Considering I have feelings, I'm like, "Why are my clothes still on?" Offering to do anything, I'm like, "Oh my God."
katseye!ot6 x 7th!member female reader (platonic w/ yoonchae)
warnings: suggestive (but no smut). they get low-key horny. reader became everyone's gay awakening. the girls are yearners.
divider credits: @uzmacchiato
It was becoming impossible not to notice how the girls seemed to orbit toward you. And really, who could blame them?
You were the type of person who remembered everyone’s favorite drink without being asked, who noticed a loose shoelace and tied it before anyone even realized it had come undone, who would stick around to help them assemble a furniture when the instructions got too complicated or wash the dishes when everyone else was too tired to move.
You had quietly become the group’s second leader. Of course, Sophia was still the official leader in public, thanks to her obvious leadership skills and her first-place ranking back at Dream Academy.
But in everyday life, in the little moments that really counted, you were the one everyone relied on. You had this way of making people feel truly seen, and maybe that’s why, lately, the other members couldn’t stop noticing you.
The curve of your smile. The tone of your voice. The laugh that bounced through the studio, somehow managing to pull everyone’s attention even on the busiest of days.
It wasn’t meant to feel romantic at first. But somewhere along the way, it had started to.
It probably began when you moved into the shared dormitories. Before that, most of them would’ve been fine just ordering delivery or grabbing something from a fast-food place.
After all, who had the energy to cook after hours spent dancing under the harsh studio lights?
But with you there, things slowly started to change. Meals became a little more homey, laughter lingered longer, and the place felt a little warmer because somehow, everything was better when you were around.
Sophia was the only one who occasionally tried, whipping up simple meals on quiet mornings, long before anyone else stirred in the apartment.
But you were different. The very next morning after moving in, you’d tied your hair into a loose ponytail, rolled up your sleeves, and already stepped into the kitchen while everyone else was still asleep.
The scent of garlic, butter, and freshly brewed coffee drifted through the hallway. Sophia was the first to appear, blinking sleepily, wrapped in one of her indoor shirts.
“You’re cooking?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
You glanced over your shoulder with a smile, stirring the pan with easy confidence. “Yeah. Thought we could all use something homemade for our first morning together as a group.”
“Okay then,” she said, stepping closer, eyes scanning the ingredients spread across the counter. “Let me help you.”
You shook your head, not even pausing, reaching past her to grab a plate.
“No need. It’s fine,” you murmured gently. “You just sit. I’ve got it.”
Sophia hesitated for a moment, glancing at the coffee maker before finally deciding to obey, settling onto a stool just like you said.
‘Well… this isn’t what I expected.'
You weren’t showing off, yet you moved like you were completely in control. You didn’t need help, and somehow, you didn’t even seem aware of how your presence filled the room.
Sophia rested her chin in her palm, watching the curve of your shoulder, the smooth motion of your hands as you worked. There was a subtle warmth rising under her skin, a heat born not from flirtation but from the way you cared so naturally, without being asked.
She wasn’t used to being told to relax. Ever since she debuted from Dream Academy, she’d been the one expected to organize, plan, and handle everything.
And yet here you were, turning the roles upside down, making it okay for her to just… be.
Sophia had noticed your small acts of care even back during training days. You all stayed in one house with the other participants, and while everyone was busy or tired, you were always attentive, helpful without being overbearing, even cooperative without ever slacking off.
Relief tugged at her chest as she watched you plate the food and set it gently in front of her.
'Looks like I actually have someone I can rely on. Someone who could take over if I ever couldn’t handle things,' she thought, a soft smile curling at the corners of her lips.
And just like that, without meaning to, you had created a new rhythm in the apartment. A quiet routine that didn’t need words.
Sophia still cooked from time to time, but somehow, the kitchen felt different when you were there. Warmer. Calmer. Somehow… safer.
She caught herself watching you more often than she realized. The ease in your movements, the gentle hum you made as you worked, the way sunlight brushed across your face, carrying the faint scent of the food you cooked…it all made something inside her settle.
Days slipped into weeks, and life in the apartment with you began to feel easy. Even with all the schedules, rehearsals, and endless tasks, things became lighter when you were around. You had a way of grounding everything, making exhaustion seem almost bearable.
And it wasn’t just Sophia who noticed. Everyone did in their own ways, in quiet moments, and in small smiles shared when they thought no one was watching.
You had become the center of it all.
For Manon, it had started one night while on tour, when sleep just wouldn’t come. She was still adjusting to life as an idol, and some nights her thoughts refused to quiet down, leaving her tossing and turning for hours.
Her mind raced with all the “what ifs.”
What if she messed up during a performance, stumbled at an event, or received harsh comments from fans?
The rest of the group had long since fallen asleep in their hotel rooms after a grueling day, but her body still hummed with leftover adrenaline.
After several restless minutes, she finally gave up trying to lie still. Sitting up, she glanced at the clock.
With a quiet, almost defeated sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded softly into thelounge, her hoodie zipped halfway and her hair falling loosely around her shoulders. She froze for a moment when she noticed the lamp on in the living room, being the only source of light.
Blinking against the light, she stepped closer, whispering cautiously, “Lara?”
She took another hesitant step.
And then she stopped entirely.
It wasn’t Lara or Sophia. It was you.
You were sitting on the couch, completely focused, a few cables and earpieces strewn across the coffee table in front of you.
The soft light from the lamp brushed the side of your face. You were adjusting a mic pack, carefully coiling cords, and arranging everything neatly in a case.
“Y/n? You’re up?” she asked softly, her voice cutting through the quiet, still a little stunned.
You flinched at her voice since you thought everyone was asleep but then quickly recovered, giving her a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep either?”
"Nuh uh," Manon shook her head and stepped closer. “You’re fixing a mic pack? It’s so late already.”
You let out a quiet laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah, I noticed one of the receivers was glitching earlier. Figured I’d fix it now before call time tomorrow. It would just bug me if I didn’t.”
Something in that made her chest tighten. The calm tone. The focus. The fact that you were still working while everyone else slept.
“Responsible even at this hour?” she murmured, half teasing, half awed.
Your small smile turned into a soft smirk. “Someone’s got to make sure you sound good on stage.”
Manon’s eyes followed your hands as you worked, noting the carefulness and the slow drag of your thumb along the cable to check for breaks. The lamp's glow caught the veins along your wrist, and she looked away, feeling warmth creep up her neck.
You glanced at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she breathed too quickly. “Just… couldn’t sleep.”
You smiled and set the repaired piece aside. “Then sit. Keep me company.”
For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the soft hum of the lamp and your steady breathing. When you finally looked at her again, your eyes softened with concern.
She seemed trapped in her own thoughts, gaze lowered, shoulders slumped. You didn’t ask what was wrong. Sometimes, words weren’t needed.
Instead, you offered a small comfort.
When your question reached her, Manon blinked and turned slightly, catching your gaze from the corner of her eyes. Your voice was quiet, careful, almost as if you didn’t want to shatter the fragile moment she was in.
She stayed still, watching as you moved toward the kitchenette, rifling through mugs like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You’re seriously making tea at-” she glanced at the clock again, “two-something a.m.? Shouldn't you be tired already?”
You chuckled over your shoulder. “Not when you’re troubled. That worries me.” The soft clink of ceramic, and the faint hum of your movement all filled the quiet room. “Better than lying awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking of every way we cold mess up tomorrow’s show, right?”
The simple, mundane sounds made her chest tighten in a way she didn’t expect.
“Wow. Attacked,” she muttered, tugging her hoodie’s drawstring tighter and sinking into the couch as you filled the kettle.
When you returned, steam curled between you. You carefully set the mug in front of her with both hands, warm and steady. “Chamomile. Should help.”
Her eyes brightened as she took the mug, and a shiver ran up her spine when your fingers brushed hers briefly.
Sitting back down, the lamp was highlighting the easy smile that never seemed to fade, even when you were tired.
Manon quickly looked down at her tea, pretending to focus, though she was acutely aware of your gaze. She couldn’t stop herself from noticing the way your eyes softened with concern, and it made her heart tighten in a way she hadn’t felt before.
She took a slow sip of her tea, letting it soothe her throat. “Sorry,” she murmured, and you raised a brow, curious at the sudden, unexpected apology.
“Why are you apologizing?”
She shrugged faintly, “I mean... I disturbed you for making tea.”
You processed that for a moment, then your smile widened into a soft laugh. “Manon, it’s literally just tea. That’s not disturbing me at all. Honestly? I wanted company too.”
Your voice was low and calm, like warm honey slipping along her nerves. It should have been harmless, a simple reassurance, but it stirred something deep within her.
Before she realized it, her gaze drifted to your lips as you laughed and spoke. The way they curved into that sweet smile made her imagination wander, daring her to lean in, to feel the softness of your lips against hers.
Her fingers tightened instinctively around her mug. The ceramic was warm, but nothing compared to how her skin felt under your gaze.
“You’re just like Sophia.”
You looked at her and let out a soft sigh, your mood easing. “You guys always say that.”
“What? It’s true,” she smirked faintly, “you take care of everyone even when no one asks you to.”
Her words softened you further, and your smile deepened, eyes drifting forward as if lost in thought. “Well, I’m used to it. Ever since my little sibling was born, I guess.”
Her lips curved slightly, but her chest tightened at your words. “Yeah,” she said quietly, gaze lowering to her mug. “But the difference is… you make it look so-”
She stopped herself, biting back the end of the sentence. You met her eyes, confused at her sudden pause.
Her throat tightened. The answer hovered, dangerous and urgent: ‘so hot.’
Instead, she forced a small chuckle, masking the heat rising in her chest. “So easy.”
You smiled, oblivious to how she couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. “It’s not hard. I’m just willing to put in the effort, seeing you all tired and drained. Just like now, I want to make you feel better.”
Manon nodded, but her gaze caught the subtle flex of your wrist. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to concentrate on her tea.
Your voice broke the silence first, soft and low, barely above a whisper. “Speaking of comfort… why couldn’t you sleep?”
Her knuckles whitened around the mug. She still imagined reaching out, to trace the line of your jaw, to feel the warmth of your skin against hers.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Not here. Not like this.
“Manon?” Your voice was like honey poured over ice, and it made her heart stutter. “do you not want to tell me? It's totally fine if not-"
"No, no it's fine," she blurted out as her throat bobbed, words caught somewhere between wanting to speak and wanting to be silent. "I don't mind, uh- telling you."
Her voice lowered to a whisper, setting her thoughts aside to let some vulnerability slip in. “I just...can't sleep because..."
She swirled her tea absentmindedly, ignoring the heat creeped up on her neck. “We’ve got the performance tomorrow, and I keep thinking I’ll mess up. Drop a line. Miss a step. Something embarrassing.”
You frowned, pitying her. You totally understood why she felt that way. Even you get nervous when performing at times but you always had to hide it. Everyone did.
You tilted your head slightly, your eyes soft with understanding.
“Manon,” you said gently, “you’ve rehearsed, you know your routine. You’ll do fine. Trust yourself.”
She snorted lightly, trying to mask the tremor in her voice with humor. “Yeah, easy for you to say. You don’t have to strut around in six-inch heels while remembering choreography, lyrics, and not tripping over your own hair.”
You giggled softly, the sound like music to her ears. “You’re going to be amazing tomorrow. I promise. And even if you stumble, I’ve got your back.”
Something about the way you said it made her chest ache. The tea in her hands felt suddenly too cool.
“Okay,” she muttered, biting back a grin and trying to focus on the tea instead. “Okay, maybe I just needed someone to… talk me down.”
In return, you gave her the kind of smile that felt like it could melt away worry. “That’s all anyone needs sometimes. Talking helps. And I’m right here.”
Manon’s fingers tightened around the mug again, warmth spilling into her palms, but it wasn’t just from the tea.
It was from you, and from your presence that made everything else fade in her perspective.
She swallowed, feeling the tension in her shoulders loosen just slightly, though her heart still raced.
“Thanks,” she whispered, almost bashfully, glancing up at you from beneath her lashes.
You watched her quietly, letting the silence between you linger, comforting rather than awkward. “Anytime. Seriously. Don’t hesitate to come find me next time…or any time, really.”
Her lips curved faintly, a mixture of relief and a feeling she wasn’t sure if she was ready to name. She just let herself exist in that quietness, letting her fears ease under your presence.
“See? There you go. Manon's back to her smiling self," you teased, leaning in just slightly, the soft scent of your shampoo mixed with a faint hint of something sweeter, maybe your perfume, drifting into her senses. “Feeling better?”
You had no idea the effect you were having on her. Even as the warmth between you grew, she forced herself to keep it under control, offering a small, steady nod.
You leaned back just enough to give her a little space, but she was still distracted by your presence. She just couldn't help but find your energy strangely mesmerizing.
“Thanks again, Y/n,” she whispered, taking another sip of her tea, though her eyes stayed locked on you.
Next came Megan. It was one of those rehearsal days that felt especially chaotic, even by usual standards.
She was bouncing lightly from one foot to the other, frowning as she tugged at her earpiece, the tiny cord refusing to cooperate no matter how many times she adjusted it.
“Ugh, it’s not working again…” she muttered under her breath, half-whining, half-frustrated. She hadn’t planned on asking anyone for help just yet, figuring she could handle it herself, especially since everyone else was busy around her.
But you noticed before anyone else did. From across the room, you saw the way she twisted and pulled at the cord, her jaw tightening as irritation slowly spread across her face.
Quietly, you crossed the floor and knelt beside her. “Here,” you murmured. “Let me.”
Megan froze for a moment, blinking up at you in surprise, a mix of relief and bashfulness washing over her. There was always something slightly overwhelming about the way you noticed these small moments.
“No, it’s fine,” she said quickly, shaking her head with a nervous laugh, trying to mask her embarrassment. “I can totally handle it.”
You offered a soft smile, fingers moving deftly over the tiny device. “I want to. You need to focus on rehearsal, not wrestle with your earpiece.”
Her smile faltered, and she found her gaze glued to your hands, following each movement. Somehow, the simple act of you leaning in to help made her heart beat faster.
Megan felt…seen. Truly seen. The way you gave your attention made her feel like it was meant just for her.
“There,” you said finally, tapping the earpiece gently. “Perfect. You’re all set.”
Megan’s chest felt tight. That small gesture, the attention you’d given, the care behind it, made her heart race in a way she wasn’t used to.
“Thanks,” she murmured, her voice catching slightly, shy and almost breathless. She pressed her lips into a small, embarrassed smile, trying not to show how flustered she was.
“No problem,” you replied, nodding as you checked your own earpiece. The minor glitch in hers had made you double-check everything. “These earpieces are kinda low-quality. Honestly, the company could’ve at least given us ones that actually fit. Did our manager even test these before sending them to us?”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Megan agreed, nodding. Watching you rant somehow made her feel lighter, and she found herself grinning softly at you.
She lifted her mic, ready to go, but you weren’t done yet. You noticed the faint flush on her cheeks, the tiny beads of sweat forming at her temple.
“Wait- water,” you said suddenly, realization sparking in your eyes. Before she could ask, you dashed to the corner of the room to grab her bottle.
Megan froze, her curiosity turning into a giddy sort of admiration. ‘Is she going to…?’ she thought, watching you with wide eyes. When you told her to wait, she stayed put, a soft, expectant smile on her face.
You returned, filling her bottle with careful hands. The gesture was so unexpectedly sweet that she felt like she’d been treated like royalty.
Finally done, you handed her the bottle with a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t forget to hydrate. It’s easy to lose track during rehearsal.”
Megan took it, her grin lopsided and flustered. “Wow, so attentive,” she lightly teased, trying to sound playful even though her heart was still racing. “You know, I could’ve just gotten it myself.”
“Yeah, you could’ve,” you replied lightly, tilting your head, “but then who would make sure you don’t pass out mid-performance?”
Her laugh came out a little nervously as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her stomach was twisting in the most confusing way.
“Seriously,” she said, raising her bottle with a half-smile, “you’re, like… too caring. It’s honestly kind of distracting.”
And before she could stop herself, before her brain could catch up to her mouth, she muttered, “This is why you're sorta the reason I’m bisexual.”
The words slipped out so casually it took both of you a second to process.
You blinked. Once. Twice.
“I… wow,” you said finally, cheeks warming despite yourself. “That’s… uh… flattering?”
Realization hit Megan like a wave. Her smile twitched, her face went red, and her brain started screaming at her.
‘Why did I say that?! That was so stupid of you, Megan! So stupid!’
She let out a nervous laugh, clutching the bottle like it could somehow save her from the moment. “I- uhm- I’m just gonna…bathroom, yeah.”
You barely had time to open your mouth before she turned around, still laughing awkwardly, waving over her shoulder as she nearly tripped on her way out. “See ya!”
After Megan, it was Daniela’s turn. She had convinced you to go out for brunch, insisting it was purely a casual, friendly outing.
Still, you couldn’t help but notice the care she’d taken with her appearance. Starting with the light makeup that highlighted her features, then her hair softly framing her face, and finally, a breezy dress that caught the morning sunlight just right.
She looked so radiant, like she belonged in the glow of the early day.
The problem, however, was the heels.
As the two of you walked through the park, Daniela’s steps became uneven, a slight limp forming.
“I shouldn’t have worn these heels,” she complained quietly, her voice carrying a hint of discomfort. She kept her eyes down, trying to mask the pain as she adjusted her stride. “My feet are killing me.”
Your attention immediately shifted to her ankles. There, a small but noticeable bruise was beginning to form where the strap had rubbed against her skin. Without a second thought, you knelt down to inspect her foot more closely.
Daniela froze, blinking at you in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“Your foot’s hurt,” you said softly, frowning with genuine concern. She felt a jolt in her chest at the care in your tone, while your mind raced, figuring out the best way to help.
Making a quick decision, you grabbed your sneakers and held them out. “Hold on,” you said, your next words catching her completely off guard, “you can wear these instead.”
Daniela’s eyes widened. “Wait… you’re going barefoot?” she asked incredulously, staring at your feet as you stayed kneeling, offering her the comfort and practicality she hadn’t even dared to hope for.
“I’ll manage,” you said lightly, already slipping off your own shoes, ignoring the cool morning grass brushing against your skin. “You need to walk comfortably.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Seeing you kneel like that, sunlight catching in your hair, the soft focus on your face, also made her stomach twist unexpectedly.
‘How can someone be so attractive without even trying?’
She shook her head, trying to reason with herself, “No way. Your feet are going to get dirty walking barefoot.”
“I can just wash them when we get back,” you said calmly, rising to your feet with the sneakers in hand, along with socks for her to wear for extra comfort.
Meeting her gaze, you offered a playful, knowing smile. “You’re our lead dancer, remember? Everyone would freak out if they saw you hobbling around with a swollen ankle.”
She rolled her eyes at your insistence, but her cheeks burned in spite of herself. “You really love treating all of us like princesses, huh?”
You chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Really?” you murmured, low and careful. “I just want you safe and comfortable, though. That’s it.”
Daniela’s breath caught in her throat.
The words alone, paired with the attentiveness behind them, sent an unexpected warmth spiraling through her.
She had always considered herself practical and unshakable, but now, standing there barefoot as you offered her your sneakers like it was the simplest thing in the world, her thoughts scattered in a way she didn’t expect.
You guided her toward a nearby bench, your hand lightly resting at her elbow gently, steadily, and reassuringly. “Come on, sit,” you said softly. “Let’s get those heels off.”
Daniela lowered herself onto the bench, trying to keep her composure, but her hands trembled just slightly as she tugged off her heels.
“Here, let me help.” You slid the sneakers over her feet. Your fingers brushed her ankles as you guided her toes in, adjusted the fit, and tied the laces.
Her pulse was thumping in her ears with every subtle movement. Despite that, she couldn’t stop watching you.
And when you finally looked up and met her gaze, your reassuring smile only made her flustered state soar even higher.
“You’ve got to take care of yourself,” you said quietly, as if the simple act of helping her with her shoes was completely ordinary. “Walking on heels all morning isn’t worth an injured ankle.”
‘Normal?’ she thought, swallowing hard. ‘This feels… more than normal.’
Her hands clenched the edges of the bench as she tried to steady her racing heart, still attempting to act casual. Every movement of yours, including the gentle touch, the careful guidance, the way your eyes stayed on her to make sure she didn’t shift awkwardly, was functional and practical, yet her chest felt impossibly tight.
She bit her lip, looking away to keep from gasping, caught completely off guard by how deeply her body and mind were reacting to something so simple.
“Thanks, Y/n,” she murmured, her voice slightly uneven. She couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you, caught between fascination and nerves.
What you were doing wasn’t romantic, at least not technically, but her body betrayed her, reacting in ways she couldn’t control.
“Better?” you asked gently, tilting your head as you studied her, your eyes warm and fully focused on her.
Her breath hitched slightly, betraying the fluster she tried to hide. “Yeah…” she whispered, finally meeting your gaze, forcing out a reassuring smile. “So much better.”
Trying to keep things casual, she added with a playful grin, “You’re such a gentleman.”
You chuckled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “A gentleman?” you repeated, with subtle teasing in your voice. “Sure. Why not?”
You held out a hand to help her up from the bench, your touch light but steady. Daniela paused for just a moment, enough for a jolt of heat to rush through her, then placed her hand in yours.
“Careful,” you murmured as she rose, “we don’t want your ankle to get worse.”
“Mhm,” she replied, gripping your hand a little tighter than necessary, thoughts racing.
‘Why am I feeling like this? I’m straight. I’m literally straight…’
As for Lara, she had the misfortune of coming down with a sore throat one day, and for her, it felt like a small disaster. Being the main vocalist, her voice was everything, and anything affecting it immediately felt catastrophic.
When their manager found out, Lara was told to rest so the healing wouldn’t take longer than necessary. While it technically gave her some free time, she hated missing out on vocal practices.
“Y/n, this sucks,” Lara huffed, flopping onto the couch in a hoodie, arms crossed, practically sprawling across it like she owned the space. “You know the feeling? It’s like my voice got kidnapped, my vocal cords are being held hostage by some villain, and here I am, stuck like a powerless side character in my own story.”
You listened with a sympathetic gaze, sitting across from her in the sofa chair. “That bad, huh?”
“It is,” she admitted, her voice a mix of frustration and defeat as she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t practice the song today cause I can’t sing… it’s like my superpower just got switched off, and I’m left with… me. And me right now feels pathetic.”
You finally set your phone aside and lifted your gaze to meet hers, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “You’re not pathetic. Maybe your throat just needs a proper peace treaty.”
Lara blinked, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Proper peace treaty?” she repeated, lowering her head to look at you again.
You stretched lightly, standing up. “I might have something that could help.”
Her eyebrow quirked, a small intrigued smile forming. “And what would that be?”
You got up from the sofa chair and moved to the kitchen, gathering honey, lemon, and hot water to prepare a warm drink, the steam rising between you with a faint, sweet aroma.
Lara couldn’t take her eyes off you, noticing how your hair fell effortlessly even as you worked, and how composed and confident each motion seemed.
“Here,” you said, handing her the cup, your fingers brushing hers briefly. The small contact sent a rush of heat through her.
She tilted her head, a bright, impressed smile spreading across her face. “For me?” she said, grinning ear to ear as she accepted the cup. “I don’t even know how to thank you right now.”
“You don’t have to,” you replied casually, meeting her gaze with that easy calm of yours. “I just like taking care of people.”
Lara raised a brow, a playful spark lighting her eyes. “People, huh? Why can’t it just be me?”
There was something more in her tone this time, a warmth that didn’t escape your notice. She swirled the tea in her hands, letting it seep through her fingers and into her skin… and into her chest.
Your words caught in your throat, unsure how to respond, wondering if she truly meant it.
She glanced down at her cup, her smile softening into a thoughtful one. “I mean, they have Sophia anyway.”
Silence fell over the two of you, only broken by the soft murmur of the TV in the background. It could have felt awkward, but you decided to let it slide, not wanting to make things tense.
“Whatever you say, Lara. Just drink it before it gets cold,” you teased lightly. Lara laughed, her earlier mood melting back into a relaxed, satisfied smile.
But deep down, Lara knew she meant every word. She liked seeing you care for the others, but what she loved even more was when your attention fell on her.
The feeling of being looked after, prioritized, made something coil low in her stomach in a way she hadn’t anticipated.
She realized she was fascinated. Not casually, not with mere admiration, but the kind of fascination that twisted her stomach, made her pulse race, and set a quiet, heat-filled hum through her body.
Shifting slightly on the couch, her leg brushed yours under the table. One word formed in her mind.
She found herself taking slightly heavier and heated breaths, craving more of these small gestures from you.
She lifted her tea again, sipping more slowly this time, letting the warmth flow through her hands as if it could steady her flustered thoughts.
Her gaze met yours again, and her mind spun. She’d always prided herself on control, and on being confident. But now, sitting here, she felt like a teenager again.
Her heart thudded, cheeks warming, chest tightening every time your hand moved nearby, every time your eyes softened for even a moment.
‘She knows exactly how to drive me insane.’
Her lips curved as she set the cup down with a firmer motion than necessary. “You know what would make me feel better?”
Your eyes locked with hers, drawn to the intensity in her gaze. Under the coffee table, her foot brushed against your ankle, sending a jolt up her spine.
“If you choose to stay with me for the day, while the rest go on with practice.”
The truth hit Lara like a wave she couldn’t swim against. She was simping. Badly. And the worst (or best) part? She loved it.
Lara wanted your attention. Craved it, even. The warmth of your focus, the gentleness in your voice, including the calm way you made her feel seen and prioritized.
You raised a brow, tilting your head slightly, your tone half-curious, half-amused. “Stay with you… for the day?”
Lara didn’t even think twice. Her gaze didn’t waver. It was playful yet threaded with a quiet intensity that made the air shift. “Yes. Please.”
You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, the corners of your mouth curving into a teasing smile. “You’re really begging me right now?”
“Yes,” she repeated, the word coming out lower and smoother this time. Her body angled ever so slightly toward you until your shoulders almost brushed.
“Come on, Y/n. The others can handle rehearsal. I’d rather not be alone today.”
Her tone might have sounded light, but the way her leg nudged yours under the coffee table, the subtle graze of her fingers when she reached for her cup was making your heart skip a beat.
Right now, she was clearly toeing the line, blurring it with every motion. You exhaled softly, leaning back in your chair, pretending to weigh your options though your gaze never left her.
“I don’t know… that sounds like I’d be stuck here all day doing nothing.”
Her lips curved into a grin, eyes gleaming. “Exactly. You’d be stuck taking care of me, which, in turn, would help me recover faster. You’re like the mom of the group anyway. Or the dad.”
You chuckled at that, raising an amused brow. “If I’m the dad, does that make Sophia the mom?”
Lara blinked just once, but her smirk faltered almost immediately. Her once-relaxed posture stiffened, and a faint sulk colored her tone as she frowned.
“Why is she the only option?”
The mock offense in her voice made you stifle another laugh as she straightened slightly, chin lifting.
“Can’t I be the mom? Honey, I’m more than capable of taking care of everyone else too.”
“Says the one being taken care of by me,” you chuckled, leaning back in your chair, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Though, fine. Maybe I’ll consider being the dad for the day.”
Lara’s eyes gleamed immediately, her lips curving into that familiar, confident smile. Only now it was laced with something bolder.
“Consider? That’s it?” she shot back playfully, leaning forward just slightly, her gaze never leaving yours. “Is that your way of saying yes? Because I’m hearing a yes. Unless you want to make me beg again.”
You pretended to weigh the offer, tapping your chin in exaggerated thought while your lips twitched with a suppressed grin.
“Hmm… staying all day, taking care of you, making sure you don’t overdo anything,” you mused softly, your tone dipping low enough to sound almost indulgent. “That’s a lot of responsibility. I might need to rethink this.”
Lara tilted her head, closing the distance between you until her elbow brushed lightly against yours. Her voice dropped, still teasing but threaded with warmth. “I think you’ll survive. It’s not like I’m going to bite unless you want me to.”
You let a few quiet seconds hang between you, enough for her words to sink in, before exhaling softly, surrendering with a small, reluctant smile.
“Alright… fine. I’ll stay,” you said at last, your tone gentle now, almost fond. “But I need to inform the others first.”
Her reaction was instantaneous. Her grin brightened, eyes lighting up in open delight as she straightened victoriously.
“As you should,” she said, leaning back against the couch, her satisfaction practically glowing off her. “You're officially stuck with me now.”
You shook your head lightly, unable to hide your amusement. “Stuck? What a way to describe it.”
Finally, it was Sophia’s turn. She’d fallen ill, unable to participate just like Lara had once been sidelined.
Unlike the others, Sophia was used to being the one everyone relied on. The one who anticipated needs before anyone even spoke them aloud.
But this time wasn’t about rehearsals, earpieces, or the little daily tasks. This time, it was personal.
A sudden downpour had drenched her earlier, and though she’d shrugged off the chill at first like she always did, the fever that followed now left her flushed, achy, and so human.
Missing the event the group had been preparing for gnawed at her, twisting guilt deep in her chest. She felt like she was failing as a leader just by being sick.
You were the first person she called when her body finally gave out. Even through the phone, your calm, steady presence made the chaos of the day feel a little more manageable.
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, trying to sound confident, mostly trying to convince herself. “You don’t have to come over.”
But your voice, warm and unwavering, cut through her protest. “Sophia… you sound awful. I’m coming over. Don’t try to push through this on your own.”
By the time you arrived, she was slumped on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, sweat beading her forehead. Her laptop was open on her lap, documents and schedules scattered across the screen.
Even sick, she couldn’t help herself. Her instinct to stay in control kept her reaching for work, refusing to fully let go
Your brows knitted in concern, lips pressing into a thin line. Seeing her like this stirred a mix of worry and irritation. You knew a sick person should never be overexerting themselves.
“Why are you working?” you asked as you stepped closer, voice firm yet gentle. She sniffled, her attention still glued to the screen, trying to keep up the pretense of composure. “You should be resting.”
“I can handle a little fever. Don’t worry about me,” Sophia said, lifting her gaze from her laptop to look at you, disbelief written across her face. “You really shouldn’t have come over. Isn’t the event today?”
“Yeah, but you told me you were sick,” you replied gently, “and it’s not until tonight. I can catch up later.”
She blinked at you, hesitating as if silently asking whether you were serious. You didn’t waver.
Instead, you walked over to the bed, placing your hand gently on her forehead. The heat radiating from her skin made your concern deepen immediately.
“Oh… wow. You’re really running a fever.”
Embarrassed, she tried to pull back slightly, but you held her hand softly, firm enough to keep her in place. “Relax. I’m just checking. Nothing more.”
The warmth of your touch sent an unexpected thrill up her spine, making her pulse race until suddenly, her fever wasn't the only reason she feels hot right now.
“Y/n…” she murmured, voice soft and shaky, almost caught in her throat. “You really don’t have to…”
“I do,” you replied, tilting your head to meet her gaze as you closed her laptop and set it aside, inserting it on the cabinet. “You’ve always taken care of everyone else. It’s my turn to take care of you.”
Her breath hitched at your words. There was a kind of intoxication in the way you said it. Not commanding, not teasing, just… caring. Her chest tightened, like it might burst.
You picked up the thermometer from one of the cabinets, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as you guided it to her mouth. “Just a quick check.”
She closed her eyes, leaning back slightly, letting herself relax against you, though the closeness made her heart pound faster.
The fever in her body mingled with the heat of being near you, and she couldn’t stop the faint whimper that escaped her lips when your fingers brushed her jaw to steady her head.
“Done,” you said softly, removing the thermometer and reading the result. Your brow creased slightly. “101.5… you need rest, Sophia. No work. No laptop. No schedules. Just sleep.”
She opened her eyes to look at you, and in that instant, everything about you seemed to unravel her. The gentle way your hand held hers, the authority in your voice, the warmth in your gaze made her feel utterly exposed, flustered, and hopelessly drawn to you.
She wished she could lean closer, rest her head against you, anything to bridge the small distance between you without revealing how completely you had her under your spell. Her fingers toyed weakly with the edge of the blanket, her body trembling with both fever and the heat that came from being near you.
You were right. She did need rest. But not because she was tired. Because she felt like she might combust if you stayed this close much longer.
Sophia opened her mouth to protest, to tell you not to fuss, to keep the distance she so desperately needed, but before she could speak, you gently pressed a finger to her lips.
“Hush,” you murmured, your tone low but firm, the kind that made her heartbeat stutter. “Don’t talk. Just lie down and rest. I promise, you’ll feel better soon.”
For a second, she couldn’t breathe. The commanding calm in your voice made her feel like she wasn’t the leader anymore. You were.
And somehow, she didn’t mind. Her body melted under your touch, weak and warm, as she sank back into the pillows.
You brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, your touch lingering for a heartbeat too long before you smiled softly. “I’ve got you. Just rest, okay?”
She nodded wordlessly, her throat dry, chest tight, unable to focus on anything except the nearness of you.
The world blurred at the edges; all she could feel was you. Your scent, your voice, your quiet care.
As her eyes fluttered closed, her thoughts drifted where her lips couldn’t dare go.
‘I may as well have a crush on her,’ she admitted silently, her pulse thudding in her ears. ‘And I don’t even care. Not when it’s Y/n.’
Your care had brought itself into every corner of their lives, and in return, each of them began to show their gratitude in their own meaningful ways, which were little reminders that you were the heart of their world.
Manon would stay up late just to talk with you, swapping stories and laughter deep into the night, cherishing every sound of your voice.
Sophia would seek your opinions regarding the choreography and lyrics, wanting to leave you satisfied. She wants you to feel like your opinion truly matters to this group, especially to her.
Daniela showed up with your favorite drink in hand, her signature smile never failing to appear, while Lara made sure your favorite songs played whenever you entered the room, shaping the atmosphere to your comfort without a word.
Megan, on the other hand, seemed to always find reasons to linger near you. Sitting beside you during practice, asking small questions, pretending to need your help, when really she just wanted your attention.
And slowly, almost unconsciously, they all began to yearn for your care in the smallest, sweetest ways, appearing with feigned colds or exaggerated exhaustion, eager for your fussing.
It became a silent competition, each one craving your concern, each gesture a tender excuse to draw you closer, and a way to remind you that to them, you weren’t just someone important.
Yoonchae, however, didn’t miss a thing. Her sharp eyes caught how the others had started orbiting around you each in their own subtle, lovestruck way.
Still, she understood why. You were easy to adore. You had that quiet warmth, that gentle steadiness that pulled people in without even trying.
But to Yoonchae, you weren’t some distant ideal or secret crush. You were family.
You’d always treated her like a little sister, being patient, attentive, and protective in the way only an older sibling could be. You helped her through the things she wasn’t used to yet. You even do lives with her, TikTok videos, interviews, and always made sure she never felt left behind.
You even went out with her sometimes, letting her feel included, seen, and safe in a world that could easily overwhelm her.
She appreciated you deeply, but not in the same way the others did. She didn’t have to compete for your attention, because she knew she already had a special place in your heart. You had a soft spot for her, and she was content with that.
To the rest of the girls, you were their dream partner. The one who made their hearts flutter without trying.
But to Yoonchae, you were her dream sister. Someone who reminded her of Sophia’s nurturing warmth, but in your own unique way.
And now, as New Year’s Day rolled in, you all found yourselves gathered around the dining table for a live dinner.
The room was full of laughter and chatter, the clinking of plates and soft hum of background music blending into a festive one. The camera panned across the table, catching the easy smiles and sparkle of celebration.
Sophia leaned toward you, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Okay, so for the live, I’m thinking we start by sharing our most embarrassing moments from last year. I’ve got so many.”
Her excitement was infectious, and even the camera was catching her bright grin.
Manon immediately winced, her expression one of pure suffering. “Oh, no thanks. I’d rather not relive my humiliation publicly.”
You laughed softly, glancing at her. “Yeah, I agree. We might get cancelled,” you teased, voice light and playful, though the hint of a smile on your lips made it clear you were only joking.
Daniela suddenly chimed in, her tone bright and mischievous. “Wait, I call dibs on eating first. I can talk and eat at the same time anyway.”
The camera immediately tilted down to her plate, catching the neatness in her movements as she picked up a piece of sushi with her chopsticks, before panning back up to her cheeky grin.
The Latina’s gestures were lively as she talked, until she turned those very chopsticks toward you, holding up the sushi like an offering.
“Say ahh…” she said, parting her lips to demonstrate.
You blinked in mild surprise but didn’t resist. Instead, you chuckled and leaned in, parting your lips as instructed.
The camera lingered, capturing the brief, intimate moment as you took a bite. Daniela smiled with obvious satisfaction, her eyes softening as she watched you chew.
But before anyone could comment, Lara who was sitting across the table, lifted a slice of pizza, holding it up toward you with an easy smirk. “Y/n, didn’t you say you liked pepperoni?”
You nodded, a little confused at how suddenly the focus had shifted to you. Still, you leaned in again, letting Lara feed you a bite.
The camera also caught the scene perfectly. Lara’s expression brightened at your small hum of approval, the faint pink that touched your cheeks, and then, just beyond the frame, the flicker of something in Daniela’s eyes.
Her grin faltered, just slightly. The teasing energy she’d had moments ago dimmed as she watched the two of you. Her chopsticks lowered, and though she tried to keep her smile steady for the live, it didn’t quite reach her eyes this time.
sunsetlixie: dani's jealousss
man0nsmilez: The pizza looks so delicious im craving it rn
ynshoe: Not them competing for her 😭
laralovr07: this is so gay and i’m here for it
“Guys!” Sophia announced brightly, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she turned toward the camera. “We’ve got kare-kare for tonight!”
She proudly lifted the bowl to show the viewers, the golden peanut sauce glistening under the lights. “I missed this so much. I used to eat it all the time back home,” she added, her voice carrying that familiar warmth of nostalgia.
Then, spotting Megan sipping from her mug, Sophia’s expression lit up even more. “Oh, and we’ve got buko pandan too! Megan loves this stuff,” she said, gesturing toward her.
Megan nodded, a smile tugging at her lips as she swallowed another sip of the sweet drink. “Because it tastes so good,” she said simply, flashing the camera an approving grin.
Sophia laughed softly, pride radiating from her smile. She never missed a chance to share her culture, and the joy on her face made the atmosphere around the table even livelier.
The conversation flowed naturally after that, with Megan teasing Yoonchae for sneaking extra slices of cake, Sophia chuckling at Daniela’s dramatic retelling of a practice blooper, and Manon, who was clearly enjoying herself, eating until she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh.
Seated beside you, the Swiss-Ghanaian girl turned her head slightly, her mischievous eyes flicking between you and the camera. A grin curved her lips before she spoke in a dramatically exhausted tone.
“Y/n,” she groaned playfully, one hand resting on her stomach, “I think I’m pregnant with your child.”
Your fork froze halfway to your mouth, eyebrows lifting as you turned to her in mock disbelief. Then, with an amused smirk tugging at your lips, you glanced at her “bump,” before meeting her gaze again.
“Very funny, Manon,” you said dryly, though the smile threatening to break through gave you away.
As dinner went on, Yoonchae kept sneaking glances at the clock, careful not to let midnight sneak up on her. She didn’t want to miss the fireworks for anything.
When she checked again and saw that it was already 11:50, one of the staff members stepped in, giving the group a cue to head to the balcony. Right on time for the show.
A wave of excitement swept through the table. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, with everyone having just finished their food. Chairs slid back, laughter and chatter filled the air, and the girls began to stand.
Lara, wanting to keep the viewers updated, turned to the camera with a bright smile, eyes full of anticipation. “Alright, guys. We’re heading to the balcony for the last part of our New Year’s celebration.”
The group shuffled toward the balcony, the camera still rolling and weaving between them, catching laughter, chatter, and the occasional playful shove. Sophia turned toward the camera next.
“Okay, everyone, we’re heading out! Final countdown’s about to begin!”
The Indian woman leaned over the railing first, peering at the city below, then glanced back at the camera with a teasing grin.
“I hope the fireworks are as impressive as last year. You know, no pressure, Yoonchae,” Lara added, knowing the Korean girl was keeping a careful eye on the clock.
The camera picked up the subtle interaction, lingering on Yoonchae's unimpressed and deadpanning reaction.
Megan adjusted her scarf, squinting at the night sky. “I hope a firework doesn't explode near my face.”
A soft giggle slipped from Sophia as she found a spot beside you, her hand brushing gently against yours.
“Guys, we should all make wishes when the fireworks start,” the Filipina suggested, her tone hopeful.
The idea immediately sparked excitement among the others. Sophia bounced slightly on the balls of her feet, her cheeks still flushed from the cold air, or maybe from the giddy energy of the moment.
Manon was the next one to lean casually against the railing, the city lights reflecting in her gaze. When her eyes drifted to you, they softened for just a second, though you were too focused on the sky to notice.
“I already know mine, actually,” she said, her voice low and teasing, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. “But I’ll keep it a secret for now.”
Around you, laughter and chatter once again filled the balcony, but your attention was fixed upward, where faint sparks hinted at the show to come. Your fingers rested lightly on the railing while your thoughts drifted.
‘What should my wish be?’
That single question lingered in your mind, gentle yet weighty, as the first flicker of light began to bloom across the night sky.
The seconds ticked closer to midnight, and you found yourself stealing glances at the others, noticing how each of them seemed quietly focused on the moment.
“Ten… nine… eight…” Lara’s voice rang out, her energy carrying across the balcony.
“Seven… six… five…” Daniela chimed in, bouncing lightly on her heels.
You could feel Sophia shifting slightly beside you as she whispered, “I can’t believe it’s almost here.”
The night sky erupted in color. Fireworks bloomed overhead in dazzling patterns, filling the city with light and sound. The live stream captured it all: the sparks reflecting in their wide eyes, laughter spilling into the night, and the soft collective “oohs” and “ahhs” from the group.
Each of them lifted their heads, voices blending with the crackle of fireworks.
“Happy New Year!” Everyone shouted at the same time in joy. An enthustiatic smile tugged at Sophia's lips, both from the fireworks and from being able to stand beside you just like this.
The camera panned slowly across the balcony, catching each of their faces illuminated by the fireworks, their expressions a mix of awe, joy, and maybe an almost secret longing.
None of them spoke their wishes aloud, no words were necessary, but if anyone looked closely, the fans could feel the actual truth in the gentle touches, the stolen glances, and the soft smiles meant only for you.
As the final fireworks faded into sparkling trails of smoke, the group stood together, the night quieting around them. You exhaled slowly, letting the moment sink in. Your heart was warm from the closeness and laughter.
You already knew your wish now. You didn’t ask for attention or personal gain; instead, your heart quietly hoped for their happiness, for their safety, for laughter to follow them through the year.
You wished for each of them to have everything they deserved, and that somehow, your good treatment towards them could make a difference in their lives.
And though they all laughed and shouted together, celebrating the New Year, each of their hearts held the same simple, undeniable wish.
And that was to be with you.
