little closer. “I want something else.” She kissed you slowly as your lips helped her calm down. You wrapped your hand around her nape, softly caressing her as you moved back a bit. “We’re gonna do great, so we won't have to act that or more times than we have to.”

That actually made her laugh, and you guys decided that it was enough practice until the day of the pay. The weekend passed by quickly with the help of errands and cash drops for Rai. Surprisingly, there wasn’t any violence, and it was honestly manageable, calm for two days.

But Monday rolled around much more quickly because of that. By the time you got to school that morning, you were practically glued to Sophia’s side like a lost puppy. The nerves were kind of getting to you, not knowing what to expect during that period of class, and yet you weren’t scared. Sophia made you feel ready for what’s to come.

That comfort lasted until your playwriting professor walked in, a clipboard in hand and a too-early smile on his face.

"Alright, we’re on the fifth play today," he announced to the room, already eyeing the two of you. "Which means... Miss Lafoerteza and Miss Y/L/N, you’re up."

You felt Sophia go stiff beside you, then squeezed her hand for a bit of comfort. He continued, “Head backstage. We’ll give you five to get settled before curtain.”

You both stood up, her fingers briefly grazing yours before she tucked her script against her chest. The class watched you two shuffle toward the back with way too much interest in comparison to the previous plays for some reason. I mean, it was likely because of Sophia and her being popular.

Backstage, Sophia was already pacing in small circles, whispering lines under her breath so they would be stuck in her brain. You reached for her hand gently, “Hey.”

She turned, eyes wide, lips parted slightly. “You’re gonna kill it,” you said, squeezing her hand. “We’re gonna kill it. You know this. You could even do this in your sleep.” Her shoulders dropped slightly, but she was still tense.

“Sophia, look at me,” you said.

When she did, you gave her a soft smile and leaned in, wrapping your arms around her in a long hug, and you felt her heart slow down against your chest. She melted into it after a second, exhaling every nerve she felt out of her body.

Then, from the front of the curtain, you heard your professor shout, “On my count — five, four...!”

The show finally began with everyone else having printed out scripts to follow along. Like you said, everything moved smoothly once you were on stage. The lights were hot as they blasted both of your bodies, the silence from the audience was a bit eerie, and somehow every line sounded better while standing on stage. You barely had to act at certain points. The story of Aria and Gina hits a bit close to home for the two of you.

And then came the ending. You swallowed thickly as you stepped forward, the final lines leaving your mouth as your voice cracked just enough to sting.

“This is it for us, Gina. I’m sorry.” You didn’t even realize you were crying until your line finished and your vision blurred. As the script had directed, you turned and went behind the curtains, and once you hit backstage, you wiped the tears off your face in frantic swipes.

Meanwhile, Sophia stayed on stage as planned. She stood there, center spotlight, with her expression wrecked, even in its silence. She stayed in character until the very end, even when she became shocked at the sight of tears rolling down your face for the first time.

Then the lights dropped and the class erupted in applause, even the professor too. She had barely made it back behind the curtain when he called both of you back out. “Miss Y/L/N, Miss Lafoerteza — stay a moment,” he said, staying seated behind the table with his clipboard and the most pleased expression you’d ever seen on his face.

“I have to say,” he continued, looking between the two of you, “this might be the most powerful performance I’ve seen for this project in years. Well-written characters. A plot with a lot of angst. Dialogue that hurt.”

The class nodded in agreement, still clapping. “And based on your script, commitment, and the full delivery of the story…” he paused, then smiling, “I’m giving both of you an A. No notes.”

You turned to Sophia, heart still pounding, and pulled her into a hug before anything else could happen. She was crying again from how much pressure she’d been holding in all month until now. Her arms wrapped around you tightly, face pressed against your chest, and you smiled through your own exhausted breath.

You pulled her backstage after the Professor told the next pair to prepare. Leaning back just slightly to cup her cheeks as her arms were wrapped around you, and kissed her softly. When you pulled back, her smile finally peeked through her tears. “We did it,” she whispered.

You laughed. “Yeah. We really did.” She sniffled, her makeup slightly smudged, and you grabbed the corner of your sleeve to gently pat under her eyes. “Don’t worry,” you murmured. “You still look perfect.”

She bit her lip at that, eyes fluttering a bit because of your touch. Then, before you could overthink it, you looked her dead in the eyes and asked, quietly, “Sophia… will you be my girlfriend?”

For a moment, her face went still. Then the smallest smile crept across her lips, one that slowly grew wider as her eyes looked glossier than normal.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Of course I will.”

708 notes · View notes

rosachae · 1 month ago

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idol | megan skiendiel x reader

⁍ song: radar - lil hero ⁍ requested: yes! thank you anon ⁍ genre: idol!megan x actor!reader. slowburn fluff, jealous megan, loser!megan ⁍ a/n: thank you for requesting this, anon! sorry for the delay in getting this out. i hope this is what you were looking for. ⁍ w.c: 17k ⁍ warnings: curt language, a little bit nsfw(?), more so just suggestive. ⁍ synopsis:

y/n, an up-and-coming actor in korea, casually let slip on a variety show that she might have the *tiniest* crush on a particular girl group member, megan skiendiel. lucky for her, she was already on megan's radar.

“it was only a matter of time before you did something to make your pr team cry,” yunjin said, her voice thick with amusement as she leaned forward in her chair. “but god, y/n. i didn’t think you had it in you to be that bold.”

you didn’t bother to look at her. instead, you kept your focus on the half-empty iced americano in your hands, the straw poking at the lid like it had something to say too. “yeah yeah,” you muttered, tone dry. “keep it coming. get it all out.”

yunjin’s laughter filled the small recording studio, bouncing off the walls like an echo that didn’t know when to quit.

the first time you met her, you were rushing to a meeting at the hybe building, five minutes late and in no mood to reschedule. the elevator was almost closed when a hand slipped between the panels, smooth and effortless, like it was something out of a k-drama. yunjin stepped in a moment later, casual as anything, earbuds in, hoodie half-zipped, eyes flicking toward you.

she didn’t register who you were right away. not until she caught the outline of your face in the elevator mirror and did the most obvious quadruple take known to man. she grinned like she’d just won a bet. you raised an eyebrow. the doors shut.

your name had been climbing headlines at the time, especially after that marvel debut. you were still adjusting to the spotlight, to the way people started speaking about you like you were a headline first and a human being second. they called you the face of the next generation, a once-in-a-decade talent. you still weren’t sure what to do with that.

to her credit, yunjin didn’t immediately spiral. she told you later she’d nearly recited your entire filmography then and there but had somehow restrained herself. instead, she said, “you’re taller than i thought,” with a sort of breezy charm that made you laugh before you could stop yourself.

the novelty wore off quickly. by your third hangout, she was yelling at her flat iron over facetime and blaming you for jinxing her hair before mcountdown. the pedestal had crumbled, and in its place was something much better.

you adored her, truly. but right now? right now you wanted to strangle her.

“you do realize the internet’s having a meltdown, right?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder while fiddling with the dials on the studio mixer. “megan’s stans are going full detective mode. they’re gonna find the exact thread count of your bedsheets if you’re not careful.”

of course you knew. how could you not?

‎

‎it had all started at weekly idol. you and your costar, eunwoo, were the guests that day. minhyuk and hyeongjun were hosting. bright-eyed, energetic, and way too charismatic for nine in the morning. the moment you stepped on set, they bowed with exaggerated reverence and gasped like they’d seen ghosts.

“wow… everyone, protect the cameras,” minhyuk said, turning to the staff with mock urgency. “no way this equipment survives the visuals of both our guests at once.”

you laughed, cheeks heating despite yourself. the nerves hadn’t gone away even after a hundred interviews. your knee had bounced nonstop in the makeup chair. your hands wouldn’t sit still in your lap. you didn’t know why you were this on edge. it wasn’t like this was your first time.

eunwoo had noticed. he always noticed. he didn’t say much, but before your cue to enter, he gave you a quiet nod, a calm smile. just enough to settle the buzz in your chest.

the shoot went smoothly. laughter came easy. there was a moment you and eunwoo broke into an absurd duet of the show’s theme song, something so horrifically off-key that it ended up trending for twelve hours. and yet, what really caught fire was that one particular question.

“…so, y/n,” hyeongjun had said, reading off a laminated card with all the flair of a seasoned variety host. “you’ve caught the eye of the entire country. but has anyone caught your eye?”

you paused. of course you did. your manager’s disapproving face flashed through your brain like a warning siren, but you could already feel the words rising. the answer had been sitting with you for months now, quiet and patient.

you thought of coachella. of watching a failed backflip send some poor guy crashing to the ground mid-performance, which made you laugh for far too long. and how somehow, down that spiral of linked videos and fuzzy 420p livestreams, you ended up watching three girls play roblox with him. that’s when you saw her. megan skiendiel. orange wig, infectious laugh, that strange but graceful way she moved that made you look twice.

she was stunning. but it wasn’t just that. it was the way she felt. vibrant. sincere. like she wasn’t trying to be anyone but herself.

you could still remember the way your cheeks felt warm when you finally answered.

“uh, well, i don’t usually think about stuff like that,” you said carefully, then smiled despite yourself. “but i think katseye’s megan is absolutely gorgeous. i mean, i’d love to meet her. she seems fun. like the kind of person you’d want to be friends with.”

innocent enough.

‎

or so you thought.

now, here you were, spinning idly on a swivel chair in yunjin’s recording booth, trying not to meet her smug eyes.

“you should’ve said nothing,” she said, clearly enjoying herself. “or lied. something. anything. instead, you went full disney channel crush monologue.”

“i thought it was harmless,” you argued, voice climbing in pitch. “i didn’t think the entire internet would spiral into an fbi task force over a throwaway comment. seriously, doesn’t anyone have jobs?”

“you’re y/n,” yunjin shot back, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “you know people hang onto your words like they’re stock tips. you practically lit a flare above her name with that answer.”

“i didn’t even say anything that bad! i called her pretty and said she seemed fun. i said the same thing about you last week on dex’s fridge.”

“right, but you didn’t look like you were about to pass out from heart palpitations when you said it about me. you didn’t blush. you didn’t pause like you were imagining your wedding vows. babe, you looked like you were one blink away from writing her poetry.”

“you’re being so dramatic.”

“am i?” she raised an eyebrow. “because you may as well have held a ‘simp’ sign and worn a megan skiendiel stan shirt. even sungchan has more chill than that. sungchan, y/n.”

you groaned at the mention of your tall, hopelessly clumsy mutual. “low blow.”

“i’m just saying.” she shrugged, biting back a grin. “even you know i’m right.”

and unfortunately, you kind of did.

“okay, but for real,” yunjin said, dragging her chair over with a squeak that made you wince. she rested her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands, looking at you like she was about to stage an intervention. “what are you gonna do if she actually reaches out?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. “what do you mean?”

“i mean, say she dms you. or tags you in some story. or, i don’t know, shows up at your next premiere with a bouquet of roses and a sign that says ‘hi crush.’ what then?” she asked. “you gonna freak out and melt into the floor? you gonna invite her to karaoke and try to play it cool while secretly dying inside?”

you turned away and took a long, pointed sip of your coffee.

“no, but seriously,” she pressed, clearly not letting it go. “you like her, don’t you?”

you snorted. “i’ve never even met her.”

“not what i asked.”

you sighed, letting your head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. “i don’t know. maybe.”

yunjin tilted her head. “that’s a yes.”

“it’s not a yes,” you said, but your voice was too quiet to sound convincing. “i just think she’s… interesting.”

“gorgeous, fun, interesting,” she ticked off on her fingers. “mmhmm. yeah. sounds like someone’s caught feelings off vibes and roblox streams alone. that’s powerful.”

you groaned again and rolled your eyes, but the sound that left your throat was somewhere between embarrassment and reluctant laughter. “you make it sound so unhinged.”

“it is unhinged,” she said without missing a beat. “but it’s also kind of cute. in a really stupid, romcom kind of way. you, falling for a girl you’ve never met because she made you laugh through a pixelated camera while dressed like a traffic cone.”

you narrowed your eyes. “it was a very good orange wig.”

“never said it wasn’t,” she said with a shrug. “you’re just proving my point.”

you exhaled slowly, running a hand down your face. “look, i didn’t mean for any of this to happen. i just answered the question honestly. i wasn’t trying to stir up some whole thing.”

“but you did,” she said gently. ”and maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world.”

you looked at her, unsure how to respond.

“she could be into it,” yunjin said, her voice lighter again. “she should be into it. if i was her, i’d be clearing my schedule and calling my stylist for a camera-ready fit. do you even know how many people would kill to be publicly flirted with by you?”

“i wasn’t flirting.”

“girl, you might as well have asked for her ring size.”

you groaned again and flopped forward, burying your face in your arms as yunjin broke into another fit of laughter. somewhere beneath the teasing and the noise, though, was something quieter. something you didn’t say out loud.

you kind of hoped she did reach out.

even just to say hi.

the dorm was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of pipes behind the walls. manhua pages rustled faintly in the room next door, probably sophia flipping through her latest haul before bed, but otherwise the place had settled into a kind of hush that only came after midnight. the rest of the girls had turned in after rehearsals, legs sore, voices hoarse, the kind of tired that sank into the bones. megan had stayed behind in the living room, half-sprawled across the floor with a pillow hugged to her chest and a cold bottle of pocari pressed under her jaw.

she was still in her practice clothes, oversized hoodie and bike shorts, skin sticky with the last remnants of sweat she hadn’t bothered to wipe off properly. her hair was clipped up haphazardly, strands falling into her face as she stared down at her phone, blue light painting her features in a soft, ghostly glow.

she wasn’t really expecting anything when she opened twitter. just a quick scroll before bed, a way to shut her brain off after a day of hitting choreography until her ankles burned. but then she saw the video. saw her name. and froze.

“Y/N CONFIRMS SHE’S A FAN OF KATSEYE’S MEGAN 🫢🫢🫢”

she clicked it.

the clip wasn’t long. maybe thirty seconds, a little more. it was some variety show. she recognized eunwoo immediately, bright-eyed and relaxed in the way only he ever seemed to be on camera. y/n sat beside him, posture a little straighter than usual, nerves twitching under the surface despite the easy smile on her face.

megan watched the moment unfold. the way the question was asked. the pause. the sheepish smile.

“i think katseye’s megan is absolutely gorgeous.”

the words shouldn’t have done anything. people said things like that all the time. fans. hosts. stylists brushing out her hair before a shoot. it wasn’t new. but the way y/n said it, quiet, thoughtful, almost like she was holding back something bigger… it sat heavy in megan’s chest as the clip ended and replayed itself automatically.

she watched it again. and then a third time.

her notifications were already a mess. katseye’s name trending alongside y/n’s, clips being reposted with fan captions and edits, screenshots of the moment paired with captions like “megan better WAKE UP” and “y/n join the line babe”. she should’ve laughed. part of her did. but underneath it, something shifted. something warm and unsure and a little bit dizzy.

y/n had been on her radar for a while, if she was being honest. megan wasn’t the type to crush easily, but there was something about her. it started with a film. some sci-fi action thing that megan only half paid attention to until y/n showed up on screen and suddenly everything was more interesting. after that, it was interviews. behind the scenes clips. a fan edit that popped up on her for you page one morning and made her miss a whole subway stop because she got too caught up in it.

and now this.

megan opened y/n’s instagram without really thinking. her thumb hovered over the follow button. she stared at it for a long second, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

she didn’t press it.

not yet.

instead, she set her phone down on the floor beside her and let her eyes drift to the ceiling. her heart was beating faster than it had any right to.

“gorgeous,” she murmured under her breath, voice barely audible. “fun. wants to be friends.”

maybe she could work with that.

‎

sleep didn’t come easy to her that night. before she knew it, the night shifted to morning and she had to get up. the studio called her name, as it seemed to relentlessly the past month and some change.

sophia, daniela, and yoonchae were already mid-run-through when megan walked into the practice room, the tail end of the “gnarly” chorus echoing faintly from the speakers. sophia’s voice cut clean through the track, daniela’s movements sharp and deliberate. yoonchae was quiet, as usual, but every step she made was crisp, clockwork precise.

megan had barely stepped into the center of the room when she heard it.

“so.” lara didn’t even look up from where she was sitting, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her palms. “anything you wanna share with the class?”

megan blinked. “what?”

manon turned her head slowly from where she was sitting several notches away, a teasing gleam in her eyes. she answers as if it’s obvious. honestly, it really was. “y/n.”

megan tensed immediately. “oh god.”

“yup,” lara said, like she had been waiting all morning for this. “you’ve been blowing up on stan twitter since seven a.m. and don’t think we didn’t notice how fast you saved that clip on the shared account”

“i didn’t save it,” megan muttered, grabbing her water bottle a little too fast. “i just… happened to see it. once.”

“megan,” manon said, eyes narrowing just slightly. “you’ve been quiet all morning. the last time you shut the fuck up was when you saw scarlett johanson do the splits in that one captain america movie. don’t lie to us.”

lara laughed under her breath. “she said you were gorgeous, wanted to be friends. oh, how romantic. i bet you probably watched it ten times over.”

“i did not,” megan said, practically choking on her water. “i just didn’t expect it, okay? i wasn’t mentally prepared.”

“mentally prepared for what?” manon said, raising a brow. “a compliment? you’ve been in magazines. people compliment you all the time.”

“not her,” megan said, before immediately realizing what she’d just admitted out loud. she froze. “i mean. not like. you know. never mind.”

lara clapped once, too loud. “that’s it. someone get her phone. we’re crafting a dm.”

“absolutely not,” megan said, panic already bubbling in her chest. “i’ll die.”

“what are you gonna do?” manon said. “wait until she magically appears in the dorms living room?”

megan buried her face in her hoodie. “maybe.”

“this is tragic,” lara said. “you have the golden opportunity of a lifetime and you’re out here acting like she’s a tax bill.”

“can we please change the subject,” megan mumbled, voice muffled in fabric.

“nope,” manon said, standing up and walking towards her. “group vote says you’re dming her.”

lara held out a hand. “seconded.”

from across the room, daniela raised a hand mid-step. “thirded.”

megan didn’t even look up. “yoonchae. please. save me.”

yoonchae just gave a small shrug, barely breaking from the choreo. megan groaned into her sleeve.

yep. she was on her own. not even sophia batted an eyelash, the filippinas glossy lips tilting up into a small grin where she was by the mirrors.

megan sat down cross-legged on the floor with her phone clutched in both hands like it might explode. her back was hunched, eyes glued to the screen, and the expression on her face hovered somewhere between total focus and a full-blown identity crisis.

“you haven’t even opened instagram yet,” manon pointed out, sitting behind her and peering over her shoulder.

“i’m getting to it,” megan muttered.

lara flopped down next to her with a dramatic sigh. “this is painful to watch. if you go any slower, we’ll be here until yoonchae turns twenty-seven.”

megan unlocked her phone with a resigned swipe. “what do i even say? like. what do people say when they’re trying not to sound weird?”

lara took a breath. “okay. let’s start simple. ‘hi y/n, thanks for saying i’m pretty on tv—”

“i’m not saying that.”

“‘you have great taste in women’—”

“lara.”

“‘let’s be friends (or more if you’re free saturday night)’—”

megan covered her face with both hands. “why did i think listening to you was a good idea.”

manon leaned her chin on megan’s shoulder. “fine. try this. ‘hi, this is super random but i saw the clip from weekly idol and just wanted to say thank you. that was really sweet of you. hope we can meet someday!’ short, polite, friendly. not scary.”

megan peeked at her. “…that’s not terrible.”

lara squinted. “it’s boring.”

“it’s safe,” manon said, grabbing megan’s phone and typing it out with quick thumbs. “she’s not asking her to elope, she’s just acknowledging it.”

megan took the phone back and read it over like it was a contract. “…what if she doesn’t reply?”

“then you delete your account and we pretend this never happened,” lara said. “easy.”

“lara,” manon sighed.

megan stared at the message for a long moment. her thumb hovered. then tapped. then hovered again.

“just hit send,” daniela called from across the room, not even looking up from her stretching. “we can feel your hesitation from over here.”

“seriously,” sophia added, “you’re vibrating.”

megan sucked in a breath through her teeth. and then, with her eyes closed and her stomach in her shoes, she hit send.

silence.

lara let out the longest, slowest gasp. “it’s done.”

manon patted her back. “you’re very brave.”

megan immediately flopped backward onto the floor like she’d just run a marathon. “i need to lie here forever. let me perish in peace.”

lara just grinned and offered her a thumbs up. “she’s gonna love it.”

megan covered her eyes. “i hate everything.”

never in a million years would she have expected that one simple action to change everything.

the cafe was warm in that familiar, lived-in kind of way. wood-paneled walls framed by climbing ivy, soft light filtering through dusty windows, and the scent of espresso baked into the air like it had nowhere else to go. outside, a quiet drizzle tapped at the glass, slow and steady, painting the sidewalk in watercolor streaks. inside, the soft clatter of dishes and hum of conversation made everything feel just far enough from the noise of your schedule to breathe.

you were at a small table near the back, the kind that rocked a little if you leaned on it wrong. yunjin sat across from you, one leg thrown over the other, straw bent at an aggressive angle in her lemonade. beside her, sungchan had his jacket slung over his chair and a look of mild betrayal on his face as he stared down at the salad yunjin had goaded him into ordering.

“i’m just saying,” she said, picking a piece of arugula off his plate like it belonged to her, “you can’t order a burger four days in a row and then complain about your skin breaking out.”

“it’s called balance,” sungchan muttered, dragging his fork through the greens with the resigned air of someone deeply offended by roughage. “i had a banana this morning.”

“oh wow,” she deadpanned. “one whole banana. call the olympic committee, this man is the pinnacle of health.”

he gave her a flat look. “didn’t you eat instant tteokbokki at two in the morning and then text me about your stomach cramps like it was my fault?”

“okay, first of all, you’re my emotional support contact when i make poor life choices. second of all, i still looked hot while doing it.”

you blinked slowly, chin in your hand, eyes fixed on the screen of your phone where the message sat.

hi, this is super random but i saw the clip from weekly idol and just wanted to say thank you. that was really sweet of you. hope we can meet someday!

megan had sent it two nights ago. you’d seen it the moment it came in, heart tripping over itself in the dark quiet of your bedroom. you didn’t answer. not right away. you told yourself you were busy, that you had scripts to review, meetings lined up. you told yourself it wasn’t ghosting if you intended to respond eventually.

but even now, hours and hours later, you were still here. still staring. still unsure what to say.

you had never been this nervous to talk to someone before.

“okay, this is depressing,” yunjin said, snapping her fingers in your direction. “hey. eyes up. you look like someone just broke up with you via powerPoint.”

sungchan leaned in a little, squinting at you. “are you sick? you’re weirdly quiet. usually you’d be insulting us by now.”

“i’m not sick,” you said quickly, locking your phone and setting it face down on the table. “just… thinking.”

“thinking about what?” yunjin asked, tone tilting toward nosy in that way only close friends could get away with.

you hesitated.

“oh my god,” she gasped. “you’re in love.”

“i’m not in love,” you said, too fast, which only made sungchan snort into his water.

“that’s what people say right before they confess they’re in love,” he said, dabbing at his chin with a napkin like he hadn’t just inhaled half a slice of garlic bread. “who is it?”

“nobody,” you said.

yunjin leaned forward with the exact expression of someone who knew they were right. “it’s megan, isn’t it?”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t have to. the look on your face gave you away.

sungchan let out a low whistle. “oh. that megan. the ‘gorgeous, fun, would love to be friends’ megan.”

you groaned, resting your forehead on your palm. “do you all memorize everything i say or are you just stalking my interviews for sport?”

“yes,” they said at the same time.

“okay but seriously,” yunjin said, nudging your phone with one perfectly manicured finger. “she messaged you, right?”

you nodded.

“and you didn’t reply because…?”

you sighed. “i don’t know. because it’s her. because i don’t want to mess it up. because what if she’s just being nice and this whole thing is way more casual to her than it is to me?”

sungchan tilted his head. “you mean what if she’s cool and normal and not secretly writing fanfiction about you the way you’re doing about her?”

yunjin grinned. “do you want us to help you write back? or are you planning to keep having an existential crisis over a very cute dm?”

you glanced at the screen again. your reflection looked back at you in the black glass, soft and unsure.

“i’ll write back,” you said quietly.

“good,” yunjin said, leaning back in her chair with a pleased expression. “because if you didn’t, i was gonna pretend to be you and do it myself.”

“you’re terrifying,” sungchan said, which she accepted as a compliment.

you looked back at the message one more time. your heart was still beating a little too fast, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. maybe it meant you actually cared. that it mattered.

you took a breath. opened the keyboard.

and started to type.

your fingers hovered for a second too long over the keyboard. the blinking cursor stared back at you like it knew you were stalling. you could feel yunjin’s eyes on you, sharp and expectant, like she might actually snatch the phone from your hands if you hesitated any longer. sungchan, mercifully, had gone back to his salad, occasionally picking at it like it was an alien lifeform.

hi megan! sorry for the slow reply, things have been a little hectic lately. i saw your message and honestly it kind of made my whole week lol. thank you for reaching out :)

you paused. read it again. deleted the smiley. retyped it. added a second sentence.

i’d really love to meet too if you’re ever free.

then you stared at it some more.

“this is painful,” yunjin muttered. “just hit send. what’s the worst that could happen?”

“she leaves me on read and i spontaneously combust from shame,” you said flatly.

“dramatic,” sungchan mumbled, chewing like a cow. “but valid.”

“she won’t leave you on read,” yunjin said, more gently this time. “she messaged you first. that counts for something.”

you looked down at the screen one last time. your thumb hovered over the send button. your stomach turned a slow, clumsy flip. and then, before you could second guess yourself again, you pressed it.

message sent.

you didn’t breathe for a full five seconds.

“there,” yunjin said, smug now. “look at you. being brave.”

“i already regret this,” you mumbled, locking your phone again and pushing it away like it might explode.

“do you want a cookie?” sungchan asked, peering at the dessert menu. “i feel like this moment deserves a cookie.”

you blinked at him. “why do you always want to eat after stressful emotional events?”

“because i am a man of simple needs,” he said, deadpan. “and also because cookies are comforting.”

“he’s not wrong,” yunjin said, flagging down the waiter with the kind of unearned confidence that came from growing up with three older siblings and no shame. except, she didn’t. “three chocolate chip, please. and a round of iced americanos. she’s going to need the caffeine.”

you sank back into your seat, still feeling the rush of adrenaline buzzing under your skin. outside, the rain had picked up a little, streaking the windows like silver threads. inside, everything smelled like sugar and espresso and something warm baking in the oven.

you didn’t know if megan would reply. maybe she’d be busy. maybe she’d forget. but for now, you’d done the hardest part.

you’d answered, and that felt like enough for today.

that was, at least, until your phone chimed.

the sound sliced through the moment like a needle popping a balloon. all three of you froze. your eyes shot to the screen where the notification banner was still lingering like a ghost.

megan skiendiel: that sounds perfect :) when are you free?

yunjin let out an actual gasp, loud and dramatic enough to make the table behind you glance over. sungchan dropped his fork.

“no way,” yunjin hissed, already leaning across the table to see. “no actual way. she replied that fast? is she a robot?”

you didn’t say anything. you just stared. your heart had lodged itself somewhere in your throat, beating so hard it made your ears ring. megan had replied. not just replied but enthusiastically. and with a smiley. the exact one you had almost deleted from your own message.

“hello?” sungchan waved a hand in front of your face. “earth to y/n. what did she say? is it something scandalous? are we finally getting to live vicariously through your love life?”

you shoved your phone toward them without speaking.

yunjin read the message out loud like it was a line from a sacred text. “‘that sounds perfect. when are you free.’” then she looked up at you with her mouth already forming a wicked grin. “she wants to hang out. like, actually hang out. she’s asking you out.”

“not asking me out,” you said quickly, the heat creeping up the back of your neck. “just… asking when i’m free.”

“same thing,” sungchan said, picking his fork back up and pointing it at you like it was a weapon. “in celebrity speak that is basically a confession of love. i’ve seen the charts.”

“you made those charts,” you reminded him.

“and they’re scientifically sound.”

“okay but seriously,” yunjin cut in, phone still in hand, “when are you free? do you have a day off coming up?”

you blinked, trying to force your brain back into scheduling mode. “uh… friday afternoon? maybe?”

“perfect,” she said, already typing something. “tell her friday. tell her you’re free after lunch. keep it casual. breezy. like you’re not obsessively analyzing every possible outcome of this conversation.”

you shot her a look. “i am obsessively analyzing every possible outcome of this conversation.”

“which is why you need us,” sungchan said with his mouth full of cookie. “we’re here to keep you from imploding.”

your phone buzzed again.

megan skiendiel: i’m free friday after seven. wanna grab coffee? i can send you a spot i like

you didn’t even get a chance to reply before yunjin squealed.

sungchan raised both hands to the sky. “oh my god. it’s happening. it’s actually happening.”

you stared at the message, barely breathing, heart thudding like a drum inside your chest.

coffee. with megan.

you were either about to make a new friend or absolutely ruin your entire life trying.

weirdly… you couldn’t wait to find out which.

friday showed up before you were ready for it.

“i feel like a dad on prom night,” sungchan said, flopped across your couch like a man waiting for judgment day. he hugged a pillow to his stomach like it might shield him from the chaos. “except hotter. and younger. and not emotionally repressed.

“you’re eating chips with your shirt inside out,”chaewon deadpanned, looking sungchan up and down judgmentally.. “you look like a walking identity crisis.”

then she turned, peering around the corner into your bedroom.

“y/n, i can’t believe you’re finally going on a date. talk about a breakthrough.”

yunjin sat cross legged on the floor, scrolling through her phone like she wasn’t the one who casually mentioned your date in front of everyone. the very second chaewon heard, she practically chomped at the bit, begging yunjin to bring her along to watch it all unfold. to say your love life was a spectacle among your friends would be an understatement.

“for the record,” you called from your room, still getting ready, “i said no to bringing chaewon.”

“for the record,” chaewon shouted back, “we overruled you. this is a democracy.”

“it’s so not.”

you stepped out, halfway dressed, holding up two completely different tops.

“black or white?”

“ooh,” yunjin said, squinting like she was inspecting a rare museum artifact. “black is hot. white is sweet. depends on the vibe you’re going for.”

“the vibe is ‘i want to look cute but not like i tried too hard because if i think about this too long i will throw myself into traffic’.”

“black,” chaewon and sungchan said in unison.

you sighed and nodded, disappearing back into the room. the air buzzed with the sound of sungchan crunching loudly and chaewon whispering to yunjin like they were spies on a mission.

“lets make a bet. ten dollars says she has a breakdown before she even leaves the house.” chaewon whispered.

“twenty says she embarrasses herself throwing up in megan’s car.” yunjin whispered back.

“guys,” you said, poking your head out again. “i can hear you.”

“we know,” they all said at the same time.

your phone dinged again.

megan skiendiel: on my way. i’ll be at your door in a minute. also, did you know your bellhop likes our music? he almost fainted when he let me up lol

you stared at the message for two full seconds before the others caught the change in your face like wolves spotting weakness. you barely had time to blink before the room exploded.

“oh my god,” sungchan shot up from the couch like someone yelled ‘fire!’. the chip bag in his hands crinkled louder than a car alarm. “was that her? is she outside? do we hide? do we have a code word if things go sideways?”

“wait, she’s coming up here?” chaewon gasped, already rising with a dramatic flair. “this place is a disaster zone!”

“i cleaned for you people,” you hissed, throwing a pointed look at the water bottles on the coffee table and the lone sock draped suspiciously over the lamp.

“yeah, and we immediately undid all of it,” yunjin said, waving a hand at the chaos like it was a museum exhibit. “you’re welcome.”

sungchan grabbed his phone, replacing the cushion he clutched. “this is it. our little baby’s first date.”

“shut up,” you muttered, cheeks heating like you’d just been called out in front of the world. “and put that damn phone down. if i see you take even one photo, i’ll beat your ass. besides, it’s not a date.”

three pairs of eyes locked onto you in unison.

“coffee with the girl you’ve been thinking about nonstop for two weeks,” chaewon said, crossing her arms with the confidence of a daytime talk show host.

“wearing the ‘hot top’, nervous enough to sweat through your socks,” yunjin added, giving you an appraising look.

“with three unpaid emotional support staff waiting at home,” sungchan finished, voice thick with mock solemnity.

your gaze snapped back and forth between the three of them, and you cringed inwardly. okay, they were right. this was definitely a date.

then, knock knock knock.

you froze for a second, heart thudding so loud you were sure they could hear it in the next room. you opened the door, and there she was.

megan stood on the other side like a vision in the hallway light, hair catching the glow just right, a smile that was equal parts warm and mischievous.

behind you, the trio froze mid-move like they’d just been caught doing something they definitely shouldn’t. they exchanged shiteating grins that barely hid how badly they were eavesdropping. yunjin quickly pulled out her phone like she was suddenly very interested in something, but her eyes kept darting toward the door. chaewon leaned against the wall, looking way too relaxed for someone who was clearly dying to say something, and sungchan sprawled on the couch with the kind of lazy cool that screamed i’m totally innocent. when megan’s eyes flicked over to them, they all waved with big, overly casual smiles like innocent bystanders who just happened to be hanging out, except no one was buying it.

but then megan’s eyes locked onto yours and suddenly everything else around you faded into the background. your breath hitched without warning and your brain scrambled like it was trying to process a beautiful glitch in reality.

you’d only ever seen her through a screen before. live streams where she smiled like the sun was just for her, short clips where she moved with effortless grace, and that one quick instagram deep dive you’d done when she messaged you. but now, here she was in real life, and she was something else entirely.

her skin caught the soft light of your penthouse, glowing like it had its own quiet radiance. her eyes were bigger and deeper than you expected, dark and shimmering like they held a secret you wanted to know. the way her hair fell in loose waves around her face softened her sharp cheekbones and made her look both fierce and kind at the same time.

she wasn’t just pretty. she was the kind of stunning that made you forget words and wish you could rewind the moment just to stare a little longer. standing there, frozen with your mouth slightly open, you realized this was the first time you were seeing her. not a filtered version, not a quick snapshot. but the real her. and it was breathtaking.

“hi,” megan said, and the word came out with a lopsided grin that cracked through the tension in your chest like sunlight through a fogged-up window. her voice was warm, lilting, a little too casual for someone who had just walked in looking like a daydream in denim baggy jeans and a bomber jacket. she rocked slightly on her heels and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, like she was fighting the urge to do a small nervous dance.

“hi,” you replied, except it sounded more like a squeak than anything human. your throat betrayed you. of course it did.

then her eyes flicked over your shoulder, and that grin stretched even wider.

“hey guys!” she waved, cheerful like she’d just walked into a party of old friends instead of three people very poorly pretending to mind their own business. “love the casual surveillance vibe you’ve got going on in here.”

“we’re chill,” sungchan said, lounging so awkwardly on the couch he almost slid off it.

“so chill,” chaewon added, nodding solemnly from her place at the wall, where she’d become one with a houseplant.

“this is how we always sit,” yunjin said, phone upside down in her hand, gaze glued directly to megan’s face. “completely normal. zero eavesdropping. you can’t prove otherwise.”

megan let out a laugh, scrunching her nose as she looked back at you. “your friends are amazing.”

“they’re something,” you muttered, grabbing your bag before your legs could decide to walk without you.

“so,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck and bouncing slightly on her toes. “you ready? or do you need a few more minutes to, like, peel them off the furniture?”

you gave a quiet laugh, trying not to show that your hands were already clammy. “nope. ready.”

megan smiled again. softer this time. like she was seeing you for real. “cool. let’s go, then.”

and with that, you stepped out into whatever this was going to be, your heart doing cartwheels the entire way.

‎

truthfully, megan’s car wasn’t what you’d expected. some part of you, the part still convinced the universe had a twisted sense of humor, had pictured something absurd. maybe a crop duster or even the rusty tow truck from cars. something loud. chaotic. entirely un-date-like. instead, it was a sleek black suv. understated but sharp, just like her.

from the passenger seat, you couldn’t help sneaking glances. megan’s focus was fixed on the road, her jaw tense, her hands gripping the wheel like she was bracing for impact.

“you look nervous,” you said, a little too gently.

“o-oh, well. you know.” her voice cracked slightly as she coughed into her shoulder, eyes flicking toward you before immediately darting back to the windshield. she gave you a crooked grin, brief and almost sheepish. “i am. honestly, i feel like i’m going to vomit.”

you laughed before you could help it. light, surprised. “vomit? that’s dramatic.”

“i mean, maybe,” she said, her eyes narrowing playfully for half a second before softening again. “it’s just… i didn’t expect to actually be here. with you. not in a bad way. in a surreal way.”

you felt the flush creep across your cheeks before you even registered it, a warmth that pooled somewhere in your chest. still, you tilted your head toward her, teasing. “i can’t tell if you mean that as a compliment or not.”

megan practically panicked. “no! no, no no, not at all. god, please, that’s the silliest thing i’ve ever heard.” her words came out too fast, tripping over themselves. she shook her head like it would help untangle the knot in her thoughts. “i’m just nervous, okay? i keep overthinking it. like, what if i say something dumb, or do something weird, or—”

her voice dropped slightly, and she added, almost under her breath, “you’re so pretty i can’t think straight.”

then she froze, eyes widening as if realizing she’d said it out loud. her face goes red, a grimace pulling across her lips. she lifts a hand off the wheel to gently facepalm herself, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “please ignore me. i’m begging,”

you could only watch. you don’t know when the fond grin crossed your lips. when your heart skipped a beat, when her endearing clumsiness had you relaxing in your seat. perhaps knowing that she was just as, if not more, nervous as you made you feel relieved. after a beat, you laughed. soft. her eyes lit up as she glanced at you from her peripheral, the short noise drawing her from her thoughts.

“you’re fine,” you said, quiet but real. “i’ve been looking forward to tonight too.”

“really?”

“yeah. do you think i’d let my friends invade my house all week just for fun? they’ve been insufferable, harassing me all week. i guess i maybe haven’t made it all that secret that i’ve been interested in you for a while.” then you shake your head. “interested in meeting, that is.”

this time it was megan’s turn to crack a stupid grin.

whatever nerves you felt immediately disappeared the longer you talked to each other. truth be told, you were worried whether you’d get along as well as you hoped you would. part of you worried that once you saw each other, it’d be awkward. quiet. instead megan somehow managed to fill the silence with conversation. she asked about your family, about your day, about your friends. in turn you asked about hers.

she laughed at something you said. not even something that funny, really, just a small comment about the gas station snacks you liked. but the way she laughed, like she meant it, like she wasn’t just being polite, made your chest feel lighter. her voice filled the car, soft but certain, and the road hummed under the tires like it was part of the conversation.

you glanced over at her. she was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. her thumb tapped along to the music playing low through the speakers. some indie band neither of you had heard before but had both agreed sounded “pretty good.” it was easy. easier than you expected.

you didn’t have to think too hard before speaking. there was no second guessing. no awkward pauses that made you reach for your phone or pretend to check the map. she asked about the book in your bag and you told her it was something you started three times but never finished. she admitted she did that too, more often than she’d like to admit. you both laughed again.

the sky outside started to shift, the blue softening into a hazy gold. you weren’t sure how long you’d been driving, only that time felt different in the car with her. stretched out. slowed down. kinder.

it didn’t take long for her to park outside a cafe, but neither of you moved to get out. instead, you agreed to order to go. that’s how you ended up here. still in her car, windows slightly cracked, the warm scent of coffee filling the space between you. your drink sat snug in the cupholder, hands curled around it for warmth, and a half-eaten bagel rested in your lap. just outside the windshield, the lights of seoul shimmered across the han river, soft and golden against the night.

she didn’t seem in any rush to leave, and neither were you.

after a long sip of coffee, the next question came out without much thought.

“how long are you in korea for this time?”

“another week, give or take,” she said, eyes flicking to the skyline, like she was already counting down.

“do you miss home?”

“i do. yeah. i miss my car, mostly. it’s my baby. a bmw m3.”

you looked at her, eyebrows raised. “whoever handed you the keys to a sports car must have had a serious lapse in judgment. you drive this suv like you’ve got a personal vendetta against the speed limit.”

she let out a laugh, head tipping back slightly. “what can i say? i like to go fast.”

“sure. until we’re airborne.”

“oh, come on,” she grinned. “you weren’t complaining when you were riding shotgun, all cozy and content, full-on passenger princess mode.”

you rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “i was holding onto the door for dear life.”

“you were vibing,” she said.

“i was surviving,” you shot back, but it was playful, light.

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. it was the kind that settled easy between two people who’d already found a rhythm.

megan reached for her own cup, nearly knocking over the paper bag between you in the process. the bagel inside gave a sad little flop onto the console. she froze.

“whoops. that was... not smooth.”

you laughed, nudging the bag gently back toward her. “you’re a menace behind the wheel and a danger to pastries. noted.”

she gave you a sheepish smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “yeah, i’m really killing it tonight, huh?”

“actually,” you said, voice a little softer, “i’ve had a really nice time.”

she blinked at you, surprised. “yeah?”

you nodded, looking out toward the river before meeting her eyes again. “i was kinda nervous. not because of you, just... sometimes people are different in person. it doesn’t always click.”

megan was quiet for a second, then gave a small, crooked smile. “i was worried about that too. i overthink everything. i even tried to pick a good playlist just in case the conversation died and we needed... filler noise or something.”

you laughed. “is that why i’ve been listening to three hours of sad indie girls?”

“they’re emotionally articulate,” she said, pretending to be offended, but her grin gave her away. “besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

you leaned back against the seat, stretching your legs out a bit. “yeah. it really did.”

the city lights danced in her eyes when she looked at you, soft and a little uncertain, but there was warmth there too. the kind that made the car feel smaller, safer.

“you’re easy to talk to,” she said after a moment, quieter than before.

you smiled, heart tugging just slightly at her honesty. “so are you.”

a comfortable silence settled again, the kind where neither of you felt the need to fill it. the engine ticked softly as it cooled, and in the background, another melancholic song hummed through the speakers.

“i was gonna try and act all chill and collected,” megan said eventually, gaze fixed on the skyline. “but then i fumbled, almost crashed into that curb, and now my bagel is probably in pieces.”

“you’re doing great,” you said, trying not to smile too much. “like, truly elite first impression.”

she turned to face you, eyes bright despite the dim light. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

and just like that, the nerves that had once lingered in the corners of your chest felt like a distant memory.

after that night in the car, things shifted. not in a big, dramatic way. no sudden declarations, no fireworks. just small things. steadier things.

your conversations moved from instagram dms to real texts. it felt natural. seamless. one day she asked for your number like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t already been in your head more than you cared to admit. and you gave it without hesitation, like it wasn’t a risk. like you already knew she’d treat it right.

when she left korea, it was quiet. no big goodbye, no emotional scene. she texted you from the airport, a blurry photo of her and a coffee she swore was going to keep her awake through the flight. from there, the messages kept going. even with the time difference, she found time to talk. random updates. sleepy selfies. voice notes with a little static in the background because she always seemed to be walking somewhere, or in a van, or waiting backstage. sometimes she’d send a song with no context. sometimes just a “this reminded me of you” followed by a meme that made absolutely no sense.

you talked about everything and nothing. the shows she was doing. the tiny hotel rooms she was crashing in. how much she missed sophia’s dog, chanel. how lara had started sleep talking again. how yoonchae had near cried when she had to say goodbye to her parents again when they returned to california.

you told her about your week, the upcoming film you’re wrapping up shooting, your friends, the late-night ramen run that ended in rain and ruined shoes.

some nights, the conversations lasted until one of you fell asleep mid-text. other nights, it was just a good morning or goodnight, quick but never careless.

somehow, she made the space between you feel smaller.

it didn’t take long for others to start noticing your budding friendship, either.

if there was one thing you should know about megan skiendiel, it’s that she’s stubborn. fiercely so. once she feels something, she clings to it with both hands. no disguises, no apologies. she doesn’t know how to be subtle and doesn’t try to be. her heart shows up before she even walks into the room.

and lately, her heart had a habit of mentioning you. probably more than it should have.

the first time was during a casual sit-down with a popular youtuber. the question had been harmless enough. “did you meet anyone interesting in korea?”

megan didn’t even blink before your name tumbled out of her mouth.

behind her, manon practically doubled over laughing while lara muttered something about “bad timing” and “inside jokes.” the clip went viral within the hour.

eyekons weren’t buying the act. they knew.

especially after that solo live.

‎

megan sank into the couch with a sigh, stretching her legs over the coffee table as she adjusted her phone. It’d been a long day. dance practice ran overtime, vocal lessons left her voice raw, and all she wanted was to collapse into bed. but she had promised her fans a live, and the guilt of leaving them waiting weighed heavily on her.

she brushed her hair back as the screen flickered to life. a wave of comments flooded in immediately, the chat scrolling too fast to keep up.

she smiled, a familiar warmth settling into her voice. "hi, everyone. It's been a while, huh?"

the dorm was quieter than usual. yoonchae and daniela were still at the studio, finishing up some recording. lara, sophia and manon were off doing who knows what.

megan answered questions between sips of water, laughing as fans teased her. she talked about her love for food, and her habit of getting lost in airports. the conversation was easy, natural. she talked about practice, her favorite songs lately, and the games she'd been playing. it felt comfortable, like a casual late night talk with friends.

then, suddenly, the energy shifted. the comments exploded into chaos. fans were spamming messages faster than she had ever seen before.

"wait, what's happening?" she mumbled, eyes flicking over the chat, trying to make sense of the flood of messages.

then she saw it. a single line of text that had a dumb grin permanently etching itself across her face.

y/n: have you ate today? you look so cute with those glasses on!

her eyes scanned the screen again just to make sure she hadn’t imagined it. but no. it was still there. your name. your message.

she dropped her hands into her lap and beamed, full teeth, no restraint. her cheeks were already tinged pink, and now they burned. she didn’t care.

“hi, y/n,” she said, voice soft but electric. “you’re really here, huh?”

the chat lost its mind. it was like someone had thrown gasoline on a bonfire. hearts, exclamation marks.

megan didn’t even try to hide it.

“i wasn’t expecting that,” she said, practically bouncing in place now. “like, i thought maybe you’d be busy or… i don’t know, being famous and cool and doing actor things.”

she laughed a short, nervous little burst, then leaned closer to the screen, like it might bring her to you.

“i did eat, by the way. i wasn’t gonna wear the glasses, but my eyes were tired and they help with the light. but… i’m glad you think they look nice.”

it wasn’t subtle. none of it was subtle.

she was glowing. lit from the inside out with the kind of joy that couldn’t be faked. and even though thousands of fans were watching, even though the chat was an overwhelming blur of reactions and chaos. for that brief moment, it was like no one else existed. no one but you.

‎

the third, perhaps most notorious time, was two weeks later.

‎

it was meant to be a harmless segment. a fluff piece for some new cosmopolitan youtube show. the kind with silly games and awkward dares and an entire soundboard dedicated to exaggerated gasps. katseye had been invited to promote their upcoming showcase, and the host had them lined up in pairs, facing each other in a game of “who knows who better.”

megan had been paired with sophia, which was dangerous from the start. the two had a history of throwing each other under the bus for the sake of comedy, and neither had a filter to speak of.

“okay, last round,” the host grinned, holding up a cue card. “this one’s just for fun. megan, sophia — name one person your partner talks about way too much.”

“oh no,” sophia said instantly, already grinning like the cat who got the cream.

megan groaned, head falling back dramatically. “don’t do this to me.”

“i have no choice,” sophia replied solemnly. “i’m under oath.”

the buzzer sounded and both girls scribbled their answers down on whiteboards. megan wrote slowly, trying to be clever, trying to think of a joke that would dodge the obvious. but when the timer buzzed again, she sighed and held it up.

so did sophia.

your name. in big, bold letters. twice.

the studio burst into laughter, and the host clutched his chest like he’d just witnessed the reveal of the century.

“wow,” he said, eyes flicking between the two of them. “not even a hesitation.”

“because it’s true,” sophia said, smug. “she’s in her ‘y/n era.’ we’re just living in it.”

megan was pink from ear to ear, trying — and failing — to hide behind her board. “that’s not true. okay, maybe a little true.”

“a little?” manon called from off-camera. “girl, you made us watch one of her movies three nights in a row.”

“it was for the plot,” megan shot back.

“uh-huh,” daniela deadpanned. “plot named y/n.”

the clip made the rounds before the show even finished airing. fancams popped up with captions like “megan being the president of y/n’s fan club for six minutes straight” and the internet did what it does best. spiral.

‎

through it all, megan didn’t deny a thing.

she couldn’t. not when her whole face lit up like a summer skyline every time your name came up. not when her bandmates had stopped teasing and started treating your existence as something inevitable, like the rising sun or the way manon always stole everyone’s chargers.

by then, you weren’t just someone she mentioned.

in an industry known for silence, for secrecy and statements about “valuing privacy,” hybe was practically rolling out a red carpet. in korea, relationships in the spotlight were often treated like scandals waiting to happen. but the western fans? they were eating it up. every clipped interview, every suspiciously timed instagram like, every passing mention of your name on a live. it was all free press, and hybe knew it.

so they leaned in. quietly, strategically. no denials. no damage control. just subtle nudges that said, yeah, keep watching.

and it was driving her crazy.

you weren’t exactly sure when it happened. when the feeling settled in your chest and decided to stay. maybe it had been there all along, hiding underneath the comfort of familiarity and the ease of your friendship. or maybe it grew slowly, in the quiet moments you never thought to mark.

it could’ve been during the weeks she was gone, promoting outside of korea. the distance was supposed to make things simpler. safer. but instead, it just made her absence louder. knowing you were still the first person she messaged in the morning and the last one she talked to before sleep made your chest ache in a way you didn’t have a name for yet.

or maybe it was that one night, the one where you called her just to vent about a costar who had spent the entire day getting under your skin. you were halfway through a breathless rant when you noticed it. the way she was watching you through the screen. how she wasn’t just nodding politely or checking her phone or letting her attention drift. she was listening. really listening. her eyes softened when you got frustrated, lit up when you said something funny. when your voice cracked just a little from tiredness, she didn’t interrupt. she just stayed with you. present and still. like holding space for you was the most natural thing in the world.

and somewhere in all of that, it hit you.

you were in love with megan skiendiel. painfully. undeniably. fully.

at first, you were terrified. quietly, achingly scared. because what were you supposed to do with a feeling like this? loving megan had crept up on you, soft and slow, the way a sunset slips past the horizon before you even realize it’s gone. and now that it was here, fully formed and impossible to ignore, you didn’t know how to carry it.

megan had become a constant. someone who felt less like a friend and more like a fixture. someone you could turn to at any hour, knowing she’d listen without judgment, laugh at your bad jokes, sit in silence if that’s what you needed. she never made you feel like too much or not enough. she just saw you. and the last thing you wanted was to ruin something that good with feelings you didn’t know how to manage.

so you kept it quiet. buried it under casual texts and late-night calls. told yourself it wasn’t the right time. told yourself maybe it didn’t need to be said at all.

but then the girls were coming back to korea. six months had passed since their last visit, and the moment megan found out they’d be landing soon, she called you. not texted. not waited. called.

you’d picked up on the first ring.

and now, you were standing at your front door, fingers still curled around the handle, staring at the very girl who had been living rent-free in your head for months.

before you could even speak, megan threw her arms around you. the force of it almost knocked you back a step. her dark brown hair smelled like travel and lavender shampoo and something unmistakably her. she held you like she’d been counting down the days to this moment. like she’d been holding her breath all the way across oceans and could finally breathe again now that she was here.

her arms were warm and tight around you, her face tucked into the crook of your neck. for a few seconds, neither of you said anything. and for the first time in weeks, your heart didn’t feel so loud.

“you smell different,” megan mumbled, voice muffled against your shoulder.

you blinked, startled. “um. thanks?”

she pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands still resting on your waist. “not bad different. just… like laundry detergent and success.”

you snorted. “you’ve been on korean air for fifteen hours and that’s what you open with?”

“i missed you too,” she said, and there was no hesitation in it. no theatrics. just honesty, plain and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world to say.

you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, trying hard not to smile like a complete idiot. “i figured. what with the fifteen missed calls.”

“okay, first of all,” she said, stepping fully into the apartment now, shrugging off her jacket, “ten of those were because i forgot the time difference and thought you were ghosting me.”

“you forgot the time difference?” you repeated, crossing your arms with a skeptical look.

megan turned around, eyes wide and unconvincing. “yes?”

you stared.

she caved. “no. i panicked. sue me.”

you closed the door behind her, shaking your head. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you like it,” she said without missing a beat, flopping dramatically onto your couch.

you didn’t deny it. instead, you walked over and stood behind the couch, arms draped loosely over the back as you looked down at her.

“so what’s the plan now that you’re back?” you asked.

megan grinned, tossing her head back to look up at you. “coffee. your favorite ramen place. a movie i’ll definitely talk through. and if you’re really lucky, maybe i’ll even let you win at mario kart.”

“bold of you to assume you’d be letting me win,” you said.

“bold of you to think you could beat me,” she fired back, eyes sparkling.

you met her gaze, heart stuttering, voice softer now. “i’m really glad you’re here.”

her grin faltered just a bit, and something gentler settled into her expression. “me too,” she said. “more than you know.”

for a moment you just stared at her, the moment truly settling in. you really did miss her. texting and phone calls were one thing, but seeing her in person was another. her goofy smile, the way she locked in like she didn’t just drop the funniest bomb known to mankind, the way she laughed as if she didn’t care who was watching. she was just one girl and yet, she consumed the space so beautifully without even knowing.

you almost did it then. almost opened your mouth and let the words tumble out. but you didn’t. instead you settled on a small smile.

you were about to ask megan if she wanted water when your phone buzzed against the counter. you didn’t need to look to know who it was. you’d spent the entire night before (and entire day honestly) lighting up your text chain with yunjin. sure enough, when you unlocked your screen and peered down, there she was.

yunjin [7:13pm]: is she there yet or did she ghost you after all that build-up

yunjin [7:13pm]: respond right now or else i’ll think you confessed and blacked out from emotional overload.

you rolled your eyes and typed back quickly with one hand while grabbing two glasses with the other.

you [7:14pm]: she’s here. no blackouts. yet.

yunjin [7:14pm]: yet??? i’m counting the minutes. btw u should ask her to come to the party tn. i think sungchan wanted to introduce u to someone too, so ur contractually obligated to show up.

the idea of sungchan wanting to introduce you to someone made your blood run cold. the last time that happened, you ended up stuck in a corner with shindong rambling about crypto, diet tips, and the “glory days” of SM for thirty painfully long minutes.

still, you swallowed the groan bubbling up in your throat and slipped your phone into your pocket before yunjin could fire off something even more unhinged. when you turned back toward the living room, megan had curled herself sideways into the couch, one leg dangling off the edge, her head tilted back like she was trying to make sense of the ceiling tiles.

“was that yunjin?” she asked, grinning like she already knew the answer.

“unfortunately.”

“what’d she say? wait, don’t tell me. something dramatic, slightly invasive, and definitely teasing.”

you handed her a glass of water with a dry look. “spot on. she wants to know if you’re real or just a figment of my imagination.”

megan raised an eyebrow. “and what did you tell her?”

“that you’re here.” you smirked. “look at miss nosey over here.”

she raised both hands in mock surrender, barely hiding her smile. “hey, what can I say? i’m working on a phd for not being able to mind my own damn business.”

you laughed, shaking your head. the kind of laugh that came easily around her. and then, remembering the rest of yunjin’s message, you leaned your weight against the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly on the cushions.

“she’s throwing a party tonight,” you said. “something about celebrating a new album drop. you should come. bring the girls.”

megan sat up a little straighter, sipping her water with the kind of dramatic flair that made you snort. “a party? are there going to be snacks?”

“probably.”

“alright, i’m in. but only if there are snacks and minimal small talk. and maybe karaoke.”

“so you want snacks, bad lighting, and a mic. noted.”

“see, you get me.” she beamed, already reaching for her phone. “i’ll text the girls. we’ll make it a proper entrance.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. your heart was too full for your own good. “god help us all.”

the drive over was chaotic in the way only megan’s presence could make it. she’d managed to wrangle sophia and daniela into coming, predictably the two most likely to say yes to the word “party” before even hearing the rest of the sentence. manon and lara had tapped out almost immediately. yoonchae hadn’t even bothered pretending she was considering it.

megan drove, one hand lazily on the wheel, the other dancing over the radio dial every five seconds. you sat in the front passenger seat, watching her in the glow of passing streetlights.

sophia leaned forward from the back. “so, y/n,” she started, voice thick with mischief, “how’s it feel being megan’s favorite girl?”

“sophia,” megan warned without looking away from the road.

daniela snorted, flinging a gummy at the back of megan’s head. “what? it’s true. we’ve heard more about y/n in the last six months than we have about anyone else.” then she turned to you, leaning forward besides sophia. “i was starting to think she made you up.”

“my god, you guys are worse than lara and manon.” megan muttered, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. she glanced at you, caught the smile playing on your lips, and groaned. “you’re both so annoying.”

“say you love her and we’ll shut up,” daniela sang from the backseat.

“i will crash this car,” megan said flatly, but her ears were pink.

you turned in your seat, raising an eyebrow at the two girls behind you. “this what you do on every drive?”

“only when the company’s good,” sophia grinned.

by the time you walked up to the le sserafim dorm, the music could already be heard before you even reached the front door. the air outside buzzed with voices and laughter.

you barely had time to step over the threshold before you heard it.

“there she is!”

yunjin materialized out of the crowd like she owned the place. which, sure, she basically did. it was her party afterall. she practically skipped the last few steps toward you. before you could get a word in, she grabbed your hand, pulled you into a hug that was half tackle, half dance spin, and leaned back to look you over. “hi, hello, love you, you look disgustingly hot—don’t even try to run, i’ve got plans for us tonight.”

you barely had time to laugh before she clocked the girls behind you. “megan!” she called, eyes lighting up as she pulled you into the house. “and you brought the fun ones! hi, sophia. hi, daniela.”

“you act like we don’t always show up,” sophia said with a grin, accepting the hug yunjin offered.

“it’s not a real party unless daniela’s threatening to outdrink everyone,” yunjin replied.

“not a threat if it’s true,” daniela said, winking.

megan held up her hands in mock surrender. “i told them to behave.”

“why would you do that?” yunjin laughed. “no, i want full chaos tonight. come find me later, i’m kidnapping y/n for a minute.”

you looked back at megan just as yunjin tugged you into the crowd, her hand firm in yours. megan simply grinned, the light catching her face just enough to make your heart skip.

and then the music swallowed you whole.

some part of you couldn’t help but feel a little bit annoyed. truth be told, you’d have rathered been home with megan. caught up on lost time and put on a movie. maybe stepbrothers, because you know it’s one of her favorites from one of your many late night conversations.

instead, you were here. loud music, dim lights, and the kind of packed crowd that made it hard to think. it wasn’t awful. yunjin’s parties never were. her friends were warm and welcoming, even if chaewon had greeted you with a smug “so where’s megan?” the second you walked in. but still, your eyes kept drifting.

you caught sight of her across the room, laughing at something sophia said, a hand tucked into the pocket of her baggy jeans. daniela was already halfway into a dance battle with some guy in a bucket hat. megan wasn’t doing anything extraordinary. she was just… being. but somehow, that was enough to pull your gaze every time.

you tried to focus on the conversation happening around you. tried to lean into the easy rhythm of old friends and new music. but your mind had already wandered. back to the idea of megan beside you on the couch. back to her laugh. back to the quiet. back to her. always her.

eventually you took a step back when the cup yunjin shoved into your hands was getting empty.

“gonna get a refill.” you shouted lamely over the music. you didn’t wait for her to respond before you were stalking your way to the kitchen.

it was in that space you were able to truly look around. you didn’t miss the curious glances shot your way, no, that would’ve been impossible. it felt incredibly vain to acknowledge that you were an idols idol, but you knew.

you were halfway refilling your cup with some kind of soju concoction when a voice cut through the air.

“y/n!”

you looked up and immediately locked eyes with a familiar pair of browns. a tall, handsome figure weaved through the crowd toward you, his shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes just enough to make him look like he hadn’t planned a single part of his night. sungchan grinned, all coy charm and childish mischief. you groaned the second he pulled you into a rough side hug, the unmistakable scent of alcohol clinging to his clothes like cologne. still, your arms came up automatically, returning the hug without a second thought. for all his nonsense, sungchan had always been a good friend.

“i want to introduce you to someone.”

you turned just as sungchan stepped aside, and there she was. karina.

you had never met her in person before, but you might as well have. her face was everywhere. it lit up across high-rise billboards in gangnam, looping through luxury brand ads on the subway monitors, popping up on your explore page whenever you so much as breathed near the fashion or idol tag. you remembered the way jaewook had bragged about her back on set a year ago when the dispatch article dropped. he had shown his phone to his costar like it was breaking news, grinning like he had just won something. you had rolled your eyes, walked off to get coffee, and told yourself it wasn’t your business. it wasn’t, until now.

karina was even more stunning in person. her beauty wasn’t the kind that made a scene or demanded attention. it just existed, like it belonged there. her gaze met yours and stayed, unwavering.

it wasn’t rude, or even intense in a threatening way. just… focused. present. like she wasn’t just seeing you but actually registering you.

you were suddenly very aware of your posture, your hands, your everything.

“it’s so nice to meet you!” she called over the music, her voice warm and clear even with the bass thudding through the walls. she stepped just a little closer, enough that you could hear her without leaning in. “i love your stuff. seriously. i’ve been asking sungchan to introduce us for ages, but he’s always chickened out at the last second.”

sungchan made a wounded noise, hand over his chest like she’d just stabbed him, but before he could fire back, wonbin came stumbling past, arm slung around his neck with all the grace of a wrecking ball. they disappeared into the crowd in a tangle of laughter and chaos.

you rolled your eyes and turned back to karina, only to find that her gaze hadn’t left you once. her eyes held yours with that same calm, curious steadiness, like she wasn’t in a packed party but somewhere quieter. somewhere smaller.

you offered a small smile. “likewise. though to be fair, i think he just gets intimidated around pretty girls.”

her lips curved. “pretty, huh?”

you blinked, brain catching up three seconds too late. “oh god, sorry. i don’t know why i said that. yunjin handed me a cup earlier and i don’t even know what was in it. she could’ve poisoned me for all i know.”

karina laughed, the sound easy and low. “knowing her, it’s probably something criminal. you’ll wake up with a hangover and a new life philosophy.”

you laughed too, but it faltered slightly when she leaned in, just enough for her shoulder to brush against yours. it was nothing, a light touch, but it grounded you instantly.

“don’t worry,” she said, voice softer now, “i think you’re pretty too.”

your heart stuttered.

you opened your mouth, but whatever you meant to say vanished the second her smile deepened.

“not to be dramatic or anything,” karina said, lifting her cup for a slow, nonchalant sip, “but i think we’re being watched.”

you blinked. “watched?”

“mhm. i can feel her eyes burning holes into the back of my head. like a laser pointer. i’m actually a little afraid to turn around.”

you tilted your head, letting your eyes scan the room until you found her. megan, standing across the floor. at some point sophia had shoved her cup into megan’s hands and joined daniela on the dance floor. the chinese girl clutched the cup in both hands like it might leap out of them if she didn’t keep a death grip on it. her expression was neutral, but her stare? not subtle.

you cleared your throat. “who, megan? no, no, she’s—”

“look at the way she’s holding that cup,” karina cut in, a grin already pulling at her lips. “you’d think she just watched the most annoying man on earth walk in and ruin everyone’s mood.”

you huffed. “reminds me of a certain six-foot-something actor with a god complex.”

karina snorted, her eyes flashing with recognition before she laughed for real this time, head tipping back for just a second. she knew who you were talking about almost immediately. the one man you had in common besides sungchan happened to be her very tall (very annoying) ex.

“right. i forgot you know jaewook.”

you raised an eyebrow. “unfortunately.”

“hey,” she said, still grinning. “he’s not that bad. underneath all the bravado he’s actually kind of sweet.”

“sure, you don’t need to convince me.” you shrugged, completely deadpan. “if the dick’s bomb, it’s bomb.”

karina choked, hand flying to your shoulder as she doubled over in disbelief. she was laughing harder than before, and you felt a little thrill run down your spine at the sound of it.

when she straightened up again, she wiped at her eye and shook her head. “you’re going to wake up tomorrow and regret ever opening your mouth.”

“without a doubt,” you said, already sipping to forget.

“i think i want some of what you’re having,” karina said, eyes glittering with mischief as she swirled the liquid in her cup. “it’s my cue to go find the woman of the hour. but before i do…”

she leaned in, slower this time. you thought she was going to say something else right away, but then her mouth dipped lower, her breath warm as it ghosted the curve of your jaw. you stiffened in surprise, the proximity making your pulse stumble. her lips came dangerously close to your ear, just barely brushing your skin when she spoke.

“that girl. megan.” her voice dropped to something sly and sweet. “she wants you. it’s written all over her face. she hasn’t stopped staring since i walked over. so how about you use some of that liquid courage and do something about it?”

your breath caught, cheeks burning with the kind of heat no drink could explain. karina pulled away just as slowly, and her smile was soft but wicked. it said a hundred things at once.

i’m glad we met, good luck out there, don’t screw this up.

then she was gone, slipping into the crowd like she had always belonged to it. her red solo cup bobbed above the sea of people as she drifted toward the corner where yunjin and chaewon were doubled over in laughter.

you didn’t even have time to process it before someone else stepped into her place.

megan.

her arm brushed yours, then stayed there, her hand wrapping gently around the bend of your elbow. she was close. so close. close enough that you could smell the perfume on her skin, something cool and soft, mint layered with warm vanilla. it hit you all at once that it was yours. a bottle that had disappeared from your vanity six months ago before katseye left korea. and now here it was, clinging to her in the most dizzying way.

your body flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the music or the alcohol. your eyes traveled up, taking in the sheen of sweat along her collarbones and the way her skin glowed under the lights. her crop top clung to her in all the right places, her stomach taut from dancing. you could still see the echo of her movement in the way her breath rose and fell, chest barely brushing yours.

you finally looked at her face again. she was already staring.

her eyes were darker than you remembered, shadowed and unreadable, fixed on you with something that felt like pressure and want and restraint all tangled up into one look. her lips were drawn in a line, neither smiling nor frowning, but firm with intent.

the air between you thinned.

you weren’t sure who would speak first. or if either of you had to. not with the way the tension folded in and around you like the bass from the speakers. not with the way her fingers curled just slightly against your arm, like she wasn’t ready to let go.

“oh. hey. you doing okay?” you asked, voice raised slightly over the music pulsing around you.

megan didn’t answer right away. her eyes stayed locked on yours for a beat too long, and just when you thought she might finally say something, her gaze dropped. slow and deliberate. it traced the line of your jaw and landed just beneath your ear. her expression shifted. something flickered across her face, subtle but sharp. a furrow of her brow that sent a wave of nerves crashing down your spine.

before you could speak again, she brought her thumb to her lips and wet it. then, without hesitation, she reached forward and pressed that same thumb to your neck. her touch was warm, careful. a soft swipe against your skin.

your breath caught.

“she left lipstick on you,” she murmured, quiet but clear enough to cut through the noise.

your hand shot up on instinct, palm flattening over the spot just beneath your ear. you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, blood rushing too fast under your skin.

“o-oh. yeah. was an accident,” you stammered, the words clumsy as they left your mouth.

megan didn’t respond right away. she just hummed. low, unreadable. then her hand slid down from your elbow, fingers grazing your forearm like she couldn’t quite decide if she wanted to hold on or let go. eventually she settled, her grip tightening just enough that you felt the weight of it. like an anchor. like a warning. like something unspoken passing between the two of you that neither of you had the guts to name.

not yet, anyway.

for a long second, she just stood there, saying nothing. she didn’t blink, didn’t move. only stared.

you shifted on your feet. “did… did i do something wrong?”

her voice was steady, but low. “let me drive you home.”

you blinked. “oh. okay.” it came out softer than you meant, a whisper carried easily between you. she heard it all the same.

‎

you weren’t sure how much time passed between then and now. one moment you were alone in the kitchen of yunjin’s dorm, the next megan was muttering something to sophia and daniela under her breath, a rushed string of syllables that made them blink once, twice, and nod. she grabbed your hand without waiting for an answer and pulled you toward the door. you felt the weight of every pair of eyes that followed you on your way out. yunjin’s brow arched with thinly veiled amusement. sungchan mouthed something that looked suspiciously like “what did you do.” and karina… she didn’t say a word. she just winked.

now you were in the passenger seat of megan’s car, the inside dim and quiet save for the faint hum of the engine and the soft patter of rain beginning to hit the windshield. your buzz had all but faded, replaced by something heavier, something laced with nerves. megan’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. the jaw that was so often relaxed with laughter and teasing was now set and stiff.

you turned to face her fully. “megan. what’s going on with you?”

she didn’t look at you. her gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead as if it held all the answers she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.

“when did you and karina get so close?” she asked, too casual to be convincing.

you tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “are you jealous?”

there was a beat of silence. then she scoffed.

“no!…. yes. fuck, y/n, i don’t know. i don’t know what i feel. all i know is that seeing her in your space like that just— it just drives me crazy.”

the car hummed beneath you, megan’s hands gripping the wheel like she was holding onto something more fragile than the leather beneath her fingers. she floored it the moment she pulled onto the main road. fast, reckless as always. the first time you rode passenger princess in her car, you practically grabbed onto the seat for dear life. except tonight, you didn’t even mind. you couldn’t look away. her jaw clenched tight, the faint pulse at her temple a rhythm you felt in your own chest.

the car sped down the dimly lit road of your penthouse’s underground parking, tires echoing against concrete walls. megan didn’t slow until she pulled into a quiet corner, the only sound the engine’s low hum. just the two of you now.

her jaw was tight, eyes sharp. “karina,” she spat, voice low and rough. “she was all in your space like she owns it.”

you met her glare, feeling the heat rising between you. “megan, i just met her.”

her hand clenched the steering wheel so hard her knuckles went white.

“yeah, well, she sure didn’t act like it,” megan bit out. “in your ear, touching your arm like you’ve been hers for years. you think i didn’t see the way she looked at you?”

you blinked at her, pulse quickening. “why does it even matter?”

megan turned to you then, full body, her eyes blazing. “because it does. because you’re not just some friend i joke around with anymore, y/n.”

the silence that followed was thick, pressing. you stared at her, at the curve of her jaw clenched in frustration, at the way her chest rose and fell like she’d just run a sprint. her brows were furrowed, but beneath the frustration was something else. something that made your stomach twist and your fingers curl tight around your seatbelt.

“megan…”

she exhaled hard, dropping her head back against the headrest for a second like she was trying to force the words out. then her voice came, rough and low. “i can’t stand seeing someone else touch you like that. it makes me feel like i’m gonna lose my mind.”

you reached out, hand hovering before it found hers on the console between you. her fingers twitched under yours, like she was deciding whether to pull away or pull you closer.

“you’re not gonna lose your mind,” you said quietly. “you’re just finally saying what we’ve both been thinking.”

she didn’t reply. didn’t need to. you swallowed, heart hammering. this wasn’t the easy conversation you’d expected. it was raw, jagged, real. her eyes locked onto yours, wild and fierce. for a moment, you could almost feel the weight of everything she hadn’t said hanging between you.

without warning, she leaned in, closing the space with a fierce urgency. her lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, like she needed to prove something. your breath hitched, caught off guard but all in.

it was messy, desperate, the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission. your hands found her hair, pulling her closer. she growled low, the tension snapping as the lines between friends and something more shattered.

it was a blur after that. megan barely killed the engine before the two of you were out of the car, walking fast and too close as you made your way through the quiet underground garage. her hand hovered at your back, not quite touching, but you could feel the heat of it through your shirt. the elevator ride was silent, charged, her reflection burning holes into yours through the metal walls.

the second your door swung open, you were on her again. the lock clicked behind you as you pressed her up against the door, mouths crashing together like you’d both run out of time. your hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, greedy for skin. she kissed you like she needed you to breathe.

“y/n,” she breathed out, but whatever she was going to say got lost in the next kiss, your name drowned out by the low thud of her back hitting the hallway wall.

you didn’t even think, just grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward the bedroom, feet stumbling, laughter breaking through the tension for a split second. she followed without hesitation, eyes locked on you like she was trying to memorize the way you looked at her now.

as soon as you hit the threshold of the room, your mouths found each other again. she kicked the door shut behind her without looking, hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt like she’d waited too long for this.

she pulled away after a moment to simply stare.

megan looked at you. the kind of stare that could melt ice. her gaze traces the lines of your body like she was hungry, yet still she said nothing. she swallowed, her lips pursing together as she weighed her own thoughts in her mind. her eyes trailed up and down before finally they settle themselves again on yours. it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what she was thinking in this very moment. you could practically read her through her silence. the way she practically itched to say something funny, to break the tension with a lighthearted joke in true megan fashion. but she couldn’t. her body was reacting as much as yours was. she trembled slightly, her chest rising up and down as if she was struggling to take in air. but it was pure anticipation. when she talks her voice is careful, hesitant, like she was afraid that one wrong word would break the quiet you slipped into.

“how do i tell you that i want you without making a fool of myself?”

your breath hitched when suddenly she moved. she took a step closer, and instinctively you take a step back. the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you’re falling back. the only thing you can do is sit stupidly and stare up at her as she stares down. she was already tall, but now she loomed over you.

she was so unlike herself. just ten minutes ago she was fumbling over her own feet, giggling between kisses as her fingers clumsily trailed up and down the warm skin on your back. now, she was confident. like she was looking at you through the lens of someone who realized in the span of a quick ten minutes that they were standing before something holy.

you hum. “you say it. tell me, megan.”

she doesn’t hesitate. she nudges your legs apart so she’s standing between them now, your legs trapping her in. her hands instinctively raise to the back of your head, one idly playing with the baby hairs on the nape of your neck while the other gently grabbed your chin. she didn’t ask, just simply gripped your chin between her thumb and index finger and tugged. she leaned down slightly , so close that you could feel her hot breath hitting you. when she talks, her voice is quiet.

“i want you, y/n.”

she moved one inch closer, and her lips brush yours. it was faint. a feather light touch, but it sent shivers down your spine all the same. her eyes dropped back and forth between your eyes and your lips, the grip she had on your chin tightening momentarily before she let go. her hand lazily drifted down from your face and to your chest, fingertips just lightly grazing your skin. and then, she moved the other hand. the hand that once played with the hairs on the back of your neck now moved to the front, fingertips dancing along your throat. she hums. her voice dripped like venom, tantalizing and dangerous all in the same breath.

“you have no idea how bad.”

you swallow, and megan feels it against the hand she held to your neck when her fingers gently reach out and clasp. nothing tight. but she doesn’t say anything. she simply stares. her eyes dark, her face unreadable save for only the pure want clear in her words. through the grip on your throat, you reply. your voice fell to a whisper, though just as confident as her own.

“then show me.”

she didn’t need to be told twice. the grip she held on your neck tightened just slightly before she relented. her lips which once grazed yours finally surged the small distance. she kissed you, every emotion she pushed to the back of her mind finally coming out in full force. she tilted her head, a soft sigh of relief escaping her when you met her kiss with equal fervor.

this was it. the moment where finally, she’d let herself cave. the moment where megan would lose her inhibitions and finally be true to both herself, and to you. being so close to you in this moment made her full body vibrate. you were intoxicating, and she was addicted.

megan deepened the kiss, her tongue gently swiping across your bottom lip. when you don’t open your mouth, she bites your lip. taking advantage of the gasp you let out, her tongue darts in. without words, her intentions were clearer than daylight.

she wanted you, and she wanted bad.

the grip on your neck only tightened until eventually you needed to pull back for air. a string of saliva coated your lips when she pulled back, her grip on your throat relaxing. but she doesn’t mind. she lets you breathe, feels your chest rise and fall beneath her full hand as she trails open mouthed kisses down from your swollen lips to your jaw, and then your neck. she littered kisses around the area her hand clasped around only moments ago, soothing the dull feeling of a phantom grip.

through your haze and a short gasp, you couldn’t help but tease her.

“who knew you had that in you, huh, skiendiel?”

megan answered with a simple bite to your neck. a nibble, soothed over with a faint swipe of her tongue immediately after. it was enough to shut you up, if even for a moment. she hummed.

“can’t help myself. you’ve no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this.”

this time it was your turn to raise a hand and gently play with her hair, her mouth still working at your jaw and throat. you sigh, your fingers clasping around a clump of her dark hair. you shake your head.

“what, are you trying to tell me this is the only reason you asked for my number all those months ago?”

she knew you were joking, that you were being facetious. still she couldn’t help but frown. she dropped fully to her knees now between your legs, still fully trapped by your legs on either side of her. from this angle as she pulled away from your neck, she looked up at you through her sleepy eyes and pink bangs.

“maybe this part was wishful thinking. but no, not the only reason.” her hands trailed down again, finding your skin beneath your shirt. her hands were so numbingly cold despite the warmth in her gaze. her hand pressed against your lower stomach, feeling the way your abdomen clenched slightly against her cold palm. she looked at you with her half lidded eyes and all you saw was sincerity. she continues.

“you’ve no idea how hard it is to keep my hands to myself when you’re you. but fuck, look at you now.” her other hand reaches for the hem of your shirt and now she tugs, her touch gentle despite the bite in her words when she says her next words. “you’re mine, baby.”

the words set something off in you. something that lit a fire in the deepest pits of your stomach, begging to be addressed. and megan knew it.

and so, she did.

you weren’t sure at what point you fell asleep. all you knew was that when you woke up, you were in your own bed. the blankets were pulled up beneath your chin but it wasn’t their warmth that clung to you like it was moulded for your body, and yours only.

your eyes trailed over to the sleeping girl besides you. megan’s arm wrapped around your torso, holding you close. her bare body pressed against yours had a chill running down your spine. you could already feel the hickeys forming on your neck, the bruises on your thighs. you could feel the phantom feeling of her nails scratching down your back and her coaxing whispers lingering in your ears.

megan had practically transformed into a completely different person. the memory of her eyes, dark and dangerous, had you inadvertently shifting closer to her. the slight movement was enough to wake her. a deep, sleepy groan pulled from her lips as she subconsciously nuzzled herself closer into you. when her eyes fluttered open and they landed on you, the difference was night and day.

she was nervous. shy. she practically hid her face in your neck only to turn red in embarrassment when she was met face to face with the marks she left on your throat. when she speaks her voice is low, awkward.

“i-i, uh, you know. i’m so sorry. too much? probably. oops.”

despite the situation, you couldn’t help but laugh. the sound alone made her groan, her head digging even deeper into you as if the action alone would hide her from your teasing. a classic ‘if i can’t see you, you can’t see me’ kind of thing.

“it’s okay, megan.”

she looked up at that, her cheeks still flushed red. but there was no mistaking the way her shoulders relaxed. she looked back at you and it’s then the events from the night before seemed to finally settle in. it’s in this lighting that you realized, again, just how gorgeous she is. the way her hair framed her face even when she was ridden with bedhead. the way her soft lips pouted involuntarily, the way her sleepy eyes looked up at you through her lashes. she was so, unbelievably beautiful without even needing to try. you couldn't help but wonder if she knew this as well as you could see it.

with a newfound sense of confidence, she suddenly leaned forward. her lips found yours and unlike the fit of messy kisses she gave you the night before, now she takes her time. when she pulls away, pink dusts her cheeks.

“i can’t believe we did… that.”

you raise a brow. “oh? pray tell why you’re so surprised.”

megan’s eyes practically blow wide. “seriously? you’re not even the slightest bit shocked and overwhelmed and- a-and, i don’t know, lowkey kinda freaking the fuck out? i mean jeez. you’re you!”

before you can reply she’s already continuing. her arm around your torso tightens, a look of pure shock and elation cemented across her face.

“do you have any idea how scared it makes me knowing that you’re practically in a league of your own? i mean, shit, you walk into a room and everyone stares. i walk in and everyone waits for me to break my own leg! you’re you. and i’m me. and this just doesn’t make any sense, a-and-“

you turn slightly so you’re facing her fully, her arm around you not slipping but loosening just enough. you shake your head, a hand reaching up gently to swipe her hair from her vision. her pink bangs covered her eyes just slightly, hiding the state of pure frazzle in their depths. you can’t help but chuckle softly.

when your lips tilt up at the corners, a small grin gracing your face, megan stopped rambling. she was so, completely, irrevocably enamored by you in a way that it hurt her brain.

when you leaned forward just enough to seal her lips with your own, her breath catches in her throat, silenced. for a moment you both lay there. her arm around your torso now moving to lightly grip your waist, her fingers digging in just barely as if she was grounding herself in the moment. your hand cupped her jaw, the kiss deepening just a second longer. when you pull away, her eyes are blown wide. she stares back at you in equal parts awe, and fear. she was completely undone by you.

“relax.”

the simple word was all she needed. she nodded her head stupidly and obediently, her lips pursing so tight together as if you’d given her a command she’d follow til her last breath.

your grin softens into a small smile. “you’re such a loser, megan.”

megan grimaced. the kind of look that was half part an awkward smile, and half part an embarrassment pout. she burrows her head into your chest with a drawn out groan. she feels the way your body vibrates when you chuckle, hears the way your heart skipped a beat with her ear pressed to your bare chest. and in that moment, she decided.

no amount of embarrassment would ever outweigh the pride she felt in knowing that it was her you were holding that very morning.

a month passed.

megan hadn’t planned on going live. it was one of those quiet nights that felt heavier than it should have. the dorm was calm. daniela had vanished into her room with a face mask and a bowl of cereal. sophia had crashed early. the silence made everything feel louder.

so she pulled on an oversized hoodie (your hoodie) and went live from her bed. nothing fancy. just her and her phone, legs tucked under her, the soft yellow light from her nightstand casting a warm glow across the screen.

“hi,” she said, voice soft with that slight rasp it always had when she was winding down. “i couldn’t sleep.”

the chat exploded immediately. hearts, greetings, inside jokes, fans asking about everything from what she had for dinner to her favorite stage outfit from the last comeback. she answered a few, laughed quietly when someone asked if lara still sleep-talked. her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the sleeve of her hoodie as she scrolled.

“what’s the weirdest dream you’ve had recently?” she read aloud, smiling. “okay, so i had this one where i was back in high school, but for some reason all the desks were made of jello, and sophia was my teacher? yeah, no idea. my brain is a strange place.”

another wave of hearts. more laughing emojis. the mood stayed easy, casual, soft around the edges.

then came the question. fast, buried in a sea of others, but megan’s eyes caught it and held.

“who’s that in the background?”

she blinked.

then turned, just slightly, to glance behind her.

there, on the edge of the bed, barely in frame, was you. hoodie half-zipped, face makeup-free, curled against a pillow and blinking slow from the comfort of just having woken up from a nap you hadn’t even meant to take.

megan looked back at the camera, lips tugging into a smile that was both shy and completely unbothered.

“guess the secret’s out,” she said, voice low but steady.

the chat exploded again, this time in full-blown chaos. some fans caught on immediately. others were in denial. a few begged her to clarify, but she didn’t.

instead, she leaned back against the headboard, reached over, and laced her fingers with yours. you blinked blearily, took a second to realize what was happening, then gave a soft laugh.

“hi,” you murmured, just loud enough to be heard. “sorry, i kind of knocked out.”

“it’s okay,” megan said, thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “you’re cute when you sleep.”

the live didn’t last much longer after that. she answered one or two more questions, gave the usual love you guys and get some rest, then signed off.

but the clip stayed. it spread fast, faster than either of you expected. screen recordings, gifs, screenshots, fan theories shifting into confirmed realities. by morning, your names were trending side by side.

and just like that, it wasn’t speculation anymore.

it was real. it was official.

it was you and her. finally.

820 notes · View notes

manzuaves · 2 months ago

Text

sᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜᴛs?

pairing. bratty!slytherin!sophia x quidditchplayer!gryffindor!reader

warnings. a bit of curses here & there. kisses and v mean sophia.

a/n. check out part 1.

What happened last night was something unspoken. Wandering hands, breathless gasps, and everything that followed. No one else needed to know.

You stirred awake with the soft light of morning seeping through your red and gold curtains, your body aching in a way that only Firewhisky and passion could explain. The haze of last night still clung to you like dark smoke.

Beside you, Sophia lay half-tangled in your sheets, her black hair a striking contrast against the white linen. Her breathing was steady, lips slightly parted, and she frowned faintly whenever her bangs brushed over her eyes. She looked peaceful. Vulnerable, even.

But instead of staying, instead of figuring out what to say or how to even begin the conversation once she wakes up, you left.

You slipped out of bed, wearing only your underwear. She had your oversized polo on, and the sight alone made your heart jump.

Before Sophia could stir, you’d already snuck out into the common room, quietly grabbing what you needed to freshen up and make your way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

You weren’t sure how to face her yet or what this all meant. All you knew was that facing her in that moment, in the quiet aftermath, felt a little too real.

Luckily for you, it was the weekend. No early classes to rush to, no professors to scold you for looking like you hadn’t slept a wink. Just your nosy, overexcited friends who hadn’t stopped pestering you about last night, as the three of you walked down the Great Hall.

The two snickered at the sight of all the love bites scattered across your neck that made you regret for not wearing a turtleneck sweater.

“Piss off, Megan. Why would you want the details? You’re such a creep.” You slumped down at the long Gryffindor table, immediately lunging for the roast turkey like a starved Hippogriff, not even fully seated yet.

Hungover mornings always did wonders for your appetite.

“But no, seriously. What actually happened?” Manon chimed in from across the table, leaning closer with an annoyingly curious glint in her eye. “One second you two were sucking face, and the next? Poof. Gone. Did you get that desperate you apparated straight to your room?”

You paused mid-chew, throwing her a dry look. As much as you usually had no problem boasting about your escapades, something about this felt… different.

You knew Sophia. You knew how guarded she was. How private. Sharing anything especially with this group felt like cracking open something sacred without her permission. So instead, you just shrugged and reached for the gravy.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Plus Sophia might not like that I’m sharing this with you.” you muttered through a mouthful. “Now quit asking before I hurl this drumstick at you.”

“Since when did you give a care about your girls’ privacy?” they teased, leaning back with a smug grin. “You used to spill every juicy detail without blinking.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved another bite in your mouth, chewing aggressively. “Yeah, well, things change,” you mumbled, barely audible.

“Ohhh,” they sang, dragging the sound out like a middle schooler sensing drama. “You like her.”

You froze mid-chew. “No, I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“Eat your food before I use this fork for violence.”

You were in the middle of shoveling eggs onto your plate when it happened.

A hush swept over the Gryffindor table. Not completely silent, but enough for you to notice the shift. You glanced up just as Sophia LaForteza, in all her Slytherin glory, strutted into the Great Hall like she owned every inch of the stone floor beneath her.

You weren’t expecting her to make eye contact.

You definitely weren’t expecting her to head straight for you.

She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t blink. She slid right onto the bench beside you, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the barely concealed gasps. Your friends were frozen, eyes darting between the two of you like they were watching a Quidditch final.

You opened your mouth to speak, apologize, explain, maybe beg—but Sophia beat you to it.

Without a word, Sophia reached over and tugged the red-and-gold tie from her neck: your tie. You hadn’t even realized she’d kept it on.

She didn’t look at you as she yanked it loose, then grabbed your collar and shoved the tie back where it belonged, tightening it with a firm, almost punishing pull.

Your breath hitched at the closeness, at her touch laced with frustration.

“Sophia—” you started, voice uncertain, but the sharp look she shot you shut you up instantly.

But then, she leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as she said just loud enough for your entire end of the table to hear:

“Next time, don’t sneak out of your own room like I was some dirty secret.”

And before your flushed face could recover, she planted a hard, taunting kiss on your cheek. Leaving a red, glossy tint on your cheeks to mark her territory.

Gasps. Choked laughter from your friends. Someone dropped their spoon.

You wanted the wizarding world to swallow you whole. Or at least the table.

Ever since that night, something shifted between you, especially with Sophia.

In public, she was the same as ever: sharp-tongued and insufferably smug. She still rolled her eyes at how you parted your hair “like a tragic hero,” and complained about your habit of showing off your pearls “like you’re some cursed Gryffindor royalty.”

But in private? That was where things changed.

She became softer, more tender in ways that made your chest ache. Like earlier that week during Quidditch practice, your houses were sharing the pitch (a scheduling nightmare, but Lara being rumored to be dating Slytherin’s captain might’ve helped grease some wheels).

You were in the locker room for a quick water break, wiping sweat from your brow, when the door creaked open. Sophia slipped in without a word, her presence as commanding as ever. She crossed the space between you in three deliberate steps and tugged at the collar of your Quidditch uniform, pulling you toward her.

Her fingers ghosted along your chest, her brows slightly furrowed at your messy state. But if she were being honest, you looked hot when messy.

“I missed you,” she muttered, then quickly added with a scoff, “Not that I was counting the minutes or anything, Merlin.”

You blinked, then smirked. “Already? And here I was thinking my charm didn’t work on you—judging by how you act like I’m a thorn in your side whenever we’re around people.”

She scoffed and smoothed out the front of your uniform with practiced ease, though her fingers lingered just a second too long. “Sod off, Y/N. You know exactly why I have to be like that in public. Can’t have people thinking this Gryffindor hottie has their Slytherin princess wrapped around their finger.” Her lips curled into a teasing smile. “Ruins the whole image.”

You were still caught in the way she said hottie when she continued, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, “Besides, you were taking so long at practice I nearly hexed one of your teammates just to fake an injury and get you off the pitch.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “That’s the sweetest threat I’ve ever received. I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” she said, nose wrinkling as if she hadn’t just made your heart stutter. “It would’ve been the annoying one with the lopsided broom grip anyway. He deserves it.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. Only Sophia could deliver a compliment and an insult in the same breath.

“But,” she added, voice dropping just slightly as her gaze held yours, “you still haven’t made it up to me for leaving me alone in your bed that morning.”

Her words hit you like a Bludger to the gut—guilt, yes, but also that fluttery rush you never wanted to admit out loud. Especially not to her.

“Will a kiss suffice?” you asked, voice low, smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned just slightly closer.

Sophia raised a brow, unimpressed and yet clearly affected. “We’ll see.”

It started with a shove, light, teasing, the way most of your arguments with Sophia did. Then suddenly, her lips were on yours. Her fingers were in your hair, nails grazing your scalp in a way that made your knees weak. You gripped her by the waist, tugging her impossibly closer, feeling the heat of her body pressed to yours through layers of fabric and frustration.

Her kiss was so demanding and hot and hungry, it was making you feral. You met her intensity with your own, matching the push and pull, biting back a gasp when her teeth grazed your bottom lip. Her hand slid under the hem of your shirt, not bold enough to go further, but enough to send a shiver through you.

You pulled back for half a second to breathe to take a look at her. Disheveled, eyes dark with want, her glossy lips slightly parted. Your wandering hands slipped down the Slytherin's curves, eliciting a moan that escaped her throat. "Merlin.."

You surged forward again at the sound, crashing your mouth back onto hers like it was the only way you knew how to respond.

While you and Sophia were deep in a heated make-out session, the door creaked open, and Yoonchae, one of your more diligent, albeit nosy, teammates, poked her head into the locker room.

“Hey, cap! Need anything? The team’s—”

Sophia practically leapt away from you like she’d been burned, shoving you so hard you hit the lockers with a loud clang.

“Bloody hell, LaForteza,” you groaned, rubbing your back. “With that kind of strength, you might want to consider the position of a Beater.”

You opened one of the lockers that you hit to take a glance at the mirror nearby, wiping her signature Slytherin lip gloss from your lips as Yoonchae stood frozen, eyes wide in horror and awe at what she’d just walked in on. You took a deep breath and regained your composure before finally facing your teammate. Your dignity slightly askew, but still intact.

Sophia, still catching her breath, turned to the Korean with a venomous glare. Her voice was sharp, cold, and precise, like a dagger aimed straight for the gut. “For Salazar’s sake, are you truly that dense? Is knocking too complex a concept for your tiny brain to comprehend? I’ve seen Muggle-borns with more basic etiquette.”

Yoonchae’s face fell, her smile faltering as her eyes started to glisten. Sweet, soft-hearted Yoonchae, who probably just wanted to offer water or a towel, looked like she’d rather evaporate on the spot.

You glared at the Slytherin and stepped between them. “Language, LaForteza. She’s still my friend. You don’t get to tear her down like that.”

You took the poor girl’s hand and left the locker room with Sophia’s jaw clenching. and though her eyes stayed cold, something in them flickered, remorse, maybe, or just the realization that she may have overstepped.

“Y/N’s not talking to me and I might just cast the Cruciatus Curse on everyone until she does,” Sophia grumbled, aggressively filing her already-perfect nails with sharp, irritated strokes.

Daniela, who had been quietly reading on the couch beside her, slowly lowered her book with raised brows. “Whoa there, don’t drag us into your love quarrel,” she said, waving a hand in mock defense.

Lara, ever the calm voice of reason, didn’t even look up from her notes as she spoke. “Just apologize, Sophia. You’re clearly in the wrong, and this isn’t just anyone we’re talking about. It’s Y/N. You can’t bitch your way around her and expect it to slide. Apologize to that poor girl, too.”

Sophia groaned, tossing her nail file aside. “I don’t do apologies.”

Just then, a younger Slytherin girl passed by their couch, nibbling on a chocolate frog and smiling politely. “Morning! Rough day?” she asked cheerfully, clearly just trying to be nice.

Sophia’s head slowly turned. Her eyes narrowed like she had just been personally insulted by the girl’s existence.

“Your face looks like it had a rough day,” she snapped, her tone ice-cold. “So maybe keep your little comments to yourself before I actually have one.”

The girl’s smile fell immediately, her steps quickening as she hurried away.

Daniela blinked. “You do realize she was just being nice, right?”

“She was being nosy,” Sophia hissed. “And I don’t need some wide-eyed second-year analyzing my mood like I’m a case study.”

Lara sighed, rubbing her temple. “Okay. Yep. You clearly need to talk to Y/N before you emotionally destroy the rest of the house.”

Yoonchae had always been like the little sister you never knew you needed. You first met her back in your fifth year, when Professor McGonagall assigned you to be a tour guide for the new first years. Back then, she barely reached your shoulder—wide-eyed, curious, and clinging to your every word. Now she was nearly your height, but still had that same stubborn sparkle in her eyes.

“Don’t let her words get to you, Chae,” you murmured, nudging her gently with your shoulder. “You know how vile Slytherins can be. Empty threats. All bark, no bite.”

You were both curled up on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, sharing two stolen pints of peanut butter ice cream you’d snuck out from the kitchens. Yoonchae sniffled under the thick blanket draped over the two of you, her eyes still puffy from earlier.

Your heart crumbled at the sight.

“It wasn’t my intention to interrupt your you know..,” she whispered, voice thick with sadness. “I didn’t even say anything bad, and she acted like I’d insulted her whole bloodline.”

You exhaled slowly, the guilt starting to sink into your chest.

“Yeah… that’s kind of her thing.” You twirled the spoon between your fingers. “But she had no right to go off on you like that. I’ll talk to her.”

Yoonchae looked up at you, hopeful. “You promise?”

You offered a small smile, brushing her hair out of her face. “Promise. No one gets to hurt my favorite teammate and gets away with it—even if she’s got annoyingly pretty eyes and a way with words that makes my brain malfunction.”

That finally earned a laugh out of her.

The next day, guilt gnawed at your insides still, like a Niffler on gold.

So you spent the whole day glued to Yoonchae’s side, trying to make up for scarring her for life. You waited outside her Charms class, leaning casually against the stone wall like some overzealous bodyguard. When she came out, you smiled and took her books from her arms before she could protest.

“I can carry my—”

“Nope,” you said, already walking. “Let me do my penance in peace on behalf of she-who-must-not-be-named.”

You gave her the last cauldron cake from your stash during lunch, even though you'd been saving it since last Hogsmeade trip. When she looked cold in the courtyard, you took off your hoodie and tossed it over her shoulders. She blushed and muttered something about you being weirdly nice today, but you just shrugged.

You even tied her hair back for Potions when she struggled with the clasp of her clip, fingers surprisingly gentle despite your usual Gryffindor roughness. You made her laugh a few times, even if it sounded a little nervous.

The moment you tugged her into the library with a hand on her lower back, purely to avoid Filch passing by. Sophia saw.

She stood at the far end of the corridor, arms crossed, green tie perfectly in place, eyes sharp enough to cut steel, and nails pointy enough to cause pain to two Gryffindors, but most especially to you.

Your laughter with Yoonchae died the moment you felt it. That chill crawling down your spine like the castle itself was warning you. You turned your head slightly and saw her.

Sophia.

You still felt mad about the Slytherin princess. The way she just snapped at Yoonchae like she was below her, like she meant nothing. You knew Sophia could be cold, biting even, but seeing her talk to your teammate like that made your blood boil.

And yet, you promised Yoonchae you’d talk to her. For her sake.

And maybe… maybe because a part of you missed her too. Missed the quiet thrill of her touch, the fire in her gaze, the way she made everything feel dangerous and delicate at the same time.

And so you bid your goodbye to Yoonchae, offering her a half-hearted smile before jogging off in the direction Sophia disappeared. You spotted her deep in the library, scanning the shelves, arms crossed in frustration at a book clearly just out of reach.

Before she could even try, you reached up and grabbed it for her, slipping it off the shelf like it was nothing.

She barely glanced at you. “What, finally decided I’m worth your time?” she bit, sharp and cool, like she hadn’t just made a scene the day before.

You frowned, clearly unimpressed. “May I remind you, Laforteza, you were the one who offended Yoonchae. Don’t act all this stupid Slytherin with me when you caused the mess.”

She snatched the book from your hand, but not before her fingers brushed yours: soft, deliberate, familiar. She didn’t let go. Instead, she gently tugged at your hand, guiding you through the maze of shelves to a quiet, tucked-away corner of the library.

Finally, she said, a little softer this time, “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just… didn’t know how to react when she saw us kissing.” She paused, then added in a quieter voice, “I panicked okay? I shouldn’t have snapped at her like that. It wasn’t fair.””

She sighed, the kind that sounded more like a crack forming than relief, and admitted, “You know how I am, Y/N. I’m a pureblood. I really, really enjoy whenever I’m with you but I’ve been raised to keep everything polished, controlled… everything but this.”

You looked at her carefully, the frustration in your chest slowly giving way to something heavier—understanding, maybe.

Her eyes met yours, dark green to the point of black and sharp and filled with something almost vulnerable beneath all the polish.

“But what?” you asked quietly. “I know I’m no Slytherin. I’m not conniving nor sly, I don’t play your games. I may be a jerk and messy and loud, and I act on feeling before logic. But I’ve always been real with you, Sophia. Isn’t that enough?”

You could still feel the ghost of her fingers brushing yours, her anger from yesterday clashing with the softness of this moment.

“I don’t need perfect, Sophia,” you said, softer now, and this was probably the first time you called her by her first name when it was just you two. Sophia couldn't help the way her breath hitched. “I just need honest. Were those kisses not real enough for you? Do I need to scream it to the whole damn wizarding world how much I’m obsessed with you?”

Sophia chuckled while closing the space between you. Her hands found your face, thumbs brushing gently over your cheekbones like you were something fragile she was afraid to break.

"That's such a Gryffindor statement,” she murmured, a small, crooked smile tugging at her lips. “Thank Merlin you’re mine."

"You still owe Yoonchae an apology though." you said, not letting her charm her way out this time.

She groaned, leaning her forehead against yours. A dramatic sigh escaped her lips as she pulled away just enough to roll her eyes heavenward. “Fine. I’ll find her later. But if she acts smug about it, I’m blaming you.”

“You’ll survive,” you teased.

She grumbled something under her breath, then added, “You’re lucky I find you cute.”

#sophia laforteza #sophia laforteza x reader #katseye imagines #yoonchae x reader #sophia x reader #sophia imagines

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soeyekonic · 2 months ago

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— ✩♬ ₊˚. same boat ⭑ M.S

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis while visiting her hometown, megan is reunited with you, the childhood crush she’s never truly gotten over. as her feelings grow stronger, fear makes her pull away, until a late-night breakdown leads to the confession she never thought she’d say out loud.

disclaimer : fluff 🙌. mutual pinning. megan skiendiel x childhood friend!fem!reader. slight angst (not really..just some overthinking). idk guys… megan js gives me lizzy mcalpine vibes 😣

currently playing same boat - lizzy mcalpine

megan hadn’t been back to honolulu in over a year, and everything felt too familiar and too foreign at once. the breeze still smelled like plumeria and salt. her old bedroom, still full of her childhood posters, felt smaller now. her mom still made spam musubi first thing in the morning, like megan hadn’t grown up and flown across the world.

but this time, she wasn’t alone.

katseye had landed in hawaii for a much-needed break. the girls were staying at a nearby beach resort, all sunburnt smiles and windblown hair, thrilled to finally meet megan’s infamous hometown. and all megan could think about was you.

you, the childhood friend she never got over. you, who she hadn’t seen since she left for los angeles . you, who were apparently also home visiting family.

and now, according to her mom, you were coming over. with your family. for dinner. tonight.

“megan’s gonna freak,” manon said, leaning over the kitchen counter. “you talk about her all the time. i thought she was a myth.”

“i don’t talk about her that much,” megan muttered, trying not to burn the tofu sizzling in the pan.

“megan,” yoonchae deadpanned. “you once wrote a whole verse in a demo about her eyes. we had to cut it because it was too obvious.”

the other girls laughed. megan blushed, hiding her face behind the cabinet door.

“she’s just…important, okay?” megan mumbled. “we grew up together.”

daniela tilted her head. “important like ‘first love’ important or…?”

megan didn’t answer. she didn’t have to. they already knew.

—

you showed up with that same shy smile megan remembered from when you were thirteen, all sun-drenched and soft-voiced. she hadn’t realized she’d missed your voice until she heard it again.

and the rest of katseye? instantly loved you.

“you’re the y/n?” lara asked, eyes wide. “the real y/n?”

you laughed. “depends on what megan’s told you.”

“she said you saved her from drowning once,” sophia chimed in. “but that she jumped in after a beach ball, so maybe it’s not as dramatic as it sounds?”

“she exaggerates,” you teased, nudging megan gently as you passed her a plate. “she was fine.”

the night blurred into stories, grilled fish, and ukulele strings echoing in the background. you sat beside megan on the porch steps, just like you used to when you were kids, watching the stars.

and she was overthinking again.

you looked older now, but still familiar. her heart squeezed when you laughed at something daniela said, when your eyes lingered on hers a little too long. did you know? could you tell?

maybe you were just being polite. maybe you didn’t feel the same. maybe megan had made it all up in her head…again.

—

the days after, you started hanging out with the group. going on hikes, lounging on the beach, late-night snacks at megan’s, karaoke that got too loud. you were a perfect fit. everyone saw it. everyone but megan.

because something was shifting inside her and she was scared.

the second or third time she caught herself staring at you for a little too long, she panicked. she was used to liking you, sure—but this? this was different. the feelings were louder now, older and sharper. you weren’t just a memory to hold onto, uou were right there, laughing in her passenger seat, falling asleep in her mom’s living room, humming along to her favorite songs.

she liked you. bad. and it was terrifying.

so she started pulling back.

by day four, you noticed.

at first, you thought maybe she was just tired. but then it kept happening. she stopped walking beside you on hikes. she avoided eye contact during group dinners. and when you texted her to hang out, her replies got shorter.

“rain check,” she said one evening.

that was it. no smiley face. no promise of tomorrow.

you stared at your phone for a long time, fingers tightening.

had you said something wrong? crossed a line?

that night, you stayed late at megan’s house while everyone else was watching a movie in the back. you wandered into her room, fingers tracing the books on her shelf, the polaroid pictures still hanging above her mirror. then you saw her in the hallway, eyes locking with yours. you smiled. she froze.

then she turned and walked away.

megan ran.

she didn’t mean to. she just… couldn’t be there anymore. the air in the house felt too thick. she couldn’t look at you and pretend she was okay. so she left. quietly, slipping out the back door, sandals in hand, feet hitting the sand without thinking.

the beach was nearly empty, moonlight casting silver shadows across the tide. megan sat down, knees to chest, trying to calm the pounding in her head.

why couldn’t she just be normal about this? why couldn’t she just tell you?

because she was scared. scared that if she confessed and you didn’t feel the same, she’d lose you completely. scared that maybe you were just being nice, and this was all one-sided. scared that her feelings would ruin everything.

“megan?”

she whipped her head around.

you were standing there, barefoot, breathless, your hair falling over your shoulders. you walked toward her slowly, eyes wide and hurt and confused.

“did i… do something wrong?”

megan’s mouth opened, then shut.

you sat beside her, arms crossed tightly over your chest, voice smaller this time. “you’ve been avoiding me.”

“i know,” megan whispered.

you blinked, waiting.

megan looked down at her hands, digging into the sand. “i didn’t mean to. i just… i got overwhelmed.”

“with what?”

“with you,” she snapped, then instantly looked away. “i mean—god. just—everything.”

you didn’t say anything. so she kept going. words spilling too fast, too raw.

“i thought i was okay. i thought i could just be around you and pretend it’s nothing. that it’s just nostalgia or whatever, but it’s not. it’s not. i like you, y/n. i like you and it’s driving me crazy and i didn’t want to ruin anything so i just started acting weird and now i’m ruining it anyway and i hate that i can’t just be normal about this but you’re just—god, you’re you and—”

“megan.”

she stopped.

you leaned in. quiet. sure.

“i like you too.”

megan blinked, stunned. “you- you do?”

“i thought i was being too obvious,” you admitted, smiling faintly. “but you were too busy spiraling.”

megan laughed, hands shaking, face flushed with relief and disbelief. “so i didn’t screw everything up?”

“not yet,” you teased. “but you came close.”

you both laughed then, softly. and when megan looked at you, really looked at you, moonlight in your hair and the ocean whispering behind you, she felt steady for the first time in days.

“i don’t want to lose you,” she said quietly.

“you won’t,” you promised. “you never did.”

so she kissed you. right there on the sand. the kind of kiss that felt like home, like healing, like something that had been waiting for years.

and for the first time since coming back to honolulu, megan wasn’t overthinking.

she was just... finally living it.

—

megan woke up with sand in her hair and sunlight warming her face. the sound of waves still lingered in the background, but softer now, gentler. you were curled up beside her, head resting on her shoulder, arms wrapped around your knees, both of you still in last night’s clothes.

she didn’t want to move.

everything from the night before felt surreal. your voice asking “did i do something wrong?”, the way her panic had spilled out of her, and your calm answer: “i like you too.”

her heart had been on fire, and then you’d touched her hand, and suddenly, she could breathe.

now, with the ocean stretching out in front of you and your fingers loosely laced with hers, she felt it fully. the quiet kind of happy. the kind that settled in your chest and didn’t ask questions.

“hey,” you whispered.

she turned her head. “hi.”

you smiled, lazy and sweet. “we slept on the beach.”

“i know.”

“my back hurts.”

“mine too.”

but neither of you moved.

later that morning, when megan walked into the kitchen of the beach house, barefoot and still sandy, the girls were already awake, half-dressed for a beach day, eating fruit straight out of the fridge. daniela was wearing megan’s hoodie. lara was using a butter knife to aggressively cut a mango.

manon was the first to notice. “she returns,” she said dramatically, bowing. “where have you been, miss skiendiel?”

“yeah,” sophia added, squinting. “we thought you got swept away by the tide or something.”

yoonchae narrowed her eyes. “you didn’t come back last night.”

megan blinked. “i—i was at the beach.”

“with who?” lara asked, tilting her head. then a beat passed. “wait. with who.”

megan looked down, cheeks flushing.

and then the room exploded.

“no. no way,” daniela shrieked, dropping a slice of pineapple. “you kissed her?”

megan tried to say something, but sophia clutched her arm and gasped. “she kissed her. she’s not denying it!”

lara screamed into a towel.

yoonchae smiled softly. “finally.”

megan hid her face in her hands as the girls circled her like sharks who smelled blood, but the good kind. the best kind.

“we’ve been rooting for this for months,” manon said. “honestly, i’m relieved. i was tired of being subtle.”

“you weren’t subtle,” megan muttered.

“details,” she waved off.

then, through the noise, you stepped into the kitchen holding two iced coffees, one for you, one for megan.

everyone went quiet.

“oh,” you said, glancing around. “did i… walk into something?”

megan walked over, took the coffee from your hand, and, before she could think too hard, kissed your cheek.

“nope,” she said softly. “perfect timing.”

the girls screamed again. megan laughed into her drink. and for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t running from anything.

she had everything she needed, right here.

a/n: guys i love this song so much. like u don’t understand

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cindergorge · 4 months ago

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𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗘𝗬𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 | 𝗦. 𝗟𝗔𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗭𝗔

Sophia left her old school to start a new life, to start writing a new page in her book and leave all the mistakes in the past. What happens when the most precious thing she lost because of those same mistakes comes rushing back into her life, but not for the reasons she hoped for.

𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: sophia laforteza x f!reader

𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: le sserafim (yunjin), aespa (karina), katseye and etc.

𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗦: on going

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧: open

𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗦:

dumb, dumber & the dumbest | yap squad, yap squad 2.5

𝟬𝟭: it's been a long time coming.....

𝟬𝟮: when the gang get tgt

𝟬𝟯: who went this hard on you

𝟬𝟰: who?

𝟬𝟱: would never do ts to pookie

𝟬𝟲: HOW TF

𝟬𝟳: WHO YOU TRYNA GASLIT

𝟬𝟴: no I'm just surprised

𝟬𝟵: what can I say

𝟭𝟬: y'all been talking crazy abt me

𝟭𝟭: FUCK MY LIFE

𝟭𝟮: she's my favorite child

𝟭𝟯: stalker much?

𝟭𝟰: i said quit acting dumb

𝟭𝟱: LARA YOU DUMB BITCH

𝟭𝟲: it's so about her

𝟭𝟳: GFYS

𝟭𝟴: WHAT

𝟭𝟵: W mindset

𝟮𝟬: sweetheart

𝟮𝟭: perfect

𝟮𝟮: no promises

™𝗖𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗚𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗘 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟱.

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧: @sunshinez4, @itzkatflixs, @harajukub4rb1e @iisayfa, @jaythegirlkisser, @yeetaberry127, @goofymickeyr, @hydrardz, @falling-intoo-deep, @mei2yok, @arihiu, @zindoriyo, @kristalag, @saysirhc, @fruityg0rl, @xochitlisbest, @tormaa1, @apersonwhowrites, @vvyuqi, @yjiminswallet, @cceanvvaves, @micaluvssoccer, @kkoga, @linnnsworld, @haerinkisser, @mirophobic, @erraticwritterz, @takuhg, @d1spact,

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atlasthegreatest · 4 months ago

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Almost Too Subtle / Sophia Laforteza x Gender Neutral! Reader

Where, the Katseye girls have long suspected that something was going on between their leader and their main rapper, but every time they tried to prove it, the duo managed to deflect suspicion, until one day.

Warnings: Secret Relationship. 7th Katseye member! Reader.

Word count: 1690

Being in a secret relationship was supposed to mean being discreet. That was the whole point. And yet, somehow, Sophia and Y/n were so good at it that the rest of the Katseye girls had started suspecting them anyway.

“You two are, like, weirdly in sync,” Megan pointed out one evening as they all lounged in the dorm’s common area. “Like, you always reach for things at the same time, finish each other’s sentences, and—”

“Make eye contact for way too long,” Daniela added, narrowing her eyes at Sophia, who was sitting cross-legged beside Y/n on the couch.

Sophia blinked innocently. “I do that with all of you.”

“You do not,” Manon shot back. “At least not like that.”

Y/n exhaled through their nose, pretending to be engrossed in their phone. It wasn’t that they were bad at lying—they just didn’t see the point in it. If the girls hadn’t figured it out yet, then that was on them.

“Guys, relax,” Lara chimed in, but even she sounded unconvinced. “They’re just close friends.”

Yoonchae snorted. “Then why do they act like a couple?”

Y/n finally looked up from their phone, arching a brow. “As if we aren’t.”

Silence.

Seven pairs of eyes stared at the main rapper, blinking, mouths slightly open.

Sophia’s head whipped toward them so fast that Y/n was worried she’d get whiplash. “Babe—”

“What?!” Megan shrieked, nearly spilling her drink.

Manon looked between their main rapper and leader like she was solving a math equation that had just become unnecessarily complicated. “Wait, hold on—what?”

Daniela flopped onto the couch, looking personally betrayed. “I fucking knew it.”

Yoonchae, who had been munching on chips, slowly lowered the bag. “So… you’re actually together?”

Y/n shrugged. “Yeah.”

Sophia groaned, burying her face in her hands. “So much for subtlety.”

“Subtlery?!” Lara practically yelled. “You guys have been sneaking around for how long?!”

“Almost a year,” the main rapper answered.

Megan let out an inhuman noise. “No way—oh my god, we are so dumb.”

“Or they’re too good at this,” Daniela grumbled. “How did none of us know?!”

Yoonchae, still wide-eyed, pointed between Y/n and Sophia. “Wait, so when you two sneak off after practice—”

“Dates,” Sophia confirmed.

“When you two whisper to each other during interviews—”

“Inside jokes,” Y/n admitted.

“And when Sophia steals your hoodies—”

Sophia grinned. “Because they smell like them.”

Megan groaned, flopping onto Manon’s shoulder. “I hate this.”

Daniela smirked. “I love this.”

Lara shook her head in disbelief, then pointed at Sophia. “You knew they were going to expose you, didn’t you?”

Sophia shot her partner a playful glare. “I didn’t expect them to just say it like that!”

Y/n shrugged again, unfazed. “The girls were going to figure it out eventually.”

Megan sat up, narrowing her eyes at the both of them. “Okay, but why keep it a secret?!”

Sophia hummed. “Because it was fun watching you all try to figure it out.”

Yoonchae threw a pillow at her.

“Yes but like—A year?” Manon repeated, like she was trying to make sense of reality. “A whole year? And you just—just said it like that?”

Megan was lying dramatically across the couch, arms over her face. “I feel so played.”

Daniela was cackling. “Honestly? Respect.”

Sophia, now fully leaning into Y/n’s side, was grinning despite herself. “I mean, you guys were gonna figure it out sooner or later.”

“But we didn’t!” Lara exclaimed, throwing a pillow in frustration. “We had suspicions, but you two were just—just too good at being secretive!”

Yoonchae, still processing, slowly shook her head. “Wait, so… when we all thought Sophia was texting a mystery person—”

“You mean them,” Daniela finished, pointing at Y/n.

Sophia just smirked, and Y/n hummed, completely unbothered. “Yeah.”

Megan let out a sound of betrayal. “So when you kept ‘going for a walk’ at night—”

“Dates,” Sophia confirmed again.

“And when you both got matching rings, and you said it was just aesthetic—”

Sophia playfully twisted the silver band on her finger. “Still aesthetic.”

Manon groaned into her hands. “This isn’t happening.”

“Honestly,” Daniela said, tilting her head, “I should’ve known. You guys have that vibe.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “What vibe?”

“The vibe,” Daniela insisted. “The ‘we’ve been secretly dating, but we think we’re subtle’ vibe.”

Lara threw her hands up. “Okay, but why keep it that much of a secret?”

Sophia looked up at Y/n, amused, and they answered simply, “Because it was fun.”

Megan let out a loud groan. “Oh, My God.”

Daniela smirked. “You know what? I respect the commitment. But now,” she leaned forward, “we demand details.”

Sophia grinned mischievously. “Well, since you’re all so curious—”

Megan sat up instantly. “Yes. Start from the beginning.”

And just like that, the chaos began again.

———————

“You guys planned to tell us like this, didn’t you?” Manon accused, squinting at both Y/n and Sophia.

Sophia, still leaning comfortably against her partner, blinked innocently. “Planned? No way.”

Y/n, completely unfazed, shrugged. “It was bound to come out at some point. I just got tired of pretending not to be Sophia’s favorite person.”

“Excuse me?” Megan screeched.

Sophia laughed, nudging Y/n. “You wish you were my favorite person.”

Manon looked deeply offended. “So, who is?”

Sophia smirked. “You guys are my favorite people, obviously. Especially Yoonchae.” Then, she casually added, “But they are my favorite favorite.”

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

Megan dramatically slid off the couch, groaning into the floor. “I knew it! I knew this would happen! The betrayal!”

Yoonchae, still catching up, frowned. “Okay, but like… so when did this start?”

Sophia hummed in thought. “Around this time last year?”

Lara gawked. “ And you thought we wouldn’t notice?”

“We did notice!” Daniela cut in, pointing at the rest of the group. “We just had no proof.”

“You guys caught us cuddling once,” Y/n deadpanned.

“And Sophia said it was because she was cold!” Megan yelled.

Sophia grinned. “And you believed me.”

Manon looked betrayed. “I can’t believe I let you lie to me like that.”

“You let me?” Sophia echoed, raising an eyebrow. “I recall you being very easily convinced.”

Yoonchae shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or mad.”

“Be impressed,” Sophia said. “It’s the correct choice.”

Daniela smirked. “Okay, but real talk—who confessed first?”

Silence. Then, Y/n and Sophia both pointed at each other.

The room erupted.

“Oh, hell no!” Lara gasped. “You mean to tell me you guys don’t even agree on this?”

Megan grabbed a pillow and dramatically screamed into it. “I can't with you two.”

Sophia laughed, looking at Y/n. “You definitely confessed first.”

“You kissed me first,” the main rapper countered.

“Okay, but you were the one being all soft and sentimental.”

“You grabbed my face and said, ‘I think I’m in love with you.’”

Daniela screeched. “Oh, My God.”

Manon slammed a hand on the table. “You mean to tell me you two have been doing this disgustedly cute relationship stuff right under our noses?!”

Sophia smirked. “Well, yeah.”

Megan groaned, flopping back onto the floor. “I hate it here.”

Lara threw a pillow at the couple. “I swear if you guys are secretly engaged, I’m fighting both of you.”

Sophia laughed. “Not yet.”

And just like that, the room fell into even more chaos.

“You still haven’t told us who confessed first,” Daniela pointed out, shushing the other girls, arms crossed as she eyed the couple.

“You guys don’t need to know that,” Y/n replied smoothly.

“Yes, we do,” Megan shot back. “We deserve to know after all the gaslighting you two put us through for a year.”

“You say that like we did it on purpose,” Sophia teased.

“You did do it on purpose!” Lara accused. “I swear, every time we thought we caught you guys in the act, you had some convenient excuse.”

Sophia tapped her chin in mock thought. “Well, we couldn’t just tell you outright—where’s the fun in that?”

Megan groaned, throwing herself over the arm of the couch. “Oh, My God, you two are the worst.”

Manon narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute… so if you’ve been together for a year, does that mean you’ve spent every holiday with us while secretly being a couple?”

Sophia gave her a knowing smile. “Yep.”

“Even Christmas?”

“Yep.”

Manon gasped dramatically. “Even Valentine’s Day?”

Sophia nodded.

Daniela threw a pillow at the couple. “You witches!”

“You’re all acting like we committed a crime,” Y/n said, laughing.

“You did!” Yoonchae huffed. “A crime of deception!”

“You know what?” Megan sat up, rubbing her temples. “Fine. Whatever. You win. I don’t even care anymore.”

Lara scoffed. “Oh, you care.”

“Okay, yes I care! But if I think about it too much, my head will explode!”

Sophia grinned, leaning into Y/n. “You guys really thought we weren’t dating this whole time?”

“It was obvious!” Daniela said. “But every time we tried to get proof, you made us look stupid.”

“Yeah,” Yoonchae added. “You were always together, but never too together. The way you two interacted was always… I don’t know, natural?”

Y/n smirked. “So we were too good at hiding it, huh?”

“Annoyingly good,” Manon muttered.

Lara shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe we lost to you two.”

Megan suddenly gasped. “Wait. Have you guys kissed in front of us before?”

Silence.

Sophia bit her lip, clearly holding back a laugh.

“Oh, My God,” Daniela whisper-screamed. “You have!”

“Not really,” Y/n tried.

“Not really?” Yoonchae echoed. “Not really?”

“Okay, okay!” Sophia waved her hands in surrender. “Maybe a quick one here and there. But you guys never noticed, so that’s not on us!”

Megan dramatically threw herself back onto the couch. “I hate you both.”

“You love us,” Sophia corrected.

Manon exhaled deeply. “Okay. Whatever. It’s done. You’re together. No more secrets?”

Sophia squeezed her partner’s hand. “No more secrets.”

“Thank God,” Lara muttered. “Because if I find out you two are secretly engaged next, I will throw hands.”

Sophia smirked. “Not yet.”

And just like that, the screaming started all over again.

#katseye #gender neutral reader #sophia laforteza x reader #katseye x reader #katseye megan #katseye manon #katseye daniela #katseye lara #katseye yoonchae #katseye sophia

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lascvitae · 5 months ago

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⌗ . ᵎᵎ ⸝⸝ be my baby .ᐟ ೀ

synopsis. after y/n’s school crush has a nasty break up and randomly likes her pictures on instagram, y/n finally gets the confidence to ask her to prom. little did she know, she would be the perfect decoy for sophia’s plan to get back at her (ex) boyfriend. until sophia began to feel things for the girl.

pairing. sophia laforteza x fem!reader

genre. smau, fluff, angst, crack, high school!au.

warnings. profanity, dark humor, underage drinking, smoking, katseye as popular girls, sophia is lowkey mean at first, suggestive themes/jokes, friendly bullying, use of aave, ignore the times on tweets, hair colors etc. in photos aren’t important.

feat. all of katseye, minju of illit, giselle of aespa, hanni of new jeans, heeseung, sunghoon, & jungwon of enhypen, jooyeon of xdinary heroes (+ more!!)

status. ongoing.

PROFILES.

hot nerds. | katdashians. | xtras.

CHAPTERS.

000. prologue.

001. subtle foreshadowing

002.

003.

sold prom tickets (open) — @saysirhc @1luvkarina @fruityg0rl @sunshinez4 @wtfisthisnoclueman @falling-intoo-deep @iisayfa @rdfgfv @rosiehrs @haerinkisser @yazzyminny @tylerthegirlkisser @yeetaberry127 @kristalag @aedollie @peanutbutterlover05 @linnnsworld @firstclassjaylee @sixflame438 @peranoo @gtfoiydlyj @syronns @enhamonsterghoul @ccchuro @pinxeajin @nokpopnolifee @nokpopnolifee @gablmk @wwwlpgs @tamberverse @lafortezalover @skz-xii @yoursweetdeception @tormaa1 @theyseemeroshing @yuyuy90 @the-eaglebearer @iluvyuandme @haeeee-rinnn @lafortezagf @p1hbrook

#be my baby — sl #katseye #katseye smau #katseye imagines #katseye x reader #manon katseye #lara katseye #yoonchae katseye #daniela katseye #megan katseye #sophia katseye #sophia laforteza #sophia x reader #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia smau #wlw #wlw post

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c4llezz · 5 months ago

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DTMF-Daniela Avanzini

after daniela broke up with you, she shoved everything that reminded her of you in a box that she later hid in her closet thinking she would never see you again. years later she still reminisces about her time with you and thinks “i should’ve taken more pictures”.

status... on going!

ft... katseye, olivia rodrigo, conan gray, njz hanni & danielle and more

genre... smau, fluff, angst, bad jokes, exes to lovers, slow burn!!, celebrity!r, cursing, kys jokes, alcohol consumption, etc...

author notes... this isn't an actual representation of the people involved, it is just fiction, actions and situations are not real they are just for entertainment. i honestly wasn't thinking of actually posting this but when I saw manon singing this song i took it as a sign.

three musketeers multilingual queens

0. prologue 1. holiday miracle 2. please please please 3. little mix 4. santa costume 5. mark of athena, page 480 6. FREEDOM 7. leaked number 8. count your days 9. no thought process 10. last show 11. disappearance 12. how to really disappear 13. good afternoon 14. hailee steinfeld 15. silly little question 16. apology video with tears 17. blue mustang 18. friends sounds great 19. reflecting 20. how things ended (written) 21. new friends 22. uber driver 23. robbed 24. SOS 25. kendrick lamar concert 26. world champions 27. valid question 28. sad v-day? 29. THE conversation (written) 30. not a passenger princess 31. first dating scandal 32. momager 33. max verstappen´s rival 34. three lattes for later 35. i like you a latte 36. megan skinny 37. girl kisser #2

more coming soon...

taglist... open

@gtfoiydlyj @meganskiendielsbtc @itzkatflixs @fruityg0rl @reey0w @hrurchives @sunshinez4 @xochitlisbest @bandaidss320 @1luvkarina @kristalag @wtfisthisnoclueman @peanutbutterlover05 @awkwardtoafault

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meiyokbf · 12 days ago

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under your spell

(y/n) (y/l/n), a soft-spoken lit nerd with sharp wit, gym shoulders, and zero game; never expected to meet the love of their life in a strip club, but megan wasn’t the kind of girl you saw coming. she was guarded, magnetic, and almost impossible to read, but at the same time she makes falling feel like a risk worth taking. lara and manon were supposed to be background noise to that night, a chaotic one-time hookup, but what started as fun becomes something harder to name once real feelings creep in. between sophia and yoonchae’s quiet loyalty and daniela’s reluctant care, everyone’s trying to figure out what it means to choose each other; on purpose, for real.

warnings: stripper!megan x nerd!g!p!reader, manon x lara, nsfw themes ahead, mdni. mentions/usage of drugs & alcohol, stripping, sensitive family matters & neurodivergence. reader uses they/them pronouns just for the sake of neutrality.

chapters:

00. | characters.

01. | part one.

02. | part two.

03. | part three.

04. | part four. (tba)

last updated: 06/17/2025!

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sillymommy6969 · 6 months ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝖄ES, PRINCESS ᝰ! M.S.

˚⟡˖ ࣪౨ৎ summary: megan's widely known as the comedian and most unserious member of katseye, but if they squint and really pay attention, eyekons will notice she does not play when it comes to a certain katsye member

disclaimers: protective!megan, she can be mean sometimes, 7th member!reader, shy!reader, mostly fluff

MEGAN BEING Y/N's KNIGHT IN ADAM SANDLER ARMOUR FOR 4 MINUTES STRAIGHT (PART ONE)

10.8k likes | 122k views | 27th Dec, 24

*Loud technical difficulty transition* In a recent video a fan took of Katseye awaiting their ride at LAX, the girls were lounging around a waiting area while their security held back the masses that began gathering around them

The camera was shaky and pretty blurry from how zoomed in it was, but it was clear enough to make out the fan favourite girl group walking out the gate and immediately being bombarded with camera flashes and excited fanfare from the crowd. Most members began waving and smiling for pictures, most of their faces covered by their caps, hoodies or masks.

In the very back of the group were you and then Megan. You had ushered Yoonchae to the middle of the group so as to not lose her, but doing so, you had accidentally pushed you and Megan behind. As the security team tried parting you a path, the amount of fans closing in on the two of you, shoving pens and phones into your faces was getting overwhelming.

[ this is sad, people need to learn to treat idols like humans ]

With your hood up and your airpod maxes around your head, you tried snaking between people to reach the end of the group again. Gradually, your hand slipped from Yoonchae’s, and the two of you were quickly held back.

You looked back at Megan for help, your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes squinting at the blinding flashes still suffocating the both of you. She had a Katseye cap on in her black hoodie, the irritated expression on her face unshielded from any of the cameras. Her hand found yours, but you were abruptly shoved back into her when a man’s camera knocked into your smaller frame. That seemed to send Megan over the edge.

She wrapped herself around you, managing to switch the two of you so she would be upfront. She held her hand up to cover the same man’s lens, pushing him back with medium force.

A few different angles of the exact same moment were thrown into the video, where Megan was clearly seen to be clenching her jaw, her eyebrows furrowed and a determined glint in her eyes as her other hand held you close to her back. It is, to date one of the more controversial videos Katseye haters used to paint Megan as ‘rude’ and ‘a bitch’.

[ Megan hulking out at the guy who pushed her girl is so real ]

You buried your face into Megan’s back, the faint scent of coconut in her hair soothed the anxiety accumulating in your throat. Your hand still warm in hers, her taller figure seemed to filter a lot of the flashes and invasive shoving.

When the security guards regained their footing and began helping Megan fight your way through the crowd.

A follow up video fans had zoomed in on the group when you had made it to the pick-up zone showed the group settling beside their mountains of baggage.

Manon and Daniela seemed to showing each other something on their phones, Sophia and Yoonchae played a finger game whilst Lara spectated. Megan had her body shielding you away from where the cameras were, her hands coming up to help brush your hair back when you yanked your hood down. Her fingers picked away the strands that fell to your face. She even goes to take her hat off, fixing it over your head before carefully setting your airpod maxes over the cap. Pulling your hood back up, she chuckled at the smile you shot her.

[ Ya’ll know I had to put the #megy/n origin video here ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ KATSEYE VLOG ] Dance Rehearsal with KATSEYE | KATSEYE

The six of you were just messing around between routines, stretching or playing games to loosen up your bodies before you went at it again. Manon had gotten her sudden surge of energy and was doing cartwheels with Lara’s assistance. Yoonchae and Sophia were working through the routine alone again in front of the mirror. Daniela was checking herself out on her phone and Megan was drinking some water.

Your manager motioned for you to come entertain the cameras during your break, waving for the cameraman to approach you in one corner of the room. You smiled at the camera, waving. “Hello, eyekons. Welcome back, we just wrapped learning new moves for MAMA, and it’s been really good—really exciting so far. As you can see, everybody’s definitely super exhausted.” you joked, the camera followed your hands gesturing to the six all energetically moving in their own worlds.

“Hm, I need a snack.” You rummaged through your purse, pulling out a protein bar. You held it up to the camera, holding a palm up behind it as if it was a makeup product. “These bars?” You moaned, “They save my life. Absolutely amazing.”

You heard laughter in the background, seeing the six have now gathered in a circle and challenging each other to do the most outrageous dance move they could. Everybody’s enjoyment—especially Manon’s laughter—seemed to echo around the room when Megan does a cringe tiktok move before doing aegyo. You strolled over, the camera following you as everybody broke out in hysteria at Megan’s performance.

“N/N, come do one!” Daniela called, waving you over.

You held your bar up, the other hand covering your full mouth as you chewed. “Give me a second to finish this, I’ll be there.”

“Not your big back ass—I mean, butt eating again,” Manon teased, her hands on her hips as she panted from doing her dance. She eyed the camera, waving for it to come closer as she held her hand up beside her mouth to whisper, “Just for you guys’ information, we just had lunch before this.” When Sophia slapped her shoulder after, she chuckled, “I can already see the headline on twitter, ‘Manon of Katseye fat shaming Y/N in dance rehearsal vlog.”

“Aye, y’know food hates to see Y/N coming,” Lara joked, beckoning you closer. “Wait, is that a XXX bar? Gimme!”

You held it out for her to take a bite, eyeing Megan, who was just the loudest laughter in the room. Her laugh had now faltered to a tiny smile. Watching you feed Lara the bar.

“When you think there’s an earthquake, but it’s just N/N walking around the building—!” Daniela added, hooking an arm around your neck before grabbing the bar for a bite too.

“Okay, enough.” Megan warned, glaring at her members. “Y/N has a faster metabolism than us, so she needs more to sustain enough energy for practice.” She explained to the cameras.

[ Dang she really said queen never cry and locked in ]

You hummed, walking over to stand beside the redhead as Yoonchae and Sophia entertained the cameras now. You peeled the wrapper of the bar back, encouraging her to take a bit as well to replenish her energy. The two of your were in the background, and Megan could be seen immediately brightening her expression at you showing you cared. Her hands cupped yours, leaning in to take a bite as you smiled.

[ The things I’d give to see them behind closed doors— ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ KATSEYE LIVE ] Happy First Birthday to KATSEYE! | KATSEYE

As Manon tried guessing the name of Daniela’s America’s Got Talent dancing partner, you managed your focus on the food. You felt your energy deplete with each passing moment; it had been a long day and you really needed some sugar in your body to keep going through the rest of the schedules for the day. You grabbed the bowl of powdered donut holes, popping one in your mouth as you mindlessly nodded at the girls bickering about Manon begging for an ‘effort’ point.

“So, the next question is about Sophia Laforteza,” Yoonchae read off her card, “Sophia, you can’t answer, but everybody else can answer—What is Sophia’s current favourite band?”

As everybody threw their hands up and shouted their names to answer, you stayed seated between Megan and Manon on the couch. It was obvious, even to the fans flooding the comments on the Youtube live, that you were a little off. You weren’t as engaged with the rest of the girls and you hadn’t spoken in a hot minute. Your manager, reading some comments behind the cameras gestured for Megan to check on you.

The redhead turned away from Lara answering the question to watch you bite into another donut hole. You caught her eye, offering the half-bitten treat before eating it upon her shaking her head. Your cheeks rounded out as you chewed.

[ SHES SO CUTE WHAT THE ACTUAL F*CK ]

The editor zoomed in on the two of you, Manon’s waving arms moving in the foreground as your subtle moment caught everybody’s attention. Megan chuckled at your eagerness to eat, her whisker dimples popping out. She pointed at your lips, followed by your tongue darting across your lips in attempts to clean the powdered sugar off. Her soft, yet infectious laughter was picked up quietly by the microphones around you, her hand reaching out to swipe the white powder from your lips. You pursed them, staring back at her with big, doe eyes.

She stuck her thumb into her mouth, cleaning the sugar from her fingers before picking up one of the donut holes for herself. Your head fell on her shoulder, her hand resting on your thigh.

[ If ya’ll heard a siren outside it’s me screaming from my room ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] Come join Manon and Y/N in a chill fashion show <3

You had tried on your third outfit of the live, sporting some denim jorts and a zig-zagged cut long-sleeve. You adjusted Daniela’s faux fur hat on your head, pouting into the camera as you spun to show everybody the full picture. Manon whistled, staring between you and the live with a wide grin. “Chat, are ya’ll seeing this smoking woman right now?”

[ We all need a Manon to hype us up in our lives ]

You walked forward, squatting to read what the fans were saying about your outfit. You were grateful it was mostly positive praises and constructive comments on what you could add or take away to enhance the whole aesthetic.

“I don’t know how I feel about the ice going with this fit though, you guys see this?” Your thumb tugged at the multiple chains and necklaces around your neck. Your wrists clinked as your bracelets knocked into each other. Neither you nor Manon seemed to notice the brief ‘MxY/I’ charm dangling off one of the many chains. But the comments immediately began discussing what they thought they had seen.

user01 ‘MxY/I’?? ANYBODY ELSE SEE THAT

user02 i just know their pr team be sweating everytime these two go live cuz this is the second time y/n’s exposed megy/n

user03 Guys calm down she’s just a chill girl

Deciding to deescalate the amount of people immediately focusing on the charm you had accidentally flashed the live, you signalled for Manon to take over for a bit with a different topic before you went off camera to take it off.

“Okay, but like I’ve been thinking about Katseye merch line of our charms, y’know? Like you get to choose between all our charms.” Manon rambled, “do ya’ll see the orange vision?”

You came back with your jewelry case, setting it down in front of the camera. Whilst you looked through your collection, the fans took their time to examine the necklaces on you to try and confirm or debunk what they thought they had seen. It was obvious it was missing now, and despite you trying to distract everybody by pulling out different accessories for this outfit, the comments had a common topic of interest.

user04 Great good job ya’ll made her take it off

user05 DID I IMAGINE THAT WHAT THE FUCK

user06 y/n knows sophia’s about to whoop her ahh after this

Screenshots of you wearing the necklace during the live flashed on screen. Some fans enhanced the image.

[ Nothing never escapes eyekons omg ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] What’s in Megan’s Bag? The one Megan’s by herself where the iconic dyslexic meme came alone

“Girl, I wish I had a favourite book—I can’t read. I’m dyslexic.” Megan chuckled, setting her bag down once she reached the lipgloss at the bottom of her bag. “‘Where are the other members’? Well, some of them have some mysterious, secret schedules to attend to and the other half are probably out doing their own activities. I’m just at work ‘cuz I finished up a dance-line shoot with Y/N and Dani.”

user01 WHERES Y/N MEGGERZ

user02 just saw y/n’s weverse update she’s literally out with somebody rn

user03 MEGAN WHOS Y/N DATING WTF

Megan’s eyes narrowed at certain comments pointing out your Weverse post. You had posted a mirror picture of you earlier, when Daniela was still in the background picking up a drink order. Her body was somewhat in frame, but not enough for fans to coherently recognize her. The two of you went out for a quick trip downtown to shop after your schedules were up, your manager had informed the three of you Megan needed to go live for fan engagement, so you had no choice but to leave her to it. You did promise her a take-away drink though.

“Hey, hey, we don’t get into private business around here, okay?” she asked, “I’m pretty sure Y/N’s out with Dani right now, but even if she wasn’t, no invasive questions, please.”

[ YES MA’AM SPEAK UP FOR YOUR GIRL 🗣️🗣️ ]

The two of you have been under a lot of pressure from management for the overwhelming amount of people obsessing over #megy/n. You two were advised to keep your distances whenever you didn’t need to be together, and it was growing apparent to the fans after a couple days of zero content from their favourite pair.

A little later into the live, a knock at the door sounded around the room. Megan didn’t really get the chance to see who it was before you barged in, a drink in hand.

“Sorry if the ice’s a little melty, Mei. Dani had to pick Yoonchae up so I had to walk, the journey back here was brutal.” You apologized, handing her the drink. The redhead nodded towards the phone, warning you that she was live. You walked onscreen, moving to where Megan was when she wheeled back in her chair. You wore a bright smile, waving when your head peeked on camera. In Daniela’s camo cap and denim top, you looked to have just walked out a modelling catalogue. “Hey, guys. Sorry to drop in with no warning, I had to make a quick delivery,” you said, holding Megan’s drink up.

Megan popped the lid open, “Did you get me—!”

“Extra whip and two pumps of strawberry syrup?” You finished, smiling proudly when her face lit up seeing the exact toppings she hoped for. “I always do, Mei.”

[ THE NICKNAME MEGAN SAID HER MOM CALLED HER ]

“You’re a godsend.” she hummed, taking a sip.

It was almost instinctive, the way your hand dropped to rest along the small of her back as she enjoyed the drink. When you remembered what your manager had told you that afternoon, you immediately pulled away, resting on your hip instead.

user04 NO WAY YALL GOT THEM IN TROUBLE W HYBE

user05 Nooooo the immediate take back :((

user06 omg they def got yelled at for being too obvious

When you bid the live goodbye, the comments whined at your coming departure. And once the door clicked shut behind you, Megan’s smile dropped, the way it usually did when she would lock in for filming interviews.

“I said no intrusive comments, guys. I don’t want Y/N feeling uncomfortable—and ya’ll definitely wanna see her again right?” The chat flooded with immediate agreement. “Good, then be sure to be mindful of what you guys say, yeah?”

[ omg she does NOT play when people harass y/n ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] Yoonchae and Lara on live in their Japan hotel room

“Have I ever told you guys this story about Y/N getting hit on at New York fashion week?” Yoonchae’s eyes widened, glaring warningly at the older member. “Okay, way to be subtle about the side-eye, Yoonchae. Nothing crazy happened, okay? It was just kinda funny, so I wanted to tell eyekons.”

Lara eyed Sophia offscreen, who gave her a thumbs up.

“So basically when we were in New York for fashion week, we were all sat together by the runway with all these cool people, right? And then these two German guys Manon and Daniela were talking to asked them what Y/N’s name was,” Lara said with a smile, “And then one of them asked her for her number and Y/N wasn’t really into it, so she was tryna like distract them and change the topic, but he was like insisting.”

user01 wait what german guys???

user02 Not Y/N getting flirted with in the wild

user03 i have a feeling ik where this is going

“So she grabbed Megan, who was sitting next to her, and like told the guy they were dating so he would leave. They looked so awkward when they were tryna act like a couple, it was the funniest thing I saw that week.”

“Yeah, Megan had to act like this tough guy and it was so out of character, I felt bad for giggling at her after,” Sophia added offscreen. “But it was actually really sweet overall.”

Yoonchae hummed, “Yes, Megan was very… like a knight.”

“Yes! Like a knight for Y/N. Like ya’ll already know our girl don’t play if you mess with her friends.” Lara cackled, “Never ever, ever, ever don’t come near us if Megan’s angry, you will never see the light of day ever again.”

user04 MEGY/N CRUMBS

user05 they don’t gotta pretend lol

user06 one thing abt megan is she locks in for y/n

[ Putting out more #megy/n content should be a mandatory Katseye schedule ]

#katseye x reader #katseye #megan skiendiel x reader #megan skiendiel #daniela avanzini #daniela avanzini x reader #lara raj #lara raj x reader #manon bannerman #manon bannerman x reader #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia laforteza #yoonchae

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edamameimei · 15 days ago

Text

party 4 u (daniela avanzini x reader)

"why you treating me like someone that you never loved?"

synopsis: right after daniela comes out as straight during the live, lara looks at the older girl, trying to hide her disapproval and slight disappointment. she then looks at you and frowns. because she knows. tags: angst w some fluff, dream academy!au, reader!7th member an: this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. CW: none! lmk if i missed anything though! wc: 6257

⏯ party 4 u - charli xcx

The awkward silence in the room is deafening. The tension in the air is thick, and Lara kind of wishes she hadn’t suggested doing a live tonight.

Right after Daniela’s confession, Lara looks at the older girl, trying to hide her disapproval and slight disappointment. She thinks back to Dream Academy and looks at you, wondering how you’d react. There’s something in your eyes, a subtle shine in them that tells Lara you’re trying to put on a brave face.

You look at Daniela, a smile on your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Congratulations, Dani. You are so brave for sharing that…” The statement rolls off your tongue smoothly. You say it like Dream Academy never existed. As if the memories of quiet mornings in the dorms that flash through your mind like a slideshow don’t feel like a stake in your heart. The feeling of your legs tangled with hers, both your chests rising and falling slowly in sync, the gentle touches on the small of your back, whispered promises still warm against your ear.

Whatever it was you two shared behind cameras stays locked away somewhere, hidden from the world to see.

Lara watches as Daniela looks back at you, and for a brief moment, Lara notices something in her eyes, but before she can dwell on it further, you shove yourself to the front, making sure you’re entirely in the camera’s view. You take a sharp breath before placing your hand on your chest. “Me, on the other hand…”

Lara always had your back, through and through.

But, when it came to your obvious feelings toward Daniela, she couldn’t help but want to knock you out in the nicest way possible.

When you first arrived at Dream Academy, her gaydar went off loudly.

She sat on the ground, stretching with Megan to prepare for another round of training. The Indian girl was in the middle of telling the brunette about another failed date when you walked through the door with your hair braided and an effortless outfit that consisted of a distressed sweater that depicted your university, a pair of athletic shorts with socks and slides that admittedly made her snort. You had your duffel bag slung over your shoulder and your headphones over your head, blasting a song that’s muffled to everyone in the room.

The moment you placed your belongings on the ground and removed your headphones, you were immediately bombarded with squeals and “hellos!” from every single person in the room. Lara observed you. She saw the way you took a cautious step back, the way your eyes narrowed slightly at the sudden introductions.

Megan leaned closer to Lara and whispered, “What do you think?” The Indian girl didn’t respond immediately, keeping her eyes trained on you as you said a quick, nonchalant greeting before you leant down in front of your duffel bag and rummaged through it.

Lara looked away, a slight smile on her lips. “Doesn’t seem like the outgoing type.” Megan giggled quietly at this, looking away from you also, not wanting to give you more attention than you are already dreading.

“She’s pretty cute, though…” Megan commented, and this made Lara snap her head up at the brunette, her brows raised in curiosity. She looked at Lara and rolled her eyes. “Am I wrong?” Lara spared another glance at you in time to see you take your sweater off, leaving you in only your sports bra. You discarded the shirt onto your bag, quickly walking away from it to begin your stretches in front of the extended mirror, alone.

Megan nudged Lara, and the Indian girl whipped her head back at Megan, who had a knowing smile playing on her lips. Lara scoffed, pushing the girl away. “I think cute is an understatement, no?” She quipped, causing Megan to blush slightly at her words. As Lara continued stretching, she began to wonder why you hadn’t said a single word to anyone. Something about you at first felt unreadable, but she was determined to figure you out.

The first person to walk up to you was Manon. She strode over to you with Daniela following in tow, and Lara couldn’t help but stare at the interaction in amusement. At first, you didn’t seem very welcoming. You were polite, but you never made genuine eye contact with the two girls. The confidence Manon had at the beginning began to fizzle as you continued to engage passively, keeping your eyes on your reflection in the mirror as you continued to stretch. Megan whispered again, but Lara’s gaze remained on you. “What if she’s just a bitch?”

The comment made Lara laugh loudly, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle the sound in an attempt to avoid people looking at them. She shook her head and swatted Megan’s arm playfully before uncovering her mouth. Her eyes settled on the interaction again, but this time around, she saw something different about you.

She noticed how you smiled at something Daniela said, a genuine smile that was accompanied by a twinkle in your eyes. You suddenly got up from the floor to fully invest yourself in the conversation you were having with them. This change in your personality made the Indian girl click her tongue, looking at Megan with a shake of her head. “She seems friendly with Dani.”

Megan quirked an eyebrow at Lara’s words before shaking her head. “Really? Dani kinda scares me, I can’t lie,” She admitted, getting up from the ground to begin stretching her arms. Lara followed her best friend, mimicking her actions.

“Do you also have beef with Dani? Or is it still just Yoonchae?” Lara replied, teasing the younger girl. Megan began to quickly defend herself, her tone hushed so no one else in the room can hear.

Her words fall on deaf ears, however, because when Lara looked back at you and Daniela, she can’t help but focus on the way Daniela touched your arm. She was sure the Latina was straight, she thought it was obvious. But, she found herself becoming doubtful when she saw Daniela laugh with her head thrown back after you said something to her. Lara wasn’t usually wrong about these things, but she couldn’t help but do a double take when she saw the Latina grab your wrist, pulling you along with her to continue stretching by her and Manon’s side.

Lara decides to confront you about it two weeks later.

“I think she’s straight,” She says to you one day out of the blue. You look at her, wide-eyed and confused as to what— or who— she’s pertaining to. She points ahead of you, a slight smirk on her face as you follow her gaze.

When you see Daniela on the other side of the room, practicing for yet another evaluation, your heart skips a beat or two. There’s no denying what you feel when you’re around the Latina. Still, it’s something you’ve never explicitly said out loud— let alone your preferences in dating. You went into Dream Academy, accepting the idea of having to hide that part of yourself, not wanting to ruin your chances in the competition.

A bit of fear settles in the pit of your stomach at the realization you might have been caught. You avert your eyes away from Daniela and onto the ground. You were never vocal about your sexuality, especially back home. It was a difficult subject for you to talk about, and now here you are, feeling slightly backed into a corner by Lara, who you never really exchanged words with up until now.

You look at Lara, your eyes pleading. “You can’t tell anyone,” You whisper. The desperation in your tone softens Lara’s expression, her eyes now full of sincerity that puts you more at ease. She places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently.

“Y/n… it’s okay. Honestly…” She takes a deep breath and lets out a shaky laugh. “Honestly? Me too.” It takes a second for you to register the meaning behind her words. Once it dawns on you, the nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach disappears, and a breath of relief escapes your lips. It feels like, for the first time since you arrived at Dream Academy, you’re able to relax.

You briefly glance at Daniela again, remembering Lara’s words from earlier, and frown. “You really think she isn’t at least a little bit… You know?” She stays silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Before you came into the competition, Lara would have been able to be quick with her answer. However, after seeing Daniela interact with you, she can’t help but wonder if she judged too quickly.

She purses her lips and pats your shoulder as she replies, “I’m just saying… I’d be careful.” You look back at the girl and smile, nodding your head. Even if whatever you felt for Daniela was a dead-end, you’re grateful to finally have somebody to talk to. A feeling of being accepted, being understood, resonates with you the rest of the day. It fills you with a newfound motivation to continue working hard. That loneliness that settled deeply in your chest slowly melts away with every encouraging smile Lara throws in your direction whenever you two meet eyes.

After three months of being a part of Dream Academy, there’s a fact about you that becomes very apparent to Lara.

And that’s, no matter how hard anyone tries, you keep everyone at arm’s length away.

While you did consider Lara one of your closest friends at this point, not much was actually known about you. The Indian girl could tell someone the name of your hometown and what college you went to before joining Dream Academy, but that barely scratched the surface. You managed to avoid overindulgent questions from the other girls. You would often excuse yourself if the conversation began to feel too real, too serious.

But with Daniela, it seemed different.

As Lara walks out of her vocal lesson, she overhears two familiar voices in one of the recording studios. She stops in her tracks when she hears your laugh, which is quickly followed by Daniela’s voice. Lara tiptoes toward the room and leans her ear closer to the cracked door.

Inside, the task of assisting Daniela with her vocal part for evaluations is long forgotten as you continue listening to her ramble mindlessly, her hands waving around frantically as she complains about another thing someone did during practice. There’s a fire in her eyes, and you know better than to try and put it out– at least right now. When she finally calms down, she sighs, leaning back against the chair with her eyes upwards at the ceiling.

You sit there quietly, letting her words linger in the studio. Her hands cling to the chair’s armrest tightly, the veins in her hands popping out due to her grip on it. Your hand lifts up from your lap on its own, wanting to reach out to the girl and provide her some sort of comfort. But you halt your movements as you think about Lara’s words and how she told you to stay cautious.

“Why… Are you so nice to me?” You ask suddenly, letting your hand fall back onto your lap. She turns her head at the sound of your voice, and you notice how the fire in her eyes has extinguished, now filled with a warmth that you wish was only reserved for you.

She swivels back and forth in the chair and smiles at you tiredly. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?” The Latina asks, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she looks down at her lap.

Your eyes flicker to her hand again, then to her face as you respond, “I was such an asshole when we first met, remember?” You furrow your brows, cringing at the memory of you being so passive with her and Manon in the beginning. You’ve felt terrible for it ever since, and it shocks you how both girls still wanted to be a part of your village even after the encounter. Your eyes stayed trained on Daniela, awaiting her response.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Daniela extend her hand out to you, her palm facing upwards. Hesitantly, you reach out to her, placing your hand in hers, and she immediately begins to rub circles on the back of your hand in silence. The contact sends shivers down your spine, and you have to bite your lip to suppress the smile that fights its way onto your face.

As you look down at your connected hands, Daniela finally breaks the silence. “I just remember wanting to get to know you.” She says simply, shrugging her shoulders as if what she said was already obvious enough.

You nod, taking it for what it is. Without a second thought, you lace your fingers together slowly as though you were making sure it was the right piece to complete the puzzle. As you hold her hand, you both fall into a comfortable silence, letting each other’s presence be enough. The buzzing from the AC is the only thing that can be heard, and your heart pounds loudly in your ears.

The silence inside the room forces Lara to tear herself away from the door and walk away as if she wasn’t just eavesdropping on your conversation. She couldn’t help it, though– the Indian girl has come to feel very protective over you, especially when it comes to Daniela. It was confusing to Lara, and she knew you well enough to know that it confused you, too. As much as you tried to convince her, she knew deep down you were trying to convince yourself as well. She has heard you say, “It’s just a crush,” so many times before. She has lost count of how many times you’ve said, “It’ll pass.”

But as your friendship with Daniela continues to blossom, Lara wonders how much longer it would take for your words to finally sound real.

You sit with Lara, Daniela, and Manon outside on the back patio of the dorms. The sun is about to set, and you all just got done with the first part of filming for the Dream Academy trailer. All of you still wear your gray uniforms, too tired to take them off. You sit next to Daniela while Lara and Manon sit together across from you. As everyone engages in conversation, you find yourself zoning out, your head resting on Daniela’s shoulder.

You feel warm against Daniela’s side with her arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close as she continues talking to the others. You feel your eyes begin to close as the sky starts to dim slowly, the automatic patio light turning on to illuminate the growing darkness.

“Wait! Let me tell you guys something my boyfriend told me last night!” Daniela suddenly exclaims as she sits up straighter but doesn’t let go of you. Despite the topic of the conversation changing, Daniela holds you closer to her side, her hand finding yours in your lap. You keep your eyes closed tightly in an attempt to tune the Latina’s words out. Your face scrunches up as she continues talking about him; there’s a slight pang in your chest as she confesses how much she loves him.

And Lara watches you attentively. She pays attention to how tightly you hold Daniela’s hand.

Another day of filming for Dream Academy comes around, and while getting ready, Lara notices how differently you’ve been acting.

She watches you do your hair in front of the vanity mirror, and she can’t help but frown when she sees you attempting to do a hairstyle that you struggled with in the past. There isn’t much time left before their next schedule, and Lara fears you’ll stress yourself out. She is about to ask if you need assistance, but a loud squeal cuts her off. Her eyes follow Daniela, who bounces over to you with excitement in her eyes. You’re in the middle of styling your bangs with your straightener when the Latina wraps her arms around your neck.

“I love when your hair is like this!” She giggles loudly. You carefully place the straightener back down, rolling your eyes as you lean into Daniela’s arms.

Lara looks away from you two, finally making sense of your decisions.

You want Daniela’s attention on you. And you know exactly how to get it.

Lara remembers that one night in the lounge, you were all sitting together after a long and exhausting day of heels. Celeste sat next to you on the couch and admitted how she felt intimidated by your presence when you first arrived at Dream Academy. Suddenly, the other girls jumped into the conversation, amplifying her thoughts tenfold. Megan sat with Lara on the other couch opposite you and worriedly asked the girl, “Should we intervene?”

Lara watched you intently, seeing the way your cheeks flushed in surprise. The reply you tried to provide came out as a flustered mess, a jumble of words that made no sense. Celeste found it endearing and cooed at you. Before you could react, she leaned closer to you, reaching up to pinch your cheeks affectionately. Megan is about to make another comment, but Lara shushes her, pointing in the other direction of the room.

As you stared at Celeste in a daze, her hands on your cheeks, Daniela appeared next to you out of nowhere, nudging Celeste away. The Latina attached herself to you, her arms wrapped around your own, and looked at the pink-haired girl with a stern look. “Y/n doesn’t like when people touch her face.” Her words sounded like a threat, and it made you look away, a bit embarrassed. Celeste quietly mumbled out an apology, scooting away from you to sit on the farthest side of the couch.

“Dani’s got it,” Lara murmured, her eyes still on the Latina in curiosity. She watched Daniela search for any discomfort on your face, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. It sometimes bothered Lara to watch Daniela be so possessive of you. If everything was truly platonic on her end, then why does she become so angry when someone else shows you the same affection?

And you weren’t stupid. You know Daniela becomes this way whenever you are giving your attention to one of the other girls. As someone who doesn’t like engaging in physical affection for the most part, you knew it was something you did that would drive the Latina up a wall.

There are people whom Daniela doesn’t bat an eye at, though. Lara, for example. And especially Manon. But there have been times, though, when you’ve noticed a slight change in the Latina’s demeanor when Lara begins to playfully flirt with you. As soon as you notice this change, you start trying to push Daniela’s buttons, testing how far you can play along with the tantalizing banter from any of the girls before the Latina decides she has had enough.

As you continue getting ready, from the corner of your eye, you see Daniela tying her curly hair into pigtails. She looks closer in the mirror and grabs her lipstick to touch up what she has already done. You look away to give Lara your undivided attention, ignoring how Daniela watches you through the full-length mirror she sits in front of.

You grab your eyeliner from your makeup bag and hand it to Lara, gesturing for her help. She gives you a look as if picking up on the game you are trying to play with the Latina. You simply give her a pleading look, pairing it with a slight pout on your lips.

“You’re going to get me killed, Y/n.” Lara sighs, grabbing the eyeliner from your hand and taking the cap off. You light up as she leans closer to you with the applicator.

You continue ignoring Daniela’s stare as you reply, “You’re the one who goes with it, though.” Lara doesn’t respond and continues to concentrate on the task at hand.

You can’t help but enjoy the way Daniela watches you two closely, your heart beating faster when Lara messes up slightly due to you giggling too much. You wonder if she sees the way you hold onto Lara’s hand, trying to keep her steady so she doesn’t make another mistake.

Lara, on the other hand, does notice how Daniela furrows her brow. She notices how the Latina looks away with a slight frown on her lips. Lara wants to say something, but she bites her tongue, knowing better than to piss the girl off right before filming.

Against all odds, you’re starting to be known as Dream Academy’s wildcard.

You sit on the grass of a park you found while you were on your morning run, scrolling through the different comments on YouTube and posts on Twitter.

After the first performance was uploaded, the amount of support you had evolved from 0 to almost thousands. It was as if a switch had been made, and now people who were previously calling you boring were begging for your debut. There were endless videos on TikTok talking about your ability to catch an audience. Your cheeks flare every once in a while when you come across an old video of yourself dancing resurfacing. People were in awe, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride.

You put your phone away, smiling to yourself. You begin to make your way back to the dorms, running with a newfound confidence. Once you get back, it’s 8 AM. You slip inside, trying not to make a noise. The last few weeks, you’ve been able to get back into the dorm, unnoticed by the other girls when you go for your run. You’re grateful for the chance to spend some quiet time by yourself before the chaos of the competition ensues.

You slip your sneakers off and put them to the side. As you quietly walk over to the shared kitchen, a quiet voice disturbs your silence, making you jump slightly at the intrusion.

“How was your run?” Daniela asks, her nose in a book. She doesn’t notice how you stand in the kitchen with your hand clutching your chest, eyes wide and on high alert. You were so wrapped up in your own head that you didn’t even notice Daniela’s presence in the living room, cozied up on the couch with her glasses perched on her nose. She doesn’t even bother to look up from her book, too engrossed by the story in front of her to take a break from it, not even for you.

You take a deep breath, regaining your composure before finally responding to Daniela’s question. “It was good… Why are you up right now?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

She flips another page and shrugs. “I woke up after you left this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep, so…” She pauses, taking a moment to read the words in front of her. Daniela then continues, looking up from her book, “So, I decided to come out here.”

You nod at her words and begin to walk over to her. You decide to sit on the ground, plopping yourself next to the couch she’s lying on. You pull your knees up to your chest and hug your legs, resting your chin on top of your knees. “Very roundabout way to tell me you miss me, Dani.” You whisper, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

She peers at you over her book, and the way she crinkles her eyes tells you she’s smiling behind the cover. “If I missed you, I’d just say it,” She claims, her tone very matter-of-fact. She then places the book down page-first onto her chest and looks at you with amusement in her eyes. You heard her loud and clear, but you knew what she meant otherwise.

You grin and begin to fidget with your fingers. “Well, I missed you,” Your words come out like a whisper as if you hadn’t planned on saying them out loud. The look in Daniela’s eyes softens as she continues holding your gaze, a beat of silence between you both. She opens her mouth slightly but then closes it, the silence remaining.

You tilt your head as you look into the Latina’s eyes and find yourself becoming lost in her brown hues. They begin to shine brighter as the rising sun begins to seep through the blinds. A silly part of you hopes to win this competition just so you can see Daniela in the mornings every single day for the rest of your life.

Your breath hitches as Daniela reaches out to you and cups your chin with her hand. You feel her thumb graze your cheek gently, her hand warm against your skin. She stares at you as if you were the most important thing to exist, as if you were the reason the sun decided to rise this morning. She looks at you like no one ever has before, and for a moment, you’re able to pretend she doesn’t have a boyfriend. You don’t think about Lara’s words. You sit there and lean into her touch, closing your eyes.

“I missed you too.”

You’re lying with Lara on her bed when she decides to ask you about Daniela again.

You keep your eyes on the ceiling as you hear her ask, “Do you really think she likes you?” It isn’t accusatory, and there’s no bite to her words– You know she’s genuinely curious. But you can’t help the way your brows furrow at the question. You aren’t upset with what Lara asked, not at all. You’re more upset with the fact that you didn’t have an answer. There is no answer for the way Daniela knows you better than everyone else at Dream Academy, no explanation for the secret touches under the table or the subtle glances across the room during practice.

If liking you doesn’t explain the way she acts when you’re around any of the other girls, then you aren’t sure what the answer is.

Lara speaks up again, her voice filled with concern, “I don’t want you to get hurt.” She turns her head to face you, and you know she has that look in her eyes. It’s the one that makes you feel as though this is all for nothing and that whatever you have with Daniela is all in your head. Your lip trembles as you attempt to ignore it, and tears spring to your eyes as you think about how easy it was for you to let your guard down when it came to the Latina. It didn’t make sense to you that your biggest obstacle in Dream Academy would be Daniela Avanzini.

And you wanted to hate her for it.

You bite your lip, squinting your eyes up at the ceiling. “Me neither.”

You lay on the practice room floor, scrolling through your phone while Daniela lays her head on your stomach, taking selfies. You laugh every once in a while, wanting to mess with Daniela’s photos. The Latina swats at your arm, glaring. “Stop! I look good!”

You snicker, moving your hand instinctively to Daniela’s hair. You thread your fingers through it, smiling softly. “You’re the one literally laying on my stomach… Just move, bro…”

Daniela sighs and shakes her head, leaning into your touch. “No… Too comfy.” You roll your eyes at the girl’s response and allow her to continue taking her photos. After a few minutes, you both decide your break is over and get up, bumping your shoulders with each other. Daniela grins at you and connects her pinky with yours as if she already missed having you by her side. “Let’s get this shit over with.” She sighs dramatically, and you snort at her words, letting go of her pinky to walk over to your duffel bag.

As you dig through it to find another shirt, you can’t help the words that escape your lips, “Wanna get done early so you can talk to your boyfriend?” A slight frown forms on your face as you think about the idea of Daniela and her boyfriend. You know you’re the one who brought it up, but it still bothers you more than you’d like to admit. There’s an odd tension in the room as you stand up, turning around to face the Latina once more to ask if she’s okay. Your face falls when you notice the dim look in her eyes. “Dani?”

She bites her lip and looks down at the ground, shrugging her shoulders. “I actually… Broke up with him last night.” You widen your eyes at her words, immediately running up to her to pull her into a tight embrace.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry for saying that,” You reply, holding her close to you. Despite your feelings for Daniela, you still can’t help but feel bad. You know how much she loved him and the way she talked about him; you could tell he was a somewhat decent person.

You feel her wrap her arms around your waist and rest her head against your chest. She shakes it gently, letting out a quiet laugh. “It’s okay. It had to be done, I think.” You furrow your brows and pull away from the girl slightly to take a look at her.

You tilt your head. “Why do you think you had to do it?” She picks her head up from your chest and looks up at you. Her hands travel from your waist, up your arms, and find their place on your shoulders. The delicacy of her touch forms a lump in your throat, but you continue to remain composed, not wanting your feelings to get the best of you.

Daniela’s lips form a thin line as she responds, “I just… It didn’t feel right anymore.” You wonder if there’s a secret meaning behind her words. They’re so vague, and you try to hide your confusion. You’re usually good at deciphering Daniela, but at this moment, the riddle proves itself to be difficult. You continue staring at her as if trying to read between the lines, and it doesn’t help that the expression on her face is unreadable. She looks at you in a way that makes your heart beat faster, and you can’t find an explanation as to why that’s the case.

Suddenly, her lips are on yours.

No one knows what happened, but there are whispers amongst the other contestants when they watch you run out of one of the practice rooms, hurriedly making your way toward the private bathroom that’s down the hall.

Lara watches with wide eyes as you push past everyone, running into the bathroom. Admittedly, her first instinct is to find Daniela, but to Lara’s shock, when she walks to the room you came out of, she sees the Latina standing there in the middle of the room. She looks up at Lara with tears in her eyes. Before she can say anything, Lara turns on her heel, not even giving Daniela another thought. She jogs to the private bathroom you’re currently occupying, ignoring everyone’s concerned stares as she walks up to the door slowly.

She knocks quietly and leans closer to the door. She whispers, “Y/n… It’s me…” The quiet “come in” breaks Lara’s heart as she hears the lock on the door ‘click.’ She opens the door cautiously, stepping inside, and sees you sitting on the ground, knees hugged to your chest, avoiding eye contact.

Lara takes a deep breath before getting on her knees in front of you, grabbing your hands and squeezing them gently. She looks at you worriedly, but you continue avoiding her gaze, only looking down at the ground as tears freely spill from your eyes. Lara reaches up and cups your cheeks, using the pad of her thumb to wipe away your tears. She whispers gently, “What happened, Y/n…”

You shake your head, not wanting to reveal what has happened between you and Daniela. Lara tilts her head, frowning. She lets go of your cheeks and clasps both her hands around yours. She looks down at them and whispers again, “Y/n… What happened with Dani?”

You let out a bitter laugh through tears at the mention of the Latina. You just shake your head, squeezing Lara’s hands tightly. “What do you think, Lara? I was being fucking stupid.” She shakes her head, immediately letting go of your hands to pull you into a hug. The moment your head hits her chest, you let go of the sob you’ve tried so hard to hold in. Your shoulders shake as your emotions wrack through your body, and you just feel so pathetic.

This shouldn’t have been a surprise. You should have known better– You did know better.

Lara continues to hold you as you cry, whispering comforting words to you in hopes that it will be enough to help you calm down. You grip the back of her shirt as you think about what happened after the kiss, the words she said to you stabbing you over and over again.

When your sobs finally subside, you sit still in Lara’s arms, unsure of what to do next.

“I’m in love with her.” You say hoarsely. Lara doesn’t reply and just holds you tighter. She knows no words can turn back time. She knows this is something you will have to sit with despite how hard you’ve tried to avoid it.

But you refuse to sit with it.

“You can’t ignore me when we get put in a group together.” You tell Daniela after Mission 3. Your arms are crossed over your chest as you watch her stop right in front of her door to her room. She ignores you and places her hand on the doorknob. You wait for her to turn it, but she doesn’t, still standing with her back toward you.

“I’ve got this far, and I’m confident that I’ll get that spot,” You take a step closer, your presence looming over her. You continue, “And I’m confident you’re getting that spot too.” Daniela scoffs at your words but doesn’t reply. She remains silent, and it only fuels your slight frustration even more.

You whisper again, your tone stern yet gentle at the same time, “Stop pretending I don’t exist.” Daniela continues to ignore you. She bows her head, and for a moment, you think she will finally reply, but the dorm stays quiet; the only that can be heard are the muffled conversations inside the other rooms. You press again, this time challenging her. As you do, you reach a hand out to her, a small part of you hoping she’d accept it. “You want me to stay. I know you do.”

Without a single word, Daniela finally twists the doorknob. She opens the door and walks inside, slamming the door shut in your face.

When your name is announced, Lara feels tears form in her eyes. She covers her mouth with her hands, overwhelmed with happiness that you will be debuting with her. She looks at you and calls out your name, excited to see you walk across the stage to take your place as the seventh member.

However, you don’t move. You stand frozen in your spot as if lost in your own head. Suddenly, you turn your head to look at the other six girls on the other side of the stage, but Lara knows who you are really looking for. Her eyes trail over to Daniela, who looks back at you with an expression that Lara isn’t able to name. It almost looks like relief.

The live show continues as you end up walking past Daniela and jump into Lara’s arms.

“She never told me what happened that day,” Lara says the morning after the live.

Daniela sits downstairs in the lobby of the hotel alone. She looks up at Lara in surprise, not expecting the sudden confrontation. She opens her mouth to say something, but Lara holds her hand up, cutting the Latina off. “And honestly? I don’t really care to know. Not anymore.”

Daniela closes her mouth and looks away, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then why bring it up?” There’s a bite to her words, but Lara ignores it.

“Because I know whatever you did say didn’t match what I saw.” Lara watches Daniela take a deep breath.

The other girl closes her eyes, her jaw tightening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lara nods her head and looks away from Daniela. She knows you’ll come back any minute now after your morning run, so she decides to cut the conversation short. “Why are you up so early anyway?” She asks. Lara notices how Daniela tenses up slightly at the question as if she had been caught doing something wrong.

“Needed some fresh air, I guess.” Lara looks back down at Daniela and bites her tongue, knowing today isn’t the day to continue pushing the Latina.

Lara turns around and takes one more look over her shoulder. She allows the bitterness to drip from her words, “Make sure you tell her good morning when you see her.”

a/n: president of frown town is back <3 had to remind yall what tf im all about LMAO lmk what you think, hope you guys enjoyed :)

requests are open

#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #megan skiendiel #daniela avanzini #manon bannerman #lara raj #sophia laforteza #jeong yoonchae #katseye #daniela avanzini x reader

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bvlgum · 4 months ago

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୨୧ GETTING SHIPPED WITH ANOTHER IDOL

𓇼ㅤ 𓈒ㅤ 삶 ㅤ───ㅤ "   WARNINGS; “ fluff, jealousy, mention of other idols, fem!reader (idk), established relationship,

Making use of my millions of accounts lol, I honestly forgot this account existed but now I’m here :P

MANON

Girly was trying to control her temper the moment a ship edit popped up on her fyp. She opened the comment and typed out. “They’re not together y’all!! They’re probably just friends, who you should be suspecting is manon and yn. I mean don’t they look so cute together?” A sly smirk crept up to her face as she felt proud of herself for typing that on her secret account. More pride shook her when more manyn edits began to pop up.

SOPHIA

Was probably trying her best to seem nonchalant and easy about it the moment a video pops up on her fyp but the her sulky expressions says it all. “Hey yn since when did this happen?” She called out for you rushing to meet you in the kitchen. “Huh what’s that?” You asked trying to get a glimpse of what she was showing on her phone. “Oh ah! It’s my most recent photoshoot why?” You asked trying to stifle in your laughter from looking at her face. “Well I don’t like it! Now people think you and wonyoung have something together” she whined. “Don’t worry baby, it’s just a photoshoot, if you want I could beg my manger to fix one with you soon?” “Omg yes yes yes, I’d love that” her silky expressions immediately vanished and was now replaced with a more cheerful one.

DANIELA

They look so good together “Hmm what an odd thing to say” Daniela watched with a frown as fan gushed about because of the minimum amount of interaction between you and newjeans minji. Meanwhile the both of you are practically flirting on camera and no one seemed to bait an eye. “Do you like her?” Daniela randomly asked out of the blue. “Umm no, she’s just a friend of mine” you answered shrugging off her possessive glare. “Okay that’s nice, don’t let it exceed friendship or else….” She paused with a playful threatening gaze.

LARA

Lara sat on the rolling chair, reading some Wattpad stories like fans had suggested when suddenly a story title caught her eye. She clicked on it and read the title with a straight face. “Y’all whoever wrote this title alone needs to arrive at the asylum right now” she spoke, her lips forming into a think line after. It was like her gaze was solely focused on whatever was on the screen. “I’m gonna report this” she said with a frown. Fans would guess that “oh maybe it was something inappropriate” but in reality it was a ship book of you and a male Kpop idol.

MEGAN

Megan was trying to hold her fake smile the more a fan gushed about how you and lesserafim eunchae would match together. The fan talked about how there was a certain chemistry between you two. Megan had heard enough and decided to cut the convo short. “Do you know who she looks amazing with?” Megan asked a fake glint of excitement in her eyes. “Who?!” The fan asked also feeling a thrill of excitement. “Me”. The fan squealed “oh ye— what?”

YOONCHAE

It all started when she woke up to check her social media and the first thing that pops up was a ship edit of you and newjeans haerin, with the editor adding a soft love song which didn’t help at all. The fans comments even made it worse with comments like; my haeyn 🥹, gosh how much I love seeing them interact on stage it’s so cute. The urge to reply and say “you’re just being delusional she’s with me!!”. Throughout the day you noticed yoonchae acting all sulky and pouty which lead you to confront her about what had happened.

#Katseye #katseye x reader #katseye x female reader #katseye fluff #Katseye headcanons #headcanon #katseye sophia #katseye manon #katseye daniela #katseye lara #katseye megan #katseye yoonchae #sophia x reader #manon x reader #daniela x reader #lara x reader #megan x reader #yoonchae x reader

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rosachae · 1 month ago

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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.

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