#manon katseye x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rosachae · 5 days 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.

501 notes · View notes

katnipp · 22 days ago

Note

Hey. Can I request fluff with Lara where she crashes y/n’s stream on twitch and the viewers find out they’re dating? Thanks

YOU GUYS?!?— lara raj

genre: FLUFF FINALLY

synopsis: when lara raj crashes her girlfriend y/n’s twitch stream, the internet finds out they’re dating—and instantly falls in love with them, too

warnings: NONE I THINK

—

y/n was deep into her third hour of streaming—halfway through a competitive valorant match, hyper-focused, mic on, chat going wild every time she pulled off a clean headshot. she was in the zone, which meant she didn’t notice the soft sound of her bedroom door opening, or the quiet steps behind her.

she did, however, notice the sudden warmth of someone wrapping their arms around her shoulders.

“you’ve been ignoring me for two hours,” came the familiar, teasing voice—sweet and laced with just enough mock offense to make y/n’s heart skip. “are you cheating on me with valorant again?”

and just like that, y/n went absolutely still.

her mouse hand froze, her screen character got immediately sniped, and her chat—oh, her chat—exploded.

chat:

WHO SAID THAT??

“cheating on me”??? HELLO???

WHO IS SHE

SHOW HER FACE Y/N STOP HIDING HER

THAT’S LARA.

LARA RAJ.

CHAT. I’M FREAKING OUT.

“lara…” y/n groaned under her breath, spinning in her gaming chair to face the grinning girl now very much in frame.

lara raj—international pop star, one-seventh of katseye, and y/n’s absolutely smug girlfriend—was looking entirely too cozy in y/n’s hoodie. her hair was in a bun, her cheeks soft and flushed from sleep, and she looked at y/n like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“hi, chat,” lara said sweetly, resting her chin on y/n’s head and giving a tiny, mischievous wave. “i’m the neglected girlfriend. she’s been ghosting me for pixels.”

chat:

LMAOOOO NOT “neglected girlfriend”

I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING GOING ON

GUYS THEY’RE LITERALLY DATING

THIS IS NOT A DRILL

y/n covered her face with both hands. “lara, i haven’t posted anything yet. they didn’t know!”

lara blinked. “oh.”

then she smiled.

that smile. the one that always got y/n into trouble.

“oops,” lara said, very much not sorry. “guess they know now.”

chat:

THE SMIRK

ma’am you can’t just SOFT LAUNCH YOURSELF

i feel like i walked in on something sacred

y’all are so cute i’m crying???

y/n peeked through her fingers and gave lara a long look. “you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

lara had the audacity to laugh and kiss her on the temple. “you were too cute not to interrupt.”

y/n was pink to her ears now, and the stream delay meant there was no salvaging this.

“fine,” y/n muttered, defeated, but her lips were curling into a smile anyway. she looked at the camera. “this is lara. yes, that lara. we’ve been dating for a while. i was gonna tell you guys… eventually.”

lara leaned closer to the mic, still snuggled against her. “she wrote me a song on stream once and told you it was for a ‘friend.’ that was me.”

chat:

AHHHHH

NOT THE SONG

I LISTEN TO THAT EVERY NIGHT

I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS

can lara do the ‘gf reveal’ dance now pls

y/n gave her an exasperated look. “you happy now?”

lara kissed her cheek, then down to her jaw in a way that made y/n squeak. “very.”

chat:

girl is SMITTEN

drop the couple playlist. drop the pet names. DROP IT ALL.

y/n sighed. “fine. you want more? she calls me ‘honeybun’ when she’s sleepy and once texted me mid-concert just to say she missed me.”

lara grinned. “she keeps a photo of us in her wallet. printed. like it’s 2003.”

“you made me print that,” y/n shot back.

“and you did it.”

chat:

this is literally the best stream i’ve ever watched

i’m naming my future child after this moment

⸻

after the stream ended (with lara refusing to let y/n finish her match and pulling her to the couch for a cuddle instead), y/n’s notifications exploded with edits, fan art, and sweet messages.

and later that night, under a shared blanket with lara curled into her side, y/n scrolled through them all—heart swelling at how loved they felt, both by the person next to them and the chaotic little corner of the internet that now knew the truth.

sophia:

just wait until i catch you guys…

—

557 notes · View notes

neoplatinum · 1 month ago

Text

I'D RATHER LIE | MERET 'MANON' BANNERMAN

synopsis: reader and manon are caught in a arrangement of being more than just members but less than lovers, their members catch on.

pairing: manon x 7th-member!reader

tags: angst, fluff, smut, members w benefits, top!reader, bottom!manon, bathroom sex, car sex, making out, hickeys, cunnilingus, fingering, 7th!member!reader, katseye members, mentions of a man (el oh el)

wc: 5.9k

"i'd rather lie than to lose you, girl"

hidden behind closed doors and tucked away bedrooms, you were caught under the trance of a woman whose feelings were as fleeting as a thought. the only permanence and constant is her autonomy.

it really was born out of pure coincidence that you found yourself knowing more than just her, but also the way she kisses you. the softness of her skin, the quiet noises in the dead of the night, and even the way her eyes glaze over when you’re in too deep.

there was always the threat of being found out by the public. if word got out that two katseye members were in a romantic relationship, that would spell out the end of the group. so you two kept the arrangement to yourselves. carrying all the memories and weight of your actions. they were locked up in a deep corner of your heart and soul.

in front of cameras you’re plenty pleasant, playing the role of the more quiet and reserved member, cracking rare jokes that had the members laughing until their stomach hurted. but you never wanted to display a weakness to a very special member that had landed her way into your heart.

so you often created a fake distance with her, sitting away from her during interviews or group lives. it was all a farce, created to weakly contain the deep feelings tucked away, from everyone, and from her too.

knowing that you will always feel more for her than she could ever feel for you had your heart aching for months. you try not to notice the closeness that’s so evident with other members, a closeness that you long for. you stuck closely with sophia instead, opting to join her lives instead of manon’s. it was a fool-proof way to keep the public from seeing you two as anything other than close friends.

you fought your feelings as hard as you could, letting your heart rip into shreds for the crumbs of attention that you could receive when behind closed doors.

all of that thinly-veiled confidence in your plan, slowly came crashing down.

the first to notice was sophia.

it was obvious to everyone and especially sophia that you were more reserved, a quietness about you that wasn’t tainted with awkwardness. rather just comfort in the silence and peace of being truly yourself. so when sophia caught you staring a little too long at manon’s stage videos during rehearsals, she noted that.

she also noted that you would often give little huffs of annoyance whenever you two were in the same room together.

one time she walked into the kitchen, hoping to grab a quick fruit to snack on. instead she felt she walked into an old western standoff. both of your bodies angled away from each other, but gazes stuck on each other.

she felt like she just caught herself between two worlds, nothing other than the energy made her feel so caught, you two were perfectly normal. your hands were dripping with soapy water and the faucet was running. manon took a bite of her sandwich while saying nothing to you, just staring back as you were to her. when manon spotted sophia, she offered you half of her sandwich before disappearing into her room. you stood there, watching her until her figure retreated and resumed cleaning dishes.

sophia swears she felt the temperature drop from how odd that situation was.

“are you okay?” sophia said as she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. eyes keenly observing the way your hands were shaking as you continued rinsing plates.

“yes, are you?” you placed another plate onto the drying rack, casting your eyes downward. you continued to busy your hands with other dirty dishes, hoping that sophia would drop whatever she thought about that interaction.

“i'm good, here for some fruit.” sophia smiles at you, still observing the way you refuse to make eye contact with her.

“the apples are really good, do you want me to cut it up for you?”

she smiles at that, grabbing a small knife, and slowly carving the apple skin off. handing you a small piece before leaving the kitchen once more. you eat the apple piece slowly, staring at the half sandwich that manon left for you.

–

“where’s manon?” sophia asked to the group.

“probably overslept.” you offer back. drinking more water and capping it before going back to practice more of the dance you were having trouble getting down. sophia’s dialing manon and you try not to focus on that. rather continuing to monitor yourself in the mirror.

sophia groans and looks at you.

“she’s not picking up, can you go get her?” sophia asks, everyone has their eyes on you, so you reluctantly agree. a growing uneasy feeling as you grab your phone and hoodie. speeding off the lot and straight back to the katseye house.

when you get to her room, you give yourself a moment to collect yourself before knocking on her door.

“manon?” you ask quietly, waiting for a response. when you get none, you turn the knob, opening the room to a very asleep manon. her hair splayed over her pillow. soft breathing sounds as you walk closer to her.

this was always your weakness, the way she looks like you could wake up next to her for the rest of your life. it’s in the way that she curls into her side, the relaxed face. you wish you could stay whenever you two hooked up, but knowing the after was never going to be yours made you leave before you could fall too deep (you already did).

“manon, wake up.” you softly whisper to her, gently brushing the hair out of her face. her face leans into your touch and you try not to lose your focus.

she smiles a bit, knowing exactly who’s touching her face.

“no…five more minutes, i swear.” she says. trying her hardest to turn her body the other way. you huff a bit before cradling her face with both hands.

“manon, you’re late for practice, and you know how sophia gets when any of us are late.” you speak to her gently, watching the way she continues to smile with bliss.

you ignore the thumping in your chest when she grabs your hand and pulls it away from her face. only to intertwine her fingers with yours. then her eyes completely open.

“no, come cuddle.” with a swift hook of a leg she drags you into her bed. your back hitting the mattress, and feeling the wind knocked out of you.

“oof.” you groan as you try to get your breathing back, feeling a bit annoyed as manon grabs onto you. her leg wrapped over you and her hands slowly moving against your stomach.

she stares up at you, watching the way you refuse to make eye contact with her. her hand slowing when she feels your heart thumping in your chest. she smiles as she pulls herself closer.

you let yourself get pulled into cuddling her for longer. leading you into a quick dissent into messy hands and even messier kisses. the responsibilities of being a global girl group member falls to the back of your mind when you hear her calls for you.

until you get a call from sophia, asking about your whereabouts. soon you’re speeding down the freeway with manon giggling in the passenger seat, adjusting her jewelry in your car’s sun visor.

when you arrive, manon apologizes for oversleeping, but deep inside your heart you know she doesn’t feel bad at all.

sophia doesn’t mistake the sight of a hickey just tucked under manon’s top.

–

then daniela noticed.

it was a saturday night, and daniela found herself invited to a house party up in the hills. hearing the news, manon begged to join the party, and then in tow lara joined as well.

you were dragged in as DD (no one but manon knows how you were convinced to do so). so you were driving up the hills with the chaos of three other girls, loudly screaming songs from your sound system. no one questions that manon always gets passenger seat in your car.

dropping the keys to your 1969 mustang was less than enjoyable, you just hoped the bright eyed 20 year old valet would not crash your car. walking into a larger than life mansion, you scanned for some soda, something to at least keep you busy until you get that text from daniela that the night is over.

when you finally land yourself a drink, your eyes are glued onto manon, body moving within the crowd. finding a couple of friends that you knew as well. happily chatting them up with delight in her eyes. you can’t be bothered knowing that all you want is to steal manon from the room and do more than friendly things to her.

it’s in the way that she chooses to seek out her happiness away from you, and in the same way you choose tonight you’ll try and forget those brown eyes that haunt you in your every waking moment.

you're walking straight for a girl that’s surrounded by a group of her friends.

“hi sweetheart, want to dance?” you put on your most charming smile, a dangerous game that you swore off years ago, way before you met manon. she gives back a smile, one that’s a little too eager. one that lets you know you won’t return her calls if she gets your number.

soon you’re caught up with a girl that’s everything other than the girl your heart aches for. her hair is too fine, she doesn’t fit against your torso like how she does. her eyes are too light to even be comparable to the ones you love gazing into.

her kisses are too fast, the eagerness kills your mood. just eagerness for eagerness’ sake. you want the passion, the intensity behind the emotions. but you push that need down, you’re here to have as much fun as you can without holding yourself back.

as the night goes on, more people are trickling onto the dance floor. you try your best not to notice how your members are shocked by your actions. the way you’re touching up on this random girl could make headlines tomorrow that could send all of your careers into a dumpster fire.

daniela’s about to step in, ready to grab you from the dancefloor, when she’s beat by manon. a determination in her step that couldn’t be matched. manon’s grabbing you by the arms before lara could even shout her name.

the sleeves of your jackets tugged you away from the girl, your eyes are a little blurry and you almost lose your footing.

“manon, let me go!” you’re shouting at the girl gripping your jacket. a small light of anger erupting in your stomach when she continues dragging you down the hallway into a bathroom. she slams the door shut and locks you two inside. you stare at her, anger continuing to boil within you.

“what the fuck was that?” your anger is almost tipping, here you are trying to forget the very girl that’s in front of you.

“i could ask you the same thing, what the fuck. was. THAT?” her anger is pouring out too. the way she crosses her arms and glares right back at you. the sparkly sequin dress catching under the light is almost as distracting as the glossy dark red lipstick painting her lips.

“i was having fun, what’s it to you?” you scoff, sitting down on the toilet. you hold her gaze, staring right back into her soul.

she chuckles low, her eyes have lowered to near slits as she walks up to you.

“that fun you’re searching for…” she guides one of your hands right down her stomach, your gaze following like an obedient dog, “is right here.”

you’re not letting the warmness of her skin get to you. until she pushes your chin up. the way she gazes into you is far too much for now, you pull back from her, watching the way her eyes go dark with anger.

“you had no right pulling that out there.” you stand up, backing her up slowly until her back hits the sink.

“and you do? kissing her like that?”

“lucky for you, i’ll play your game.” you roughly grab onto her dress, diving for a kiss that’s spelling more than just the eagerness for her. your soul reaching out for hers as you move her up onto the sink. arms wrapped around you like you’re two pieces born to be molded together.

you’re reaching further into her dress when she roughly pushes your jacket off you.

“get this off. now.” you’re practically ripping off the jacket when she’s decided now’s the perfect time to watch your tattoos under the light. her eyes are zero-ed in on you. you hotly continue to kiss her as your hands wander. slipping off the straps to her dress like they were a mistake.

your eyes are zooming onto your next target, pulling her more towards you, grabbing her waist before dropping to your knees. you keep your hand on her at all times, feeling the way she grabs onto your hair when you push her dress up. a lazy smile on her face when you look up at her.

you give her a small kiss on her inner thigh, eyes gleaming with amusement as she realizes you’re not moving another inch.

“don’t piss me off.” she growls at you, her lazy smile replaced with a deep frown. you smirk once again at her, using her thighs as leverage, balancing yourself before kissing her further, more kisses near her heat, but never where she wants it most. you’re tempted to keep playing with her, until she pushes your head towards where she needs the attention the most.

the tension is all in your neck as you continue to lay short licks around her. slowly getting her louder and louder, as you finally give her bud a lick. a tantalizing one at that, slowly dropping it near her hole. she lets out a gasp at the sudden prodding.

you go back to her bud, giving it more desperate licks and digging your fingers into her thighs. a feeling of desperation is growing as she continues to moan your name inside of this bathroom. her hand is gripping onto your hair and pulling like a madman.

before you know it, she’s pulling you up by your hair. your eyes finding hers before devouring her lips once more, the messiness displayed in the fogged up mirror, handprints on the glass. and you’re pushing her dress up further. finally pulling off her panties in one quick swipe.

her lips continue to find yours, arms tightly looped around your neck as you ruin her further and further.

“inside now.” she’s angry and bothered, her lips attach onto your neck while you enter her. a low moan in the back of her throat erupting just to be perfectly heard right by your ear. “move.”

“patience, darling.” you smirk further, loving the sensation of her against your neck. feeling the way she’s gripping onto you, and trying her best to move on top of this sink.

you chuckle a bit before going right back to what you were doing. hands rubbing up and down her side, fingers reaching into her in just the way she loves it. she continues to attack the side of your neck downwards to your chest.

you’re loving the feeling of desperation, the shaking, the rushed kisses, the sudden reminders to breathe when you move in that one area she loves. almost like a trance, she’s tossed her head back, eyes hiding behind closed eyes that are relishing in the feeling of being around you.

“come on baby, come for me.” her rushed breaths are driving you crazy, the way she tries to grind onto your fingers, making you feel like you’ve reached nirvana. her legs are starting to shake in that way that lets you know she’s nearing her peak.

you latch onto one of her tits and flick it, suckling it before pushing it back out with your tongue. your other hand moving towards her clit, rubbing it in just the same tempo that you’re moving with her. you’re curling your fingers upwards, feeling the pads of your fingers hit that golden spot, and she’s whining against you.

“fuck. fuck. fuck, i’m cumming,” holding onto you as an anchor as you watch her fall apart, legs shaking, breaths heavy as if she’s just danced for an hour. the way she mouths your name silently, letting the waves of her feelings expand and buzz within her.

you’re reminded why you love this so damn much. you want to be the only one that can pull this side of her out.

and damn it, you need to be the only one.

“it’s okay, i’m not leaving.” you whisper to her as you slowly remove your fingers. a gentle reminder that you’ll always stay with her, with her lowest and her highest moments.

three minutes later lara’s banging on the door like she’s the feds. you quickly pull manon together while she’s still recovering from her dazed state.

daniela doesn’t mention how your jacket is draped over manon’s poorly covered up dress. nor does she mention how you have lipstick stains still covering your mouth that you’ve poorly wiped off.

in two weeks time, the next to notice is lara. it was a quick slip of the mouth but she’s always been good at fact checking you. it’s apparent in the way you always go to her for debates on the more philosophical topics that keeps your mind spinning.

“you stole my milkshake.” lara says as she opens the fridge, you continue to clean down the sink and ignore her comment.

“i said, you stole my milkshake.” lara closes the fridge and stares at you.

“i didn’t steal it.” you state while wringing out the towel you’ve been using the clean the kitchen. with another wipe of the counter, lara gets in your space.

“yeah? then where is it?” she asks, catching you off-balance. seeing the way your eyes expand. she pokes your side with your non-response.

“manon’s room.” you say. moving yourself away from lara. she continues to eye you, watching the way you continue to wipe the same spot down. she leaves for manon’s room, quick strides down the hallway. in a quick turn, she find’s manon at her desk, playing with makeup.

“manon, you stole my milkshake?” lara’s eyes widen when she sees it on her nightstand.

“i…did no such thing.” she pulls her best puppy dog eyes and notices the cup on her nightstand. lara’s eyes are following hers and it lands on the exact cup of milkshake she was saving for this afternoon.

“then what is this?” lara’s lifting the cup and shaking it in manon’s face. the emptiness of the cup isn’t lost on her.

“that’s…um, someone’s milkshake.” manon nods to herself, quite proud of her evasiveness.

“yeah, mine’s.” lara scoffs and throws the cup into the nearest trash can. manon can only giggle and whistle as she turns back to her makeup. lara’s getting more suspicious, manon isn’t one to drink milkshakes.

“why are you drinking my milkshake?” lara sits on manon’s bed, looking around the room.

“i didn’t, you-know-who did.” manon says.

“i thought you stopped hooking up with him?” this is news to lara, she didn’t know manon was still hooking up with him since they broke off the arrangement months ago.

“yeah, um, he came over last night.” now lara’s more than confused, how do you know that the milkshake is in manon’s room. lara was sure she didn’t see anyone come into the house last night.

“really?” lara offers back mindlessly, watching the way manon continues to fiddle with her makeup, a quick hm giving lara all she needed to know. manon’s always been a horrible liar, a dead giveaway when she doesn’t make eye contact.

and then lara spots it, in the very corner of manon’s bed is your favorite beanie, the one you never lend to anyone, not even daniela when she’s having her worst hair days.

“interesting. don’t steal my milkshakes anymore.” lara says, grabbing onto your beanie and exiting the room, walking straight for you.

“you left your beanie in manon’s room.” lara says neutrally, dropping it into your hands. you have half the mind to offer a thank you, but you knew you’ve been found out, or at least that’s what lara’s eyes are telling you. she gives you a smile before exiting the kitchen once more.

“shit.” you eye the beanie.

–

then yoonchae noticed, sweet yoonchae who had no reason to believe that two of her members were hooking up. she had been requested by manon to steal your car keys. the car keys that you kept on you at all times. but you would never guess that sweet yoonchae would take it. thus here’s yoonchae ready to raid your room all for a promise of in-n-out and a sweet ride in your car, by manon.

yoonchae’s browsing your desk, desperate to find that orange 8-ball that you have attached to your keys. her eyes land on it and she can already smell the burgers that manon will buy for her from doing this.

and with a smile, yoonchae’s sitting in your precious red mustang. manon cruising it down to the freeway with two goals in mind. to make this the best birthday gift you’ve ever received and to do it in your car.

yoonchae doesn’t make a comment when she notices how intently manon’s eyeing different bouquets. the way she only chooses the best looking roses, and how she buys all of your favorite snacks, not batting an eye at the price.

yoonchae happily eats her burger in the passenger seat, watching manon arrange the flowers and gift basket in the backseat. and even though later yoonchae’s dismissed to do whatever she wants, she watches from the house. the way manon grabs pillows and blankets stuffing them inside the car. she certainly finds it weird that manon’s stringing fairy lights in your convertible.

she also doesn’t mention how she sees manon get all dolled up for this “birthday surprise”. she continues to watch from the corner of the house when manon leads you outside to your very decorated mustang. after almost losing your mind from wondering where your keys were.

–

“you could’ve just asked me to borrow the car, you know? i was losing my mind trying to find my keys.” you huff a bit, walking towards your beautiful car. manon’s quick to walk with you. jumping into the driver’s side when you unlock the car. you scoff before entering the passenger seat.

“well, i have a birthday surprise for you, and i needed the car for it.” she smirks, grabbing the keys once more and turning the ignition. and soon she’s pulled you two off the lot, heading up for the hills.

“bannerman, if you crash my car, i’m going to chase you down until the ends of the earth.” you say to her, watching the skyline as you travel through the streets.

“mm, sounds like someone has a crush.” she smirks, toying with your threat.

“you wish.” you scoff, directing yourself to pull this conversation into another direction. she’s telling you stories of her time in zurich, how she would steal her friend’s car keys and hide them for fun, until they offered to drive her wherever and whenever.

you laugh a bit, that does sound like her. and you recount stories of how your car had gotten you a lot of attention in high school, manon stops tuning in once she hears about how one girl thought the passenger seat to your mustang was her seat.

and soon you’ve pulled up to an overlook. a gaze out onto the city of angels.

“happy birthday, baby.” manon presents to you a cupcake with a lit candle, “make a wish.”

you don’t say it out loud, but you wish for the girl right in front of you. and after blowing out the candle, manon smiles when she sees you bite into the cupcake. delight spreading over your face, and manon swears she will make your wish true no matter what it is.

“thanks, you didn’t have to do all this.” you say as you unwrap manon’s cupcake for her.

“i wanted to do this for you, it’s your birthday.” she says quietly, gazing out into the city with sparkles in her eyes. you let the soft music playing from the car consume you. it’s been months since you’ve started this arrangement and lately you can’t even tell if it’s your own desire for her bleeding into the idea that she might like you back.

no one else has given so much thought into preparing a birthday celebration for you. you continue to stare at her as she stares out at the city. a warmth spreading in your chest that you’re struggling to contain. the loss of self-control building in your chest but also in your voice.

“manon, i think i love you.” you offer.

she continues to stare out into the city, her eyes closing when she hears those very words.

“i know.” she says it back like she’s walking a tightrope, like she’s scared to admit her truth as well.

“i think i love you too, but i’m scared.” she trails off, clasping her fingers together, and she sighs, letting her head fall on your shoulder. you take a minute to digest her words, you’ve never felt so conflicted to hear these words.

“why are you scared?” you both stare out into the city, like it’ll calm the chaos that’s been plaguing both of your brains.

“i’m scared i’m going to mess this up.” manon’s eyes are closed as she thinks about how happy you make her. how she never wants distance from you, the same distance that you enforced on her to keep everyone off your backs. “i’m scared that i’m too much for you.”

you think of all that you two have done, besides the physical intimacy, there’s so much more you want, the desire for a permanent space in her life.

“i’m scared too, but i want you more.” you offer back, she nods at the words. digesting the way you’ve always been so sure of yourself, even though you hurt yourself by holding yourself back you’ve been so sure of her.

“i didn’t want to assume more than what we had.” manon speaks gently, tracing shapes onto your skin. small hearts that keep looping into each other.

“i didn’t want to either, but i think eventually i would’ve told you.” you grin to yourself. feeling the weight of the confession being lifted off your shoulders.

“i’m glad you said something first, i don’t think i would’ve had the courage to.” she says, stopping her tracing to look into your eyes. you laugh a bit.

“you can’t tell me you have feelings for me, but you’ll do this instead?” you point at your gift filled car. you smirk when you notice the small teddy bear with a heart pillow. manon just blushes instead, not answering your observation.

you get off the hood of your car, walking to the back to admire her handiwork. the backseat covered in fairy lights and small paper hearts that hung from the ceiling. you laugh a bit before entering the backseat, pulling manon in with you.

“mind explaining this setup to me?” you grin at her, watching the way she gets embarrassed.

“it’s stupid really, i wanted us to have chocolates and chill in your car. something lowkey that you would like.” she says, pulling out some chocolate she had sent over from zurich.

you grab her face, placing a long kiss onto her lips, one that expressed the gratitude for her attentiveness.

“this is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” you grab a piece of chocolate from her and toss it into your mouth. letting the music carry the silence of the night. she tosses one into her mouth as well.

“you’re welcome, baby.” she grabs your face to kiss you. letting her feelings pull her in. and soon you’re all over her. chocolates and gifts long forgotten when she’s the most gorgeous gift you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

you can feel your soul becoming lighter, a sense of belonging as you pull her onto you, legs straddled on you. kissing heavily as the music is drowning in the background. the sensation of soft lips, ones you could lose yourself in forever. the tugs from her as she pulls your hair softly, pulling you back until you’re off her lips. a glazed smile on your face, zero-ed in on hers. admiring the smears of her lipstick as you lick your lips, tasting your favorite cherry lip-gloss that she owns.

“my sweet angel, you wore cherry?” you grin, using a thumb to wipe of the lip-gloss.

“it is your favorite.” she grins, slowly unzipping her hoodie, revealing the red lace lingerie set that always has your eyes go wide. and like clockwork she watches the way your eyes grow to the size of a baseballs. hands immediately latched onto her sides, like a bull you’re ready to charge at red.

she’s perfectly set up this plan, aiming that by the end of the night you get to unwrap your birthday present.

her.

clad in your favorite red lingerie set.

you pull her closer as you run your fingers over the lace, the familiar feeling of devouring your favorite meal. and with fervor, your back to kissing her, slipping your tongue into her mouth, letting the hotness consume you. acting on pure instinct and hunger, your hands grace her boobs, grabbing one with your hand as you hold the back of the neck with the other. she’s losing herself in the process as well, loving the attention and hunger you’re displaying. she chose the right outfit to wear tonight.

“baby, please.” she whines when you continue to kiss her. moving to kiss her cheeks and pushing her backwards. kissing upon her lace covered skin.

“please? you’re going to have to be more specific.” you let out in between kisses. you play with the straps of her corset. letting one fall off her shoulder.

“please, need you.” you shake your head at her, not heeding her request. “down there, please.”

shes trying to move your hands downward, and you let her. moving it to exactly where you know she needs you the most. and you’re toying with her, liking the way she curls her body into you, breathing heavy and panting. the way she whimpers when you squeeze her bud gently.

pulling away quickly, she’s about to protest when you grab her to be placed onto the blanket. tucking the pillow just under her neck and kissing her. a reminder of how sweet you are in the passion of devouring her. her eyes watch you intently, the way you shrug off your jacket, leaving you in a sleeveless top. the way she can see the way your muscles are tense as you use your arms to prop you up. she swears she’s never felt so hot for you before.

something about the confidence in knowing her body inside and out has her ready to let everything go. let you control her body like a marionette. and she does.

she lets you toy with her, using your fingers to dexterously bring her closer and closer to her peak. the way you’ve sunken down to explore her both with your hands and mouth.

“fuck, how are you so good at that.” she’s gasping for you.

she’s letting out sounds that you didn’t even knew existed. grasping for the seat and window like a lifeline. lost in the pleasure of you, she’s completely let herself free, loud moanings that make the music go silent. until all you can hear is her, in her most vulnerable state.

“baby, please please please, keep going.” she’s begging now, struggling to keep eye contact but trying her best to make you understand just how bad she needs you.

“shit, oh my god, i’m cumming.” and soon she’s crushing your head with her thighs, squeezing you as she rides out her orgasm, the waves of pleasure crashing into herself, slight convulsions and twitches. neither of you say a word as you both catch your breathing. she pulls for you, open hands waiting for you to cuddle her.

and you do.

you hold her close, just like you always have. she grabs onto you, grip never letting up. she traces the tattoos that you have on your arm, the same one that she loves so much.

you let yourself feel vulnerable too, draping your jacket over her body, singing her whatever song is softly playing the background, not even moving until sunrise.

you’re back in the katseye house by the early morning, and you can only hope no one has spotted you two. the way you both look like a wreck and reek of each other.

you smile as you carry a sleeping manon into the house, still snuggled into your jacket as you set her down into your room.

–

the first to say something is megan, and to her defense, it was meant as a joke. until everyone became far too quiet for a simple joke.

it happens during movie night, lara’s put on a classic horror film: the shining. your lack of fear for horror movies has yoonchae and manon hanging onto you throughout the movie. yoonchae’s tucked into your side, ears closed as she tries to get through this scary scene.

manon’s even worse, seated into your lap, away from the TV. her head tucked into the crook of your neck, scared beyond belief. you silent rub her back, whispering to her that “everything will be okay.”

megan’s laughing her ass off at the scene, finding it more hilarious than anything. daniela and sophia are less scared, but still attentively watching the film. lara doesn’t feel any kind of way as she watches the film, happy to just continue eating her popcorn.

“that scene is so funny!” megan shouts at the TV, looking at the way yoonchae and manon are gripping onto you for dear life. you simply shrug at the TV, continuing to pat manon’s back.

“not funny at all!” manon shouts back, her eyes still closed shut and letting you rub her back.

“oh baby, it’s okay, it’s just a movie.” you say to her but megan overhears it. and without a second thought she opens her mouth.

“baby? are you two finally dating?” megan askes jokingly, eyes wide as she smiles. everyone can hear the pin drop as soon as megan said the final word. lara and daniela are sharing looks, sophia’s ready to get up and lecture the group. meanwhile yoonchae peaks her head up.

no one says a word for a couple seconds, until everyone’s overlapping with each other.

“n-no listen, it’s not like that.” you offer, feeling your ears heat up.

“i so called it!” daniela shouts at you two.

“jesus, guys! this isn’t any of our business!” sophia’s quick to mediate, trying to settle the chaos that was brewing.

“oh my god, they found out.” manon whispers to you, curling even further into you, embarrassment exploding within her.

“i stole your car keys for manon. sorry.” yoonchae says to you lightly, and you can already feel a pressure migraine growing as all the girls are talking over each other. daniela and lara sharing what they’ve noticed.

“fuck my life.” you groan, and feel manon giggle into you.

a/n: tried a new format! and a comeback fic that was not proofread/first smut-ish fic, this was so fun to write! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

#neoplatinum #katseye #manon bannerman #manon katseye #meret manon #katseye x reader #katseye manon #manon x reader #manon #katseye manon x reader

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zznblr · 2 months ago

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exes and ohs 𐙚 c.yj

ʚ♡⃛ɞ his ex is getting married to his brother. he’s totally okay with it. he’s very happy for them. of course, he’s going to the wedding. and he definitely did not pay his next door neighbor five hundred dollars to be his plus one at their destination wedding.

written + smau • fluff + angst • fake dating • friends to lovers • neighbors to lovers starring choi yeonjun featuring soobin and beomgyu of tomorrow x together • yeji from itzy • chaewon from le sserafim • manon and daniela from katseye started on. april 5th 2025 status. ongoing

character profiles

one: you are cordially invited two: and that's a bad thing three: get a girlfriend four: alert the news and the media five: favors for friends six: bem-venido seven: fumbling eight: walk down memory lane nine: defeated ten: kiss and make up eleven: brothers twelve: dinner with friends thirteen: they got you too fourteen: you're drunk... fifteen: viola sixteen: bad kisser seventeen: eight flights of stairs eighteen: glad you’re here nineteen: something blue twenty: worth the wait

disclaimer: all representations of characters in this story are completely fictional. this is not a reflection of the real people that they are inspired by or even how i feel about them. it is simply for storytelling purposes.

reblogs n comments are appreciated :)

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sillymommy6969 · 3 months ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ BREAKIN' BONES ᝰ! S.L.

trying to be subtle and secret with sophia!

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ 𝑦𝑡 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑜. ❫ ｡ sophia laforteza x f!r 𖥔 fluff ── disclaimers: katseye 7th member au (read in dark mode!) / pt. one, two / ℭatalogue

N/NFIZ NOT BOTHERING TO HIDE THEIR RELATIONSHIP ANYMORE FOR 14 MINUTES GAY (p.s. happy n/nfiz anny!)

100.2k likes | 580k views | 13th Feb, 25

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip one: [ YT VIDEO ] Halloween w/ KATSEYE!

Sophia, you, Daniela, Lara and Yoonchae (in that order) sat along the table of decorated ornaments. Five pumpkins sat before you, carving tools laid around it. Quickly, the five of you got to work designing personalized jack-o-lanterns, but being the middle children you were, you and Daniela seemed to have declared a war on pumpkin guts.

“Oh--Dani, stop!” you squealed, dodging another handful of guts hurled your way. “They’re gonna have to clean this up!”

It didn’t stop you from scooping a new chunk of pumpkin to slap on Daniela’s hand. The Latina’s dancer reflexes kicked in, jerking her hand away, along with her pumpkin. She screamed, her shrill shriek ringing and blowing out the microphones taped to her back. Lara, who sat on Daniela’s other side, leaning back into her chair to avoid Daniela’s swinging arms.

[ oml you can’t take these two anywhere- ]

Yoonchae eyed Sophia on your end of the table, the editor for Katseye emphasized how fearful Lara and Yoonchae seemed, before editing a fake knight’s armour on Sophia.

“Okay, okay, Dani, that’s enough!” Sophia stretched an arm out, keeping the latter from slamming anymore pumpkin guts into you. You stuck your tongue out when the Latina scoffed in disbelief, gesturing towards you as Sophia gave her a stern look. The blonde narrowed her eyes, clenching her jaw as she sat back down. You shot her a taunting smirk, as Sophia helps clean whatever leftover pumpkin was on you.

“Why am I the one getting yelled at, she literally started it!” Daniela whined, pursing her lips. “That’s not fair!”

“Dani, if I hear another word from you, I’m putting you on Megan duty the next week.” Megan duty was the rotation Lara explained on live a few days ago, where each member helps take care of Megan and anything she needed because of her back. The redhead could be a real piece of work though, especially since the injury had not dimmed her big personality. “No more messing around, Avanzini, I’m warning you.”

[ mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sor-- *gunshots* ]

Sophia brushed your arm of anything else, before holding out a bag for you to dump your guts into. Daniela sulked the rest of that video, in a sour mood because she got in trouble with the leader for something you had obviously started.

“You know better than to mess with y/n when Sophia’s around, Dani, that’s on you.” Lara snorted, earning a harsh swat to the arm from the girl. “Hey--! I’m just saying, she’s untouchable.”

“Hey, you’re exaggerating,” Sophia groaned, “I was just tryna stop the two of them from fighting.”

You looped your arm under the Filipina’s, laying your head on her shoulder as you carved a face into your pumpkin. You chuckled along at the older’s attempts to defend herself, but all five of you (and eyekons too) knew better than that.

“Oh, yeah? Then why am I always stuck getting in trouble when y/n threw the first punch?” The blonde loudly protested, “Last night, y/n and I were making a late night snack at like three am, and when y/n accidentally dropped a pot and woke up the whole dorm, I got banned from the kitchen for the next week because Sophia found some food on the counter when she came downstairs.” Before Sophia could defend herself, Daniela held a finger up to her face to silence her. “y/n did not get punished for waking everybody up, but I can’t make toast on the kitchen now cuz there were crumbs on the table.”

“You made the kitchen super messy! It was horrid.”

“No it wasn’t! There were crumbs, that was it, at least I wasn’t the one who woke up Yoonchae.” If you couldn’t tell, Daniela was still quite bitter for Sophia getting you out of trouble with the dorm’s drill sergeant. “Yoonchae wouldn’t talk to me all day after, but y/n got off scotch free ‘cuz Sophia was there.”

“Dani, you’re so dramatic. It was not that deep,” she scoffed.

Daniela stood, pointing and swinging her carving knife at the cameras, “Eyekons, if you guys are watching this, find every single time y/n and I have messed around and only I get in with Sophia for it. I swear, there has to be a million out there, so please feel free to send it to me on Weverse.”

[ the war dani started with this is insane eyekonville really went to work for this (there was a 16 minute video of it on weverse) ]

“You’re just salty ‘cuz you’re a loser,” you bit back.

“n/n, I swear to God, I’m going to jab this into your ear,” the blonde threatened, holding the knife towards your head. She was quickly stopped by Sophia, who clicked her tongue and instructed for her to sit with a harsh glare. Lara began laughing hysterically at the Filipina proving Daniela right. “Man--screw this, Chip, switch seats with me right neow.”

[ poor dani… best be known y/n has her own bodyguard ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip two: [ VLOG ] y/n day w/ Katseye! (09:16)

“Hey, guys, it’s seven in the morning of y/n day!” She cheered and hollered under her breath, clapping her hands softly. “The girls are up and getting ready right now, but y/n’s still sleeping. We have a whole day planned for her today, so we need to stay quiet and make sure we don’t ruin the surprise.”

The members each occupied a section of the vlog, individually tasked to do different errands to make for a smooth transition into the surprise party they had planned for your birthday.

Manon and Daniela were sent to grab decorations, Megan and Yoonchae were asked to prepare the food and Sophia put it upon herself to get you the gifts alone. Lara volunteered to distract you for the morning whilst the girls got ready for the party, her planning a whole trip to the spa and then a massage place as a “birthday treat”, and you, of course, agreed.

“Okay, last month, y/n and I were out walking around this exact mall, and she saw these ugg sliders that she really wanted.” Sophia held the camera, looking past the lens at where she was going. She was strolling through a mall alone, people seen walking past and behind her. “So, I’m gonna go get them so she can keep her feet warm this winter.”

[ when she remembers small things >>>>>>>>> ]

She greets the worker standing by the door, quickly going to the section the two of you frequented the last time you were there. The shoes you wanted were still there, she picked a pair up, asking one of the staff for your size.

Once she had paid for them, not even bothering to check what the price was. She bid the employees goodbye, before smiling into the camera at a successful start.

[ where’s my sophia laforteza… it’s not fair y/n gets her ]

“They were almost out of stock, I’m so lucky… Okay, guys, we’re now moving to Sephora. I noticed n/n’s running out of her favourite perfume, it’s a gift she got from her mom so I’m going to get her another so she can refill that bottle,” Sophia announced, her voice peppy with excitement, “Bear with me here, I’m about to leave this place with so many bags.”

The vlog cuts to Sophia setting the camera down on a makeup table, she had a tiny Sephora basket in hand.

“I’m back, and I’m gonna give you guys a haul of what I got for y/n, okay?” She started rummaging through the basket of products, before pulling out a makeup palette. “So, Lara told me this new palette was good, she’s been trying out new brands and stuff so she wanted me to get this for y/n. Megan and Yoonchae already got y/n this self-care basket, so I’m getting the face masks they wanted to put in. I know Manon and Dani definitely have more of an ‘experiential’ gift planned, but--Oh! Here’s the perfume y/n loves.”

She held a beautiful box up, opening it to reveal the bottle within. It looked expensive, just based off the packaging.

[ that thing is half my rent >:0)) sophia really don’t play when it comes to spoiling her girl ]

“I called up mama l/n last night just to make sure this was the right one. I can’t wait to see y/n’s face when she gets this, she’s gonna be so happy,” Sophia gazed down at the perfume bottle in her hand, smiling sheepishly. “I can’t believe she’s turning XX, it feels like I’ve seen this beautiful, sweet woman grow up and into herself. I’m so happy to apart of it.”

[ only y/n has sophia giddy like that in the middle of sephora ]

“Anyways, I think we’re good here. I just need to pick up one more package--it’s gonna be a surprise for when y/n opens it later, even you guys aren’t allowed to see it yet.”

Later in the video, we see Daniela and Manon set things up in the dorm’s backyard. They set up an arch with your age on it, tables of food Megan and Yoonchae almost burnt down the house whilst preparing, and Sophia had set the wrapped and bagged gifts on another table. The mystery gift sat front and centre amidst the pile, a purple and (your colour) bow on it. It was almost golden hour, and the lights around the garden dimly lit the area perfectly. It looked perfect, and Sophia was beyond excited to welcome you--her birthday girl--home.

“Remind me to get Lara mad snacks later, she’s done such a good job keeping y/n busy all day, like, ‘phew’!” Manon sighed, dragging the back of her hand down her forehead.

“Yeah, she rocks at this. n/n gets a nice little spa day before coming home to all this.” Daniela cooed, “We spoil her.”

“Our girl deserves it,” Sophia replied softly, “It’s been a year.”

[ it’s actually pulsing her name in morse code im so single ]

Yoonchae hummed, “y/n has worked so hard this year.” She turned to the camera set on the girls just lounging around, “She loves Katseye and she loves Eyekons, so I’m sure she will love spending this special birthday with you all as well!”

When you finally came home, you walked into the yard per Lara’s guidance. You immediately gasped, the girls tackling you in a hug with a loud, unanimous, “Surprise!”

“Oh my--So this is ‘work’, huh?” You eyed Lara, who shrugged.

You gave each of them a hug, and when it came to Sophia, she wrapped her arms tightly around your neck, swaying you as you chuckled at her refusal to let you go. “Fia, I can’t breathe.”

She pulled away, cupping your cheeks. She gave you a beam as your hands dropped to her waist. “Come on!”

[ they are in love your honour, cade closed ]

As you soaked in the set up of everything the girls had prepared, the video dragged on with celebrations, fun activities, a little heartfelt moment of you thanking everybody before you got a little video message from your parents. The video brought you to tears, and Sophia immediately hopped out of her seat on the end of the couch to engulf you in a big hug, shielding you from the cameras as you composed yourself. She brushed your hair out of your face. “Come on, y/n, don’t cry--Let’s go open some gifts!”

You started unwrapping each gift, thanking each individual member for their respective presents. Sophia watches, a small, genuine smile paired with a soft gaze as she watched you happily unveil your gifts. The moment didn’t escape eyekons.

[ this single-handedly proved how down bad sophia was ]

It wasn’t until it came down to the mysterious gift, it wasn’t big, but just a tiny box with a bow of your colours on it. You immediately looked up at Sophia, getting an encouraging grin back as you pulled apart the paper. You popped open the box, and the camera zooms in on whatever is in hand.

A black key fob, with a small golden mustang at the bottom.

All five girls gasped, immediately crowding around you with looks of disbelief as the room fell silent for a moment. You looked up at Sophia, who just flashed you that innocent, wide smile. “Sophia, what the fuck.”

“Happy birthday, mahal.” she stated casually.

“You got me my dream car?” you scoffed, immediately throwing yourself onto the Filipina. You wrap your arms around her, practically suffocating her in a tight hug. “Sophia, holy shit, you should not have done this!”

[ get you a millionaire girlfriend who loves you huh ]

“I know you’ve been saving for it, but I figured I’d use the money I’ve saved to sponsor you instead. My parents helped a bit. They say ‘happy birthday’, by the way.” Sophia brushed some tears, now of joy, out of your eyes.

[ the in laws are in love with y/n as well they’re so fairy tale couple JUST COME OUT ALREADY ]

“We can finally match like fast and furious!” Daniela squealed.

You sniffled, unwilling to let a chuckling Sophia go. She rubbed your back, running a hand through your hair as you gave her a tight squeeze. “I can’t believe it, that’s too much!”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re happy.” Sophia stated.

“Happy? Fia, I can’t even begin to describe how grateful to you I feel right now,” you stayed stuck to Sophia, front pressed against hers as the other girls cooed. Finally, Manon clasped her hands together, “Okay, are we taking this baby out for a joyride, or are we leaving it to rust in the garage?”

You held the keys up, grabbing Sophia’s hand. “Say no more.”

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip three: [ ELLE ] Phoning it in w/ y/n of Katseye!

“Hello, I’m y/n l/n from Katseye, and today I’m going to be prank calling my friends, family and team. This is Phoning It In with ELLE.” you introduced yourself, smiling from ear-to-ear as the series intro sounded. First came the screen of you with your bandmates at your recent MAMA performance, the words, “Katseye members” appeared onscreen.

“Okay, I need to figure out who to call--If I call Manon or Dani, they probably won’t pick up, so… I think I’ll call Sophia. Sophia will answer.” you tapped on her contact name, holding the phone out, ringing for “Laffy <3”.

[ the nickname and the heart?? y/n you’re sick for this ]

The line rings for a second before, “Hey, mahal.”

[ mahal???????? sophia laforteza the woman you are ]

“Hey, Fia, I’m not distracting you from anything important right now, am I?” After a quick denial from Sophia, you continued, “Okay, so, I know I’m in the middle of media day, but I really, really, really need to ask a big favour from you.”

Sophia hummed, “Okay… whatever you need, lay it on me.”

You catch the staff swooning at Sophia’s sweet tone, biting your lip. You tried not to giggle, as to not give the prank away, but the way the women in the corner of the room were cooing at the Filipina’s words was all you could see.

“So basically, I’m in the bathroom at ELLE’s warehouse right now, and I kind of need you to bring me some pants.”

Sophia paused for a moment, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you held in laughter. Bless her heart, she must be so confused. “You need me to bring you… pants? Why, honey, did you sit on something? Did you lose them somehow?”

You couldn’t hold back the single chuckle leaving your lips, “No, I was eating this big thing of chocolate before I got on set, so I left it on my chair when I went to work. The heat was cranked up high and the chocolate was open. When I came back, I forgot I put it there and kinda sat on it… Now I just look like a little kid who couldn’t hold it in, so I really need you to bring me some fresh pants before somebody sees.”

Sophia was never one to laugh at another’s misfortune, especially not yours. You knew she would be a fun person to prank because she’d be oh so eager to help little old you.

“Okay, I’m just at lunch with Dani right now, but I’ll be there as soon as I can. Which pair do you want me to bring?”

[ the way she immediately drops everything… im folding ]

You hummed, pretending to be in thought, “I don’t know.”

You could hear her getting up from sitting and packing up her things, before her keys jingled. Her phone was quickly snatched from her hands, as given away by the loud, “Hey!”, she let out. A familiar cackle sounded from the line, putting a big, amused grin on your face.

“Oh my God, you stoopid! There’s no way you’re trapped looking like you [bleep] yourself at ELLE. Take a pic, this is going on our wall of iconic moments.”

You rolled your eyes, “Absolutely not, Avanzini. Now, give the phone back to Sophia, I’m on a mission here.”

“No--! I want to see a pic, please!” she whined.

“Dani--Give me that!” A brief struggle could be heard from the other end, you buried your face in your free hand as the two bickered childishly for Sophia’s phone. You were glad this was at least the kind of entertaining ELLE was looking for, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed at the humorous unprofessionalism your twenty year old bandmates were showing. “Eat your food, I’m gonna go get y/n her pants. You better not go crazy at the ice cream shop when I’m gone.”

You snorted out loud, knowing Daniela, she was definitely planning on it. “Fia, honey, I need to tell you one more thing.”

Sophia hummed, “Anything, mahal. What is it?”

[ the pet name, my knees bucked… MY KNEES BUCKED ]

“This is a prank, I’m sitting with ELLE right now, this is Phone It In.” You hear Daniela’s faint groan of disappoint, before Sophia shushed her. “I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to ruin your lunch plans, but I figured you’d be most likely to pick up between the six of you.”

[ mahal? honey? they’re so domestic coded please-- ]

Daniela scoffed, “Hey! I definitely would’ve picked up.”

“It’s okay, y/n. If you were anybody else, I’d be mad at you for taking advantage of my kindness,” she teased, “But I’m just glad you didn’t actually sit on chocolate and look like you crapped your pants on a media day.”

“I know, I’m sorry. You guys enjoy lunch though, I’ll make it up to you soon.” You held the phone away from your face, looking down in anticipation of the leader’s response.

“Sounds good. I love you. Have fun pranking other people, mahal, I’ll see you at home.” Sophia made kissy noises.

“I love you too. See you guys.” You smiled, before hanging up.

[ felt like i was interrupting something while i was editing ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip four: [ WEVERSE LIVE ] 14/01/25 Sophia (13:05)

“Yes, I’ve seen Wicked. y/n and I went together last week, it changed my life.” Sophia commented, digging into the snacks laid out before her. She tilted her black Katseye hat up, her hood draped over the front. “y/n looked at me like i was crazy ‘cuz I was full on sobbing at the end. She still gave me hugs and bought me ice cream, so I forgive her.”

[ she looks so content talking about their date i can’t ]

“Speaking of, I’m pretty sure our girl’s on her way here… she just texted me she’s off work.” Sophia smiled, doing a little dance as she glanced back at the chat. “Yeah, looks like you guys are just as excited to see her as I am.”

user01 she’s immediately in a good mood when her wife’s otw

user02 she’s so real for giggling like this

user03 it’s y/n so i completely get it sophia

user04 MY PARENTS ARE COMING TOGETHER??

“Oh, yes, I’m pretty sure y/n and I are gonna see Gladiator 2 later tonight. She’s really into that one actor… Pedro Pascal?” Sophia mentioned, “She loves star wars and stuff, so when she heard the guy in The Mandalorian is gonna be in Gladiator, she’s making me go. Haven’t seen the first one, but guess I’ll find out what happens along the way.”

[ A WOMAN A WOMAN A WOMA-A-A-A-AN ]

As Sophia conversed and entertained the fans, you would eventually arrive at Geffen. In one of the many meeting rooms Sophia seemed to be occupying then, you knocked, hearing a soft gasp from the other side of the door.

Sophia glanced at the phone, “y/n’s here!”

She wheeled her chair out of frame, pulling the door open. Standing in your outfit with two cups of coffee, you greeted her. “Well, hello, stranger. I got you a little treat.”

The two of you come back into frame, you handed Sophia one of the cups. She held it up to her nose for a sniff.

She gasped, “Oh my God, is this a--?”

“Hazel nut latte? Absolutely. I made sure they put whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top,” you answered. You waved at the phone, “Anyway, I thought I’d come and keep you and the chat company before we leave for Gladiator.”

user05 Y/N COME HOME THE KIDS MISS YOU

user06 i’m no longer a child of divorce

user07 why is nobody talking abt y/n knowing sophia’s order?

“We were just talking about Gladiator. The eyekons are wondering what we’re doing for dinner after,” Sophia read, casually grabbing at your hips to sit you on her lap as the two of you scanned the screen. “Also they’re asking about your Pedro Pascal obsession.”

user08 omg the way sophia grabbed her waist

user09 SEDATE ME THAT WAS MUSCLE MEMORY

user10 idk who i want to be more rn

The two of you didn’t seem bothered by the comments flooding into the chat, especially those about your close proximity. Eventually, it was time for the two of you to leave for your plans, though the fans were sad to part with you.

On Weverse, Sophia posted lots of photos of you posing with Pedro Pascal on Gladiator 2 posters. Even some of the two of you standing in line for food, with your arms around her and your cheeks pressed together.

[ i can make so many of these videos #n/nfiz is definitely real ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ 𝖈alliope 𝖘peaks! ❫ 。 succumbing to popular demand once again, so here’s breakin’ dishes pt. 3! i do enjoy making these a lot and knowing you guys love them is fantastic. let me know what else you wanna see. happy reading! xx

@sillymommy6969 © ──────────── Feb 2025

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

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edamameimei · 3 months ago

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do i wanna know? (daniela avanzini x reader)

"sort of hoping that you'd stay..."

synopsis: all the girls in dream academy knew you and daniela had a very close dynamic. it was one that often left them all confused, but they knew one thing for certain, and that was you belonged to daniela avanzini. but as your friendship grows with a certain australian, daniela begins to do some reflection of her own when it comes to her attachment towards you. tags: fluff in the beginning, mostly angst soz. dream academy au. an: just want to put out there that this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. i am and will always be an ezrela thinker so i had to express it somehow so i decided to throw it back to dream academy era for valentines day <333 CW: dani is a lil possessive and toxic if you squint! suggestive themes wc: 4344 words

⏯ now playing: do i wanna know? (live at the bbc) - hozier

part two

Daniela had always been curious about you and Ezrela’s relationship.

At first, she thought it was sweet. Watching you two together always brought a smile to Daniela’s face, the way your 5’10” stature towered over Ezrela significantly. The girl was just so tiny and cute, it would be hard to not find the dynamic between you both somewhat adorable.

That was, until you two become much more comfortable with each other.

There was an unspoken rule amongst the Dream Academy girls. It was one that only you and Daniela were not in on, yet you two created it. Or, more so Daniela. That rule was to keep physical contact with you at a minimum. They found hugs were fine (as long as they don’t last longer than a second or two) and just speaking with you was fair game. But once someone tries leaning in closer, tries to place a hand on your arm, Daniela Avanzini magically appears right next to you and inserts herself into the conversation.

The girls didn’t mind it. Actually, they found it amusing. It became somewhat of a teasing game amongst them. Who can piss Dani off the most? But when they notice the Latina is not in the mood for any jokes or any playful games, they all know to back off. They wouldn’t dare piss the girl off even more. Daniela, without even knowing, has made her claim on you. She made it very clear. Of course, this sparks speculations over the true dynamic of your “friendship,” but the girls know it’s something you two will have to figure out on your own. According to Lara, “it’s a canon event and we cannot interfere.”

But Ezrela really knows how to push Daniela’s buttons.

It was subtle at first, honestly.

After another long and tiring day of T&D, a few of the girls decide to make a trip to a boba place they saw around the corner. While you sat on the practice room floor, switching out your sneakers to wear converse, you spoke to Ezrela animatedly. You both were engaged in a conversation about an anime you both were watching and had very similar opinions on an episode that recently aired.

On the otherside of the room, Daniela and Lara wait, having their own conversation. Every once in a while, Daniela would look over, her eyes focused on the way Ezrela acted around you. Once she was satisfied with what she saw, she would turn back to Lara, giving her undivided attention.

When she looks back at you two, Daniela’s eyes narrow slightly. At some point, Ezrela shifted closer to you, now sitting right in front of you. The small girl shows you something on her phone and it makes you laugh loudly, placing your hand on her shoulder to brace yourself.

Daniela decides she is done waiting when she sees Ezrela tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. She is basically stomping over when she hears a soft giggle escape your lips.

She extends her arm, waiting for you to take her hand so you all can finally leave. Ezrela immediately stands to her feet while you take Daniela’s hand, unaware of the Latina’s hard gaze. You stand up, allowing Daniela to pull you towards the door with a tight grip.

And then it was the Instagram posts.

You and Daniela lay in the Latina’s bed in the dorms. You’re both still in the gray uniforms, too lazy to take them off after filming all day for Dream Academy. At some point, while Daniela scrolled through her TikTok so you two could watch together, you fell asleep. Daniela has her head against your chest, feeling comforted by the way it rises and falls with every breath. Her leg is swung over yours and for some reason, it just feels natural to be this close in proximity.

Daniela switches to Instagram, finally getting tired of watching the videos on her For You Page. The first post that pops up strikes a nerve within the girl.

Five minutes ago, Ezrela posted a photo set of you and her. The photos were taken the day before and it was of you two in the gray uniforms.

The first photo was of you looking down at Ezrela with a teasing smile as the Aussie had her arms crossed, pouting up at the girl.

The second photo was a .5. You held the camera with your tongue sticking out. Ezrela kept a neutral expression.

The third photo was of you two hugging. Daniela’s eyes harden at the way you held Ezrela close. The Aussie had her head against your chest, her arms wrapped around your torso. Your arms wrapped around Ezrela’s neck, one of your hands in the girl’s hair. The photo looked tender and rather loving and it made Daniela feel sick.

The last photo was quite blurry but it still did enough to make Daniela’s blood boil. You two were smiling widely as you held Ezrela in your arms bridal style. The Aussie had her arms securely wrapped around your neck, head on your shoulder.

The caption read: THE short and tall duo>>>

Daniela huffs. She feels even more annoyed with the caption. She looks up at you and sees that you’re still sleeping peacefully. Your mouth is slightly open, snoring softly. For a moment, Daniela’s eyes soften at the way you look. It quickly disappears when she remembers Ezrela’s stupid post and pokes your side, trying to wake you. You stir, groaning when you feel Daniela’s finger jabbing into your side incessantly. You swat at her with no energy at all. “Dani stop… I’ve been up since 5 AM let me keep my eyes closed a few minutes longer…”

Suddenly, you feel the bed shift. You open your eyes slightly, a bit confused by the commotion. Your eyes widen when Daniela begins straddling you, sitting prettily on top of you with her legs on either side of you. Your breath catches in your throat and you wonder if you’re still dreaming.

“I wanna take a photo for my Instagram story.” You raise an eyebrow at the Latina. “That’s why you woke me up?” She simply nods her head in response. You groan, closing your eyes again. Suddenly, you sigh in exasperation, relenting to your best friend. “Okay… How do you wanna do it?” Daniela grabs you by the tie, pulling you up while she is still situated on your lap. You scoot back a bit so you can lean your back against the headboard. You instinctively wrap your arms around Daniela’s waist and rest your head on the girl’s shoulder. You mumble, “what now?”

Daniela bites her lip, suddenly feeling shy by how intimate this feels. She doesn’t know why she’s acting like this. It’s not like you and her were together. It’s not like she even has romantic feelings for you. But Daniela has never been the one to share and she is going to make it a point for everyone to see.

You are her best friend. Not Ezrela’s.

She wraps an arm around your neck and grabs her phone, going to the Instagram app. She raises the phone, making sure you are both in the frame. Daniela smiles as you keep your head nuzzled into her shoulder, a small smile on your face can be seen. When Daniela is satisfied with how it is framed, she takes the picture. You mumble again, tightening your arms around Daniela, “Is it good?”

Daniela nods, biting her lip to hide her smirk. “It’s perfect.”

She captions it: hugs from y/n>>>

Manon sits in the lounge, headphones in as she scrolls through her phone.

Lara and Lexie notice her alone and decide to walk over to her. Lara sits next to her on the couch while Lexie sits in the armchair. Manon looks up, smiling tiredly. Lara raises an eyebrow. “You… Okay?”

Manon laughs, nodding her head. “Yeah. Dani is having a… Moment.”

Lexie looks at the girl with a worried expression. “Is she okay?” Manon nods again, sighing dramatically. “Just the usual things. Y/n is out with Ezrela and-“ Lara puts a hand up, not needing to hear any more from her. She looks at Lexie with a knowing look.

The two nod. Yeah, that’ll do it.

The first time you two argue about it, it scares Daniela shitless.

Because fuck why is she picking a fight about it?

You sneak back into the shared dorm with Manon and Daniela. You quietly tiptoe to your bed, not wanting to make a sound. You crouch by your bed, quietly taking off your shoes but the sound of the bed squeaking slightly causes you to pick your head up. You see Daniela laying there, wiping the sleepiness off her face. You reach out, tucking the hair covering her face behind her ear. You whisper softly, “come here often?”

Daniela giggles tiredly. “Where were you?”

You take your last shoe off and climb over Daniela. You situate yourself behind the girl and pull her close, enjoying the warmth that radiates from the girl’s body. Daniela cuddles closer to you, feeling her eyes wanting to close but she fights back. She wants to hear your answer.

She feels you whisper into her hair. “I went to the 7/11 across the street with Ezrela,” you giggle, “We got slurpees and decided to hang out a little bit longer.” Daniela bites her lip when she hears the response. She can’t help but feel an annoyance rising within her. She turns over, facing you with a hard look in her eyes. She whispers, “I was waiting for you…”

You feel a heat in your cheeks when Daniela faces you. You can’t help but feel hyperaware of how close you two are— how close your lips are. You push those thoughts away. You know better than to get ahead of yourself. This is Daniela Avanzini for crying out loud. You whisper back, “I told you I’d be out with Ezzie-“

“Until 3 in the freaking morning, Y/n?” Her whisper comes out harsh, a bit louder than before. You’re taken aback by her tone, not understanding the reason behind it. Daniela knows Ezrela is one of your closest friends in Dream Academy. Why is she making a big deal out of it? You bite your lip anxiously. “Yeah? You and I have been out that long before… Maybe even longer. What’s the problem?” Daniela can’t help the frustrated sigh that escapes her lips.

“I’m going back to my bed.” Daniela makes a move to sit up but you keep your arms around the Latina, tightening your grasp. You want to get to the bottom of this. Your first performance is tomorrow and you’re both in a group together. You can’t let Daniela become distracted, not when it’s your fault. But Daniela pushes you back, an obvious glare on her features. “Y/n. Let me go, I have to go to bed.” You don’t let up though. You just look at Daniela like a wounded puppy.

“Why are you mad?” The question makes Daniela even more furious. She doesn’t know why, it just does. She knows she’s acting irrationally but she also can’t help it. Whatever it is she’s feeling, she can’t push it away. Every time she sees you with Ezrela, the feeling intensifies. Deep down, she knows what it is. But she isn’t ready to face it, and she doesn’t know if she’d ever be. She pushes you again, this time winning the fight. She walks to her own bed without another word and crawls under the covers. She can feel your eyes on her but she doesn’t spare you a glance. She ignores it like she does with the feeling that festers messily in the pit of her stomach.

The next morning, at 9 AM, she wakes up to the sound of presumably you walking into the shared dorm. Daniela know you’re probably back from your morning run. She stays still, pretending to stay asleep. After the events that happened a few hours before, she is too afraid to acknowledge it. She hears you walk beside her bed and then walk away right after. She hears rummaging in the shared closet space and then your footsteps walking towards the bathroom. Once Daniela hears the door click close, she opens her eyes. She waits until she hears the shower running to get up. She sits up, pulling her legs up to her chest.

She knows she needs to apologize. But then she would have to explain herself and that, Daniela isn’t sure how to do. She doesn’t even know why she got mad at you in the first place. She sighs deeply and rests her head against her knees. She takes a glance at the clock on her nightstand but is surprised to see a cup of coffee sitting there.

Iced vanilla latte w/ almond milk.

also known as: a peace offering.

You get first place in fan votes for mission one.

When live voting ends and eliminations are made, you stand up, body shaking slightly from the stress. You walk over to Daniela, pulling the girl into a tight hug. You hold each other for a moment, grateful that you’re both safe this week. Seeing it all happen in real time made the experience much scarier. It made it all feel more like a competition. At the end of this, there really is something to lose.

You both pull away, but Daniela reaches out and holds your hand. You both exit the room with each other, a thick silence between you two. Suddenly, Ezrela runs up to you and Daniela feels you let go of her hand to catch Ezrela in your arms. She watches as you spin the Aussie around, smiles on your faces. The taller puts Ezrela down, keeping your hands on the girl’s waist as the other securely keeps her arms around your neck. Ezrela says something to you that causes you to throw your head back, laughing. The scene makes Daniela want to cry for some reason.

She is just so confused by what is going through her head.

You and Ezrela continue talking and Daniela decides she can’t watch you two anymore. She turns on her heel, following Manon out the door.

At some point, Daniela convinces herself that Ezrela is in fact doing it to piss her off.

When they’re in Lotte World, they have an opportunity to dress in the school uniforms they provide and the way you look in yours makes Daniela fall in love with you even more than before—

Pause.

She looks away, her cheeks burning when the thought comes to mind. She looks in the mirror, fiddling with the neck bow. She struggles a bit with the knot and she almost goes to Yoonchae for assistance but she feels a pair of hands over her own and she looks up to see you smiling down at her.

“Need help?” Daniela giggles softly, nodding. “Is it obvious?” You look at her with an adoration in her eyes that makes Daniela feel sick all over again. She rests her arms at her sides, allowing you to tie the bow around her neck. The Latina looks up at you, studying your features. The freckles that decorate your nose and cheeks, the way your brow furrows in concentration, your habit of biting your tongue when you’re determined. She watches as your lips curl into a small smile when you finish with Daniela’s bow, looking up from it to look at the Latina with a wide smile. The smile makes Daniela’s facade falter slightly. For a second, she almost believes that it would be safe for her to give into what she feels. For a moment, Daniela almost admits to herself what she has been denying for almost a year.

You look at Daniela and tilt your head in curiosity. You giggle, “Earth to Dani?” The Latina widens her eyes, suddenly feeling nervous. She pushes you away, rolling her eyes playfully. Her cheeks burn again and she hopes you don’t notice the way her cheeks are painted red. She mumbles, “You’re so annoying…” and you laugh, wrapping your arms around Daniela’s shoulders, pulling her close. You look into the mirror and smile softly.

“Let’s take a picture.” You reach into your pocket, grabbing your phone. You two take pictures, taking several with a variety of different poses and faces. After a few moments, you feel a poke on your shoulder and you look over to see Ezrela smiling sheepishly, holding her neck bow.

“I’ve been fighting with this thing for 30 minutes…” The statement makes you laugh loudly. You nod, taking the neck bow from the Aussie. Daniela watches as you assist Ezrela. She can’t help but notice how careful you were, as if scared you’d tie it too tightly or would make the shorter feel uncomfortable. That feeling begins bubbling up again, the one she always gets when she sees you anywhere near Ezrela. The mere mention of the Australian is enough to put her in a bad mood.

When you finish, Ezrela places her hands on your shoulders. She leans up and kisses you on the cheek. Daniela notices how she lingers there for a second longer. It’s as if everyone noticed the small gesture of affection because the room goes noticeably silent. The girls subtly look at Daniela, waiting for her reaction. The Latina was visibly fuming because what the fuck. Without thinking, Daniela pulls you by the hand, leading you towards the exit. Your eyes widen at the sudden shift in Daniela’s mood. “Why are we in a rush?”

Daniela shrugs. She lies, “I told Karlee, Lara, and Lexie we’d meet soon.” You accept the answer, still slightly bewildered by Daniela’s actions.

She turns around, effectively stopping you in your tracks. Daniela steps closer to you, an unreadable expression on her face. You’re about to say something but Daniela places a gentle hand on your cheek, removing it to place a finger underneath your chin. She tilts your head ever so slightly to the other side to see where Ezrela kissed you. Daniela frowns.

There was a very present red lipstick mark.

No thoughts go through Daniela’s mind as she licks the pad of her thumb on her free hand. She doesn’t think when she uses it to clean the lipstick stain. She isn’t thinking, the only thing she can focus on is the fact Ezrela thinks she can just leave her mark like this.

Daniela leans up and kisses you on the exact same spot. She presses her lips hard enough so her own lips can create their own stain. She is determined because you belonged to her.

When she pulls away, she sees the dazed look on your face. For some reason, it leaves Daniela satisfied. She pulls you along with her once again, confident in the fact that you are only thinking about her.

This thought is solidified when you return to your shared hotel room. Manon and Lexie went with the other girls to explore but you and Daniela decide to return to change into something different.

But the plan is long forgotten in Daniela’s mind when she is pressed against the door of the room, your lips on hers and your hands tangled in the Latina’s hair.

Everything is forgotten when she feels your lips on her neck, your warm hands underneath her shirt. When you pull away, Daniela looks at you with desperation in her eyes. As much as she wants you to be hers, she wants to be yours even more.

In one swift motion, you pick up the Latina and take her to your bed.

Tonight, she ends being yours in more ways than one.

And she hopes you’re hers in the exact same ways.

There’s a shift in your relationship and everyone notices.

Daniela doesn’t wait for you to be done changing out of your practice clothes. She doesn’t sit in the lounge with you anymore, simply opting to read her book alone. She starts spending more time with Megan, Emily, and Manon with you not in sight. You show up to practice earlier than usual with Daniela showing up much later.

It’s weird and everyone wonders what happened in Seoul.

But what doesn’t change is the way Daniela’s eyes narrow when she sees you with Ezrela. The way her fists clench when they announce you would be in Ezrela’s group for the week. Everyone notices how Daniela immediately leaves the practice room when Ezrela runs up to you, attaching herself to you in a koala hug of some sorts.

It leaves everyone confused and curious, but no one dares to say a word about it.

It all comes crashing down when you knew this would be your last week at Dream Academy. You felt it in your gut the moment you finished filming the “Wannabe,” cover. The entire time, leading up to the performance, you felt off your game. You were constantly becoming distracted during practice, your vocal coaches often got frustrated with you, and the passion you had at the beginning has diminished significantly.

You knew this would be the end of your journey, and you aren’t sure if you were doing it on purpose or not.

You’d hope that you could at least talk to Daniela about what happened. But, with the Latina avoiding you like the plague every single day since that night, the possibility begins to seem more far fetched as the days turned into weeks.

You were upset. Of course you were.

Daniela was supposed to be your person. She’s the one you would find yourself looking for in a crowded room. You know Daniela like the back of your hand and vice versa. If you two weren’t meant to be together like that then you would have been satisfied with just being friends. She brought you a comfort that you haven’t felt in a long time and now you feel as though you ruined everything.

So, when the elimination does in fact happen, you waste no time in leaving. You avoid everyone’s eyes as you walk out of the room.

Back at the dorm, you’re in the middle of packing your luggage when you hear the door open. You don’t make a move to turn around, keeping your eyes trained on your task at hand. You wanted to leave immediately and forget any of this ever happened. The person walks up to you, their footsteps slow and careful and you just know it’s Daniela. You brace yourself, waiting for her to speak.

Your suspicions are confirmed when you hear the Latina speak quietly. “Do you… Need help?” You reply with a shake of your head, folding the clothes that lay in front of you. You hear her sigh, speaking up again, “Are you okay?” You scoff in response, rolling your eyes.

“Why do you care?” The question breaks Daniela’s heart because she does care. She will always care about you, no matter what. Daniela stays quiet though. She knows enough damage has been done. She watches you continue packing, trying to rid any of trace of your presence on Dream Academy. The Latina is about to leave to give you some privacy but you finally speak up, throwing the clothes in your hands harshly into your luggage. You turn around, a hard look in your eyes.

“Why did it always bother you whenever I was around Ezrela?” The sharpness in your tone causes Daniela to step back a bit, surprised by how angry you looked in this moment. She opens her mouth to say something but you continue, your voice becoming harsher. “I thought the way you acted when you saw me and her together… I thought that meant something… Like…” You take a deep breath, your eyes beginning to water slightly, “like. I wasn’t fucking crazy for how I felt about you.” You whisper the last part, your voice breaking slightly. The pained expression on your face hurts Daniela even more than before but she feels frozen in place, she feels as though the words she wants to say are stuck in her throat and cannot seem to find a way out. You step closer to her, desperate for an answer. At least for more clarity on the situation at hand.

You whisper again, your tone softer this time, “You had to have felt something…” you reach out to her, as if grasping for any physical sign to see that Daniela does love you. That this wasn’t actually for nothing and you being eliminated was worth it. But the way she steps away, the way she acts as though you burned her with the tip of your fingers, tells you everything you needed to know at that moment. This was your clarity. And that was Daniela Avanzini did not love you like you loved her.

You step away, defeated. Any fight left in your body has gone away and you were now just another contestant who is leaving Dream Academy. You take one last look at Daniela, a sad look in your eyes.

“I’m gonna go say goodbye to Ezrela.”

You leave her, with those being the last words you utter to the Latina.

Your actual last words to Daniela come in a form of a note she finds on top of one of your sweaters she always liked stealing from you. It’s folded nicely and sits atop her pillow, welcoming her when she comes back from visiting Megan’s dorm. She walks slowly towards it, as if she were to move too fast, it would disappear somehow. She picks up the note, and although it only had a few words, it was enough for Daniela to finally let out the sob she had been holding in since eliminations were made.

This is not a peace offering. This was a goodbye.

an: could consider writing a part two but i hope you all enjoyed! currently taking any requests for stories or random thoughts. happy valentines day!

#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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atlasthegreatest · 3 months ago

Text

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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cindergorge · 3 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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spiderb00 · 4 months ago

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- JUST LIKE YOU

Manon Bannerman x reader

“There was a reason why you loved your mornings, and the reason was Manon.”

Genre – fluff Warnings – Listen to the song, seriously, it's fantastic.

Now playing – Black Like You, By Joseph Solomon

The melody of your guitar filled the atmosphere, the sunlit apartment full of energy and love. The smell of coffee hung in the air and Manon's hips swayed to the sensual melody coming from your guitar. Your girlfriend's skin seemed to glow when the sunlight hit it, her braids, which were slightly messy from the night before, were now tied up in a bun.

You got up from the sofa - placing the guitar on the stand next to you - when you heard the coffee machine chime pleasantly through the apartment, signaling that your coffee was ready. Going to the kitchen counter, you missed the little pout that Manon made when the guitar chords stopped sounding. Letting out a snort, the brunette sat down on the sofa where you had been lying before, running her fingers tenderly over the strings of your guitar, almost as if she wanted to feel your touch through the instrument.

As you reached for one of your many mugs from your collection, you put away the almond milk that Manon had left on the counter, knowing that she would complain to you if it spoiled, even though she was the only one who left it out of the fridge.

As you finally took a sip of your coffee, you heard a small protest coming from your girlfriend on the sofa. “I don't know how you like that, like, not even a little milk?” Manon's question makes you laugh, walking over to her without haste.

“What's wrong with it, I like it like this.” You say.

You couldn't believe the sight you saw every morning. Manon was a goddess, your muse, your woman. Her makeup-free face and silk pajamas made you feel so intimate, so comfortable. You know that Manon worked hard to get where she is, and she keeps working harder and harder every day. You knew that she always pushed past all the people who criticized her non-stop, the hateful comments, her inner demons, you knew all that.

But at the end of the day you always remembered that you had managed to create a safe space for your love, you knew that you would always be by her side no matter what, you love Manon. She was one of the strongest women you'd ever met, but you were proud of how she knew that when she was tired, she wouldn't have to pretend anything to you. you love Manon softly, no weight in the way of your love.

“There's nothing wrong, sweetie. Now come here!” Manon said, opening her arms after placing the mug she was holding on the coffee table.

Giggling, you approached, placing your mug next to hers and sitting down next to the brunette. “You're so beautiful.” You said, your hand instantly going to her cheek.

Feeling your caress, Manon closed her eyes, enjoying the softness of your touch. Manon always loved your hands on her, everywhere, she wanted your hands to be on her constantly.

Opening her eyes, Manon had a bright look in your direction, you could see how her pupils were dilated when the sunlight kissed her face, and you swore you had fallen even more in love. “I love you.”

Manon's lips touched yours straight away, not even letting you say it back. The softness of her lips on yours made you feel like you were in heaven, her lips tasted like coffee, but a different coffee to yours, a sweeter coffee.

Slowly, Manon slipped one of her legs under your lap, straddling you and continuing the kiss. Your hands went to her waist instantly, almost as if your muscle memory couldn't let go of the movement in a million years. Her waist was curved and reminded you of the shape of your guitar, the thought making you run your hands down the silk of her pajamas.

Raising your hands again, you squeezed Manon's waist, making your girlfriend sigh into the kiss. Seeing that breathing was beginning to be a problem for both of you, you broke the kiss, only to kiss Manon's lips a few times, moving down to her jaw, her neck, and then to her exposed collarbone.

“I love you, just like I love my coffee.” You said, making Manon look confused. If this were a cartoon, there would surely be question marks in Manon's head. “Black, just like you.”

Manon's face remained serious for a few moments before she smiled and started laughing at your phrase. Seeing your girlfriend's smile, you laughed along, more at the way her smile charmed you than at your phrase.

As her laughter subsided, Manon leaned on you, her hands firmly holding your neck as she smiled openly at you. “God, I really love you.”

“And you have no idea how much I love you.” You said, leaving a lingering kiss on the brunette's lips.

Pulling away from the kiss for a moment, Manon looked at you with amusement, her eyes bright and full of joy. “Do you love me more or the coffee?”

“Do you really need that answer?”

“Then you wouldn't mind letting your coffee get cold, would you?”

Getting up from the sofa with Manon still on your lap, you hurried to your room, making the brunette giggle and cling to your neck tighter, kissing your sweet spot and giggling like a lovesick teenager.

I love her so much!

I had this idea a few weeks ago, but I was so busy with requests that I only had time to do it now.

I love this song and one day while I was listening to it, Manon popped into my head, so BOOM, here we are.

I hope you enjoyed it, stay safe and drink some water

xoxo, spider.

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #kpop gg #gxg #kpop fluff #manon bannerman thoughts 💭#manon katseye x reader #manon x reader #katseye manon x reader #spider ideas 🤓☝️#spiderb00

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lascvitae · 4 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 & jungwon of enhypen, jooyeon of xdinary heroes (+ more!!)

status. coming soon.

PROFILES.

hot nerds. | katdashians.

CHAPTERS.

000.

sold prom tickets (open) — @saysirhc @1luvkarina @fruityg0rl @sunshinez4 @wtfisthisnoclueman @falling-intoo-deep @meganskiendielsbtc @rdfgfv @rosiehrs @haerinkisser @yazzyminny @jaythegirlkisser @yeetaberry127 @kristalag @aedollie @peanutbutterlover05 @linnnsworld @firstclassjaylee @sixflame438 @peranoo @gtfoiydlyj @syronns @enhamonsterghoul @ccchuro

#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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rosachae · 4 days 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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