megan was struggling to fall asleep so you helped her relax, your fingers intertwining with hers as you ride her, doing all the work to make her feel good, she becomes a whiny mess when your movements get faster.
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bitter ex!daniela who’s blocked on everything. imessage. instagram. tiktok. snapchat. EVERYTHING. she hates that she’s blocked. she always takes one of the girls phone so she can stalk you.
“she’s never gonna unblock you”
“i dont give a fuck if she doesn’t.”
“wait.. can you tell her to unblock me.”
bitter ex!daniela who hates when the girls bring you up. when you broke up with daniela she wanted the girls to stop being friends with you, stop communicating with you… but of course she didn’t get what she wanted.
“why are you guys even still talking to her. no loyalty.
“ughhhhhhhhh stop saying her name around me please.”
“y/n this , y/n that. enough of her.”
bitter ex!daniela who can’t believe you left her. yes it was her fault. yes she was a little toxic at times. all of the empty threats finally turned into you dipping.
“i just can’t believe she really broke up with me.”
“I would’ve fought for us.”
bitter ex!daniela who looks for you at every mutual party you go to. when she spots you, she watches you the whole time. when she catches you flirting with other women she gets heated.
“the fuck. she’s moved on already.”
“i knew she wasn’t shit.”
bitter ex!daniela who asks the girls if you’re talking to anyone else. if you ask about her. if you miss her. anything. but when the girls say you say nothing or don’t ask about her…. boy does it piss me off.”
“she just acts like im the worst person in the world.”
“how doesn’t she miss me.”
“I can’t believe she can just move on so easily.”
“that means I meant nothing to her.”
bitter ex!daniela was livid when you really moved on and got in another relationship. megan came to show her the post and she slapped the phone out of megan’s hand.
“bro I don’t want to see that shit.”
“she doesn’t look fucking better than me.”
“it’s only been 6 months bro.”
bitter ex!daniela who laughed every time she seen you two out in public. in your face and your new girlfriends. she lowkey was hurt inside and she hated seeing you with someone else but, she was bitter and jealous so she was going to hate.
“you guys look amazing together.”
“fuck you daniela.”
“anytime baby girl.”
bitter ex!daniela who finds your new girlfriend social media and leaves petty comments, like ‘she knows where home is’ or ‘you have no idea what to even do with her.’ which eventually lead to her being blocked by your girlfriend too.
bitter ex!daniela who eventually ends up unblocked by you, only so you can tell her to leave you and your girlfriend alone.
“leave us alone daniela. you’re crazy. i have you change after chance.”
“just give me one more y/n please.”
“no daniela. move on. it’s over with.”
“just come home baby please.”
“goodbye daniela.”
bitter ex!daniela who finally chooses to let you move on and stops trying to contact you. she doesn’t ask the girls about you. she doesn’t check to see if she’s unblocked, or if you’re single. but she does know, if you wanted to come back the doors were always open.
it was late. later than you usually stayed up on a typical weekday.
you laid awake sitting on the edge of your kingsized bed awaiting your girlfriend's return. she had informed you that group rehearsal would be running later than she originally thought. instead of the previously agreed upon end time of nine, practice had stretched far into the dark. she told you with little concern or remorse, as if the change wasn’t distributing your nightly routine. by then, megan would have been in the bed, chest rising and falling next to yourself, stomach full from the freshly made dinner you had provided her with.
that was all to the wayside now, thanks to whoever had caused her return to be delayed. irritation bubbled within you. if there was anything in this world you despised, it was abrupt changes. they were nuisances that reveled in ruining you.
you sat there, doing nothing but staring into a wall while you waited. hands folded neatly onto your lap, fingers tapping in a demanding rhythm, you waited. waited for seconds. those seconds grew into minutes. those minutes grew into hours. it was not beyond you they could soon grow into hours.
the sound of your own ragged breathing was interrupted by the sound of your apartment's front door creaking open in an agonizing wail. the patter of footsteps approached the barrier between her and you.
your eyes did not drift from the grey drywall as the door cracked open inch by inch.
“late, isn’t it,” you flatly asked. the rhythm of your fingers quickened.
“what?” the mutt was caught off guard, clearly. “yeah, it is, babe. i’m sorry.” from her voice, it was apparent the night had brought endless exhaust. it didn’t particularly matter to you.
“what time is it?” the answer would be dissatisfactory to you regardless of what was said. you asked anyway.
“it’s like, one,” she answered. one, how wasteful. it was the new day, and still you had not had a taste of rest. you weren't going to receive the proper amount of rest to function tomorrow, it was far too late for that. might as well waste more of the young morning, you figured.
“what comes after?” you prompted. you would waste the night away in the cruelest way possible. for her, really.
“excuse me?”
your eyes moved at last, moved right into the gaze of the spent girl. her eyes, surrounded by dark creators
from a day at work, danced in confusion, until finally they rested in realization. she inhaled and exhaled briefly. a faint i can’t believe we’re doing this now was dissipated into the air.
“it’s one in the morning, mommy.”
“mm. that’s better.”
you stood up. your legs were as light as clouds as you made your way towards the pathetic puppy standing in the middle of the bedroom. circling her in slow strides, taking your time, you took in her appearance. megan’s dark hair was down and ruffled from endless drills, and her t-shirt and shorts were bunched and stiff from the air. a mess. thankfully, you loved messes.
you stood in front of her, face to face, for a short moment before leaning in to connect your lips to hers. despite the rough hours, her peach tinted lips were soft and inviting, as they always were for you. mindlessly, you found a hand slithering around her waist, resting and waiting to bite.
“do you know how long i’ve been waiting for you, hm?” you asked, laced with anger threatening to boil over. “i couldn’t even start dinner, since you wouldn’t even be there to eat.”
“i don’t see how that’s my fault,” the mixed girl mouthed. the absence of sound did not equate to the absence of meaning. “i told you rehearsal was going to ruin late tonight.”
“hm? what was that?” you were providing her a chance to fix her mistake. “say it again.”
she did not utilize the opening you had provided to her. “i said,” she began again. her voice rose into something more incredulous. “it isn’t my fault we were running behind schedule. i don’t see why you’re so mad.”
“attitude?” last chance.
“yeah, maybe i do have one.” she missed it.
patience had left your body completely.
the arm around the mutt’s waist tightened its grip, pulling her closer towards you. you saw the way her eyes widened and how her lips quivered. it was wonderful—such a puppy at your disposal.
“you wanna be bad, huh? you wanna be disobedient, pup?” you pulled away slowly, relocating yourself to the dresser on your side of the shared bed. you reached and rummaged into the top drawer, looking for one item in particular. buried underneath toys in a wide variety of toys was what you sought. behind you, you heard the sensation on the carpet floor of your puppy tapping her foot. so anxious, she was. this was brought upon herself.
you returned to megan, her still looking like a puppy caught out in the rain. you raised the item in your hand up into the air, watching how the metal tag caught and reflected the light. it was something both you and her were accustomed to from regular use.
“since you want to be a mutt, you can be dragged around like one.” clasped to megan’s beautiful neck was a leathery, pink-dyed collar with a matching;y pink leather leash attached to it, resting in the grasp of your hand. it could always be pulled tighter.
you dragged your puppy—your mutt—to the edge of the bed; the whine of her being heard by you as she was pulled along. you sat on the side of the bed, just as you had before.
“why don’t you sit, pet.”
“yes, mommy,” megan whimpered, quiet but not ashamed.
“louder,” you demanded.
“i’ll sit, mommy.”
and so she sat. sat on her knees in front of you, looking up at your body with pathetic eyes silently begging. she was so weak, and you bathed in it, knowing this puppy was yours to punish.
“you look so pathetic like this. where’s all the attitude go, mutt? you just had one, and yet,” you pulled her leashed, hard, sending her head lurching forwards, as well as sending a small moan out of her mouth. you thought she would practically be orgasming if you pulled any tighter. “you’re moaning just from the tug of your leash. such a naughty puppy.”
“your naughty puppy,” she whined. “i’m so sorry for having an attitude, ‘was just tired because of practice.”
“but not tired enough to not not be on your knees for me.” a blush spread all through megan’s face and neck. you were curious as to if it had spread to the rest of her body. “aw, mutt, did you want this? it seems like you do…”
her mouth gaped for a moment, trying to find the words. “i did want it mommy, i did. i was at practice for so long, and i couldn’t see you,” she was barely able to make it through a sentence. “i kept thinking about you.”
“and did that make you needy?” you inquired mockingly.
she only shook her head yes.
if that was the case, you would make something out of it. standing up and moving yourself—and megan—onto the bed, you went to make a spectacle of her need.
from the last time you had set the bed, two silk wrapped pillows sat near the headboard. you grabbed the nearest one and threw it to the dog on your leash. from her eyes, it was easy to tell she knew where the situation was going.
“since you want to be a needy puppy, you can take care of it yourself.”
without responding, the aching pup moved the pillow between her legs and immediately began moving her hips back and forth mindlessly. she went at one rapid pace in an effort to relieve the ache.
“aw, look at you. so needy you couldn’t be bothered to take your shorts off,” you degraded. “is pup gonna make a mess in her shorts, huh? that would be better than making a mess on the pillowcase, no?”
being so consumed by need and want, your mutt was only able to mumble out meek yeses into the face out the pillow while she thrusted into the plush beneath her. so quickly flooded by pleasure, she was unable to speak properly. fitting, for a puppy.
whines, moans, groans, and other noises of pleasure satisfied you as she humped quicker and quicker, the feeling of release begging to be set free within her. by now, the softest touch in the correct spot would push her to the edge, you were sure.
though, release would not come so easily for her.
“are you close, puppy?”
“mhm,” megan moaned. her yelps were high pitched, as they were before her climaxes. “ ‘m gonna cum, mommy.”
you tugged her collar the hardest you ever had for her to look at you. she did not cease her humping.
“tell me that you deserve your orgasm after the disrespect you gave to me. tell me.”
an elongated whimper left the girl’s lips, which she was biting. “please, mommy, please don’t make me do this…”
“if you don’t want to cum, that’s fine. we can stop.”
“no, no, please.” tears were welling in her eyes, “i’ll do it.”
she swallowed her own spit back down, preparing to beg for her rush of ecstasy. “please mommy,” your puppy softly whimpered. “i’m sorry for being disobedient and having an attitude with you. i wouldn‘t have if i wasn’t at rehearsal for so long, wouldn’t have thought about you and gotten riled up…please let me cum, please?”
it wasn't her best, but it was passable, and you did not have it within you truly to withhold release from her any longer.
“go ahead,” you allowed. “go ahead and cum for mommy, you pathetic, slutty, puppy.”
whether it was the permission, degradation, or the feeling of the silk rubbing against her core that sent her over the edge was unknown. what was known, however, was that there was a collapsed girl who had bucked her hips so quickly that she managed to leave a stain not only in her shorts, but also on the deep red pillowcase.
“what a mess,” you whispered underneath your breath.
taking it upon yourself, you wandered into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water to deliver to your girlfriend. when you returned to the bedroom, you were met with her curled up on the pillow, chest rising and falling just as it would have on a regular night.
adorable, you thought.
you placed the bottle and slipped next to your girlfriend on the bed, pressing a tender kiss onto her forehead.
soon, your own breath matched hers, and it was any normal night.
- In which food keeps vanishing from the house, so the members installed a CCTV to catch the mysterious thief. Instead of finding someone stealing snacks, they catch you and their very responsible leader.. sloppily making out in the kitchen.
● (fluff)
___
a/n: this had been in my drafts for a while now so i figured i should finish writing it. anyways, yay, sophia!!
__ __ __ __
______
The biggest crisis that ever hit the Katseye house wasn’t a messed up choreography, not a comeback deadline, not even a broken nail. It was the fact that food kept vanishing into thin air, and no one knew who was doing it.
It started small at first: Daniela’s imported cheese chips she hid at the very back of the pantry behind the flour bags? Gone overnight, not a crumb left. Your bag of sweet treats from your hometown carefully hidden in the drawers? Demolished as well as Lara’s expensive dark chocolate she stashed in the cupboards for stressful practice days. Nothing but a crumpled empty wrapper left on the floor.
Then it got personal.
Yoonchae’s strawberry milk that she lined up neatly in the fridge door, each one labeled with her name in cute pink marker? All gone, only empty bottles rolling around. Manon’s French macarons she brought all the way from home, carefully packed in a pretty box she kept on top of the fridge? Gone without a trace, box left open and empty. Even Sophia’s protein bars she bought for early morning workouts? Vanished one by one.
And the most tragic of all? Megan’s tteokbokki cups, the ones she wrote "MEGAN’S ONLY!! DO NOT TOUCH!!" on with a big black marker, even drew a scary face next to it? Gone. Not even the paper cup remained.
"There is a criminal living among us! A thief! A monster!" Lara yelled during the emergency house meeting, slamming her hand on the coffee table so hard the remote jumped.
"Yesterday I bought three whole boxes of cookies! Three! Today all that’s left is the empty plastic tray! Who eats like a starving gremlin at 3 AM?! HUH?!"
"I swear, I saw someone!" Daniela added, pointing an accusing finger at no one in particular, eyes wide. "Last night I got up to get water, and I saw a shadow wearing a hoodie rummaging near the fridge! I thought it was just me tripping but NO! This is a crime spree!"
Yoonchae looking so broken-hearted, just stared at her palms blankly. "My strawberry milk… I saved that for after dance practice… who would hurt an innocent maknae like this…"
Manon crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "My macarons were not cheap. And they were imported. Whoever ate them is paying me back tenfold. Seriously."
"My mom bought those treats. I almost fought the airport staff at the baggage scanner just to get that through." You murmured out dramatically from your spot at the carpeted floor, fists clenching while Manon shook her head, clicking her tongue.
Megan, who was sitting on the armrest looking extra dramatic, suddenly slammed her fist on the table too, face all serious like she was the biggest victim here. "We can’t let this go on! This is anarchy! We need evidence! We need to catch this bastard red-handed! They think they can just steal our food and get away with it?! NO!"
"Megan, calm your tits." Sophia raised her eyebrow at the younger girl's dramatic aggression, standing up to hold the floor of the emergency meeting.
"Y'all are suggesting that we get a security camera?" She asked out to which the others immediately nodded, chirping their own complaints like they were declaring their rights.
Amidst that chaos, you met Sophia's eyes, nervousness evident on your gaze as you shook your head subtly. You and the Filipina had been dating secretly and for the past few months now, the kitchen had been your secret meet-up spot during late nights so putting on a security camera would definitely catch you two going at it and you absolutely don't want that.
"Guys, I really don't think that's a good idea." Sophia's voice came out way higher than usual.
Megan, already suspicious, raised an eyebrow. "And why not? It's for the greater good of our collective snack security."
"Well," Sophia began, her eyes darting around like she was looking for an escape route, "it's... it's a matter of feng shui!"
Silence.
Like, actual, awkward silence.
Everyone just stared at her.
"The what now?" Daniela asked, looking genuinely confused while Lara just shot Manon a 'what the fuck?' look before her gaze flickered back to their leader.
"Feng shui!" Sophia insisted, waving her hands vaguely around the kitchen area. "Think about it! A camera, with its harsh, staring lens, totally messes with the natural flow of qi in the kitchen. It'll create negative vibes, it'll make.. stale bread, burnt toast, and overcooked brownies! I can't absolutely have that!" She finished with a flourish, like she'd just dropped some profound wisdom.
"We cannot risk the cosmic balance of our cooking space!" Oh, you loved this girl too much. Sophia was really fighting for her life out there.
Manon just looked unconvinced. "Isn't feng shui for like, furniture placement, not security cameras. And I'm pretty sure it won't magically make your brownies overcooked."
"Ah, but you underestimate the subtle energies!" Sophia pushed on, getting a weird kind of confidence. "And the reflections! Imagine, you're just grabbing a late-night bite, and you catch your own reflection in the camera lens! So.. unflattering! Who wants to see themselves caught off guard, crumb on their cheeks, just trying to enjoy a moment?" She shivered dramatically.
"It’s a total invasion of our aesthetic privacy!"
You snorted subtly at that. The only privacy it'll probably invade is you and Sophia's midnight sessions to which is what currently motivating the Filipina to absolutely fight her way to not have your members agree on putting on a security camera.
Lara, who prides herself on always looking put-together, even at 3 AM, paused for a beat, then shook her head. "Sophia, we're trying to stop someone from eating all our food, not setting up a glamour shot."
"And the noise!" Sophia suddenly exclaimed, snapping her fingers. "All those tiny circuits, humming and buzzing inside! It would completely drown out our ability to truly hear the food cooking! You know, the gentle sizzle of frying eggs, the comforting gurgle of boiling water.. that's part of the whole culinary experience! A camera would just ruin it with its mechanical drone!"
Megan just threw her hands up, clearly done with the theatrics. "Sophia, it's a security camera, not a rocket launch! It's basically silent!"
Sophia caught your eye, and you saw a tiny, almost imperceptible wink. Her totally wild excuses were working, kind of. For now, at least. But the others weren't buying it. Not really.
As Sophia continued to throw out increasingly bizarre arguments, Manon and Daniela exchanged a look.
It was that knowing, "she's definitely guilty" kind of look. She's got to be the thief, their expressions screamed. They were totally convinced Sophia’s defensive/nonsense explanations meant she was the culprit. That she was trying to cover her tracks with this ridiculousness and throw them off the scent.
Amd so, later that day, while Sophia and you were out chilling, the rest of the members had a secret meeting.
"She was way too defensive," Daniela whispered, shaking her head. She was definitely not convinced.
"Right? And all those weird excuses about 'feng shui' and aesthetic privacy." Lara added, arms crossed. "It has to be her. Who else would try so hard to stop a camera?"
"Alright, my people." Manon declared, her mind made up, pulling out a small, sleek black gadget from her bag. "We're doing it. This thing is super discreet, high-def, and has night vision. I'll put it in while they're gone. We'll catch her red-handed and finally solve this mystery."
"Yeaw! About darn time!" Megan yelled out, exclaiming in that God-forbidding southern accent again to which Yoonchae just stared at her with disgust.
_____
You let out a soft yawn when you felt Sophia gently shaking your shoulder, your gaze opening, meeting those adorable doe brown eyes.
"Hey.. come on." She whispered softly at you, giddily, careful to not wake up Manon and Daniela who's on their respective beds.
You, of course, despite sleepiness tugging at you, followed your girlfriend out of the room and into the kitchen, running your fingers through your messy locks with a soft yawn before putting your hood up.
"What? Did you catch the food thief?" You murmured out, yawning once more.
"Nope. But I did caught something better." Sophia grinned mischievously at you and before you knew it, those plump, soft lips were already claiming yours.
And, well, who are you to deny it?
You let out a soft chuckle against Sophia's lips, letting her push you against the counter, your hands slipping inside her shirt, mapping every inch of skin you could feel.
She shivered at your touch, nipping at your lower lip in response. God, did she loved these moments.
Sophia let out a soft, hushed moan, a little purr that buzzed right through you as your hands gently cupped her breasts inside the thin fabric of her shirt. Her body, already molded against you, totally pressed in even closer, every curve just fitting perfectly with yours. "Fuck.."
Her own fingers started to explore you, tracing down your spine, lingering at your waist, then pulling you even tighter, squishing out any last bit of space between you two. Her lips, so full and impossibly soft, were just glued to yours, a constant, amazing presence.
"Mhm.." Your mouths danced together in this slow, sweet, but insistent rhythm, like a really good, wordless chat that just got hotter with every breath. You could taste the lingering sweetness of her strawberry lip gloss and that faint, yummy spice from her dinner earlier, a delicious mix that just made you want more.
Her tongue lapped and swirled against yours, exploring every soft, secret spot with no rush at all. It was a kiss that felt like everything you ever wanted, a mix of pure affection and just knowing you were exactly where you needed to be. Each gentle brush, each soft little suck, sent these amazing shivers through you both, sparking a slow, delicious warmth that spread through your veins, a powerful, magnetic pull that just clicked.
It was all breathless and exciting, a silent exhilarating session of happiness and belonging that made the quiet kitchen feel like the best place in the world.
Unbeknownst to you both, thoroughly lost in your own little love bubble, the tiny, almost invisible red light of the security camera tucked away in the corner of the kitchen gave a discreet, almost blink.
Yeah, you guys were royally fucked.
______
The very next day, right after practice, the living room became Mission Control. Everyone was there, except you and Sophia, who were conveniently at the company for "urgent meetings" with Missy— definitely not on a secret date somewhere, eating each other's faces, absolutely not, nope.
Phones and tablets were prepped, snacks (carefully guarded from the yet-to-be-identified culprit) were laid out the coffee table, and Yoonchae even dimmed the lights for maximum effect. They were practically vibrating with anticipation, ready to finally catch their midnight food thief red-handed.
"Is it working?" Manon asked out, fixing the connection to the T.V since Megan claimed that watching the caught footage at the laptop is mid.
No responses were heard, Lara busy with her phone, Daniela chatting animatedly with Megan while Yoonchae was making sure the snacks on the bowl weren't missing a piece yet before the tape even played , slapping every hand that was going near it.
"Y'all, is it working!?" Manon yelled, to which all of them finally payed attention to, answering in a chorus of "Yes!"
"Thank you!" She huffed, dusting her hands off while Megan snorted, side-eyeing Lara.
"Goddamn, who pissed at her drink."
"I don't know, maybe you did?"
"The fuck? Why would you eve-"
"Okay, okay, i'm starting it!" Daniela yelled out before they could even continue their conversation, pressing the play button immediately.
At first, it was just the empty kitchen, lights dim, everything quiet, the clock showing 11 PM. Everyone leaned forward, eyes glued to the screen, holding their breath.
And..
Nothing absolutely happened.
"That was anti-climatic." Daniela spoke out, breaking the silence.
"Well, no shit, we gotta fast forward." Manon deadpanned, grabbing the remote from Daniela as they all just stared at the TV screen blankly, popping snacks in their mouth every once in a while.
They stared at the empty kitchen for 15 minutes, absolutely nothing going on, no food thief nor disturbance caught.
"Damn, it's like watching the paint wall dry-"
"Wait! Shh! Look! Someone’s coming!" Megan yelled, even standing up on the sofa to see better, pointing at the screen.
There was a figure, a silhouette of someone they could recognize very well entering the camera frame. This was it. They could finally know the identity of the damned culprit. Their fallen snacks and treats would obtain justice.
"THERE! GOTCHA! Who are you—"
Everyone froze. Dead silent. You could hear a pin drop.
On screen, the door can be heard opening slowly from the other hallway, and in walked into the frame was their leader, Sophia, wearing her silk pajamas, looking all cool and calm… and then you, their member, trailing behind her, rubbing your eyes looking just like you had woken up from sleep.
"Ha! It's Sophia, I knew it! It's So- Y/n..?" Megan halted her celebration, trailing off confusingly as she watches your figure following Sophia after, the camera catching both of your frames.
"There's two- Oh my god, there's no food thief, there's TWO food thieves!" Daniela concluded, eyes wide open as if she just discovered something horrendous. Yoonchae, on the other hand was looking at the screen with so much betrayal, oh, her heart, how could the both of you do that to her?
"They were scheming! Oh my fucking god!" Lara gasped out, extremely offended and betrayed, after she shared some sympathy with you having your hometown snacks getting stolen, you and Sophia were the culprits all along?
"I can't do this anymore! I can't! This- This is war-"
And before Manon could even finish her sentence, everything changed.
Sophia pulled you close by the waist instantly, one hand resting firmly on your lower back, before pushing you against the counter, her lips against yours. It wasn’t even just a quick peck. It was deep, warm, full of so much affection, her fingers tangling gently in your hair to tilt your head back just right, kissing you like you were the only person in the whole world.
Your hands slipped inside her shirt, the camera fully showing how intense and intimate your kisses were. A soft moan coming from Sophia can be audibly heard at the caught footage, the two of you lost in your own world, completely unaware that you were being recorded.
The whole living room was silent for three whole seconds. Then chaos erupted.
"NOOOOOO! THAT’S NOT REAL!!" Megan screamed at the top of her lungs, covering her eyes with both hands but immediately spreading her fingers to peek wildly anyway.
"FAKE! EDIT! CGI! GREEN SCREEN! THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!"
"Turn it off! TURN IT AWF!" Daniela shrieked as she slapped Manon's thigh, the other girl also screaming as she tries to take the about to be live porno off of the TV screen.
"How do I even- oh my god, they just kept going?!" Manon, bless her heart, instead of turning off the TV, had managed to just press the fast-forward button, resulting for the screen to absolutely see everything in 2x speed.
Lara, finally having enough material to tell her therapist, bolted, pulling the TV's power cord plug off of the socket. "Oh my god, finally!"
"It's still playing at the laptop!" Megan shrieked to which Yoonchae slammed the laptop screen shut, eyes wide, face flushed and sanity barely intact.
A moment of silence overtook the whole living room before they finally processed it once more, all of them collectively going into a psychosis.
"I EAT THERE, I PUT MY FOOD THERE!" Daniela started pacing back and forth across the room, pulling at her own hair looking absolutely traumatized. "HOW COULD THEY DO THAT ON THE COUNTER?!"
"Bleach my eyes. That's my final wish. Please." Yoonchae murmured, slumping onto the couch, eyes wide, mind barely running. That image of you and Sophia practically smooching each other's faces carved into her mind. She can see it even when she closes her eyes.
Meanwhile, Manon, was laughing so hard in disbelief, she fell off the sofa, clapping her hands while wheezing, wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh my fucking god! That's why Sophia was being so weird- OH LORD!"
"I KNEW IT! I HEARD NOISES BEFORE!" Lara cackled, pointing at the now black screen of the TV, where your good ol' loving session was just played earlier. "I thought paranoia was being a bitch but no! Because apparently it's these two getting down on each other!"
"Wait! Megan! Weren’t you the one who said last week you heard weird sounds in the kitchen and ran away saying there’s ghosts?" Daniela gasped, piecing the coincidences all together as she threw herself on the nearest cushion at the couch from her revelation.
Everyone turned to Megan at that, the Hawaiian practically disassociating next to Yoonchae on the couch.
Megan, after a few moments of processing, had turned bright red from her cheeks all the way to her ears. She shook her head violently, trying to physically erase the memory now that she knew what those noises were.
"I thought the kitchen was haunted!!" She exclaimed out, standing up while gesturing with her hands animatedly. "Ugh! Oh god! And I was wondering why it sounded like someone was eating tteokbokki loudly!"
And just like that, the whole mission failed.
Throughout the whole footage, there was no sign of any food thief. No one stealing anything, just you and Sophia giving each other some good ol' smoochin' the whole night.
With that, they disposed the security camera away immediately, figuring that they absolutely don't want to see anything that would be going on in the kitchen no more.
And with that, the mystery remain unsolved.
Or has it?
______
A week had passed since the Great CCTV Fiasco. The initial shock of Sophia and your secret romance had somewhat faded, replaced by a house-wide agreement to simply not think about what happens in the kitchen after midnight. The food thief, however, remained an unsolved enigma, a ghost in the machine.. or rather, in this case, in the pantry.
It was precisely midnight, pushing past 1 AM, and the house was blanketed in the kind of deep, peaceful silence only possible when all of you were finally getting their beauty sleep. Everyone was fast asleep, that is, except for one very determined, very hungry, and very guilty party.
Megan.
She woke up again, not to an alarm, but because her stomach was grumbling so loud it probably shook the walls. Just last week, she'd put on a total show, crying over her "stolen" snacks, including her own tteokbokki cups, which had mysteriously vanished right after her big speech about anarchy. She even blamed Sophia with convincing fury, all while secretly planning her next raid on the cookie stash.
She was the food thief.
And now, tonight was her night for another of her sneaky snack run, a solo mission she'd been waiting for.
"Ugh. I’m so hungry." Megan mumbled to herself, putting on her hoodie, tiptoeing out of her shared room with Lara after making sure that the other girl was dead asleep.
"I saw Manon put new cookies yesterday, hid them in the tin can. Bingo. No one will know. Easy. Safe." She whispered, giggling to herself at how much she sounded like a Disney villain plotting the end of the world.
"I wish it's those imported ones she got from Switzerland." She stretched, already salivating at the thought before finally making her move as she quietly walked, barefooted, to the pantry.
She crept slowly towards the kitchen, holding her breath, ready to sneak in, grab the food, and sneak out before anyone woke up. She turned the doorknob slowly, pushed it open just a crack, and peeked inside.
The lights were dimmed.
The atmosphere way too charged for a place known to be getting snacks at 1 o'clock in the morning.
And there you two were again.
For the hundredth time.
You were leaning against on the exact same spot at the kitchen counter, Sophia pressed up against you, her hands roaming on your body, your arms wrapped around her waist. You two were making out again, slow and deep, Sophia tilting your head back to kiss you properly, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, the other crawling on your thigh.
When you pulled away for air, she rested her forehead against yours, smiling that soft smile only you get to see.
"I love you so much." She whispered softly against lips, those familiar lip gloss of hers already yours at this point from how many times it had been smeared on your mouth.
You pressed a lingering soft kiss at those plump lips you adored, whispering an "I love you too." back, before feeding her a piece of strawberry you were holding.
It was sweet. It was wholesome. But Megan had reached her absolute limit.
She didn’t even care about the cookies anymore. She just stood there, staring at you two, then let out the loudest, most dramatic groan ever, facepalming so hard it echoed through the whole kitchen.
"REALLY?? COME ON GUYS?? AGAIN??"
She whisper-yelled so loud it was basically a shout, full of annoyance, disappointment, and pure trauma. "I came here to eat! I was so hungry! But now, I lost my appetite! Seriously?? Can't you two go anywhere else?? Why is it always the kitchen?! Huh? Do you guys have a schedule or something? Literally every single night!"
You and Sophia jumped so hard you almost fell stumbled to the floor. You immediately hid your face in Sophia's shoulder, blushing like crazy, while Sophia tried to fix her hair and act like leader mode but her ears were bright red.
“M-Megan?! What are you doing here?! It’s 1 AM!” Sophia stuttered, trying to at least save face.
"WHAT AM I DOING HERE?? I CAME TO STEAL FOOD OKAY— I MEAN I CAME TO EAT!" Megan ranted, throwing her hands in the air. "But now, I don't even want it anymore! My appetite is gone! I don't want it!"
She pointed at you two, shaking her head. "You two are so affectionately disgusting! I absolutely support the both of you but you two are still disgusting!"
Megan turned around and walked away, not even looking back, muttering to herself as she went. "I’m not even hungry anymore. Gross. Lovebirds. Using the kitchen like that. Seriously.."
And that was how Megan got away with being the food thief forever.
No one ever found out. The only thing everyone knew was that the kitchen was permanently reserved for Sophia and Y/N’s date nights, and Megan would rather starve than walk in there ever again.
______
a/n: i have so many pendings but can't absolutely forget our phia for fluff
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The name’s peach, as in…mama peach. Some of y’all may know me from @bloodredpeach, the mama of seven.
Below is a very poor attempt at a comeback, dedicated to my dearest @burnttoast7272 for passing her exams.
Please excuse any mistakes, I haven’t written a fic in over three years and I’m a bit rusty. Feedback is always welcome!
Happy reading <3
PS. Some things may sound weird af, that’s because English isn’t my first language and some expressions are like…lost in translation yk? Anyways have fun :>
The first time I saw her, I thought love was a punch to the chest. I was wrong. Love is much quieter than that. Love, as I've come to learn, is much harder to hold onto and much harder to walk away from.
It was a busy day. My mind was in a rush, my hands fidgety, my eyes darting everywhere, mapping faces, furniture, energy, anything I could grasp in the physical and emotional storm I had just walked into. I got gently shoved by a shoulder. A hand touched my elbow, urging me to a certain spot. A distant voice murmured directives. At least, they sounded like murmurs to my ears.
We were clustered together. Arranged unceremoniously in no specific pattern. I remember the strange feeling of being puppeteered. I was frozen, a cold sweat breaking as I felt eyes on me, feeling trapped under a gaze that had already judged me. As someone who always picks the back of every room, just to clock everyone's positions, to feel in control, I had never been as afraid as I was at that moment.
I told myself I was cataloging threats. That's why I noted the way she stood, relaxed but aware. Why I logged the sound of her voice, low and unhurried. Why, when she glanced my way for half a second, my stomach didn't flutter. It assessed. That's what I told myself.
Although looking back now, I wonder, wouldn't someone assessing a threat hyperanalyze their threat's words?
Later, I would learn, her words were a simple introduction. A name, a city, an interest, a goal. I remember seeing her lips move, her eyes subtly scanning the room as she spoke, her voice simple vibrations in the air. Sound waves that washed away the noise of the room, momentarily leaving nothing but her velvet tone in my mind.
I never got used to the rush. It was a race. A survival game. A room where you look for a safe corner to hide in, only to realize it is a circle.
Her presence stuck in my mind, not as an interest, but as another opponent in this war. She moved like droplets of morning dew swept by a soft breeze, landing in the crevices of my soul, filling the little spaces with a mist that cools my simmering core.
I watched her deliberately. She was not a friend; she was just a girl who wanted the same prize I was fighting for. She was a wall. An obstacle. A hurdle I was mapping with my unwavering gaze. Until she smiled in my general direction, and my head snapped to the side, blinded by the brightness of her joy. Or maybe I was pretending to look away, not wanting to be labeled a scrutinizer in her book.
I wondered, why did it matter what she thought of me?
The days we had jokingly called 'survival of the fittest' taught me two things: in wartime, I can have only one of two, a friend or a foe.
At least, that’s what we were told when we joined this circus.
That blinding smile flashed behind my eyelid. A friend. I wanted her to be a friend. I wanted to be her ally, her pillar, her unshakeable wall.
But I just stood there. Watching. She laughed at something someone else said, someone who told a joke faster, stood closer, already knew her name. I watched her turn toward them, watched her choose them, watched someone build courage faster than I could. Something twisted. Not jealousy. Just the cold understanding that her time was a currency I hadn't earned.
She didn't owe me her attention. I knew that. But watching her give it away so easily was a different kind of loss, one the Ringmasters never warned me about.
Then I opened my eyes, peeled back the layers of delusion. A new war had already begun. Two fronts now. And on both, I was losing.
I had accepted the fate I never chose. But fate is a funny thing. A turbulent, messy, unpredictable thing.
I don't remember the final days of the game. I vividly remember the aftermath.
Suddenly, I had a prize secured in my bag. Suddenly, I was in the limelight I wasn't sure I deserved. Six figures and I stood in a line, bathed with colorful spotlights and showered with praise. Six figures and I, the fittest who survived, given heavy crowns and heavier expectations. It was as if a weight had been lifted, and a bigger one was offloaded on our backs.
I found myself engulfed for a minute, drowning in the scent of desperation, relief, hope, and floral perfume. Different perfumes. Each one triggered an emotion I was unaware I could feel. But one of them, the faintest one, made my chest go quiet again. Just like her voice had on that very first day.
I found her in the crowd later. She was laughing with two of the other winners, already at home in this newfound 'family'. I wanted to walk over. I wanted to say something, anything, but my feet stayed planted. The same feet that had carried me through the game refused to budge when it mattered most.
Perhaps, she felt someone watching her. She turned. She looked right at me. And smiled. Not in my general direction this time. At me. She moved. I blinked, and there she was, with her magnetic eyes and pretty smile. She opened her mouth and talked. I caught wind of words that sounded dangerously close to 'excited', 'happy', and 'famous'.
I smiled back, for the first time since she looked at me like I might steal her gold, I smiled back. I murmured an unintelligible "Congratulations. You were... hard competition. I knew you'd make it. Talent like that."
I watched her tilt her head and smile like she knew she had the power to stop the beating of my heart. I wondered then, when did she learn to take up space inside my chest without asking permission?
She breathed in, ready to respond...
And then we were surrounded. Celebrations. Cheers. Bodies pressing in. Familiar perfumes and old perfumes.
It hit me at that moment. The war wasn't over. It had just changed shape.
Since that day, life ran…different. A constant flood of adrenaline.
It’s like someone put me on a rollercoaster, without a seatbelt, and sent me on an endless ride.
There wasn’t enough time for me to dwell on what would’ve been her answer. I wonder sometimes, if my honesty was the key that opened up her eyes to my existence, or if it’s simply because we are now…coworkers, so to speak.
At least she smiled at me, right?
I’ve stood at the edge of her inner circle throughout this war. A shadow. Or a wall, depends on how you look at it.
Maybe not the wall I wanted to be.
I wanted to be her friend. I wanted to learn her.
‘But could I?’ I thought.
‘Could I stand in the face of my demons and ask her how she likes her coffee?’
‘Could I challenge our shared coworkers and snag a seat next to her?’
‘Could I offer to carry her bag when we’re getting out of a car?’
I could…But I can’t. I could because I know she is an angel. I can’t because I’m…unprepared.
If I asked her how she likes her coffee, she’d offer to go with me to grab all seven of us a couple of drinks.
If I somehow found myself sitting next to her, she’d ask me questions. Get to know me. Answer my questions. Laugh at my dry jokes.
If I offered to carry her bag, she’d refuse. She’d complain and giggle, refusing to be a burden on someone else. Even though I’d love nothing more than to carry her bag and follow her.
In my head, I sounded pathetic. Out loud, I sounded crazy.
But was I crazy when all I wished for was her companionship?
Funny enough, it was much more difficult to avoid my wishful thinking when she was sitting right in front of me 24/7.
I used to see her in shared spaces. In competitive rounds. In eliminations. Sometimes on our mutual acquaintances’ ‘close friends’ stories.
But after the final round, after she became an integrated part of my life, I saw her everywhere. I could not escape her.
She was everywhere.
On my mind.
On my phone.
At interviews and studio recordings and practice sessions.
At wardrobe fittings, where I admit I had my very own biased opinions about her appearances. Opinions that I would never dare say aloud. Opinions that perhaps the stylists would disagree with, but I was not to be trusted when she was involved.
A true war I was fighting. A battle that I couldn’t win no matter how strong my army was.
My army being my will. And my will…was very, very weak.
I was not to be blamed. Ask anyone she had ever smiled at.
I realized that after that fateful day, the day the tides turned, the day everything I’ve known since the beginning of this war flipped upside down, I found myself lost.
Lost in my own rule book. Lost in my maze of connections. Lost between my heart and my mind. Between what I wanted, and what I could do.
She consumed me. My mind a hurricane of thoughts. Every single one was about her.
Until she’s there. Sitting next to me. Breathing the same air. That giggle echoing in my empty head.
She shut them down. All thoughts of her, she just…turns them off.
I didn’t know how to handle that fact. I’ve never had anyone have such a paradoxical effect on me. The same thing that runs through my mind can easily make it freeze.
And it’s embarrassing, really. I was supposed to be more phlegmatic, serene. Speak when spoken to, answer only the question asked, not more, not less. Smile and wave. Do your job. Perform to a T. Earn your place. Day in, day out.
But then she asked me if the color of her shirt clashed with her eyeshadow and I froze, I froze, like some undignified idiot who forgot how to speak.
I remember thinking ‘fuck, you speak three languages, literally say anything! Hell just nod!’
It took me two whole minutes. A hundred and twenty seconds. Just to end up saying "uhhh no?"
UHHH NO? WHO THE FUCK SAYS THAT!
I do. I did. When my pretty friend asked for my opinion.
I recalled being labeled ‘The Useless Gay™’ once upon a time. Before all this glitz and glam.
But you know what? I'd do it again. The freeze. The 'uhhh no.' The dumbassery. All of it. Just to have her ask me anything at all. Just to have her laugh. At me. With me. Who cares? She’s laughing. She’s laughing and my heart is trying to leave my ribs. Probably to sit between her palms.
Huh.
I’ve never been this attached to a friend. Perhaps I’ve been lonely for too long. Or maybe she’s the perfect friend for me.
The one thing I pride myself in is my ability to mentally compartmentalize.
My life is split into cardboard boxes, each one labeled with a thick, black sharpie.
There’s one for my family. One for my closest friends. One for my high school friends. One for my exes. One for my cat. One for my job, my band mates, my fans etcetera etcetera.
And one more for…her. With an extra ‘FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE’ sticker on all four sides of the box.
Why?
Well…I’m not sure.
The contents of that box in particular are very delicate. In there is where I store anything that includes her or reminds me of her.
I mean, there’s a cute little beige puppy plushie in the box. Don’t know where that came from.
And like…a pink hoodie, from that time I learned how to make her favorite pasta when everything was too much. ‘A quick fix,’ she called it.
And um…the black hair tie I gave her when her hair was getting in the way in practice.
Oh, and the bracelet she wore in one of our shows, where we debuted a new song, and I had to twirl her. By the waist. Boy was that move a disaster to learn.
At least we nailed it in that show.
And every show after.
There’s also a readymade brownie packet. A new foreign brand we sampled while we were on tour. Just her and me. In my hotel room. On my bed. Eating brownies and talking.
She was kind enough not to leave crumbs where I sleep.
The most recent addition is a giggle. The weirdest giggle I’ve ever heard her do.
We were all hanging out after a recording session, snacking on instant noodles. I had a little avocado keychain sitting in my pocket, an impulse buy from a random souvenir shop.
Somewhere in the chaos of thirteen different conversations being carried on at once, a feat only seven girls can achieve, I caught her eye.
She was sitting to my left. Looking all perfect and flawless. Like nothing can touch her. I smiled awkwardly, my fork hanging from my fingers as I immediately glanced back to the nearest conversation for cover.
The cover fails, because she never looked away. Three heartbeats later, and I was looking at her again. I could never resist her. God she was so perfect. Those thirteen conversations all…muted. They didn’t matter when she looked at me. Nothing ever did.
I remembered the avocado and dug in my pocket to find it, getting a mini heart attack when my fingers found nothing but air.
Finally, I grabbed it with shaky fingers and…as usual…grinned awkwardly at her. I extended my hand forward, and she put her palm up. I dropped it in her hand. She stared at it.
A beat. Then two.
Then she giggled. My God, she giggled. Loudly. Head thrown back, fork dropped, a snort somewhere in there. So boisterous that the girls stopped to stare at her, a few confused smiles and giggles joining in.
Until she held up the avocado next to her face, and everyone burst out laughing.
My grin went from awkward to victorious.
It took her a solid few seconds to catch her breath. A great loss if you ask me, but then again, I am heavily biased.
“Girl is that…me?” She said breathlessly, stroking the avocado’s curls. Because yes, I saw an avocado with curly hair and my immediate thought was ‘yes! Perfect gift! That’s how you impress a girl! Buy her an inanimate fruit that looks like her! What a loser!’
But I nodded anyway. Then stopped. Then muttered, “I mean, unless you have a brown pit that can roll.” While twirling a noodle on my own fork.
And somehow that made the same giggle return, with an extra nose crunch and a dimple. The others laughed and teased me, but I heard absolutely nothing. I was busy internally celebrating.
I made her giggle.
HA. Take THAT.
My relationship with my bandmates is…complicated.
I’ve come to learn them. Their likes, dislikes, routines, certain tells, you know, things you learn when you live with someone for too long.
I also learned their coffee orders. Photographic memory, they said.
They just like being spoiled with free drinks.
I don’t mind, really. The six of them have carved their ways into all four chambers of my heart, each settling in a corner. Perhaps one took up a little more space than the others, but that’s because she had the advantage of being there first.
I was getting ready to leave for my hunt when I heard a tumble behind me. I turned around to find a pair of the most breathtaking eyes I had ever had the privilege to look at. The owner of said eyes was standing in front of me, smiling and slightly panting.
“So…where are we going?”
Excuse me? WE?
Cue signature freeze.
I really do live up to my title ‘The Useless Gay™’.
Will I ever win this war?
Unfortunately for me, it would be impolite not to respond. I had to use my words. Oh no.
“Um…I…we?…are going for a coffee run.” Yes. Full sentence. Thank the lord.
“Okay!” She smiled, all teeth and dimples.
Okay??? What now?
I guess we’re going then.
“Um…yeah.” I nodded with finality and opened the door, stepping aside for her to walk through first because I wasn’t raised an animal.
The coffee shop was a ten-minute walk and had almost no wait time at all. It’s one of those hidden gems you randomly find.
And hey, I liked their decor. Very minimalist with just enough potted plants to look alive.
We walked in silence. It wasn’t awkward per se, but it also wasn’t a hundred percent comfortable.
Not because I was uncomfortable around her. In fact, I learned that being in her mere presence dimmed the overwhelming noise and brightened the shadows in the dark corners of my mind.
But because I felt the need to impress her. Say something smart. Talk about something interesting. Or just form a full sentence without stuttering for once.
Alas, all my poor brain could do was execute the following actions:
A- gently place your hand on her shoulder to move her to the inner part of the sidewalk.
B- match her steps perfectly, not too fast, we are not superior. Not too slow, we are not lazy.
C- do not stare. Do not stare. Do not stare.
I was too busy executing my three-step survival plan that I almost missed it.
“Can I ask you a question?” She hummed.
Well I am fucked. Anyways.
“Uh yeah.”
“And you promise to be honest? Like completely? I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…I was just…thinking.” She spoke so nonchalantly, I almost missed the nervous tone. Or maybe it’s the wind.
I nodded because I couldn’t trust my vocal cords.
She continued, “So I’ve been thinking…well actually I just wanna know your thoughts on something…”
Honestly? I respect this woman’s ability to stand my awkwardness.
I nodded again, an attempt at encouragement and deflection simultaneously.
She hesitated, I sweated, then she broke, “Do you think I’m…trying too much? With my face and all?”
Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so glad she can’t read minds because the mental sigh of relief I let out at that moment was so LOUD.
Then I processed her words. “What?” I spat out. I was honestly confused. What the hell was she talking about?
“I meant that…” she sighed, “the…the fans and everyone. They think I’m too…expressive with my face. Like, I don’t know. It’s just something I’ve been seeing online.”
D- Please. Please do not embarrass yourself.
“That is bullshit.” I started.
Oh no.
“Who says that kind of crap. What does that even mean?” I felt hot in all the wrong places. I went on a tangent, getting a bit worked up.
“Why would you even consider the possibility that their opinion is true? It’s just an opinion…it’s not a fact! And- and who the hell are these people to have that opinion, huh? Show me their faces, let’s see if it’s even half as attractive as yours! How abominable! How revolting! I can’t even…”
I pursed my lips, swallowing my words. I peeked at her to see her looking at me with an unreadable expression. Her lips parted. Eyes wide, scanning my face. I looked forward and “…oh. We’re here.”
Mama loves me.
I hurriedly opened the door and let her in first, trying to direct her attention somewhere else. She blinked twice, stepping into the calm atmosphere of the coffee shop. I followed after her, the smell of ground coffee hitting the right spot in my brain.
The lady behind the counter greeted me, probably too familiar with my existence at this point. She was nice, and her coffee was immaculate, never a wrong order, so you best bet I will greet her back with enthusiasm.
The lady took my usual order of seven drinks with the focus of an operator working a high-stakes hacking mission. I paid because mama raised a gentlewoman.
As we waited for the kind lady to do her magic, I quickly scanned the sweets on display and found something. I eyed the beauty to my left and weighed my options.
“Um, Dani…would you like a pastry? I won’t tell anyone…it’ll be our little secret.” I stammered a poor attempt at being charming.
She raised her pinky. “Promise?”
Oh.
I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that Thai food yesterday. That was definitely the Thai food. No more Thai for me.
I stared at her pinky. Then at mine. Then back at hers.
This was fine. This was normal. Friends pinky-promised all the time.
I hooked my pinky around hers. Her skin was warm.
"Promise," I whispered. Then immediately regretted it because my voice came out all wrong. Soft. Like I meant it. Like this moment meant something.
She grinned. "Good. I want the chocolate one."
For some reason, that coffee run was a turning point. Ever since then, she’s been everywhere. More than she already was. Occupying space- thoughts she had no right to. Stealing my oversized hoodies, which she basically swims in because I’m already a size or two over her. Tall people's problems. Makes shopping impossible.
She hops on the kitchen counter when I’m cooking something, expecting a spoon to be presented to her so she can taste-test my creations.
She leans against me during breaks between running routines. I find myself fetching two water bottles instead of one, no longer worried about overstepping with the gesture.
She teaches me Spanish words, then laughs at my poor pronunciation.
She naps on my shoulder whenever she gets the chance, in car rides, on planes, buses, waiting rooms, dressing rooms, literally any chance she gets. She says my shoulder is the perfect height for her to lean on without straining her neck, which is bullshit since I have at least three inches on her, and I have to slide down my chair a bit for her to reach. But I'll never tell her that. Who am I to complain anyway?
She taught me her hair care routine, simply because it made her feel adored. Now, every once in a while, she plops down on my bed with a couple of fat tubs and bottles, silently demanding I pamper her. So I scrunch the night away, shaping her curls like there's no tomorrow. It's a privilege. Her words, not mine.
She sneaks into my room when she’s supposed to be asleep, just to talk about dumb things. Pointless conversations. Existential crisis. The future of us. Her past, before the fame, before life on the fast lane.
The topic never interests me. At least, not as much as hearing her talk. I still stammer around her; that’s an everlasting curse, but I mostly listen and offer feedback when asked.
I find myself addicted to those memories. Meticulously storing them in that mental cardboard box. Occasionally revisiting them. Just to remind myself that little old me made it. I became one of her best friends. A thought that always shakes me to my core yet keeps me grounded.
I am absolutely, irrevocably, a useless gay.
It doesn't matter how hard I try to hide it. I will always be that. For as long as those ethereal hazel eyes remain branded onto the back of my eyelids. I also realized that reality will soon catch up with me.
Too soon if you ask me.
It happens on a random Tuesday. We’re in the back of a cramped van, somewhere on a highway between two city stops. The rest of the girls are knocked out in a tangle of limbs and travel pillows around us. The highway streetlights flash through the tinted windows every three seconds, painting her face in alternating streaks of gold and shadow.
She is currently asleep with her head tucked in my neck and her legs thrown over my lap. Her fingers tightly gripping my arm like she's trying to pin me there, leaving it entirely numb. Ha, as if I'd even think of moving. I'd have to lose that arm first.
My mind is screaming under the pressure of having her wound tightly around me, analyzing the exact angle of her head, the rhythm of her breathing, the sheer danger of this level of proximity.
Yet, my chest is completely quiet. Her scent quieted my thoughts, leaving me in an unmatched state of zen.
This is the part no one warned me about when I made the decision to dance for a living. You can win the game, you can secure the prize, you can build the perfect unshakeable wall to keep everyone out…and then you willingly leave the front gate wide open because she asked you to style her hair.
Silly me, I thought I was being subtle. I found out the hard way that I'm not the only one who thinks I'm becoming soft.
Out of the blue, a sharp, high-pitched buzz cuts through the quiet hum of the tires.
To my right, a silhouette stirs. A phone screen lights up, casting a stark, bluish glow over a groggy face. It’s Sophia. She blinks against the glare, her thumb scrolling lazily for a few seconds before she lets out a quiet sigh and lets her head drop back against the headrest.
She turns her head toward me, her eyes adjusting to the dimness.
"Still awake?" she whispers, her voice raspy from sleep.
"Yeah," I breathe back, barely moving my jaw so I don’t disturb the weight on my lap. "Can't sleep."
"Tsk, poor thing," Sophia murmurs, shifting her legs to avoid tangling with someone else’s travel pillow. "You're still buzzing, huh?" I nod once, humming in agreement. "It’s like the adrenaline from the show never actually leaves your blood."
"Yeah, that happens sometimes." Sophia shifts closer, leaning her elbow on the armrest between our rows, looking out the front windshield at the empty highway ahead. "It’s weird, isn't it? Feels like just yesterday I was sleeping in a trainee dorm, panicking about getting cut. Now we're jumping cities in a van, and our faces are on billboards in the middle of the city we just left."
"Mhm…still feels unreal," I whisper, looking down for a brief second with a small smirk.
As I do, the van hits a slight bump on the road. The cool air from the overhead vent drafts downward, and Dani stirs minutely against my thigh, a tiny crease forming between her eyebrows. Her fingers tighten a fraction more around the fabric of my sweater.
Without thinking, my free hand reaches down. I grab the edge of the kuromi-printed throw blanket I got her and gently pull it up, tucking it snugly around her shoulders, blocking out the draft. I linger for half a second, ensuring the fabric covers her arms properly, before resting my hand back on the seat.
When I look back up, Sophia isn't looking at the highway anymore.
She’s looking at me.
The blue glow of her phone is gone, but the passing streetlights catch the slow, knowing curve of her lips.
"You know," Sophia hums, her voice dropping an octave lower, practically a whisper, "for someone who looks like they want to punch a wall every time I look at you, you’re surprisingly domestic."
My internal alarms go off all at once. Code Red. I repeat, code red. This is not a drill.
"Ehem. Uhm. She was shivering," I say, my voice flat, aiming - and failing miserably - for that serene, phlegmatic tone I’m supposed to possess. "Hypothermia lowers performance levels. I’m protecting our brand."
Sophia lets out a muffled, silent laugh, burying her face in her hand for a split second so she doesn't wake the others. When she looks back, her eyes are sparkling with pure mischief.
"Right. The brand. Of course," she whispers, prodding my shoulder lightly with her finger. "Is that why you let her steal your favorite hoodies, too? Because of the thermostat in the practice rooms?"
Crap. CrapCrapCrapCrap-
"The hoodies are oversized. They provide warmth. Optimal temperatures for a main dancer."
"Uh-huh." Sophia leans back, her grin widening. "And the fact that you always slide a good four inches down your seat just so her neck wouldn't get strained? Is that a team strategy, too, Captain?"
I stare straight ahead, my jaw locked, refusing to break under interrogation. Fuuuuuck. She noticed the chair thing.
"I was adjusting my posture," I mutter. "For my lower back."
"You're a terrible liar," Sophia whispers, her tone turning softer, losing the sharp edge of the tease but keeping all of the warmth. She looks down at Dani, who has completely settled again, her face soft and relaxed in her sleep. "But it's sweet. Really. The way you know just what she needs. It’s nice seeing the unshakeable wall actually take care of someone."
My heart does a weird, heavy thud against my ribs. I look down at the pretty Latina snoozing away in my lap, then back to Sophia.
"We're just best friends," I say.
It's not the first time I've spoken those words out loud. In fact, I usually revel in them, but for some reason, the words feel heavy this time. Like a weight settled on my shoulders.
Sophia just stares at me for a long moment, the amusement in her eyes shifting into something a little more perceptive, a little more knowing. She reaches over, taps my knee gently, and settles back in her seat.
"Whatever you say," she murmurs, closing her eyes and resting her head against the window. "Just don't let your arm fall off before the morning rehearsal."
The van rolls on into the dark, leaving me alone with the quiet, the numbness in my arm, and the sudden, terrifying realization that…I'm not as slick as I thought I was.
That conversation with Sophia looped in my head for hours. I haven't slept a wink. Any hopes of catching a single Z flew out the window. The cogs turning in my head, over and over.
If Sophia noticed, what if the girls did too?
What if Daniela did?
Oh no. Oh no no no no. If Dani noticed…
No. I don't think she suspects anything. She would've said something, right? Or thrown a hint here or there.
But she doesn't. I need to make sure she doesn't.
Ok, new plan. Operation: Absolute Professionalism.
Phase 1- Stop acting like a human mattress.
Phase 2- Keep a mandatory two-foot radius of personal space.
Phase 3- Treat her exactly like I treat the other five. No special water bottles. No extra attention. Strictly business.
It was a foolproof plan. A masterpiece.
Except I forgot to consider the fact that I, a fully grown adult with free will, refused to move an inch, just so a pretty girl could sleep peacefully on me. By the time we reached our destination, my left arm was so profoundly dead that it felt like a heavy, useless piece of overcooked pasta hanging from my shoulder. I sacrificed an arm and my sleep for her. Just…Daniela Avanzini.
When Dani finally blinked open those hazel eyes, stretching her arms above her head with a soft, sleepy yawn that should honestly be classified as a weapon of mass destruction, I couldn't even help her up. I just sat there, my face frozen in a grimace of pure agony, staring straight ahead as the rest of the girls groggily grabbed their bags.
Sophia stood up, throwing me a look of such immense, unadulterated amusement as she moved to descend the van that I wanted to launch my travel pillow at her head.
"Morning, Captain," Sophia chimed breezily, her eyes dropping to my limp arm. "Nice posture."
"Shut up," I grunted, trying to nudge Dani off my lap with my working right limb without looking like a total jerk.
Dani blinked up at me, her curls a wild, beautiful mess around her face, entirely oblivious to the sirens currently bouncing around my skull. "Are you okay? Your face is red."
"Fine! Perfectly fine! Ready to perform to a T!" I stammered, scrambling out of the seat the second Daniela moved out of the way, actively executing Phase 2. Two feet of space. Mandatory.
I didn't carry her bag. I didn't hold the hotel elevator door for her. I stood in the corner of the lift, staring at the digital floor numbers like they held the secrets to the universe, ignoring the slight, confused pout she threw in my direction.
See? I told myself. Slick. You are a vault. An unshakeable wall.
A couple of hours of restless sleep later, we were standing under the brutal, unforgiving fluorescent lights of the rehearsal studio.
Our track was blasting through the massive speakers, the music vibrating through the floorboards. We were running choreos for some of our old and new releases, a series of high-energy routines where every movement had to be sharp, synchronized, and aggressive.
This was my element. When I’m dancing, the hurricane in my mind usually shuts off. I don't have to think about eyes, or smiles, or the way someone looks in an oversized pink hoodie. I just have to execute.
Until we reached THAT song. The one with the twirl.
After the formation shifts, I'm supposed to step forward, catch Dani by the waist, and twirl her into the center line.
Phase 3, my brain screamed as she spun toward me. Strictly business. Just a bandmate. Don't fuck it up.
I stepped in. My hand went to her hip- but instead of the firm, supportive grip I usually gave her, the one that kept her perfectly balanced every single time, I kept my palm completely flat, barely brushing the fabric of her crop top, trying desperately to minimize contact.
It was a disaster.
Without my usual leverage, her center of gravity wavered. Her foot caught on the edge of her sneaker, and she stumbled, her shoulder colliding heavily into my chest as the music continued to blast through the giant speaker.
"Cut! Cut!" the director yelled over the microphone, the music cutting out into an echoing silence. "Girls, what was that? Your timing was off. Let's fix the grip on the transition. Again!"
The other girls took a collective breath, stepping back into their starting positions. But Dani didn't move.
She stayed right in front of me, panting slightly from the cardio, her hazel eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my entire plan completely crash. The soft, sleepy girl from the van was gone; this was the main dancer. The girl who fought through the same war I did.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice low enough that only I could hear it over the murmurs in the back.
"Adjusting my grip," I muttered, looking anywhere but her face. "Trying a lighter touch for more fluid motion."
"Bullshit," Dani whispered, stepping closer, completely obliterating my mandatory two-foot radius. "You didn't even grab me. You're acting like I'm covered in spikes. Did I do something?"
Breathe. Please breathe. Please do not collapse right now.
"No," I said, my voice cracking slightly before I forced it back into a flat line. "You're fine. We're fine. Just… focusing on the performance."
Dani tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she scanned my face, looking for the tell she always seemed to find. Then, her expression softened, a tiny dimple peeking out on her left cheek.
"Okay," she mumbled, "just try not to break my legs while you're being creative."
I freeze, eyes wide at her words. Is she crazy? I'll get fired! If they fire me, I'll never see her again!
"Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry," I break, unable to stay stoic when she looks at me like that. "I'm- I'll fix it."
"Right," she huffed. She reached out, her fingers brushing against my wrist for a split second before she turned back to the formation line. "Grab my waist properly next time, cabrona. I don't like falling."
I stood there, my army completely defeated, my rule book set on fire. My brain stuck in statics. Cabrona.
Sophia caught my eye from across the room, raising her eyebrows with a look that said: What the hell is wrong with you?
I don't know woman. I don't know. Just end me right here.
The music started again. Dani was already in position, her back to me, waiting.
I stepped forward. This time, I didn't think. I just grabbed her. Firm, steady, the way she needed.
She didn't stumble. She spun perfectly, her hair fanning out, and when she landed, she glanced back at me. Just for a second.
Her lips moved. No sound. I just nodded dumbly, unable to hear anything over the sound of blood rushing to my ears.
A break was called soon after. Sophia magically appeared at my elbow. "You're staring."
"I'm not."
"Liar." Manon threw over her shoulder as she passed by. I gape at her, turning to Sophia to see if she heard Manon too, or if I was imagining it.
Sophia was smirking at me. "Don't look at me like that."
I roll my eyes, not having the energy to argue.
So…Manon knows too.
I gulp, the room feeling stuffy, suffocating me. I spin around and leave Sophia in the dust. I walk towards the elevator, my hand reaching for the panel when a 'hey!' sounds from behind. I spin and find…
Fucking hell, woman. Daniela Andrea Avanzini Lorente. I swear to-
"Hey Dani," I plaster a smile on my face, one that turns into a real smile when hers stretches wide, teeth and sunshine and all. Pathetic. If my mama saw me, she'd whack me for being so weak.
"Coffee run?" She asks as I press the arrow down. I mumble a small, "No. Just going for a walk. Fresh air and all."
She looks away for a second, then asks, "Do you mind if I join?"
Eeeeeehhhhhhh say no, I dare you.
The elevator dings and the doors open. I hold it for her to step in first, quickly schooling my face when I realized I just gave her 'please marry me' eyes. So much for a foolproof plan.
We walk in silence, basking in the afternoon breeze. I didn't realize so much time had passed in the studio. I'm so deep in my thoughts, recalling the day when something soft lingers against the back of my hand. I look down and find the back of her right hand grazing against mine. I peeked at her face to find her staring straight ahead, looking unbothered.
Should I do it? What happens if I do? Will she hate me? Will she think I'm weird? Or worse, will she think this is completely platonic and not care?
I want to hold her hand. I want it so bad. But we're just friends. Best friends. I'm not even her type. It's not like I'm the only one she's close to, too. She hugs all the girls like that.
'It's not like I'm the only one who wants to hold her hand', I think bitterly.
I feel something crawl up my chest. Like my stomach blew up and burned my insides. Fuck.
Dani's hand brushed mine again. This time, I didn't look down. I just… let it happen. Let my pinky drift, just a fraction, toward hers.
She didn't pull away.
My heart stopped. Then restarted at twice the speed.
"You're quiet," Dani said, still not looking at me.
"Thinking," I managed.
"About what?"
About how your skin feels against mine. About how much I want you. About whether you'd scream or laugh or cry if I told you the truth. About how I'm going to survive the next five minutes without doing something stupid.
"Choreography," I lied.
I feel her slow to a stop.
I stop a single step after, because my body apparently responds to her before my brain can process.
She turned to face me, her head tilted, those hazel eyes searching my face in that way that always made me feel like she could see straight through every wall I'd ever built.
"Don't lie to me," she said. Not mean. Just…sad. Offended. A small, soft smile played at the corner of her lips. "Do you think I'm that clueless?"
My heart dropped to my ass. What. The. Fuck. I opened my mouth to say something. Anything. Nothing came out.
She stepped closer. The two-foot radius was dead. Murdered. Gone.
Her scent invades my senses. She smells like heaven, if heaven smelled like her perfume and body spray, and a bit of clean sweat from the intense six-hour dancing session we just did.
"Is it really so hard," she asked quietly, "to just tell me what's going on in that head of yours?"
Yes. It's impossible. Because if I tell you, everything changes. Or nothing changes, and that would be worse.
"I don't know what you mean," I finally whispered.
Dani's hand found mine. Not brushing this time, but fully holding it. Her perfectly manicured fingers laced through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Liar," she said. But her voice was warm. Her thumb traced a small circle on the back of my hand.
Why is everyone calling me a liar today?
"You don't have to say it," she added, so quiet I almost missed it. "Not yet. But… don't hide from me. Okay? I hate it when you hide."
I stared at our intertwined fingers. At how perfectly they fit. Oh, if only.
"Okay," I breathed.
She smiled, that real, crinkly-eyed smile that picked me apart and put me back together, and squeezed my hand once before letting go.
"Good. Now get me a snack, I'm hungry and tired of your brooding."
And just like that, she started walking again, leaving me frozen on the sidewalk, my hand still tingling, my chest a mess of terror and hope.
We got back from our snack run to find everyone waiting for us. It was weirdly funny, watching their eyes follow us all the way from the door to our spots.
The rest of the practice is a test of my endurance. Every time I look at her, she looks back. Every move she makes, I stare, hypnotized by the way she moves. Even the furrow of her brows is perfection. I mentally thank her mother for gifting us with a miracle, smiling at my ridiculous thoughts.
One chance. Just one chance.
After the session ends, Sophia pulls me aside. "You sneaky bitch, what did you guys do?"
I flick her forehead, drawing out a "Nothing" to hide my grin. She eyes me and opens her mouth to rip me a new one, before a giggly "Liar" sounds from our left. I jump at Megan's jab, thankful my eyes can't set her on fire with how hard I glare.
"Not you too…" I run my hand down my face, exasperated at how fucking exposed I felt. "What is wrong with you people today? Is it 'bully the giant' day today?"
The two chuckle, side-eyeing each other while I drown in my misery.
"Nooo…you're just extra…you, today," Megan admits, like it's a top secret she's been trying so hard to keep.
I bristle, "Excuse me?"
Megan grins, undeterred. "You know what I mean. You're all smiley. Did something happen on your walk?"
My face? Hot. Flaming. On fire. Call 911. "No."
Sophia snorts. "She flicked me and then smiled about it. She's so lying."
"I smiled because I flicked you," I say. "It was satisfying."
"Mmhm." Sophia crosses her arms. "And the staring? Was that satisfying too?"
I freeze. "What staring? I'm not staring." I chuckle nervously, attempting to deflect.
Manon's hand snakes around my torso in a side hug, "Aw, come on, you were eyeing her like she's your salvation." The two nod in agreement.
FUCK. This is next-level embarrassing. "You saw that?"
"We all saw that," Megan says cheerfully.
I need to move to a different planet.
Before I can start planning a new identity, a familiar voice cuts through my spiral.
"What's so funny?"
I whip around. Dani is standing there, water bottle in hand, head tilted, looking between the four of us with curious eyes. Her gaze lingers on me for a second longer than the rest.
My soul leaves my body.
"Nothing!" I say. Too fast. Too loud.
Sophia saves me…sort of. "We were just teasing the Captain about her dance face. Very intense today. Very… focused."
Manon nods, her arm still around me. "Yeah. She's been staring at the mirror like it owes her money."
I could kiss them. I could also strangle them. The line is blurry.
Dani's eyes flick to me. A small smile plays on her lips. "Oh yeah? Focused on what?"
My brain blanks. "Choreography," I manage. "Just…counting the steps. In my head."
"Mmhm." Dani takes a sip of her water, not breaking eye contact. "You should probably watch your feet, then. You almost tripped over the speaker cable twice."
Megan snorts. Sophia buries her face in her hand. I feel my entire face ignite.
"That was on purpose…" I grumble, almost pouting. Almost.
Dani's smile widens. "Sure." She turns to the others. "Anyway, I'm heading out. You coming?" She glances back at me.
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
"She'll meet you there," Sophia says, shoving me forward. "She just needs to grab her bag."
Dani nods, already walking toward the door. "Don't take too long."
And then she's gone.
I round on Sophia. "What the hell Soph-"
"You're welcome." She grins. "Now go. Before she changes her mind."
My feet are already moving.
I'm so, so screwed.
Months later, we're back in LA. The tour is over. So many billboards with our faces on them, which still makes me do a double-take every time I drive past one.
You'd think the chaos would have settled by now. It hasn't. If anything, life has gotten louder. More interviews, more photo shoots, more talk show appearances where I have to pretend I'm not constantly aware of exactly where Dani is standing and how out-of-this-world she looks.
But there are quiet moments, too. Moments I store in my mental cardboard box, the one dedicated to her, the one that only ever seems to grow, bigger than any other box. I store the ones between the noise. Late nights in the studio when everyone else has gone home. Early mornings at the dorm when the sun is barely up and she's still in her pajamas, hair a mess, squinting at her phone.
That's where I notice it.
She's texting someone. A lot.
More than usual.
At first, I don't think anything of it. Dani has friends. Family. A whole life outside of Katseye. But then I catch the smile. The small, private one she gets when her phone buzzes and her eyes flick to the screen.
It's not the same smile she gives me, or any of our bandmates. This one is softer. Quieter. Like a secret she's keeping from the world.
I tell myself I'm imagining things.
Then I see a name. A name that circles around TikTok and gossip accounts. A name that I see on her phone- accidentally, of course, because I'm not that kind of person.
Jonah.
My stomach drops. My heart clenches. My throat closes. My eyes burn.
I get restless, fidgety, snappy. I become somewhat of an asshole, and I'm not proud of it. I hate it. I hate the clipped answers I give her. I hate not being near her, or holding her hand, or carrying her bag, or making her laugh with my dry humor.
She's sitting across from me on the couch, scrolling through her messages, and I'm pretending to watch a show while my eyes keep drifting to her screen like a traitor.
Jonah. Jonah. Jonah.
Her phone keeps pinging with a new text.
She grins. Types back. Laughs under her breath.
I feel something hot crawl up my chest. The same thing I felt that day on the sidewalk when I thought about someone else holding her hand. The same thing I feel every time someone gets too close to her.
Jealousy. Actual, ugly, irrational jealousy.
Fuck.
I don't even know what she likes. We've never talked about it. I've never asked, because asking would mean admitting why I want to know, and I'm not ready for that conversation. I'd rather swim in a pool of jellyfish than ask her that question.
But if I had to guess, based on the way she's smiling at her phone right now, I'd say Jonah is more than a friend.
And I'm just… here.
A best friend. A bandmate. A useless gay who can't even hold eye contact without combusting.
I should give up. I should accept that I missed my chance, assuming I ever had one. I should focus on the music, on the job, on literally anything else.
But I can't.
Because every time she laughs at something Jonah said, I want to be the one making her laugh. Every time she types back too fast, I want to be the reason her thumbs can't keep up.
So I do the only thing I can.
I try harder.
Nothing dramatic. Nothing embarrassing. Just… small things.
I bring her coffee before she asks, and if I'm feeling extra, I have it waiting for her every morning.
I offer to drive her around to her destinations, calling her my passenger princess, which, kudos to me, makes her blush and giggle. I pretend it's on my way. It's almost always not. I add twenty minutes to my commute and don't say a word.
I start leaving little notes on her mirror. Dumb things.
You're gonna kill it today.
Don't forget to hydrate.
Your hair looks nice.
That new lipstick is doing things. (That one I almost didn't leave. I left it anyway.)
She smiles at the notes. Tucks them into the edge of her mirror like they're keepsakes.
I ambush her more often, offering to do her hair routine and adding an extra massage here and there.
I take her on what could pass as a date or an outing. A lunch, a nail appointment, a shopping spree, a brunch with friends.
Once, I got her flowers. When she asked why, I said, "Just because."
It took me a long time, but I started to initiate touch instead of just receiving it from her.
The girls noticed, of course. They grilled me about it. A wink here, a jab there. But under all the teasing, I feel the support. They're silently rooting for me.
Lara corners me in the kitchen, urging me to confess, or at least make it clearer.
"I know it's hard. I know you're scared. But if you don't make a move now, you're gonna lose your chance. She won't be available forever, you know?"
I swallow thickly, tears brimming in my eyes, "I know that, Lara. But what if she's…not into me? I don't want to lose what we already have."
Lara grabs my shoulders, trying to physically shake some sense into me, "You're not gonna know unless you ask! Or at least try! But don't fumble just because you're worried. You love her, right?" I nod.
I admit it. I love her. I’m in love with her. "I love her, Lara." My voice cracks, a tear escaping, no matter how hard I tried.
"Then go get her." The finality in her tone is the sledgehammer to the last wall.
I know I can't keep hiding forever. And I know that every time she looks at me, my heart flutters the way it always has. I know she'll always have a hold on me. Always. Even if I lose her to him.
But I don't want to live like that. I don't want to know what it's like. I want her. In my life, and every life I'll ever live.
So I start planning. Quietly. Awkwardly. Pathetically.
Because the alternative is doing nothing, and I've done nothing for too long.
I'm not about to just sit there and watch someone take her away from me.
