Crave

[eyekonic-cunteee]

hit a three f’me, baby

idol!m. bannerman x pro basketball player!fem!reader ft. lara and megan

summary. - you and manon have been dating for about a year now, but it’s always been kept private. eyekons started to suspect something when they saw the frequency of manon showing up to your games. until one night, manon says the truth behind her relationship with the top star basketball player after a fight breaks out on the court mid-game

tags/wrns. - fluff , angst , crack , kys jokes , basketball au , small fight on the court , manon being your biggest fan , slight cursing , lara and megan being downbad for your teammates , megan making 67 jokes (i feel like she’s chronically online😅) , slight mention of megan making out with someone… heh….

w.c - 1.5k

a/n : my first manz fic!! this fic is for @saerachandesu !! also y/b/t means your basketball team! i hope you like this sae!! i’m also gna use a lot of basketball terms so if you don’t know….ask a friend who plays basketball…😅

“nice shot babe” manon said as she tried defending her basket. you were a pro basketball player and had always enjoyed playing against her every friday night before a big game, never did you miss a friday night practice. never.

“chk chk..” three deep pointed in. “boom baby.” you said with a laugh, holding your hand up like a gun and firing when it gets into the net. manon smiled and wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you close to her.

“y’know….you’re pretty when you shoot three’s f’me babe… shits gorgeous” you giggled wrapping your arms around her neck “only for you meret…” you kissed her cheek and played with her curls. you checked the time and knew it was time you head home, take a shower and rest up before tomorrow’s game. big game.

you play your top rival. kwon kim. she was always trying to outshine your games. tomorrows game was going to be different. you were going to win, because manon bought front row seats for the first time. when you got home, manon fell asleep right away, typical thing to happen after rehearsal AND playing with you.

you laid on her arm, tracing the tattoos on her hand, admiring her like you always did every night. “m’so pretty you staring…. hm?” manon mumbled with sleep tangled into her voice. “so pretty meret…so pretty.” you kissed her cheek, falling asleep a bit later.

when you woke up, time flew by pretty quickly. you got up, ate breakfast, got ready, picked up megan and lara, drove out an hour to the stadium, and before you knew it, you had your uniform on and you were shooting threes.

andy, #21, one of the teams MVP’s also the girl megan has literally been daydreaming about, walks to you and helps you with your drills before the game. you heard megan and lara giggling as andy took a shot, and you gave a knowing look to manon, before seeing her slap megan and lara on the knee.

you giggled, shaking your head and turning to face the net, shooting a deep three. the timer buzzed and you ran back to your team, taking off your shooter shirt and fixed your jersey. of course, at every home game you all did a introduction of the first five players and the rest of the team.

you threw a small basketball to manon, hoping she would catch it, only for lara to catch it, rubbing it in manons face. the game started, you were running up the court, waiting for a teammate to pass the ball, only for them to lose control of the ball and the other team getting a turn over.

“damn it…” you muttered under your breath as you ran back, to try and stop the other team from making a basket. you were huffing and puffing by half-time. it was 61-64. you ran aside andy and ran out to a corner, yelling at andy to pass the ball. she did a crossover under the leg, and passed it to you, and you shot a three.

“SIX SEVEN!!!!” megan shot up and yelled, laughing with lara and manon as they both covered their faces, acting as if they didn’t know the girl. “go kill yourself bro…” lara told megan and the two started playfully fighting. “MEGAN ITS A JOKE!!”

while playing, kwon, grabbed your jersey and pushed you to the floor. being short tempered, you shot up and got in her face, only for her to punch you and you fell to the floor holding your nose. manon shot up and held onto lara’s shoulder as she watched as a circle of people went around you.

“manon, maybe you shouldn’t-‘ megan was cut off as she watched a fight break out on the court. you pushed kwon, yelling something that the girls couldn’t quite hear, but they saw the tension was pretty intense.

“get out of my face asshole!” you shoved kwon pretty hard, but all she did was stumble back. “huh…..pretty weak being a MVP, hm?” kwon flashed a cocky smirk, only for andy to come in with a flying superman punch to her face.

the crowd was going wild, security ran in and pulled andy and kwon away while the medical team ran to check you out. manon couldn’t just sit there so she got up and ran onto the court, holding her phone in hand.

“let me through! thas my girl!” your teammates looked shocked and let manon through when they saw how worried she was. “baby, you okay?” manon kneeled down and put her hands on your both sides of your cheeks, still holding that damn phone.

“meret yeah im- manon what are you doing?!” your eyes widened when you realized she was right in front of you, that’s when lara and megan ran over when security was grabbing manon’s leather jacket that she was wearing. once he saw who they were, he apologized quickly and turned away.

“m’had to see if ma baby was alright….you alright?” manon leaned in pressing her forehead against your damp one, a way of her showing her love in front of a sold out stadium. “i’m okay meret, really.” you wrapped your arms around her neck and hugged her gently.

then, manon kisses you softly, not just in front of your teammates, coaches and the medical staff. in front of a whole sold out stadium and your rival team. cheers and applause rang out, lara recorded the whole thing, of course…

you smiled into the kiss as you pulled back and stood up with her, wrapping your hand gently around her waist, and her waist beads. “you are in lots of trouble….” you say giggling. “mm’ don’t think so… i love my girl… die hard lover girl for ya….”

you giggled and sat down on a chair and watched as manon went back to her seat with megan and lara. as the game went on, you found out kwon was ejected from the game from her little act. a knowing smirk spread across your face.

megan, being the daydreaming girl she is, was thinking about andy and how good she looks in shorts and a jersey. “meg….calm your shit down dude…please…” lara said, grabbing her phone and taking a photo of andy.

“l/n. you ready to go back in.” your coach asked, kneeling in front of you. “all good. gonna kick some ass.” your coach smiled and patted your back.

“baby!!” you turned to the voice, manon was smiling at you. “hit a three f’me….please baby.” you smiled and winked as you ran back onto the court with only fifteen seconds left.

you sprinted to catch up with your team and yelled for the ball as you lined up with the middle of the court, doing a fakeout and then jumping up to shoot that three.

the buzzer went off and everyone held their breath. manon was recording didn’t even know she was holding her breath until lara squeezed her shoulder, “breathe bannerman, breathe please…” followed by megan saying “don’t die on y/n.”

‘swish’ you had made your three pointer and it was a buzzer basket. you let out a yell and your whole team ran at you, tackling you down on the court and celebrated. manon jumped up and ran into the court, pushing her way through the crowd. once she reached you, you pulled her into a sweet kiss, as if she was the reason why you won the game for your team.

“m’ your lucky charm….aint i…” manon said with a cocky grin. “whatever floats your boat i guess” you rolled your eyes and smiled, pushing through the crowd to go to the locker room, only to stop dead in your tracks as you saw lara covering her mouth staring at something or….someone?

“larz, what’s- oh….my god….” you said, placing a hand on her back only to stop mid motion. “baby what’s….” ambon’s voice died down as she saw what was happening right in front of her. megan and andy were making out by the locker room, hair messy, jersey untucked, shirt wrinkled….

they definitely had been there for a while. “megan meiyok skiendiel!!” manon and lara yelled at the same time, both with a grin, and a tiny laugh.

“andy jackie alaniz!! seriously?!” you yelled as you smiled staring at andy. the two parted, shocked and scared as they saw they were caught in the act. “y/n! i can- WE can explain!!”

“i think we’ve seen enough. babe, go get changed… we’ll have a talk with megan…you talk with andy.” manon said, kissing your cheek and walking over to megan. “you’re in deep shit.” you laugh as you walk into the locker room with andy.

“did you know manon was going to do that? i mean kiss you infront of everyone?” andy asked, taking her jersey off and grabbing her shirt.

“no, i had no clue….i just know the headliners are going to be….insane…” you smile with the thought of finally being able to hear the sentence, “manon bannerman from katseye and y/n l/n from y/b/t have confirmed their relationship and have been going strong after being together for a year, and after y/b/t game against the vipers.”

you sighed gently, staring at a picture of you and manon you have in your locker, along with pictures of the girls. you couldn’t wait to step out into the public, not being scared to hide your relationship with manon anymore.

“i love meret so much, i think im ready for it though…”

————————————————————————

i’m baaaackkkkkk

@luvmunchies , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @channiesbaby1433 , @atetheluck , @wistriverside , @melfresita-ruri2 , @candle-ame , @gay-panic-at-all-times , @kucukordek , @s-p-e-c-t-r-e-s , @leeknowfan , @afararraaaa , @secretranchhoagiefestival , @aeriyism , @littlemisslucygay , @impossiblesharkcashrebel , @micaluvssoccer , @lovelee4u , @yoonchaesno1 , @eykonickax , @kaidowashere , @tzuvoir , @yooniso , @meiyokstarr, @lesbianfxckinganthem , @williamssbabydoll, @meirries , @written-by-music , @megansstrap @megatromalomalann @manonsdoe @saerachandesu @trintrillakilla @pitchperfectislife @antisocisworld @staxkmj @needmeganskiendiel @xiamvl @yournextdooralien @micaluvssoccer @eliyrx @melfresita-ruri2 @urwavvy @kpopluver167 @spiderpunkmanon @ilovemybabygirlmoon @lexakomsimpkru @uconnwbbluvr

[blkbinz]

Maddy Perez x Fem!Reader

It's You And Me. Always.

Wordcount: 2.2k A/N: Inspired by a dream I had while napping lol. Warnings: *SOME SEASON 3 SPOILERS*

Two months in New York had turned into a year. The fashion editorial you'd been hired to assist on kept growing. You were bombarded with new shoots, new deadlines, and new cities. Every time you thought you'd be home soon another opportunity appeared. The career you'd worked so hard for was finally taking off. The downside was that everyone back home had learned to live without you. Especially your long time friend, Maddy. You had met during your junior year of high school and attached yourselves to each other almost immediately. To everyone else, you were just friends, good friends. The kind nobody questioned or started rumors about but behind closed doors, things had always been different.

There had never been a conversation about labels or dramatic confession. Just years of stolen touches, late-night phone calls, and a certainty neither of you could explain. That’s just how you and Maddy worked. The night before you left for college, Maddy had curled up beside you and said as casually as if she were discussing the weather…"It's you and me. Always."

You'd carried those words with you ever since. Through college, through your first job, through every city and every lonely hotel room. No matter where you were, Maddy always answered when you called. She'd complain about work, gossip about Rue and Jules, or rant about Cassie. She had no problem talking your ear off until three in the morning. For a while, it helped keep you two as close as it could despite the distance but life happens.

Back home for Maddy, everything started falling apart. Mindlessly scrolling through social media you stumbled upon wedding pictures of Cassie and Nate. Maddy called you in the middle of the night crying afterward. Not because she loved him but because watching her former best friend marry her ex hurt in ways she couldn't explain. She was mourning a life she thought was supposed to be hers. A marriage, a nice house, the perfect and unproblematic life it seemed like Cassie was living. But Maddy knew it wasn’t what she wanted and Nate wasn’t the person she’d even want to have that with. After weeks of work, Maddy told you she had rekindled her friendship with Cassie and started managing her. Things seemed to be going fine then out of the blue Nate passed. “It was a fucked up situation.” Maddy vaguely recounted one late night, she sounded completely drained but you knew better than to press for any more details.

Not long after that, you heard the news about Rue and suddenly every conversation with Maddy sounded heavier than the last. You could hear the exhaustion in her voice whenever she called. Like she was carrying the weight of everyone's grief while pretending none of it touched her. So you called Cassie, booked the first flight home and showed up unannounced.

The moment you stepped into Cassie's home, your eyes found her. Maddy sat on the kitchen counter, arms folded with her legs crossed, pretending to listen to whatever Lexi was saying. Then she looked up for a second and froze. Her expression disappeared almost immediately but you'd known her too long to miss it. A flash of shock then relief, something so close to heartbreak.

"Mads." You uttered gently. She was off the counter before you finished speaking. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders so tightly it almost hurt. You didn't complain and pulled her closer. Months of distance had vanished in an instant as you melted into her frame.

"I missed you." She cooed into your neck.

Your chest tightened and your stomach fluttered. "I missed you too." From somewhere nearby, Cassie quietly ushered Lexi out of the kitchen to give you some time alone. Still, Maddy didn't let go.

"I really fucking missed you." Her second confession came out smaller, almost fragile. You pressed a kiss into her hair like you always did, the familiar scent of her mango shampoo rushed in.

"Maddy." You murmured quietly. Slowly, she pulled back and the sight of her nearly broke your heart. Her eyes were dull but they still sparkled as they darted between yours. There was a tiredness in them that she couldn't hide. A sadness she'd been carrying alone for far too long. You brushed your thumb across her cheek, contemplating on whether or not she wanted to talk or pretend like everything was okay.

Maddy blinked slowly and swallowed harshly, her eyes immediately filled with tears.

"Oh, baby." The words slipped out before you could stop them. Maddy laughed once trying to find an ounce of strength to mask but it didn’t help her any. She let her tears fall as she dropped her head to your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her again, holding her while she shook against you and cried into the fabric of your shirt.

"I'm sorry." She choked out.

"For what?" Maddy didn't answer because there wasn't an answer. But you knew what she was thinking.

Sorry for falling apart.

Sorry for needing someone.

Sorry for not being strong enough.

"I've got you." Your words finally broke whatever wall she'd been holding up.

"I'm so tired." She whispered, nuzzling her cheek into the dip of your neck. Her confession sounded painful and it hurt you hearing it. "I'm just...fucking tired." Maddy rasped out with a deep labored breath. “Why can’t the world just give me some grace?”

You closed your eyes and held her tighter. If you could've carried some of that burden for her, you would've. She knew you would without hesitation but she didn’t want you getting wrapped up in her problems. You were the last good thing she had and she refused to put you in a situation that could take you away.

"It won't always be like this." You gently rubbed her back and kissed her shoulder. Normally Maddy would've scoffed and rolled her eyes. She lifted her head to look at you with her red eyes searching your soft ones and she believed you. Somehow, she always did. "You deserve the world…you deserve better than this." You dabbed the tears from her cheeks and brushed her hair back.

A faint smile appeared on Maddy’s lips. "Feels like the universe didn’t get the memo." You let out a genuine laugh, the sound seemed to bring some color back into her face.

"Well…" You started, flipping your hair dramatically, "The universe sent me instead." That earned an actual giggle and a soft push from Maddy. "There she is."

"You're so annoying." She bit back a smile and wiped the rest of her tears away.

"And yet you missed me." You rebutted while following her further into the kitchen. She returned to her place on the countertop, locking eyes with you as you flashed her a cocky smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "...What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were working on some big editorial?"

"I wanted to see you." The smile she gave you was confirmation enough on how your words affected her. Tracing the grooves of the tiles next to Maddy, you paused to find the right words. "With everything going on this past year..." Your eyes climbed up to meet Maddy already watching you. "I needed to see you."

She patted the spot next to her silently telling you to join her, quietly observing the vintage interior of Cassie’s home. Maddy's arm draped around your shoulders, your head rested against hers, enjoying the close contact. "How long are you staying?" She asked eventually.

"I'm staying in Palm Springs for a few days but after that I don't know." You shrugged.

Maddy’s face fell and she looked at you blankly. “You don’t know?” Her tone dripped with attitude and God did you miss it.

You grinned. "Depends...could be a few weeks."

Now she looked suspicious. "You're up to something?"

You pulled out your phone. "Back to New York?"

"What?" Maddy frowned but kept her gaze on you.

"Paris would be nice...we could go shopping!"

"Y/n..." 

"You do have a passport, right?" You muttered as you scrolled through a travel app. Maddy stared as you continued to swipe, ignoring her piercing orbs. "Maybe Milan since fashion week is coming up."

Maddy held a hand in the air telling you to pause whatever game you were trying to play. "Okay, what are you talking about right now?"

You finally looked up. "I got promoted."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Congratulations." She dragged out, almost in a questioning tone. The smile she gave you was genuine then she narrowed her eyes. "Why do I feel like there's a catch?"

"There is."

"I fucking knew it." She nodded and pointed a perfectly manicured finger at you.

"There's a few shoots I gotta work on but after, I can travel anytime with a plus one of my choice." You nudged your eyes to Maddy. "You have to come with me."

There was a beat of silence that travelled through the space between you two before Maddy replied. "You can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious." You immediately answered, almost offended that she’d think you would lie about something like this.

She chuckled then realized you weren't joking, her laugh died instantly. "Wait, what about Cassie? I have two other girls I have to manage."

You rested a hand on her thigh as you held her gaze. "What about you, Mads?" The question stopped her in her tracks. For once, Maddy had no answer or snarky comeback. Reaching for her hand, you gently rubbed a thumb across her skin delicately. "When was the last time you did something for yourself?" She glanced down, watching your finger trace over her knuckles. "I just…want to see you happy."

She looked up at you now, still not uttering a word because she knew the truth. You leaned in closer, close enough that neither of you had to pretend anymore. Capturing her lips in a kiss that felt soft and familiar. Like you finally made it home and had no worries in the world. When you reluctantly pulled away, Maddy looked at you like she'd forgotten how to speak.

"You don’t have to worry about anything. All expenses are covered, just come with me." You spoke quietly. She searched your face, looking for strings or conditions. The hidden cost she'd spent her whole life expecting but she found none.

"Why?" She asked, just above a whisper. You smiled because the answer had never changed.

"Because it's you..." A soft kiss pecked against her lips as she hummed. "And me." You pressed another. "Always will be." You rested your forehead against hers. "Is that not justification enough?"

For a moment, Maddy just stared with a neutral expression. Then she hopped off the counter and walked out of the room. Disappearing as she rounded up the stairs.

You blinked. "...Maddy?" A minute later, you heard a heavy thump hit the floor above you. 

Twenty minutes later, she came downstairs dragging luggage behind her. Cassie followed, looking increasingly alarmed.

"Wait. You're actually leaving?" Lexi questioned as she rushed down the stairs.

"No, I’m just walking outside with a packed suitcase." Maddy sarcastically replied, making you stifle a laugh as you approached to take the suitcase out of her grasp.

"Maddy!" Cassie whined with wide eyes.

"I'm taking a much needed vacation." Maddy shrugged and gave Lexi a quick hug and kissed Cassie on the cheek.

"Y/n! Do something!" Cassie whined louder and looked at you for help.

You offered a sympathetic shrug. "Don’t look at me."

"I hate both of you." Cassie pouted and watched the two of you walk to the door.

"You’re a big girl, Cas. You'll survive a few weeks by yourself just get Lexi to keep you company." Maddy grinned then trotted outside with you trailing behind. Cassie groaned in frustration.

Outside, you loaded the suitcase into the trunk of your car. Maddy slipped into the passenger seat like she'd been doing it her entire life. You climbed in beside her, reaching for the ignition. Before you could start the car, she grabbed your face and kissed you. Once then twice and about ten more times.

You laughed helplessly. "Maddy-"

"I love you." She finally sat back, smug and entirely pleased with herself.

You stared. "Oh, you do?"

She slid on her sunglasses and sat comfortably in her seat with her feet propped on the dashboard. She knew how much it would annoy you. "I guess."

"Don't start with that." You swatted her feet down.

A grin spread across her face with her dimple making an appearance. She sucked her teeth as her lips stretched into a full smile. "Okay. Fine!" She admitted. "I love you...always have." Warmth bloomed in your chest. The kind that made everything else feel distant. You started the car and beside you, Maddy practically vibrated with excitement. "So. Paris?"

"If that's where you want to go then we'll go." You leaned over to plant a delicate kiss to her temple. "I love you."

She looked happy, a complete contrast to how you saw her just an hour before. And as you pulled away from the curb, you realized that was all you had wanted from the moment you came home. To see her smile…the rest of the world could wait.

[serapphine]

Kerosene – Manon Bannerman [18+]

✎ genre: smut, manon bannerman x fem!reader, switch!manon, switch!reader, possessive!manon, angst, smoking addiction, oral, fingering, choking, praise, dacryphilia, hickeys/marking, emotional sex, tension, guilt, miscommunication, strangers to lovers, denial of feelings, yearninggg, manon falls in love with you, she gives you reasons to stay away, but you stay anyway

✎ summary: Manon falls in love with a girl she doesn’t deserve. (16.4k Words)

✎ author’s note: to those who yearn, this is for you

men and minors DNI past this point

Manon walks into the convenience store with her hands stuffed deep into her jacket.

The familiar smell filled her lungs. That same scent of pure stale.

She walked in, eyeing the greasy hot dogs rolling continuously under the warmer, accidentally stepping on a chip that was forgotten on the floor, before taking in a hint of fresh-scented cleaner that lingered around the store. Her eyes fell onto the endless aisles of chips, instant packs of ramen, and sour candy.

None of them ever filled her appetite.

It was night, it was cold, too cold for her liking. Each breath she exhaled left a trail of fog from her mouth. And her lips were cracked, always forgetting to moisturize. The laces of her shoes untied, too lazy to lean down to tie them. Braids pulled into a ponytail, never even letting them loose around her face. That same old jacket she wears never leaves her body. Pants too baggy, the belt barely staying on her hips. And her eyes? Unreadable.

That’s all she ever was.

The man behind the counter didn’t even glance up from his magazine, sighing underneath his breath, murmuring something incoherent. He didn’t need to look. Manon came to this same convenience store more than the times she slept in her own bedroom. 

She doesn’t go for fun, doesn’t go for the food, but because she needs something.

She always does.

Her steps carried her with humiliation, her shoes scraping the floor as if it had just burned to stand where she was right now. She walked past the aisles, past the snacks and the drinks, all the way to the counter. 

Eyes were already locked onto the locked glass behind the man before taking a glance at the lighters in a box, displayed on the counter, until the line of cigarette packs took her attention as it always did. She felt like they were eyeing her back, pushing her to a deeper sense of guilt. It pulled her like a magnet, too strong to even tear her eyes away from. 

Manon hurriedly took out the crumpled ten-dollar bill that she already had in the palm of her hand and stuffed it into her pocket. She threw it onto the counter as if it stung to hold onto it any longer.

The ache never leaves, controlling her to a different mindset. She ran out just a few hours ago during a party she willingly attended. Went outside for a couple of minutes, cigarette pack all empty, and ran out to her car as if an emergency had just happened. Forgetting about yet another party that she won’t even remember by morning.

It’s a constant ache, one that never leaves, the one that always stays. It haunts, stretches no matter where you go. Every craving gnaws at her chest, scraping the insides of a weight that she knows nothing else can ever fill. The mind and body are at war—one half desperate for relief, the other screaming with shame for even wanting it. She hates how she feels more shame than relief, but the crave really never ends.

A surrender, a compromise that she didn’t choose herself, too deep to chase away. She tells herself that it’s like a heartbreak, one that isn’t loud, but one that gets her trapped, a prisoner. One that doesn’t allow her the pride and self-respect that she used to deserve. But now? She isn’t sure about what she deserves anymore.

The relief never lasts long, but it constantly drives you in further. And when she finally gives in, the relief is there, but it’s bitter with regret and guilt that settles into her skin, sinking its shameful mark. Until it slowly dies out, only the emptiness remains, already counting the seconds, minutes, and hours until the urge doesn’t last, already hating herself for it at the single thought. And when it’s time, she does it again, a continuous cycle that never seems to have its own ending.

And now she’s here. It was inevitable anyway.

As she was about to speak, the cashier beat her to it. Doesn’t even look up from his magazine, mindlessly flipping the pages like her presence wasn’t even there, and she’s beginning to think that way, too.

“Marlboro?” He says the brand name, dropping the magazine onto the counter, turns around without a look and mutters under his breath, “Same as always.”

Manon nods, her throat constricts with the same familiar feeling—a mix of relief and shame.

Maybe it was just in her head, but she swore she could hear laughter building up in his throat. The humiliation deepened at the thought. But she doesn’t care, or she pretends not to. There wasn’t really much of a difference to her anymore.

He drops the pack onto the counter. As he was about to pick up the bill, his eyes squinted, and then he looked back at her with this look on his face, like he thought this was some kind of joke.

“You gave me ten dollars,” He paused, the silence stretching out with a hint of judgment, “You know it’s twelve bucks.” The cashier places a hand on top of the cigarettes, making sure she doesn’t take them before paying the exact amount.

Manon paused and stared at the hand covering the pack. She hated how she felt the need to just snatch it and run away with it. The craving eats her alive, and it makes her fingers twitch as her nails dig into her skin. She forces herself to rummage through her pockets once more, only to find them empty.

“I only have ten.” She mumbles, head low, eyes daring. Her patience nearly snapping, she knows she has no right to feel that way when she’s the one wanting to scam him.

He knows it too, “You know the amount, it’s twelve dollars.” He repeats, beginning to take the pack away from her, the sight of the pack leaving her sight stings something inside her chest. She sighed, eyes closing with her fists clenched, knuckles straining her skin, “I’ll pay you back tomorrow. I need it right now.” She lies.

He doesn’t look convinced, her nails push in deeper at the sight. “You keep saying that,” he said, voice casual, bored even. “I see you here all the time, and you never pay me back.”

She feels the ache deepen within her bones, scraping the edges. The cashier doesn’t know her, and doesn’t plan to find out, but he sees her in this same store too much to know enough that this was a sick habit she kept performing.

The words get stuck until she forces herself to choke them out. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow. It’s a fucking two-dollar difference.” Bitterness forms in her mouth, and it wasn’t the cigarettes this time.

Silence stretches the air longer than it needs to. Her eyes never left the pack underneath his palm, as if the sight was mocking her. Out of her reach, something she wanted to selfishly take, even when she had no right to. The craving was eating her alive.

He began to glare at her, squinting his eyes, which made her stomach feel uneasy, twisting and knotting. Just as he was about to turn around to put it back onto the shelf, he froze.

The bell above the door jingled.

You.

Just a stranger, just another face.

The night carried the lingering cold that clung to your own jacket, a hint of that outside scent drifting through the door as you walked inside. Your shoes squeaked against dirty tiles. But for a moment, you didn’t look at her at all. You were just another customer, another stranger, soon to come in and go back out there like you hadn’t stepped inside at all.

But then your eyes flicked to the counter, to the scene you’d walked in on—the cashier’s hand still pinning the pack, the girl standing tense and small in front of him. Her jaw locked tight, her shoulders drawn in like she was bracing for something heavier than words. Face filled with something unfamiliar, but the eyes said it all.

You walked past the two. Their eyes still linger on your back. You’re unsure what was going on beforehand, and you didn’t really care to find out if you were completely honest.

You went through the aisles, grabbing a bag of Cheetos before walking up to the line of drinks at the back, opening the door, the breeze hitting your face like a punch as you reach out to grab a cold drink.

The glass door thunked shut behind you, the bottle sweating in your hand, almost slipping out. The light overhead beamed on top of you, filling the silence between the cashier and the girl you left behind. You could still feel their eyes on your back, tension slowly crawling up your neck. And when you turned, the scene hadn’t changed much. The cigarettes were still trapped under his palm, and the girl still stood there, her hands useless at her sides, a stiffness to her that spoke of desperation she tried to hide. But you knew that feeling all too well.

As you walked towards the counter, their eyes were locked onto each other instead. Daring for one another to admit defeat, you watched the way her eyes hardened at the sight of his hand gripping the pack as equally as hard.

But then you stood beside her.

You set your drink and the chips on top of the counter. For a moment, the cashier’s attention flicked to you, as though you were a welcome interruption from this tense situation. But the weight of his hand never lifted, and her anger slowly swarmed inside of her ribs.

And then it paused. Her eyes turned to your side, watching the way you took out your wallet from your pocket intently. Eyes still expressionless. You don’t look her way, somewhat afraid that if you do, something will burst out of her.

You felt her shifting at your side. Jaw locked, hands fisted, too cold that it was getting hard to breathe.

The cashier pushed the cigarettes to the side, away from her reach, to scan your items instead. The act has her eyebrows furrowing, biting her cheek, preventing her from saying something she might regret. She hated how easily she was affected by it. Like a child who had taken away their candy.

Just as the guy finished scanning your items, you said something else, something neither of them would have expected.

You placed ten dollars for your own things, and then a two-dollar bill.

Manon stared at it, then you–her eyes suddenly turned soft.

“I’ll pay for the cigarettes.” You said, lowly, eyes locked onto the cashier and then the pack, hidden on the side where he pushed it carelessly. He gave you an expression of disbelief, mouth parted to say something, but the words weren’t there. Too tired to fight any longer, he nodded, scanned the pack, and then your items.

The register beeped, the sound sharp in the atmosphere. You slid the bills across the counter.. The cashier snatched them up without a word, his earlier disbelief had now disappeared, back to his usual, careless state. He bagged your drink and chips, set the cigarettes aside like it was a burden he was glad to get rid of.

Her throat tightened. She loathed this—the way she needed it, the way she couldn’t even scrounge together twelve dollars without someone noticing her failure, the patheticness in it all. And yet, someone had noticed. 

You. A stranger.

Manon didn’t move at first. She couldn’t. Her eyes still lingered on you, searching for some trace of motive, some reason you’d even bother to help. They weren’t filled with gratitude, not exactly—more distrustful, delicate in a way that looked unfamiliar on her face. She reached for the pack only when it seemed safe.

The mask she wore so constantly cracked in that second. Something gentler, almost natural, slipped through. Her appreciation tangled with shame, like something as simple as a thank you was a debt she couldn’t afford to owe. Her lips part, but the words refused to come. She couldn’t say thank you. Not without a crack in her voice, breaking.

So she didn’t.

Her hands shoved deep into her jacket once more, shoulders hunching as though she could fold herself small enough to disappear from you. The cigarettes pressed against her side, heavy, damning, but still the only comfort she knew. The only thing that she sought.

You stare at her, not with judgment, but more so–something quieter. You weren’t expecting her to say something anyway, assuming that she wasn’t that type of person to do so. But your eyes still met hers, flashing with something unguarded hidden beneath the facade she tried to hide.

Until she nodded, just the slightest that if you blinked right as she did, you wouldn’t have noticed it. But you did. She turned around as fast as she could, the door opened with a hit of undisturbed air onto your face. The bell above her head dings as she leaves, the sound short in the silence she vacates behind.

But she doesn’t leave, not completely. You observe through the glass windows as she kneels, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, knees drawn up, back hunched out. The cold doesn’t seem to bother her anymore. For a moment, nothing else seemed to matter to her besides the small box in her hands.

Her hands fumble as she unwraps the wrapper around the packaging. Finally, lighting one up. She raises it to her lips, the flame capturing with the wind as the first inhale draws sharply within her lungs. Her shoulders no longer tense, eyes closed just briefly as if the smoke could even erase the ache that could never seem to leave inside of her.

Manon exhales, and the smoke curls and twists into the night air, the same, bitter sweetness tattooed to her tongue. Relief washes over her, but then again, a hint of shame always comes after, it always follows.

You stay inside the store, the bag of your snacks loose in your hand. Head turned just to watch the curve of her back, hunching more with each exhale she made, the cigarette obvious in between her fingers. You don’t approach, you don’t leave just yet. Everything just seemed so dull compared to the girl on the other side of the door.

The streetlights framed the glow around her, highlighting her body as if the world itself had paused to watch this girl, the smoke stretching and pulling with each exhale. You painted her out, even when you don’t know her at all. You can’t help but wonder what type of girl she was. 

Your confidence suddenly grows in you, pushing past the door, the same sound of the bell rings as you do, your feet carried with something unrecognized, your heart thumping in you. 

The breeze wraps around you, clinging to your jacket, and you walk towards her. 

You sensed her head already turned towards you as you sat beside her on the sidewalk, wordlessly digging into the plastic bag in search of your drink, popping the can open, taking a sip as you swallowed in the taste.

The fizz crackled on your tongue, swallowing it up sharp and cold. Beside you, she drew on the cigarette again, slow, conscious, every one she dragged out was measured out to keep her composed. You smell it from her side, the wind pushing it towards your direction, its scent clinging to the breeze.

Manon doesn’t speak as you sat beside her, even when you sat too close for her liking. Doesn’t ask you why you came outside or why you sat next to her when you should’ve walked away. She doesn’t ask your name either. Her eyes were steady on you, but you could tell from her body reaction that she wasn’t expecting you to acknowledge her after she didn’t even thank you for paying for the same cigarette between her lips. You could tell she was nervous, maybe afraid.

The silence stretched, thick but not exactly uncomfortable. Just weighted. You sipped again, the aluminum cool in your hand, the carbonation scratching your throat. Her cigarette glowed with each inhale, her fingers trembling only when she thought no one was watching. But you were.

Then, you placed the can on the pavement, shoving your frosted hands back into your jacket, slightly shivering from the drink and the cold. 

You spoke after a while, “You come here a lot? Don’t you?” You ask, careful, sounding a little too noisy for a stranger.

She pauses for a second and then exhales a smoke. “Yep.” Her tone was completely defensive, but there was no edge to it, just questioning. 

You nod, eyeing her face. She seemed more relaxed than when you first saw her inside the store. Her eyes weren’t as weary as they were, jaw loose, hands on the cigarette like she was only ever made to hold them. She faces back onto the concrete, eyes shying away from you like your stare made her tremble. You couldn’t tell if it was from you or the cold night.

“I didn’t mean to step in back there.” You eyed the pack in her hands, outlining the way she clutched it like it was sacred to her. “Felt like you needed it.”

Her mouth parts as the cigarette leaves her lips, registering your words. Her eyes go back onto yours, sharp, quick, and then she softens as if she was figuring out if she should trust you or not. But then she takes another slow drag, eyes locked onto yours like some kind of pull.

“You don’t know me.” She whispers, but loud enough for you to hear. Strained, not really controlled, but the shakiness was nearly there.

“I know that,” You respond, not as defensive as she was, eyes even dared to stare right back into her own. “But I didn’t have to.”

And then she leans back slightly, almost as if she were offended. You hear her scoff slightly, facing towards the road once again.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” She swallows, the bitter sinking through her throat, “But you shouldn’t go any further.”

Your eyes don’t leave when hers did, “Is this your way of telling me I should stop?” You questioned, testing out the waters.

Her lips part like she might argue, but instead she lets the cigarette rest between her fingers. She turns her head just enough to glance at you, the edge in her gaze gone, relaxing a bit, and the calmness seeps through her sight.

“No,” she says simply, and for the first time tonight, she sounds honest. The truth sinks in between her lips as the word falls out with ease.

Usually, the conversations never last this long for her to say no, or even respond. She’s used to the quick exchanges, the blunt words, the silence that lets her slip away without anyone else noticing. But with you, it’s different. And she isn’t sure if she should be okay with that.

You smile, and for the first time, her heart begins to beat rapidly at the sight, that isn’t for the cigarette in her hands.

She doesn’t know what this means, too scared to even find out.

Before her heart could get any worse, you spoke out again, “Good.” Your smile widens, her heart quickens, and you take out your phone, the screen glowing softly in the night. “You owe me two dollars anyway.”

Her heart stutters, quick and irregular, and for a second she doesn’t reach for it. The cigarette glows brighter as if in sympathy with her nerves.

She studies you out, and for the first time tonight, the usual walls she built so carefully feel thin, almost nonexistent. There’s something magnetic about you—calm, careful, offering without expectation—that makes her pulse spike in a way she can’t explain. Almost the opposite of what she is, and she’s sure enough that she doesn’t want to be the one to corrupt you.

Finally, after a long inhale, she lifts her hand, brushing her fingers over the screen. Something about your ease makes her pulse race even more. She slides her thumb over the keypad, typing in her number, the act feeling strange and daring all at once. She’s never reachable, barely hands out her number like it’s too precious to guard. But she’s doing this like it’s honest, without thinking.

You chuckle softly, feeling suddenly giddy about it all. You put your phone back in your pocket, your breath fogging with each laughter you exhaled as you stared at the road where she was overlooking.“When you ever need a friend,” Your smile softens, eyes lowering to the white painted line along the road, “Call me.”

She nearly laughs at that, already doubting it in her head. But what was filling her head much more was your contagious smile. It pulled her heart that she hadn’t felt in a while. You smiled like it was easy, like it was natural, something that you didn’t need to control or pretend. It was impossible to ignore, like being near you made the entire night different. Her chest tightened at just the thought of it.

More so, she feels seen by you. Like she wasn’t just another face to forget, someone to remember, maybe someone that could matter. She didn’t want to get her hopes up for someone whom she had met less than an hour ago. But you looked at her like she did, someone who didn't matter. 

She doesn’t get it, doesn’t quite understand this feeling. You didn’t look at her with judgment, not really with curiosity either. All she knew was that you made her nerves feel alive, made her throat dry up with the sound of your laughter. You just–noticed her. Not everyone did. And that, more than anything, unsettles her—because she isn’t sure she wants to admit how much she wants it. How much she needs it.

Manon should’ve known by then that your smile would haunt her for the rest of her nights.

The first time Manon called you was at a party.

You were at home, working from your desk, glasses set steady on your nose, the only thing lighting up your room was the laptop in front of you. Only your frenzied typing and the faint sounds of chatter from the outside of your home filled your ears.

Your sweater clung to your body safely, secured, and your sweatpants with equal comfort. You planned to order some food after finishing up your work, maybe go on a walk to grab a drink. All you were planning to do was rest by the end of it.

However, your phone began to ring, vibrating horrendously against the wood of your desk. 

Calls at this hour usually meant it was for work or scam callers. Either one made you frown anyway. You didn’t want to ruin your calm night with another load of work. You were already feeling too tired to even get out of your chair right now.

But then you flipped your phone, the screen highlighting the name, one that you hadn’t expected, and one that you wouldn’t guess would be the first to call.

Manon. You read.

The name alone has your breath hitched in your throat.

Without a thought in your head, you answered. Thumb hovering over the green button without another look, you instantly held it tightly against your ear.

At first, all you could hear was obnoxious music in the background, indistinct laughter hidden beneath it. Then a single pause, long enough to have you feel anxious, worried about her well-being, or maybe you wondered if she’ll hang up the call. The latter would have worsened your worries.

And then you hear her sounds becoming faint, as if she were walking further away from it. Now you could hear her better, the soft, quiet breaths becoming loud in your ear, the soft shudder in between, too easy to notice, too hard to forget.

You hear her shuffling for a bit, and then another nervous exhale, “Hi.”

Her voice has your heart freezing up.

“Manon?” You asked gently, already standing up from where you sat as if you already knew where this was going.

She shuffles again, before murmuring something delirious, and then becomes more stable, unable to pick between, “Could you come get me?” She asked, slurring her words. It almost sounds pathetic, and to her, it was. To you? Not even close.

Not once had she ever called for someone, never sought out another, even if she was put in a situation like this. She knew how to settle her own ground, to fight her own battles, and never felt the need to rely on another. That’s the thing, she makes sure she doesn’t. Too guarded, the walls she built up on her very own, the ones where she doesn’t want anyone else breaking them down for her.

And yet, here she was.

Manon slurs again, unfocused, but remembers the sound of your voice. And suddenly, everything felt a bit more quieter.

“This is weird, I know.” She pauses again, catching her breath, “I didn’t know who else to call.” She admits the truth burning out of her mouth.

The confession already has you throwing on your puffer jacket that was loosely hanging on the edge of your bed, you ran out of your bedroom too fast, your keys already in your hand as you opened your front door. The next thing you knew, you’re already in a car, driving to a place where you don’t even know the address yet, for a girl that you only met once. Maybe it was the nerves in you that heightened your ability to even think straight.

Or maybe it was this girl, the one you couldn’t read, the one you couldn’t reach.

She’s still on the call, breathing heavier than ever, and your hand grips the stirring wheel harder at the sound of her short breaths. “Can you text me the address?” You asked, not knowing why your voice sounded as unsteady as it did. You hear her murmuring a short 'yeah,' and a text soon comes after. Shortly, the words are barely legible, but you figure out the place easily.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can? Okay?” She doesn’t respond, your stress deepening, “Stay on the call with me.”

You should’ve known she wouldn’t.

Shortly after, the call hangs up without a response from her. The silence that comes with it becomes deafening, unbearable. Your hands grip the steering wheel, the skin on your knuckles nearly separates, and your heartbeat is the only sound that is apparent within the silence.

Panic arises in you. You know she didn’t mean to hang up on purpose if she was the one seeking help, and you guessed she wasn’t the one who often does. Her voice echoes in your ear, the hesitation in her tone, a familiar sense that you saw in yourself. You were second-guessing yourself about whether to call her back or if it was a waste of time.

Biting your lip, you stepped onto the gas, hastening your speed. There shouldn’t be a reason for you to be this nervous, this afraid of some stranger that never even said hello to you. You didn’t owe her your help, you didn’t have to go out of your way to find her. 

But you did.

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the place. The house is all too familiar. Another night, another party, just one that you didn’t bother to attend on this particular night.

It was the same as all the other ones. Loud, careless music, alcohol, people. Just another replica of all the others that you used to attend until there were far more important things to worry about in your life that made you stop so suddenly.

You got out of your car in haste. People recognized you, calling out your name, some glared in your direction for reasons you didn’t really care to notice. All you could even really think about was her. If she was safe, if she was alright.

You searched left and right, squeezing past red cups and sweaty bodies. Every room in the house was utterly crowded, and the frustration slowly builds up from your stomach to your chest. You kept reaching out for your phone, calling her, sending her texts filled with concern. None were answered.

A small curse leaves your lips. You rushed throughout the house, looking for that same pretty face that stayed glued to your mind, that same voice pretending to seem fine.

When you ran up the stairs, the halls were somewhat empty, but enough that most of your senses weren’t overwhelmed. And by the corner of your eye, you saw the girl you’ve been looking for.

Manon sat the farthest down the hall, away from everything and everyone else. She sat near the open door where the balcony was, sitting down on the floor with her knees pushed up to her chest, arms lying on top of them covering her face. Her back was hunched like the first time you saw her. However, this time, she didn’t have her jacket safely wrapped around as it usually was.

As you walked over, you made sure she was physically okay, breathing out with a shaky exhale of relief when you realized she was. You knelt quietly, reaching out to lift her chin from her arms.

Her eyes were barely open, half-lidded, half awake. But the moment your eyes reach hers, it seemed that it was enough to sober her up. Her mouth opens agape, like she was about to speak, but the words weren’t there. You can smell the drink she had on her breath, usually covered with nicotine, now filled with alcohol. You didn’t want to assume anything, but maybe this was just the type of person she was.

You didn’t know what got over you, but your hand slowly reached higher to her cheek, rubbing it softly as if it would comfort her. And the way the trembling of her body vanishes in an instant, you knew it did.

“Sorry.” She mutters, eyes closing at your touch, like your warmth mattered to her. “I didn’t have anyone else to reach out to.” She finishes, the sentence alone sounded like she needed someone to pity her, but you didn’t. You won’t. She sinks her face deeper into your palm, too drunk, and doesn’t have a care in the world if her actions were too direct. Just needed someone, someone to reach out for.

“Don’t be sorry,” You don’t comment on the way she looks at you so intensely, like your touch was her oxygen, “I did say to call me, right?” You laugh, trying to hide your own tremble down your spine because of it.

And for the first time, she smiles.

A lazy one, but it was there. And it was real.

You matched her smile, pulling her up with her arm around your neck to hold her steady. Her weight was light, her clothes barely keeping her warm. You draped your jacket around her, the gesture warmed her heart, warming up just as your jacket did on top of her shoulders.

“Let’s get you home.” You say, carrying most of her weight for her as you lead yourselves down the stairs, walking past through the crowd, the fog breathing from your mouths as you step outside the house, leading her to your car.

The drive back to her place was quiet. Excusing the traffic noises and a hint of yelling from irrelevant strangers down the street. But it didn’t feel as awkward as it did when the two of you were alone before. Your eyes stayed glued to the cars in front of you, hands on the steering wheel, mind full.

But even then, you couldn’t ignore the way she's staring at you.

Manon sat in the messenger seat, head against the glass window, turned to face you. Eyes were obviously exhausted, drunk enough to even function properly. Her gaze lingered longer than it should have, as if the alcohol had given her the ability to show her actual feelings. You could feel it pressing against your skin, that quiet weight of being seen. It made your grip on the wheel tighten, not because you were uncomfortable, but because you didn’t know what to do with it.

You couldn’t help but take glances towards her, and you were obvious with it. You prayed that she won’t remember the way your face heats up from her gaze by the morning, hoping that your reaction was just all in your head. She looked like she was searching for something in you, something she hadn’t dared to say out loud. Something she hasn’t figured out altogether.

You pulled over to her driveway, helping her out of the car and into her home. She fumbled with her keys, sighing softly when you unlocked the door for her. She whispers where her room was, down the hall, she says. You try to ignore the way she holds onto you so gently, like she needed you to even stand, and she did. But it doesn’t help with the way her eyes never left you.

Even when you set her down onto her bed, handing her a bottle of water, she doesn’t close her eyes to sleep. Just watches you. Analyzing your features. Studying the outline of your jaw, the softness of your lips, the eye bags under your eyes. But even then, she thought you were glowing.

The water bottle steals away the warmth from your hands. She doesn’t take the water, setting it on her side table instead. You weren’t sure if you should leave or stay, but her eyes were making it hard for you to make your choice.

“You should sleep.” You set your hands back on your lap as you sat on the edge of her bed, leaning up to pull the covers over her body.

Manon doesn’t say anything, only a slight shake of her head. Doesn’t even blink either. Just watches. Mesmerized, fascinated even.

“I don’t want to.” She whispers, eyes clearly tired as yours, but somehow–too stubborn to close them.

Something inside your chest tightens.

You inhale quietly, “Why’s that?”

She’s quiet again, mouth parting and then closing like she’s conflicted in spitting out the truth. Eventually, she does gather the courage to do so.

“Because if I close my eyes,” Manon breathes with uneasiness, “You’re gone.”

Her words never fail to surprise you.

The room settles into another pace of ease in silence. Air freezing up as your chest did, unsure what she meant by her words, what hidden meanings are behind all of them, you kept wondering. 

You study her face, trying to find a clue–a hint of what she meant by that, but you couldn’t figure it out. And she made sure you wouldn’t, not yet, maybe not ever.

Your hands moved before your brain could catch up. A hand trails on top of her blanket, reaching up to find her own. The first touch nearly makes you flinch, her hands were so cold, frosted even. But that doesn’t stop you from intertwining them. And for the first time that night, she looks away from your eyes–just briefly–to watch your warm fingers interlace with her cold ones. You watch how her eyes soften even more at the sight, her hands gripping harder onto yours.

“I’m only gone if you tell me to.”

Manon looks back into your eyes. Her posture finally relaxes into her sheets, her eyelids fluttering, surrendering her will to the sleep she desperately needed. You stay seated at the edge of the bed, careful and still, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

You sat there until you knew she was fully asleep. The tension between her eyebrows erased, and the sound of her quiet breaths told you all that you needed to know that she was in her deep sleep.

The last thing you remembered to do was place another extra set of water bottles, three to be exact, on her nightstand. Painkillers tucked away right next to them, her phone right in front of the two–like a small hint that you wanted her to call you as soon as she wakes up.

Her door shuts behind you with a quiet thud as you leave her home, and the drive back home silences you, your head filled with thoughts you didn’t know you could even think about.

You just knew you couldn’t forget how her touch seemed so right against yours.

The second time Manon calls you, it’s at night again.

This time, she was sober.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t met with each other again after that night, because you did.

You remembered the way you woke up the following day, called her just in time as she was swallowing down the painkillers you left for her on that particular night. Laughing softly at the way her voice rambled in your ear through your phone as she repeatedly apologized for her behavior. You didn’t mind, you didn’t care, you were just glad that she was okay.

Manon offered lunch that day, her way of apologizing. You were trying to decline such an offer, but she was persistent, her natural stubborn self preventing you from even thinking about refusing. So you didn’t.

She brought you to a diner, the one that’s open all day and night. You soon learn some parts of her. She lives alone, hates loud areas, but always finds herself stuck in between them. She loved to cook, but never really did. She had a few tattoos, her most recent one on her hand. The same hand you held just as tightly as you did on that night.

You remember the way she sat across from you in that booth, fingers carelessly holding her fork against the plate like she was keeping time with her nerves. The smell of oil, grease, and coffee clung to the air, the conversation filling the gaps between you.

The story fell out of her mouth in pieces, not with words–not at first–but the way her shoulders tensed up as she began to talk, the way her hand clutched against the utensil before setting it down as if it was too heavy to keep holding. Smoking had been more than a habit—too far deep to even escape the ache that only a cigarette could fill. It filled the void of its edges when the world sank her in deep, filled the silence when it was unbearable, gave her something to hold when her hands trembled, no one there to hold her through it all.

There was no pride in it, just relief and shame. That was all she could feel every time she took a hit from it. This was the one thing she clung to, the one thing she knew would both carry her through and pull her under.

And even as she smiled faintly at you from across the booth, her eyes gave her away—because the smile that was plastered upon her face never reached her eyes.

But then, suddenly, you reach out to her from the opposite end of the table, finding her hand in yours as you did before. And this time, her smile does reach her eyes. Her sight bore deeply into the hand that carried her own.

You noticed the pain that was so easily overlooked. Saw her the way no one else even tried. Talked to her like you knew her from way back. Felt her in the way that it touched her heart.

Since then, another lunch followed the next day, and then the next, and another, until you lost count because of it. It wasn’t only the lunches either. You went with her to go out, watching every horror movie out there in either your home or hers, cooked each other's favorite meals, went grocery shopping, even. It was just natural. It became a routine that neither of you ever expected.

At times, it wasn’t just that. She would stay longer than needed, talks to you like you were the only one who could understand her in such ways. The hours would pass by when neither of you realized, her words spilled out in pieces that were never meant to be said out loud, but she didn’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to. There was comfort in your presence, a rare softness that she unknowingly kept searching for. As if being near you faded every worry, every single fragment of fear, shrinking away just by the look in your eye that you kept giving her.

Manon knew she shouldn’t have dragged this out for so long, taken you deeper into her life, where nobody had gotten this far enough to see the realness in her. The nights she couldn’t silence the thoughts in her head, no matter how many cigarettes she burned through. She knew better than to let you sit there in it with her, to let your presence linger too long when needed. Terrified of letting you get tangled in the mess she created herself when she knew you didn’t deserve that.

She knew it was selfish. She knew she was prolonging this, she only owed you the same two dollars that night when you first met. She had the money, it was only two simple dollars, but she couldn’t find the will to give it to you. Not when she knew that if she did, you’d leave.

And she couldn’t give you up, as selfish as it sounds.

Now you stood at the same spot where the two of you met. That memory seemed to be a long time ago, after how much time you’ve spent with her. Your back leaned against the glass windows of the convenience store, hands stuffed into your jacket like they always were. The pavement is flat against your feet, humming to a song that’s been stuck in your head.

You hear quiet steps going towards you, your head lifts, eyes already shining at the sight.

Manon runs to you breathless, a knowing smile stretched up her face as the sight of you gradually comes bigger, your figure, your presence, already made her night. Her chest heaved and fell as though she had been carrying the weight of the whole day just to bring it to you, and now covered with a true smile that only you seemed to know the sight of.

She slowed just before you, feet just a few inches away from yours, laughter caught in her throat, as if she couldn’t believe you were really there, waiting for her in the very place it all began. It was a view that you know you won’t be able to forget, no matter how much you try.

She takes a huge source of her confidence, grabbing your hand into hers, trying to calm the nerves in her system when your smile widens at the feeling. “Come on,” Manon says, tugging your hand inside the store with ease.

The two of you walk together with such ease, and you follow behind her, grabbing a couple of cheap sodas that fizz too quickly, and she pays for the drinks before you can fish out your wallet. Her laughter echoes as she sees your reaction, you scoffing lightly at her. The same cashier was still there, but this time, a light smile fell on his face as he observed the interaction quietly, scanning your items before the two of you rushed out of the convenience store.

The night leads you on at the moment the doors swing shut behind you, the same bell ringing above you as your laughter becomes louder by the second. Manon runs in front of you, her hands freezing around her drink while the other doesn’t let go of your own.

You couldn’t help but follow her lead, her own laughing side by side with yours as your steps begin to feel uneven against the concrete floors of the sidewalk your feet land on. Your drink stings at the back of your throat when you take a sip, choking on it slightly when Manon turns around to face you mid-run, and her laughter only ever becomes more uncontrollable at the sight.

The same feeling in her heart never fails to quicken up its speed at the way you smile for her. Like she’s the only one worth setting your eyes on. Maybe it was all in her head, perhaps it was just her own delusions confusing her further. Or maybe it was just the feelings in her chest she can’t seem to admit out loud, not to you, not to even herself.

She knew you weren’t good for her heart. Every time she sees you, everything else just stops, like the world was revolving around you, depending on the way you spoke or even breathe. She hated the way she had no control over it, how easily you invaded her mind, she spent years trying to close them off from others. Until you came and broke your way through like it was that easy.

A single glance from you and the smoke, the fears, the restlessness—all of it seemed to disappear, leaving only the terrifying truth of what her heart wanted. 

Still, her heart couldn’t seem to push you away, no matter how much her mind begged her to.

Manon slows down her pace, leading you to an area where the two of you could just sit and watch the outside fade around you. She sat on the edge of the concrete bench, her hand letting go of your own just to reach into her pocket, grabbing a cigarette and a lighter, holding it up to her lips as she lit it up. You stare as she sighs in relief.

She feels you watching her, but never says anything. For a moment, she seemed guilty, outright smoking in front of you, and for a second, she wanted to hide it, wished she could take back all the moments like this and paint a perfect image of herself for you. The kind of person that you deserved to be around, someone who wasn’t afraid, someone who didn’t feel the need to hide.

But you didn’t leave. You just sat there beside her, letting the night settle in between the two of you, her smoke drifting into the air like secrets she wasn’t ready to admit out of her mouth.

You cut the silence, “Does it help?” The question sounds odd from your lips.

She wavers, registering your question in her mind before nodding with humiliation stuck deep within her lungs, filled with the smoke she couldn’t erase. “Yeah, it makes things feel,” another pause, “peaceful, quiet at times when I need it to be.”

And then her eyes meet yours, somewhat regretting it when she sees this same look you give her every time. Not with pity or embarrassment, like you knew what type of pain she was feeling.

“It never fixes anything, but it helps, even if it's short–even if it’s only for a little while.” She admits that her honesty burned within the words.

You don’t move, don’t say anything at first. You thought carefully before you could. Everything else just feels heavier, as if it’s listening, holding its breath along the line between the two of you. 

“I know,” you murmur, voice almost trembling with hers. “And that’s enough. I understand how you feel.”

She laughs, finding that hard to believe, “Do you really?”

You’re the one who pauses this time, the words hanging in the air.

“No,” A smile breaks through your frown, “But I’m willing to if you let me.”

Your smile has her heart tugging at it again, “You make it sound so easy. Like I could actually just be myself without wasting my time pretending to be someone else.” She admits, a sense of vulnerability breaking through its cracks, something you haven’t seen before.

“With you, it feels easy.” She adds, the flare of her cigarette flows in your direction.

“I can’t even put it into words, but you feel–safe. You make me feel safe.” Her eyes land on her hands, she wouldn’t even dare to look into your eyes with the truth falling out.

Even now, your eyes never leave her face, even when hers aren’t on yours anymore. And you’re starting to believe that it was becoming this unhealthy habit of yours. The image of her face in your head already carved its mark onto your mind, that for a second, you knew, there was no bother in denying it any longer.

You watch how her other arm holds herself together, like there was no one else who would. She shrinks further into herself, somewhat in disbelief, she’d admit something so straightforward just like that right in front of you. It wasn’t much, but to her, it was everything.

She can hear her own heart beating loudly as if it were right next to her ear, a part of her wants it to stop, to make it feel that this was just all in her head. The other half wants it to keep pounding against her chest, the only way to tell that this was all real. She can’t even remember the last time she was this honest with someone, didn’t even think before saying the truth out loud. That’s what scared her, you made her lose all ways of thinking, every ability to rehearse her words or actions in her head. That was gone too.

You take her attention back the only way you knew how.

Your fingers gradually went towards hers, her body nearly flinching at the contact, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she just watches intently, letting the contact electrify her skin. Eyes locked onto your movement.

The cigarette leaves her fingers, catching them in between your own. Manon finally looks at you, not because of the cigarette, but because it attaches to your own lips.

Without another thought, you draw it in slow, a deliberate hit. The smoke gradually fills your lungs, but you don’t exhale.

Your other hand finds her chin, and you immediately feel the tension in her jaw, clenching up from the feeling of your hand on her skin. You try to rub the ache, the hard line where her jaw follows, but it doesn’t loosen. It can’t.

Not with the way you lean it, your heart thumping inside of you like it was timing the seconds of this very moment. Your head tilts just exactly as you wanted it to, angling her chin just in time as her mouth parts, a shaky breath falls off of her lips.

Instead, your own mouth parts, releasing the smoke.

Her eyes widen just for a fraction, startled. But she inhales it in from your lips like it was the only one that really mattered, even after the countless times she does it. This one was different, and the only one that had her chest tightening.

The taste lingers on her tongue, a familiar taste. Her fingers twitch, trembling against her own skin, eyes half-lidded as she stares at your lips. The sight–the taste, all too addicting. She can’t tear her eyes away from you, fascinated with the way you breathe, the control you own, the way you’re so close that you didn’t even care to move away.

Manon loses all control and leans in.

The tip of her nose brushes yours, watching your eyes flutter closed before she does the same. Letting her know that you weren’t going to pull away, that maybe, just maybe, you needed this as badly as she did.

Her lips hover, hesitant, afraid, that everything else didn’t matter except you. Until her lips finally meet yours.

She tastes like cigarettes, you taste like everything she’s been wanting.

It’s soft and it's slow. It wasn’t desperate like with the way she wanted this so much, but it gave her the comfort and warmth that she needed. Like you were the air she needs to breathe in, your taste in her mouth, your smoke in her lungs. She won’t be able to forget your touch upon her face, your lips on hers.

Her hands tremble as they land on her neck, slowly, gradually trailing them up to your face, holding your cheeks, thumbs caressing your skin like she couldn’t believe that you were allowing her to hold you like the way she dreamed about at night. She deepens the kiss, just enough to have the taste stained on your lips, ones you won’t forget, the touch that you’ll remember.

The cigarette is long forgotten, dropping it on the ground. Your hands fall on top of her own, your other hand on her waist, holding her securely, the tight grip as she sighs in relief into your mouth.

Her body molds into your own like it was always meant to be. Your breath shuddering into her mouth, she swallows it down. Every tremble, you consume it all in. And you knew it wasn’t from the cold that made the shakiness in her unmistakable, but it's the way you held your hands that were so steady on hers, that took every ounce of control from her skin.

Manon’s fingers began to trace small patterns along your jaw, memorizing every angle, every line of your face, engraving it into your head as if she were trying to hold onto every little detail you gave her. Your forehead falls on top of hers, the closeness exceeding. 

Despite the wind breezing through it all, you’ve never felt this warm.

A slow shiver runs down her spine when she feels you letting out another soft sigh, a certain sweetness in your own vulnerability. That she couldn’t think straight, not once had she ever felt this safe in letting herself even need someone, that the closeness even allowed her, maybe this was what she carved for all alone. That this was more than enough for her, she believed it to be.

Her mind and senses slowly fill up with you between the gentle kiss. All the memories, every moment, the touches, the looks. She didn’t know what she did to deserve it.

The warmth of the kiss lingers on her lips, and for a moment, she lets herself stay. But then, a tiny knot begins to form in her chest, small at first, almost unnoticeable. But still there, the same twist and pull of denial strangles in her throat, and then into her mind.

Her fingers tremble slightly, not like from before, not with security. There’s this quiet thought in her head, a second guess, questions slowly storm into her mind as if she were asking herself if this was even okay. Did she even deserve to have you in such a way? 

It was undeniable. The strangle of doubt circles in her stomach, a sickness at the idea of even hurting you. Even if it was unintentional. She knew she was the person filled with too many regrets, too many mistakes that were far from being forgiven. She was full of chaos, anger, with the only skill of hurting others with words she might not mean, but had said out loud. 

And you were the complete opposite, at least in her eyes. You treated her with care, kindness, things not everyone did for her, but you did. And you did them without even batting an eye at all of her flaws, even if they were too intense to handle.

She couldn’t rely on you like that, to be another thing to seek comfort from.

You weren’t an addiction, you were a person.

You thought of her with things she wouldn’t dare to think of about herself.

She couldn’t hurt you.

She promised herself that, and maybe pulling away, separating herself from you, was keeping that same promise. Even if it’ll hurt her during the process. That hurting herself was far better than the idea of hurting you.

Carefully, Manon leans back, her heart already sinking in her chest at the sight of your brows knitting up, your eyes once filled with warmth–now with confusion. And that was her fault, she knew it.

Her hands fall onto your shoulders, pushing you away.

The act has pierced your heart through your chest.

“Manon.” You whispered, even when you knew there was no point in reaching out–she was always too far away to begin with. It was hopeless.

Her head was low, too afraid to meet your eyes. Until the grip on your shoulders loosens as she begins to tremble heavily. Chest rising up and down, and for the briefest second, you thought you heard the quietest noise, a soft whimper, delicate, nearly pathetic. But even now, you don’t pity her, you just want her.

She lifts her head at the exact moment. Your eyes shed tears at the realization of what she was trying to do. Her tears reflecting your own, her lips that you once kissed trembled at the fear of losing you, knowing that leaving you would be her own fault to blame.

She knew that running away from her feelings, running away from you, would be the most cowardly thing to do. Something that she was familiar with doing, she just didn’t know that it would cost this much of the entirety of her heart to go through with it. 

“I–I should go.” She hesitates, the tears building up in the corner of her eyes all too quickly.

You shake your head. Terrified, scared, but you knew she was going to do something like this. It was either now or then. You just hoped she would’ve given you more time to prepare yourself for the heartbreak.

Her hands clenched in between her fists as the ache grew in her chest. Not the once-empty ache, a void, something it could only imagine to be filled with. No, it was only ever filled with you.

“Please.” You begged. “I know you’re afraid. I am too. But that doesn’t mean you should run from this.” You tried to get a hold of her hands, the skin of her knuckles nearly breaking apart, ot was almost unbearable to watch. She pulled away before your touch could reach, another act that had your heart aching.

“Manon.” You repeat her name, a hint of something unfamiliar within the taste of her own name lingered inside your mouth. You didn’t know if it was because you were hurting, or you couldn’t even think properly. “Please.” You begged one last time.

She doesn’t respond. The words hidden in between her throat, afraid that she’ll never be able to let them out after this. That leaving you would haunt her, no matter how much she tries to deny it. It’ll be her own fault to blame.

But she knows she could live with that, if it’ll save you from the pain of being with her.

Manon got up anyway, you remain seated.

She looks elsewhere from you, your eyes still sealed onto hers.

She begins to walk away, but you stay.

You sat with such agonizing silence, watching the way her body becomes smaller from her view before finally disappearing from a distance. When you know she’s gone, that’s when you let it all out. Your tears broke through before the feeling could register in your thoughts.

The sound of your own breathing turns ragged, uneven, and the world around you falls apart until nothing feels solid anymore. The daze in your mind blurs something through you, your heart shattering in the middle of it.

But you couldn’t blame her, couldn’t hate her even if you tried. You don’t know why she leaned in just to pull away. Maybe you were just like the cigarettes that she’s taking. A moment of relief and pure bliss, the regret that falls soon after.

And even then, your heart still longed for her name that remains stuck in your throat.

Manon doesn’t call you anymore.

Days turned into weeks, and soon after she left you alone that night, you lost hope that she would call back.

You hated how you always kept the phone within reach. You left it near the nightstand, on the kitchen counter, even in the pocket of the jacket you wore the night she left. Each time it buzzed, a small, foolish hope sparked up and died almost instantly when it wasn’t her.

The moment kept replaying in your head. More than a hundred times, to be exact. Especially with the way she looked when she pulled away from the kiss. That same kiss that haunts your dreams, the taste that lingers. You replayed it through every little detail as if it were a punishment you set upon yourself for letting her leave. You should’ve fought for her, told her that she was worth it.

Everything about her still stayed. The same scent of smoke on her jacket every time you were in her proximity, the rare smiles she gave you when she thought you wouldn’t notice, the relief in her voice when she told you that she felt safe when you were near. It took everything from you to not be the one who calls, that she left for a reason, even without a word, no explanation. 

You wanted to respect that, no matter how much it pained you to stay this far away from her.

But at night, it only seemed that the dreams you had of her began to worsen. Every time you walk by the same convenience store where it had started it all, the ghost of her figure hallucinates you into thinking she was inside, ordering the same pack, same brand of cigarettes.

At the bench, sometimes you sat there, just thinking. Other times, you walked by it as if the concrete alone burned your eyes to even stare longer at it. 

And when the days became long and the nights began to haunt you. You picture her smile as if it were the only thing that could heal you, even when it was the one that caused you all this hurt in the first place.

Distractions never worked. When you’re at work? You stayed late. Hanging out with friends? None of the conversations made an impact like hers had. Meals are hardly ever eaten. All the songs you listened to reminded you of her. The only reminder that she even existed was her name on your contact list. The one that never pops up on your screen, the one that only shows up when your thumb hovers over the profile picture of her soft smile glowing on your screen.

You told yourself to let go, that you shouldn’t bother waiting if you knew she might not come back.

But you had hope. Even now.

It was just another late night. You were getting ready for bed, your white tee hanging loose around your shoulders, your shorts that barely kept you warm. You shut your laptop and set it aside, getting ready for another restless night in your bed that didn’t really feel warm either. Your phone lay silent on your nightstand, untouched for hours. You told yourself you were finally done waiting, even when you knew it was just another lie.

Right as you stood up, a knock fell upon the entrance of the door. 

It sounded urgent, and then another knock with the same force.

Your heart froze.

You walked out of your bedroom, down the hallway, and to your front door. No one ever came this late. It was unusual. But there was this pull in you that made you open the door anyway.

There she stood.

Manon.

Her hair was loose around her face like she hadn’t bothered to tie it up in days. Arms limp by her side with the same jacket she always wore, still wrapped around her body. But not even that same jacket could keep her warm as your arms once did. Her eyes were tired, as they always were. Just this time, not even the moon could reflect its light inside of them. Even now, her eyes were locked on you as if they starved themselves with this moment she craved.

You didn’t say a word, nor did she. Just stood there.

The silence stretched as did the ache in her heart. She hasn’t seen you in so long that even in the moment she might’ve thought you must’ve hated her after leaving you alone on that night, she was relieved to know that at least you seemed fine. That even in the pain of your heart, you still looked as beautiful as the day you met.

And then suddenly, her lower lip trembles. 

An even exhale falls from her lips, and then her eyes begin to tear up. This is not what you wanted. You wanted to see her, yes. But not like this. Not when she shows up in the middle of the night, cold, miserable, nearly breaking down just at the sight of you. Because God, you were dressed so simply, your face stayed the same, she could even feel the same warmth radiating off of you, and you still looked like something like, home.

Manon forces down the sob back into her throat, not wanting to seem more pathetic than she already is. She shoves a hand into her pocket, fishing out something. You watched the movement carefully.

Two dollars.

Doesn’t say a word, just lifts the piece of paper towards you, and you immediately feel the rage in you burst something out in your chest. You knew what this meant, what she was trying to finalize. And you weren’t going to accept that.

It was all just too quick.

The cash in her hand ripped from her hold as you threw it on the floor like it was a piece of trash. You yanked her arm inside your house, grabbing a hold of both of her shoulders before slamming her back against your door. A gasp leaves Manon’s mouth, eyes widening at the harsh movement. She pushes you back, the same rage builds up in her own body, taking a step forward as you took a step back.

“So that’s it?” The words burn from your mouth, “You show up now? For what? To hand me two stupid dollars? Did you think I stayed just because you owed me two fucking bucks and nothing more? Is that what this is?”

Manon shakes her head, eyes cast on the ground, too ashamed to meet your eyes. She looked so defeated, miserable. But the fact that she wasn’t giving you the energy that you were giving her? That somehow angered you.

“You just left me. You didn’t call me either, and that all seems fine to you? You kiss me and then you leave right after, and you just expect me to be okay with that?” You grab her wrist, and she doesn’t bother pulling away.

“Did you really expect me to be okay once you left?” The words fall without a thought processed through your brain. “Was I that easy for you to leave? Is that it?”

“Fine. Go ahead. Leave. If you want me to stay away, then fine.” It wasn’t fine, it was obvious that you hated the idea of that, especially when tears strained into the corners of your eyes. “But I deserve to know the truth. Tell me the truth, and we can go back to the way things were before. If that’s what you want, so be it.” A tear falls anyway, the fear invading your head.

She looked so defeated. Every word you let out, she was listening. It was impossible not to. All your words hit her like a brick to the head, hard–and true. She hated the fact that leaving you only ended up hurting you even more. That’s not what she wanted, that was the last thing she ever wanted for you.

Manon shakes her head again, a sob falls from her mouth. You swore not to let it affect you, but it did anyway.

“No.” She whispers, tears falling down her cheeks with ease. It takes all your strength not to pull her into your arms, your chest heaving with the same rhythm that each tear falls from her eyes.

Your throat dries up, not expecting that out of all words she could admit out loud to you after nights you spent without her. Days without speaking to her, and all she could say was no.

“No?” You repeat back, just with more bitterness behind it. You let go of her arm, and the act has her whimpering from the loss of your touch. Like she needed it to even survive.

She swallows, exhaling shakily. You were right, you deserved to know the truth. She kissed you first, made you feel things that you never felt with anyone else. It’s the least she can do if she was going to leave you.

“I don’t want to leave.” The words were barely audible, but the silence was so loud that you heard it easily.

Your hands flexed, stretching your fingers as her words whispered through the thin air. As much as you wanted to yell at her, curse her out for leaving you, you stayed silent. But it was becoming nearly impossible to stay that way.

“I told myself to stay away, that being friends is enough.” She admits.

“But it isn’t.”

You stayed frozen at your spot, your eyes blurry from your tears that matched her own face. But she was beautiful, so fucking beautiful that you wouldn’t even dare to look away from her.

“I don’t think I could ever just be friends with you.” Another sob falls from her lips, the truth was finally out there. But her heart had never felt so afraid from the rejection that she was expecting. She knew she wouldn’t be able to handle the denial that she wasn’t prepared to hear from you.

Her breath trembles as the words leave her, too late to take them back, and for a second, the hallway feels too small for everything in between you. You stand there, stunned by the confession and the truth beneath it all, the kind of honesty that you never expected from her, but the one that mattered the most.

"The idea of someone else having you, loving you. The thought alone drives me insane." Her nails digging into her skin by her sides.

It was at that point that you begin to hold your breath, as if something as simple as breathing was far too loud to even miss this confession of hers. One that you longed for, one that you dreamed of in your sleep. You never thought you’d see the day that it would turn real.

"I hate myself for wanting you–for loving you.” She corrects herself, “Because I know I could never deserve it."

You're breathless that your body began to tremble above your feet where you stood, facing her. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, not even after you spent countless nights dreaming about this.

Manon closes her eyes–and even more of her tears fall. "I think of you when you're not around and I think of you when you're too near."

"It's selfish that I want to be the one who gets to hold your hand. To be the one who makes you smile because I only want you to think of me." She says, ashamed to even think about you in a way she knew she could never earn. Thought of you like you deserved someone better than the girl she’s offering to you.

“And the way you look at me?” She suddenly laughs, like she couldn’t believe it, “You look at me like I matter. You look at me like I’m actually worth wanting.”

And she was.

For a while, neither of you moved.

You couldn’t, and it seemed she couldn’t either.

Manon opens her eyes just in time to watch your lips part. You're speechless, your breath taken away just by the words that you never expected to hear from her. You feel everything all at once, the pain, the fear, the love that she thinks she doesn’t deserve. 

She was wrong about that. So wrong.

You want to be the one who gets to show her how much she matters. That she was someone worth loving. You were far too deep to even think otherwise. Not when her heart felt so right beating against your own chest, not when your name sounds so perfect when it’s from her voice.

You’re not ready to let go of whatever it was between the two of you. Neither of you had put a name to it yet, you just knew–she did too, that neither of you wanted to let go of each other. Too selfish to even think about doing such an act.

However, you haven’t said anything. And the silence spoke louder than words. That maybe this was you rejecting her, denying her the only thing that she ever really wanted, so desperately, so selfishly. More tears fall, ready to have her chest torn open.

But before another sob falls from her lips, the sound doesn’t come.

You kiss her.

You kiss her with everything you’ve been holding back, everything that hadn’t been said with words.

Manon doesn’t push you away when you do, only pulls you in closer. And doesn’t even think about letting you go, now that she has you in her arms.

It’s desperate, it's uncontrollable. Your hands are all over her, hers are too. Her fingers tangle in your hair, then the back of your head all the way to your back, where her nails dig in so possessively, like she wants the mark carved through your shirt, onto your skin. She trails them all the way back to your face, cupping your cheeks in both of her palms, nails digging into the side of your face.

The pain doesn’t bother you, it furthers you even. Your lips part just in time for her tongue to slip in with such ease. You taste her fully this time. The bitterness of her smoke, the sweetness of her lips, it was too addicting, you wanted more of it. More of her.

Manon doesn’t stop crying in your mouth, your tears slipping down to your mouth. You taste each other’s tears, but that doesn’t stop you from taking her in more.

She savours your taste in her mouth, wants to drown herself in all of your scents. You hear her breathe in sharply, barely consuming any air, but she cares more about your lips than the need to breathe. Angles your jaw just right, your taste pooling inside of her mouth. She swallows it all in, drinks it up like it was wine, wets your lips with her saliva like it was moisturizer.

You swallow every sound that she gives you, a small, sharp whimper that falls from her lips when your teeth graze her tongue just ever so gently. Another tiny sob that falls loose in you, as if all of this was unreal, that you were giving her the ability to hold you, touch and kiss you in every way she imagined.

Holds you with hands imprinted on you, bodies too close that not even the air could slip in between. Your chest heaves at the same rhythm as her own, that you can finally remember the way her heartbeat feels right upon yours. And it felt right, so right.

Your lips don’t leave her own when you help her slip off her jacket. Her lips stay connected to yours as you reach down lower to shrug off your shorts. You don’t know who was pushing who, but a few steps more and you find yourselves back in your bedroom, some of your clothes remaining where you left them.

The door swings open, your feet nearly tripping as you step through the doorway, pulling her in. You don’t remember who slammed the door once the two of you were inside, either way, you couldn’t focus on anything else at the moment. Not when her lips were molded onto yours like it was their only purpose.

It’s messy, sloppy too. Her taste pools down your jaw where her lips trail down, and a whimper falls from your mouth when she bites onto a sweet spot you particularly like. The contact has you distracted as you fumble with her own sweatpants, untying the string of knots, helping her step out of the useless fabric. Both of your shirts remain on your bodies, but you knew they weren’t going to stay on for later.

Manon trails her kisses lower to your neck, tugging at your shirt when they get in the way. You help her trail them up your arms, falling back down onto the floor where the rest of your clothes lay. Her lips reattach to your skin like they were made for it.

Her nose brushes right where your neck and shoulder meet, inhales deeply, sharply. Like you're the only air she ever wants to breathe in from, your scent calms her, relaxes her mind in only way that you could.

She marks you up, every mark filled with a promise, filled with hidden meanings that only you’ll know of. The back of your knees hit the edge of your bed as she pushes you down, right at a moment when her teeth engrave their mark onto you. Another pathetic whimper falls from your mouth, nails digging into the fabric of her back.

She lifts from your skin, just for a fraction of a second, to pull her own shirt off, and you finally get to see everything. Everything she’s been hiding, everything that she’s only ever going to be offering to you.

You reach lower to pull her underwear off, watching the way her slick clings to the fabric, letting it glide down her legs, just to throw it somewhere else, forgotten, the final barrier between you two, gone.

Your own panties soon fall next to hers on the floor, and finally, nothing is between you. Just two bodies, you and hers.

“You’re beautiful.” You admit, smiling softly, frowning just a bit when she shakes her head.

Even now, she just can’t believe it, even when you’re staring at her like you’ve always had. As if the sight of her alone could heal your eyes compared to any medicine that could.

“You are,” She stops kissing your neck, just to cry into it. You bring her head down just in time, her arms wrapped around your back, the sheets holding the two of you off it all. “How could you ever think you aren’t worth it for me?” You accused, the question sounded completely stupid from your breath.

Manon breathes you in harder, rubbing her cheek in the crook of your neck, her tears staining your skin,  pressing a few–small kisses like your words hit her hard. And it did. Your words matter so much, like she had never heard them from anyone else. The only difference? It felt much better because it was coming from you.

“I don’t want anyone else.” You say, it earns you a kiss, then her lips wrap around the area, sucking it into her mouth, soothing the mark afterwards with her tongue. You hold back a moan just to spit the rest of your words out, “I don’t need anyone else.”

And it was true.

She lifts her head from your neck just to meet her lips back onto yours.

Not as rough as before, but soft. Her way of telling you that she needed to hear it from you to believe it. Even when you felt like it was still true, even if you hadn’t said it out loud. It was obvious that she was beautiful. She is beautiful, you couldn’t think otherwise even if you tried to.

Gently, you lay her on her back, flipping your positions. She watches you closely, her breath falls loose as her lips part at the same look that you had always given her. You made her scoot higher up on your bed until her head hit your pillows. You make sure her scent remains all over your sheets, too addicted already.

You climb on top of her, hands pressed hard against your sheets at either side of her head, leaning down to press a kiss onto her forehead, receiving a whimper.

Manon hasn’t stopped crying since she arrived at your doorstep. It breaks your heart because you knew she wasn’t the one to cry over things. Spent years of her life hiding them behind a facade that it was only now, because of you, that her tears finally let loose.

You kiss each tear away, and the taste slips into your mouth.

It only makes her cry even harder.

“Please.” She begs, holds your face in both of her hands as you lean her forehead on top of yours. You were about to ask what she wants, until she lifts one of your hands from the side of her head, guiding it lower. She let your hand trail down her collarbones, the area between her breasts, past her stomach, down to her cunt where she needed you the most.

When your fingers finally trail down to where she wants you, your breath catches in your throat. The sight of your reaction finally has her smiling for a while. You missed the sight, even as she smiles through her tears.

“I need you.” Her hand grips your jaw tightly, and your mouth parts even further because of it. “Need your fingers inside of me. I want them stretching me out, loosen me up.”

A shudder falls down your spine.

Manon pulls your jaw down, where you find her lips pressing up to your ear, pressing a small kiss just before the rasp in her voice fills you in, “Fuck me like you mean it.” A whimper falls from you by the request, “Fuck me to make me yours. Do it.”

You swallow hard.

Your fingers push past her slit, receiving a happy sigh from the voice beside your ear. “Good girl, touch me the only way you can.”

And you do.

Your fingers move with ease, but you’re surprised by the mess you made her out to be. She’s fucking soaked, your fingers keep slipping, but you stayed put. You rub her clit softly, paying attention to the way she reacts. From the corner of your eye, more tears slide down her cheeks, this time with a sick smile plastered on her pretty face.

Her clit’s so swollen, so overly sensitive. Each time you circle it, her hips twitch hard underneath you, but not once does she ever pull away. Instead, she spreads herself wider, legs all wide enough for you. You lean back higher, sitting upright as she lets go of your face, her hands gripping your sheets instead to hold herself together.

Another cry, “You feel so good, so fucking good.” It only pushes you even more.

Her slick easily drips down onto your sheets, just as her tears did. She pools underneath your hand, her cunt pulsing around nothing as she stains your sheets as if they were hers. You leaned your hand lower, circling her tight hole, just to tease her–receiving another pathetic whine. Only to gather some of her slick, coating them on your fingers as you rub small patterns onto her swollen nub.

She’s so full of filth that you can barely gather any friction anymore.

It’s like she waited for this, wanted you in this way for so long. Now that she’s here, on your bed, on top of your sheets, completely naked for only your eyes to see, she doesn’t plan on leaving you any time soon.

Your knees rest on her side, leaning up just to watch her tears fall for you, mouth all swollen from your lips, sweat breaking down at the side of her temple, and some that clings underneath her full breasts. 

It’s a priceless sight, one you’ll never forget.

Her fingers wrap around your wrist suddenly, stopping you as you hesitate, thinking that you must’ve done something wrong.

“Don’t fucking tease me.” She cries, eyes nearly begging for it, “Fill me up with your fingers. Please, baby. Please.”

The sound fills your ears to the point that it's enough for the same sentence to repeat in your head.

You sigh softly, following her words thoroughly.

You push two fingers in, her pussy instantly clenching around you.

Manon’s head presses further into your pillows, back arching so perfectly for you, her breasts in the air, knees barely giving out to hold herself still. “Fuck,” She whimpers, head turned to your pillows just to swallow down the sounds and breathe in your smell.

You pump her in, your thumb finding a rhythm on her clit as your fingers move inside. You’re mesmerized by the sight, the way her cunt swallows you in like it was just molded for your fingers, wraps around it like it’s just made for you. 

She’s so wet, so drenched that your fingers slide in with ease, moves with such purpose. She reacts so pretty for you, each thrust has her arms thrashing out around you. Legs barely holding still by how easily you fuck her, so tight, so warm.

You’ve never felt so lucky.

To feel her, to hear her in a way that only you now could ever. 

You add a third finger inside, and she nearly screams.

She sobs into your pillow, drool falling onto the pillowcase as she cries into it. Your scent lingering in her nose as she inhales it, her tears drenching the fabric. She feels so full around your fingers, can’t stop pulsing, clenching by how good you’re making her feel.

“So good.” Another sob, quieter. Your wrist begins to ache, but her encouragement furthers you in deeper.

You curl your fingers in at the spot she likes, earning another whimper. You force yourself deeper, your knuckles reaching inside of her cunt, loosening her up.

Just as you were about to force your fingers in deeper, her hand reached out to cup your face once more. Eyes and lips swollen, sweat sticking onto her skin, breathless from how worked up you had gotten her.

You fuck her through it all, every shudder she gives you, every breathless moan she lets out. You take it in, you want it all to yourself because every single reaction she gives you, everything she owes you, it all belongs to you now.

Her hand slowly trails lower, behind your neck. She makes you lean down, forcing yourself to put your weight onto your knees, but even then, you never stop thrusting inside of her—the sounds echoing onto your walls. Her pretty cunt squelching, pulsing, wrapped around your skin. Your thumb rubbing soft patterns on her little nub.

It’s only when she brings your other hand, carefully, gradually making your fingers wrap around her throat.

Your eyes widen at the realization.

She wants you to choke her.

Manon nods, laughing sickenly, acting as if this were an innocent request.

“It’s okay,” Her tears glistening underneath the light, “Choke me.”

You exhaled shakily, you had no choice but to listen.

Your fingers wrap around her throat, squeezing them almost immediately. Manon’s mouth widens more for you, her spit drooling out at the corner of her lips as you grip her throat harder, making her take it all in.

“Yes–” She gasps, not before choking slightly as your thrusts begin to feel much harsher, faster inside of her cunt that it's soaking everywhere. Your sheets, hands, it's nearly too much for her. But she wants to take it all in, wants to be good for you, show you how much she wants you. “Fuck–”

Your thumb presses hard in the middle of her throat, right where it bobs as she swallows, the act has her eyes rolling back, head smushed further into your pillows. You feel her cunt pulsing so tightly that it forces your fingers to stay still, her legs shudder tremendously, arms straining to clutch against your sheets.

All you could do was watch how pretty she comes for you.

Manon finally falls apart for you, your hand wrapped around her neck, the other sinking deep into your cunt, watching the way she comes down from her high.

“You did so well.” You immediately prepper her with small kisses all over her face, whimpering at how soft you suddenly became after fucking her thoroughly. “My girl, my pretty girl.”

The name has her heart clenching.

She leans up, reaches a hand over you to pull you into another kiss. Not before she switches your position with hers, making you lie on your back, her mouth never leaving yours as you did. Pulls away just in time, that has you swaying forward, already missing the touch on your lips.

Her lips trailed all over you, your own tears nearly breaking free again just by the feeling of. She presses another few kisses on your lips, then one to each of your cheeks, trails higher to kiss on the underside of your eyes.

She gives the same attention to your jaw, kissing her way down to your neck, each of your breasts, down your stomach, and settles in between your thighs.

You’re drenched.

It’s like the sight of your cunt unlocked something inside of her. She spreads your legs wider for a better view, letting the stretch hurt you just a bit. You ignore it, the sight of her eyes on your pussy was far more important than worrying about anything else.

Manon presses your thighs back to either side of your cheek, rubbing the skin softly against hers, sighing softly. You can’t help the whimper that falls free from you, like she’s engraving your skin onto hers, turning her head just slightly to give a kiss on your inner thigh. Her eyelashes flutter on your skin as she watches your breasts rise up and down, your uneven rhythm of breathing becomes more apparent.

Her hands dig into your thighs, and before you know it, her tongue slides against your folds.

You moan instantly, the sound uncontrollable.

She tastes you out slowly, letting the taste linger on her tongue. She pulls away briefly to spread your lips in front of her, the act having the blush rise on your cheeks. Your lips pull apart, exposing your needy clit, all swollen, your tight cunt just below it, clenching over nothing.

Her lips wrap around your clit, sucking it in harshly. 

Your back nearly leaves the mattress, but she forces a hand down on your stomach to keep still. You can’t help but cry from her mouth on you, her tongue already swirling around the small nub, switching between sucking it and licking it up.

Manon leans down lower, teasing your entrance with the tip of her tongue as she scoops some of your slick, letting it fall to your clit as she leans back up. All before repeating the same thing over and over again, leaving you breathless.

“Manon–” Her name falls out like a prayer. Her eyes meet back onto your face, eyes watering again, mouth red and swollen from earlier.

It urges her, she can’t stop anymore.

She grazes your clit with her teeth, making you jolt, her name breathless around your mouth. Manon flicks her tongue on you, small, careful patterns that you couldn’t help but grind your hips deeper into her mouth. Her nose bumps into you slightly, inhaling the filth that falls out of you. You were so desperate for it, practically begging for more of her mouth on you.

She senses it too, your dripping down into her mouth, forcing her to swallow everything you give her. It falls from her chin, and some leaks through your sheets. 

“All mine.” She mumbles. Manon eats you out messily, like she was starved for days, and you were her final meal. Eyes rolling back as if she was getting off by your pussy in her mouth. “This pussy is mine. You’re mine.” You whimper at her voice, dripped into possessiveness. 

Your hands tangle into her scalp, her hair trapped in between. You braced yourself, feet flat on the mattress, hips lifting your ass just a bit. You make sure her face never leaves your cunt, pushing her into it further, barely able to even breathe. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. You began fucking her face relentlessly, her tongue messy all over your cunt, slightly dipping into it before swirling the tip of her tongue back onto your sensitive clit. Her hands lowering, digging her nails into your ass, each of your thighs wrapped around her face, that even if you closed them just slightly, she’ll suffocate around you.

Manon slurps in haphazardly when her lips wrap around your hole, your taste pools into her mouth with each, the taste filling up her senses that it has her hand reaching down to her stomach, in between her thighs–to play with her clit, just from the taste of you alone.

You were too close, too near to notice how desperate she was becoming just by you flooding into her lips. She swallows it all down, her throat bobbing as she sucks all of your taste in, your slick is all that she tastes.

Your hips become loose, your orgasm reaching into you. The pattern of your rhythm on her mouth starts to become uneven, her lips never leaving your pussy, drunk on the taste, too good to tear her mouth away from.

When she tests something out–dipping her tongue inside of you fully, your walls clench around the muscle almost immediately. Right there and then, you finally come, and she swallows it up, gulping everything down because it's all yours to take.

You fall apart, just as beautifully as she did.

Your chest heaves heavier, your heart pounding in your chest that for a brief second, it's all you hear. Until you felt her tongue lapping around your cunt again, not to stimulate, just to clean. She shushes you softly before you could release another whine. Your eyes close, your energy already gone. But a knowing smile falls upon your face.

Manon climbs back onto you, her bare skin meeting yours as it did before–it's only when she reaches higher to rub your cheek with her thumb, the palm of her hand against your skin, that you open your eyes.

Beautiful.

She’s so beautiful.

Manon smiles with you, and you plan to make that same smile stay on her face for as long as she’ll let you.

Your head turns just to meet her hand, you kiss the skin softly. Her breath hitches, but the soft smile remains on her pretty face. You were gentle with her, as you always were. She didn’t think she was worth it enough to even deserve such kind acts from you, not until now. Not until you showed her that even her flaws were what made her perfect.

The softness of it overwhelms her—it’s not hunger, not desperation anymore, but something far better, hope. It scares her how much she wants to sink into it, to let herself believe she could live inside this moment forever. The moment the two of you made

You feel her thumb trace over your lips, lingering like she’s memorizing the shape of you. Her smile wavers, not from doubt like before, but with delicacy that she knew she might not be able to leave you behind as she did before. That you made her feel brave, you made her feel seen when no one else would even think to try.

And before you knew it, her lips were pressing onto yours.

She doesn’t taste like cigarettes anymore.

She tastes like you.

Manon smiles on your lips, a laughter breaking through like she still didn’t believe that this was real. She pulls away to press a kiss on the side of your jaw before burying her nose into the side of your neck, her body falling on top of yours. You immediately wrap your arms around her like it was made to be there.

“I love you.” Manon murmurs, the words barely audible, lips stuck onto your skin. But she said it, and it was real, and it was true. “I don’t know if I deserve to say it out loud, but I do.” She breathes you in, “I really, really do.”

And you know she means it, because her heart finds the same rhythms as yours do. Her heartbeat pounding against your own chest, the only other sound of her breathing was the sound of her heart. And you just knew, you wouldn’t be able to let her go.

Your head faces hers just in time as she lifts your own, “I love you.” You repeat the words as you lean in, “You don’t have to deserve it, you already have it.”

“It’s only ever been you.”

Manon's smile widens, the curve of her mouth stretching her face. The sound of her laughter fills the silence all around, not until you take her breath away for what had seemed to be the hundredth time as you steal a kiss.

And in that kiss, her lips on top of your own, touches in the warmth of her laughter that stays stuck in between you. That makes her realize that there’s nothing else to run from—because for the first time, she’s finally home.

And so are you.

[notonlyst]

Some Hearts Never Leave

Info: Manonxmascreader

Summary: Y/ns sister Daniela invites some of her friends over for a sleepover what Y/n didn’t know was that one of those friends was her ex who she had broken up with. After night time rolls over everyone goes to sleep but Manon can’t seem to fall asleep knowing that her ex was right across from the room she was staying in when she wonders to the kitchen she didn’t expect to see Y/n there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a particular kind of exhaustion that only came after soccer practice.

It wasn't just physical fatigue or sore muscles from hours of drills beneath the late afternoon sun. It was the kind that settled into Y/N's bones after captaining the team through another intense week, balancing expectations from coaches, younger players who looked up to her, and the constant social whirlwind that seemed to follow her everywhere she went. Between games, parties, team dinners, and classmates who always wanted her attention, her days were rarely quiet.

Most people assumed she loved that lifestyle.

Some days she did.

Other days, all she wanted was to drive home with the windows down, trade her cleats for pajamas, and sit somewhere no one expected anything from her.

Friday had been one of those days.

She pulled into the driveway just after sunset, cutting the engine and letting her forehead rest against the steering wheel for a brief second before exhaling. Her practice bag sat in the passenger seat beside her, half unzipped, a pair of shin guards poking out awkwardly.

The porch light was already on.

Through the front window she could see silhouettes moving around the living room.

Then she remembered.

Daniela's sleepover.

Her younger sister had spent the entire week reminding everyone in the house that a few of her closest friends would be staying over. There had been talk of movies, junk food, face masks, and enough snacks to feed an army

Y/N smiled to herself.

As loud as Daniela could be, seeing her excited always made the extra chaos worth it.

She grabbed her bag, locked the car, and headed inside.

The second she opened the front door she was greeted by laughter drifting from the living room and the unmistakable smell of freshly made popcorn.

"Knew you'd finally make it home," Daniela called without even looking away from the television.

Y/N kicked off her shoes near the entrance and walked farther into the house, offering an easy grin

"Captain duties ran late."

"You say that every Friday."

"Because it's true every Friday."

A chorus of amused greetings met her as Daniela's friends looked over.

Y/N waved casually.

"Hey, everyone.

Then her eyes landed on the final person sitting cross-legged near the corner of the couch.

And the rest of the room disappeared.

Manon.

She looked almost exactly the same as she had months ago, yet somehow different in all the ways that mattered. Her hair framed her face softly, one sleeve of her hoodie covering part of her hand as she held a bowl of popcorn in her lap. The movie's glow flickered across her features, but she wasn't watching the screen anymore.

She was looking directly at Y/N.

Neither of them spoke.

For one suspended moment, the chatter in the room faded into meaningless background noise.

It was just the two of them.

The girl who had ended things

And the girl who had never really understood why.

Y/N managed a quiet, "Hey, Manon."

Manon's lips curved into a polite smile that carried far too much sadness behind it.

"Hi."

Only two letters.

Yet somehow they held months of unanswered questions.

Daniela, completely oblivious to the silent conversation happening through exchanged glances alone, scooted over on the couch.

"Come watch with us!"

Y/N forced herself to look away first.

"In a minute. Let me shower after practice or everyone in here is going to regret inviting me."

The room laughed.

Everyone except Manon.

Because she remembered that Y/N always showered the second she got home from training.

She remembered little things like that.

Just as Y/N still remembered that Manon hated horror movies, always reached for the blue gummy candies first, and unconsciously tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear whenever she felt nervous.

Memories were funny that way.

They refused to disappear just because a relationship ended.

An hour later, freshly showered and dressed in black sweatpants and an oversized charcoal hoodie, Y/N wandered back downstairs carrying two cans of soda she'd grabbed from the refrigerator.

The movie had changed.

The lights were dimmer.

Daniela and most of her friends had shifted positions until they were piled together beneath blankets, laughing at scenes that weren't particularly funny.

Y/N settled into an empty armchair nearby.

She told herself she was watching the film.

She wasn't.

Every few minutes her attention drifted toward Manon.

Sometimes she'd catch Manon already looking.

Then, almost in sync, they'd both glance away.

No one else seemed to notice.

Daniela certainly didn't.

She was too busy arguing with one of her friends over which character was making the worst decisions.

At one point she tossed a pillow across the room.

Y/N caught it without looking and threw it back.

The room erupted into laughter.

Even Manon smiled.

Y/N saw it from the corner of her eye.

And despite everything, despite months apart and all the hurt that still lingered between them, that small smile managed to make the exhausting week feel lighter.

Maybe that was the problem.

Maybe it had always been the problem.

No matter how much distance she tried to create, no matter how convinced she became that Manon deserved someone quieter, gentler, more predictable than a loud soccer captain who lived life at full speed...

One look from Manon still unraveled every certainty she'd ever had.

She just didn't know that before the night was over, silence would finally give way to honesty.

The movie ended sometime after midnight, though Y/N couldn't have told anyone what it had been about.

If someone had asked her to explain the plot, she would have come up completely empty.

The only thing she remembered was the occasional burst of laughter from Daniela and her friends, the way bowls of popcorn were passed around the room, and the fact that every single time she happened to glance across the couch, she would find Manon already looking at her.

Neither of them ever held the eye contact for very long.

It was almost instinctive.

One would look.

The other would notice.

Then, as if worried they had been caught doing something forbidden, they would both quietly avert their gaze and pretend to be interested in anything else.

Months ago, those glances would have ended with a smile or a playful comment whispered under their breath.

Now they ended with silence.

And somehow the silence hurt more.

Y/N hated that she still noticed the little things.

She noticed that Manon still tucked her legs underneath herself whenever she sat on a couch for too long.

She noticed that she still laughed by covering part of her mouth with her sleeve.

She noticed that whenever Daniela got overly excited telling a story, Manon would instinctively glance toward Y/N, almost expecting the two of them to share the same amused reaction like they always used to.

Old habits refused to disappear.

Even after heartbreak.

Eventually Daniela stretched dramatically before standing up.

"I'm exhausted."

One by one, the girls agreed.

The blankets were gathered, empty bowls carried to the kitchen, and conversations shifted from movies to deciding who would sleep where.

Daniela pointed toward the hallway.

"You all know the drill. Extra blankets are in my closet."

Y/N quietly stood as well, collecting discarded soda cans and snack wrappers before anyone else could.

"Leave those," Daniela protested.

"I've got it."

"You always clean up."

"I know."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

It was such an ordinary exchange that no one paid attention.

Except Manon.

She watched Y/N move around the room picking up after everyone else without being asked, smiling politely whenever someone apologized for making a mess.

It reminded her of countless little moments from when they were together.

Y/N always looked intimidating to strangers—tall, athletic, usually dressed in dark clothes with an effortless confidence that made people assume she was aloof.

But behind closed doors, she was the one who remembered birthdays.

The one who carried extra jackets in case someone got cold.

The one who quietly washed dishes after family dinners before anyone noticed they needed washing.

The one who always made sure everyone else was taken care of before thinking about herself.

Manon had fallen in love with those quiet gestures long before she'd admitted it aloud.

Seeing them again only made missing her harder.

By one in the morning the house had settled into near silence.

Daniela and her friends disappeared into her bedroom upstairs, where muffled laughter continued for another twenty minutes before gradually fading away.

Doors closed.

Lights switched off.

The television downstairs finally went dark.

Y/N retreated to her own room at the opposite end of the hall.

She changed into her favorite pajamas—a faded black T-shirt and a pair of black-and-red plaid flannel pants that had survived years of washing—and sat on the edge of her bed.

Sleep should have come easily after a full day of practice.

Instead, she stared at the ceiling.

She'd spent months convincing herself she'd made the right decision.

Breaking up with Manon had shattered her own heart, but she'd believed it was an act of love.

She'd looked at their lives and only seen differences.

She was loud.

Impulsive.

Constantly surrounded by teammates and friends.

She enjoyed crowded celebrations and spontaneous road trips.

She could never sit still for long.

Manon, on the other hand, carried a quiet sort of peace wherever she went.

She preferred evenings with books and music over packed parties.

She listened more than she spoke.

She made every room feel calmer simply by existing in it.

Y/N had convinced herself someone like that deserved stability.

Someone softer.

Someone who wasn't always rushing from practice to events to competitions.

Someone who wouldn't accidentally drag Manon into a lifestyle she'd never asked for.

So she'd walked away before she could become a disappointment.

The problem was...

No amount of logic had made loving Manon any easier to stop.

Across the hall, Manon was lying awake too.

Daniela had long since fallen asleep beside two of her friends, blankets tangled around everyone in a way that looked wildly uncomfortable.

Soft breathing filled the room.

The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead.

But Manon couldn't close her eyes.

Seeing Y/N again had reopened feelings she'd spent months trying to bury.

The breakup had hurt, but what hurt even more was never understanding it.

There had been no betrayal.

No argument.

No dramatic fight.

Just Y/N gently telling her they were better apart.

That Manon deserved someone else.

Someone "better."

The words had never made sense.

To Manon, there had never been anyone better.

She had loved the way Y/N laughed too loudly at terrible jokes.

She had loved how she would absentmindedly rest a protective hand against the small of her back while guiding her through crowded places.

She had loved how every bouquet of flowers Y/N bought looked mismatched because she always chose whichever ones reminded her of Manon instead of following any color scheme.

Most of all, she had loved being loved by her.

And she'd never stopped.

After another failed attempt at sleeping, Manon carefully slipped out of bed so she wouldn't wake anyone.

The hallway was dark.

She padded quietly toward the stairs.

A glass of water, she figured, might help.

Maybe the cool air downstairs would settle her thoughts.

Maybe then she'd finally sleep

The house was asleep.

The kind of asleep that only settled in after a long day of noise and laughter, when every bedroom door had been closed and every light switched off except for the small one above the stove that Daniela's parents insisted on leaving on overnight. It cast a soft golden glow across the kitchen, leaving the rest of the downstairs wrapped in comfortable shadows.

Y/N hadn't planned on leaving her room.

She'd spent nearly forty minutes lying on her back, one arm tucked beneath her head as she stared at the ceiling, hoping exhaustion would eventually outweigh memory.

It never did.

Every time she closed her eyes, she found herself thinking about the way Manon had looked at her earlier that evening. There hadn't been anger in her expression. There hadn't even been disappointment anymore.

There had simply been sadness.

The kind that lingered.

The kind that came from loving someone after the relationship itself had already ended.

Eventually Y/N gave up.

She slid out of bed, ran a hand through her still-damp hair, and quietly made her way downstairs, the wooden steps creaking softly beneath her weight.

The kitchen was cool compared to the rest of the house.

She reached into the cabinet for a glass, filled it with water from the refrigerator dispenser, and leaned against the counter in silence.

For a long moment, she simply stood there.

The glass remained untouched in her hand.

Her thoughts drifted somewhere far away.

To the first time she'd held Manon's hand.

To late-night drives with the windows down and music too loud.

To afternoons spent sitting in parks after school, talking about everything and nothing until the sun disappeared.

To the day she'd ended it.

Even now she could remember the expression on Manon's face.

Not angry.

Just confused.

As if she couldn't understand why someone who claimed to love her was choosing to walk away.

The memory still made Y/N's chest ache.

She hadn't stopped loving Manon.

If anything, breaking up had only proved how deeply those feelings ran.

She'd simply convinced herself that loving someone also meant knowing when to let them go.

The quiet was interrupted by soft footsteps approaching from the hallway.

Y/N looked up.

Manon froze at almost the exact same moment.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Both stood there in oversized sleep clothes, illuminated only by the warm light above the stove, looking as though they'd accidentally wandered into the same dream.

Manon was the first to smile.

"A little late for a midnight snack."

Y/N glanced down at the untouched glass in her hand.

"I could say the same about you."

"I came for water."

"So did I."

Then, unexpectedly, laughed.

It wasn't loud.

Just enough to break the tension that had settled between them all evening.

Y/N gestured toward the island in the middle of the kitchen.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

Manon shook her head as she walked closer.

"I tried."

"Me too.”

"Didn't work."

"Not even a little."

She leaned against the opposite side of the island, leaving only a few feet between them.

Close enough to talk comfortably.

Far enough to respect the invisible distance that had existed ever since the breakup.

For a while they simply drank their water in companionable silence.

Oddly enough, it wasn't uncomfortable.

It felt familiar.

Like so many quiet nights they'd shared in the past when words hadn't been necessary.

Manon eventually broke the silence.

"You still wear plaid pajamas."

Y/N looked down at herself before letting out a quiet laugh.

"I forgot you hated them."

"I never hated them."

"You called them ugly."

"I called them tragic."

"That's worse."

"I also said you somehow made them look good."

Y/N couldn't help smiling.

"You did say that."

"I wasn't lying."

Another silence settled over them, but this one carried warmth instead of uncertainty.

Manon's eyes drifted upward until they met Y/N's again.

She held the gaze this time.

Didn't look away.

Neither did Y/N.

The seconds stretched longer than either expected.

There was something strangely vulnerable about seeing each other like this—no soccer uniform, no carefully chosen outfits, no audience, no distractions.

Just two people who had once known everything about each other.

The moment finally broke when Manon looked down into her glass.

Her voice was almost a whisper.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything."

She hesitated.

Not because she didn't know what she wanted to say.

Because she'd rehearsed the question in her head for months.

She'd imagined asking it over text.

Over the phone.

In person.

Then always talked herself out of it.

Now, standing in the quiet kitchen at nearly two in the morning, it suddenly felt impossible to hold back any longer.

"When we broke up..."

She paused.

"...was it really because you stopped loving me?"

The question hung in the air.

Y/N didn't answer immediately.

She couldn't.

Because the truth hurt.

And because the look on Manon's face made it painfully obvious that she'd been carrying that question with her every single day since they parted.

Y/N slowly set her glass down on the counter.

Then looked directly into Manon's eyes.

"No."

The single word came without hesitation.

"I never stopped loving you."

Manon's breath caught.

Y/N continued, her voice steady but quiet.

"Not for one day. Not for one hour. Not even for a minute."

The confession settled over the room like the first drops of rain before a storm.

Manon's fingers tightened around her glass.

"If that's true..."

Her voice trembled just enough to betray the emotion she'd been trying so hard to contain.

"...then why did you leave me?"

Y/N closed her eyes for the briefest moment before opening them again.

She knew there was no hiding anymore.

No excuses.

No half-truths.

If they were finally going to have this conversation, she owed Manon every piece of the truth she'd kept locked away.

And somewhere deep inside, she realized that perhaps she'd been waiting for this moment just as much as Manon had.

For a long moment after Manon's question, neither of them moved.

The refrigerator hummed softly in the background, the clock above the microwave ticked forward one second at a time, and somewhere upstairs Daniela shifted in her sleep, causing the old floorboards to creak before the house settled into silence once more.

Y/N stood with both hands wrapped around her glass of water, her thumbs tracing slow circles against the cool surface without realizing it. She had imagined this conversation more times than she could count. Sometimes it happened in the shower after practice. Sometimes during long drives home from away games. Sometimes when she was alone in her room late at night, replaying memories she should have let go of months ago.

But every version ended differently.

None of them had prepared her for the real thing.

None of them had prepared her for looking into Manon's eyes and seeing that she was still carrying the hurt Y/N herself had caused.

She let out a slow breath.

"I didn't leave because I fell out of love with you."

Manon didn't interrupt.

She simply listened.

"I left because I convinced myself that loving you wasn't enough."

The words sounded strange out loud, almost foolish, but Y/N forced herself to continue.

"I kept comparing us. I'd leave soccer practice covered in grass stains and bruises, then spend the evening at some loud team dinner or somebody's birthday party. My weekends were packed with games, tournaments, people shouting my name across campus, teammates dragging me into pictures, coaches calling my phone every five minutes."

She looked down at the water in her glass.

"And then I'd think about you."

A small smile touched her face.

"You always seemed so peaceful."

Manon's expression softened.

"You noticed that?"

"I noticed everything."

Y/N laughed quietly, though there wasn't much humor in it.

"You liked mornings. I preferred staying out too late. You'd rather spend an afternoon in a bookstore than at a crowded party. You could sit on a blanket in the park for two hours just watching the clouds, and somehow you never got bored."

She shook her head.

"I looked at us and thought... sooner or later, you're going to realize you deserve someone whose life moves at your pace."

The words finally landed between them.

Not as an excuse.

As a confession.

Manon's brows drew together.

"So instead of letting me decide that..."

"...I decided for you."

Y/N's voice was barely above a whisper.

"I know."

The silence that followed was heavier than any argument they had ever had.

Manon set her own glass on the counter and folded her arms loosely, not out of anger but because she needed something to hold onto.

"When you broke up with me," she said slowly, "I spent weeks wondering what I'd done wrong."

Y/N's head snapped up.

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"I thought maybe I wasn't exciting enough."

"You were more than enough."

"I thought maybe you got tired of me."

"I could never get tired of you."

"I even wondered if there was somebody else."

"There never has been."

Each answer came immediately.

No hesitation.

No uncertainty.

Only honesty.

Manon looked at her for another second before giving a sad little laugh.

"You know what's funny?"

"What?"

"You spent months trying to protect me from getting hurt..."

She took a small step closer.

"...and breaking up with me was the most painful thing anyone's ever done."

Y/N closed her eyes.

The words hit exactly where they were supposed to.

"I know."

"No."

Manon's voice remained gentle.

"I don't think you do."

She leaned her hip against the kitchen island, her gaze drifting toward the window where the dark backyard stretched into the night.

"I never wanted someone who was exactly like me."

She smiled faintly.

"I liked that you were loud."

Y/N looked at her.

"I liked that you couldn't walk through the grocery store without making friends with at least one stranger."

Another smile.

"I liked that every soccer game felt like the biggest event in the world because you threw your whole heart into it."

Her eyes met Y/N's again.

"And I liked that no matter how busy you were, you always made me feel like I was your favorite part of the day."

Y/N swallowed hard.

"I was afraid I was too much."

"You were exactly enough."

"I was afraid you'd wake up one day and realize we didn't fit."

Manon took another step.

Now they were standing so close that neither of them needed to raise their voices.

"I never thought we didn't fit."

She tilted her head slightly.

"I thought we balanced each other."

The kitchen seemed impossibly quiet.

Y/N could hear her own heartbeat.

Could hear Manon's breathing.

Could see the familiar way a strand of hair had fallen across Manon's forehead.

Without thinking, she reached up and tucked it gently behind her ear.

The movement was automatic.

The same one she'd done countless times when they were together.

For just a second, neither of them moved away.

Manon's eyes fluttered closed at the touch before opening again.

"I missed that," she admitted.

Y/N's hand lingered for only a heartbeat longer before dropping back to her side.

"I missed everything."

Another long silence settled between them.

This one wasn't uncomfortable.

It felt like standing at the edge of something important, both of them aware that one more honest sentence could change everything.

Manon looked down at the floor, then back up with a vulnerability Y/N had rarely seen.

"I tried to move on."

"So did I."

"It didn't work."

"It didn't for me either."

"I kept comparing everyone to you."

Y/N laughed softly through the emotion threatening to catch in her throat.

"I compared everyone to you too."

For the first time all night, they both smiled at exactly the same moment.

Not because the past suddenly stopped hurting.

But because, beneath all the misunderstandings and months apart, they were finally speaking the truth.

And for the first time since the breakup, it felt like the distance between them was beginning to disappear.

By now, the glasses of water they had poured for themselves had long since been forgotten.

They sat untouched on the kitchen island, tiny beads of condensation sliding down the sides and collecting in small rings on the countertop, abandoned in favor of a conversation that neither Y/N nor Manon had realized they had been waiting months to have.

Outside, the neighborhood was still wrapped in darkness. The streetlights spilled pale light across the driveway, and somewhere in the distance a dog barked once before everything fell quiet again.

Inside, time seemed to have slowed.

Y/N couldn't remember the last moment she'd been this close to Manon.

Close enough to notice the faint scent of vanilla from her shampoo.

Close enough to see the tiny crease that formed between her eyebrows whenever she was trying not to cry.

Close enough to realize that despite everything that had happened between them, her first instinct was still the same as it had always been.

Protect her.

If that meant standing in front of her, comforting her, making her laugh, or simply listening while she spoke, Y/N would do it without hesitation.

The problem was that she'd spent so long believing she wasn't the person Manon deserved that she'd never considered what Manon actually wanted.

Until now.

Manon looked down at her hands, gently twisting the sleeve of her sweatshirt around one finger before speaking again.

"Do you know what upset me the most?"

Manon answered honestly.

"I've thought about it every day, but I don't think I've ever figured it out."

"It wasn't that we broke up."

Those words caught Y/N off guard.

"It wasn't?"

Manon shook her head.

"It was that you made the decision alone."

She looked up, and there wasn't anger in her eyes anymore—only sincerity.

"You didn't ask me how I felt. You didn't tell me you were scared. You didn't give me the chance to tell you that I loved every loud, messy, unpredictable part of you."

Y/N felt something tighten painfully in her chest.

"I know."

"You decided what was best for me without letting me have a say."

"I did."

"And that hurt."

Y/N nodded slowly.

"I'm sorry."

The apology was quiet.

No excuses.

No attempts to justify what she'd done.

Just two words carrying months of regret.

"I thought I was protecting you."

"I know."

"I thought one day you'd wake up beside me and wish I were someone calmer."

Manon smiled through the sadness.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

"I liked that after your soccer games you'd call me before anyone else, still out of breath, just because you wanted to tell me about a goal you scored."

A tiny laugh escaped her.

"I liked that you danced terribly whenever a good song came on."

"You always made fun of my dancing."

"Because it was awful."

"It was not."

"It absolutely was."

They both laughed, and the tension that had wrapped itself around the kitchen loosened just enough to let warmth back in.

Manon's expression softened again.

"I liked that every room felt brighter when you walked into it."

The smile on Y/N's face faded into something more vulnerable.

"I thought I was too much."

"You've never been too much."

"I worried I'd overwhelm you."

"You never overwhelmed me."

"I thought you needed someone quieter."

"I needed you."

The sentence landed so gently that Y/N almost missed its weight.

Neither of them spoke after that.

There was nothing left to argue.

No misunderstanding waiting to be untangled.

Only the truth, sitting quietly between them.

After a long moment, Y/N let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"I haven't gone a single day without thinking about you."

Manon's eyes widened slightly.

"Neither have I."

"I still drive past that café where we'd get coffee after your classes."

"I still order your drink by accident."

"I still have the hoodie you left at my place."

"I still sleep with the stuffed bear you won me at the fair."

Y/N blinked.

"You kept it?"

"I keep everything that reminds me of you."

For reasons she couldn't explain, that nearly broke her.

She looked away, blinking rapidly.

Manon noticed immediately.

Manon got closer.

The movement was slow, almost hesitant, as though she was giving Y/N every opportunity to pull away.

She didn't.

Instead, Y/N stayed exactly where she was.

Close enough that she could see her own reflection in Manon's eyes.

Close enough that she could hear the slight hitch in Manon's breathing.

"You know," Manon whispered, "I've imagined this conversation a hundred times."

"So have I."

"In mine, you always walked away before I could say what I really wanted."

"And what did you want to say?"

Manon's smile was small but genuine.

"That I never stopped loving you."

The words settled over Y/N like the first rays of sunlight after a sleepless night.

She reached out instinctively, her hand finding Manon's and threading their fingers together.

It felt achingly familiar.

As though months apart had disappeared in an instant.

"I never stopped loving you either.”

Their joined hands rested between them.

Neither wanted to let go.

"I've missed this," Manon admitted.

"The hand-holding?"

"Being close to you."

Y/N's thumb brushed gently across the back of Manon's hand.

"I've missed it too."

For several heartbeats, they simply stood there, saying nothing.

The silence wasn't empty anymore.

It was peaceful.

Healing.

The kind of silence that only exists when two people finally stop pretending.

Somewhere upstairs, one of the girls turned over in her sleep, causing a faint creak in the floorboards.

The sound reminded them where they were.

Still, neither moved.

Neither stepped back.

The space between them had become almost nonexistent.

Y/N and Manon stood in the middle of the kitchen with their hands still intertwined, the silence stretching comfortably around them as if the house itself understood that something important was happening. The small light above the stove cast a warm glow over the room, softening the edges of everything it touched, and for the first time in months neither of them felt the need to look away.

Y/N studied Manon's face with quiet disbelief.

She'd spent so long teaching herself not to stare that allowing herself to do it now almost felt unfamiliar. She noticed the tiny dimple that appeared whenever Manon smiled without realizing it, the loose strand of hair that had escaped behind her ear again, the way her eyes always seemed to brighten whenever they met Y/N's.

It struck her then that no amount of time apart had changed the way she looked at Manon.

She had only tried to convince herself otherwise.

"I owe you more than an apology," Y/N said softly.

Manon squeezed her hand.

"You don't owe me perfection."

"I know."

"You don't owe me a version of yourself that's quieter or calmer."

"I know."

"What I wanted was honesty."

Y/N nodded.

"And you deserve that."

She let out a slow breath, almost as if she were letting go of the guilt she'd been carrying ever since the breakup.

"When I ended things, I thought I was sacrificing my own happiness for yours. I told myself that if I really loved you, I'd step aside and let you find someone who fit your world better."

Her laugh was quiet and self-deprecating.

"But every morning after that, I'd wake up and reach for my phone because I wanted to text you. Every time something funny happened at practice, you were the first person I wanted to tell. Every win felt incomplete because I couldn't look into the stands hoping to find you smiling back at me."

She swallowed.

"I kept trying to build a life without you in it."

Her eyes met Manon's.

"It never worked."

By the time she finished speaking, Manon's own eyes had begun to shimmer.

Not dramatically.

Just enough for the emotion to show.

She stepped a little closer until the sleeves of Y/N's black T-shirt brushed lightly against her own.

"I need to tell you something too."

Y/N listened without interrupting.

"The day we broke up, I went home and deleted every message I'd typed to you."

"You did?

"I wrote dozens."

"What did they say?"

Manon smiled sadly.

"Mostly questions."

She looked down for a second before continuing.

"I wanted to ask if I'd done something wrong. I wanted to ask if there was someone else. I wanted to ask if you'd stopped loving me."

A pause.

"But the message I wrote the most..."

She lifted her gaze again.

"...was asking you to come back."

Y/N's heart ached.

"I almost did."

"You almost called?"

"So many times."

"What stopped you?"

"The fear that I'd hurt you again."

Manon shook her head gently.

"You know what hurt the most?"

"What?"

"Thinking that maybe you were happier without me."

Y/N answered before the sentence had fully left her lips.

"I wasn't."

Not for a second.

Not for a day.

Not once.

The certainty in her voice left no room for doubt.

A small smile spread across Manon's face, fragile but genuine.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

For another long moment they simply looked at each other.

There was no audience.

No soccer teammates.

No friends teasing them.

No expectations.

Just two people standing barefoot in a quiet kitchen at nearly three in the morning, finally admitting what had been true all along.

Y/N reached up almost absentmindedly and brushed a curl away from Manon's face.

Her fingertips lingered for only a moment before she spoke.

"I made a terrible mistake."

Manon didn't argue.

"You did."

"I thought letting you go was the kind thing to do."

"I know."

"It wasn't."

"No."

"I'm sorry."

The words came from somewhere deep inside her.

Not rushed.

Not rehearsed.

Simply honest.

Manon looked at her with so much affection that it made Y/N wonder how she'd ever believed she wasn't worthy of it.

Then, without warning, Manon took Y/N's free hand as well.

Now both of Y/N's hands were held gently between hers.

"I forgave you a long time ago."

Y/N blinked.

"You did?"

"I never stopped loving you long enough to stay angry."

The admission settled over them quietly.

Y/N's shoulders relaxed, the weight she'd been carrying seeming to lift all at once.

"I don't want to lose you again."

"Then don't."

"I mean it."

"So do I."

Y/N stepped forward until only inches separated them.

Her voice dropped to almost a whisper.

"If we do this again... if you let me be yours again... I won't make decisions for both of us anymore."

Manon's expression softened.

"We'll make them together."

"Together."

"I don't care that you're loud."

"I know."

"I don't care that you're always busy with soccer."

"I know."

"I don't care that our personalities are different."

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's mouth.

"You actually like that part."

"I love that part."

The word love lingered between them.

It wasn't accidental.

Neither tried to take it back.

Y/N's eyes flickered down to Manon's lips for the briefest second before returning to meet her gaze.

"I'm going to ask instead of assume this time."

Manon waited patiently.

"Can I kiss you?"

The smile that appeared on Manon's face was brighter than any answer she could have spoken.

She gave the smallest nod.

"You've been allowed to."

Y/N closed the remaining distance with all the care in the world.

The kiss wasn't rushed or desperate.

It was gentle.

As their lips moved together it was tentative at first, as though they were relearning something that had always belonged to them, before the hesitation melted away into quiet certainty.

Months of missing each other, of wondering, of second-guessing, dissolved into a single shared moment that felt less like starting over and more like finally finding their way home.

When they eventually pulled apart, neither moved very far.

Their foreheads rested together, both smiling in the soft kitchen light.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh.

"I've wanted to do that for months."

"I've been waiting for you to."

Another silence followed, this one warm enough to make the entire room feel different.

Then Y/N spoke again, her tone carrying a sincerity that reached all the way back to the night she'd walked away.

"I need you to hear this."

Manon looked up.

"I'm listening."

Y/N gently squeezed her hands.

"I am never leaving you because I'm scared again."

She paused, making sure every word was clear.

"If something's wrong, we'll talk. If I'm overwhelmed, I'll tell you. If I'm worried, I'll let you in instead of pushing you away."

Her eyes didn't leave Manon's.

"And as long as you want me in your life, I will keep choosing you."

Manon's own smile wavered as emotion caught up with her.

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Y/N without a word.

Y/N hugged her back instantly, holding her with the kind of certainty she'd denied herself for months.

In the quiet stillness of the sleeping house, with Daniela and her friends unaware upstairs and dawn still hours away, the promise settled between them—not as something dramatic, but as something steady.

For a while, neither of them made any move to leave the kitchen.

The conversation had ended, but the comfort of simply standing beside one another lingered in the quiet of the sleeping house. Y/N's fingers were still loosely intertwined with Manon's, and every so often her thumb would absentmindedly brush across the back of Manon's hand, a familiar gesture that neither of them had realized they had missed until it returned.

Eventually, Manon glanced toward the staircase and let out a tiny sigh.

"We should probably get some sleep."

Y/N nodded with a reluctant smile.

"Probably."

Neither of them moved.

Manon laughed softly.

"We're doing a terrible job at that."

"I know."

Another beat of silence passed before Manon looked back at her, a hint of nervousness creeping into her expression.

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Always."

She hesitated only for a second.

"I don't really want to go back to Daniela's room."

Y/N tilted her head.

"You don't?"

Manon shook her head, the corners of her lips lifting into a shy smile.

"I kind of... want to stay with you tonight."

Those words settled warmly in Y/N's chest.

She searched Manon's face, making sure she wasn't saying it out of sadness or impulse, only finding quiet certainty looking back at her.

"Are you sure?"

Manon stepped a little closer.

"I spent months sleeping without you."

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I don't want to do that tonight."

Y/N didn't answer with words.

Instead, she gently squeezed Manon's hand and led her upstairs.

The hallway remained dark and still, every bedroom door closed, Daniela and her friends fast asleep and completely unaware that just a few feet away two people who had once lost each other had quietly found their way back.

Inside Y/N's room, the atmosphere felt instantly calmer.

Moonlight spilled through the curtains in pale silver streaks, painting soft patterns across the floor. Y/N reached over to switch on the small lamp beside her bed, filling the room with a warm amber glow before pulling back the blankets.

"It's not fancy," she said with a small laugh.

Manon looked around.

"It feels like home."

Those four words meant more to Y/N than she could explain.

They climbed into bed settling beneath the covers with a comfortable familiarity that surprised them both. There was no awkwardness, no uncertainty about where to sit or how close to be. It was as though months apart had done nothing to erase the quiet rhythm they had once shared.

After a moment, Manon shifted closer until she rested against Y/N's side.

Almost instinctively, Y/N wrapped an arm around her.

Neither commented on it.

It simply felt right.

The room grew still again.

Outside, the wind rustled gently through the trees, and somewhere far away a car passed before disappearing into the night.

Manon let out a contented breath.

"I missed this."

"So did I."

"I missed feeling safe."

Y/N looked down at her.

"You've always been safe with me."

"I know."

The certainty in Manon's answer made Y/N smile.

She adjusted the blanket around them, making sure Manon was warm before settling back against the pillows.

For several minutes they simply lay there, talking about little things they'd missed: a café that had closed, a teacher Daniela still complained about, an old inside joke that somehow remained funny despite the time apart.

Every now and then their laughter would fade into comfortable silence.

Every now and then Manon would look up at Y/N with a softness that spoke louder than words ever could.

Just before sleep began to claim them, Manon reached up and pressed a gentle kiss against Y/N's cheek.

It lingered for only a heartbeat.

Y/N smiled, turned slightly, and returned the affection with an equally tender kiss to Manon's forehead.

No urgency.

No fear.

Just reassurance.

They drifted off that way, wrapped in the same blanket and in each other's arms, exchanging a few sleepy whispers and quiet goodnights until conversation gave way to silence.

By the time the first hints of dawn crept toward the horizon, both of them were fast asleep—holding each other close, breathing in unison, and finding comfort in the simple promise that when morning came, neither would wake up alone.

[jusscallmeky]

Unspoken

Sorority Girl Daniela x nerd!masc!gp!reader || Non Idol Au

Summary — when you leave campus seeing Daniela storming past you crying, you comfort her. Never had you interacted before but you’ve always had a thing for her.

Contact warnings — no plot, smut, soft dom Daniela, love bombings, unprotected sex, comfort sex, established relationship in the end, slapping (light degradation), spit play, mentions of cheating, reader is a gentlewoman, aftercare, soft and slow sex, creampie, big d reader, mommy kink, reader isn’t inexperienced but treats it like first time.

Authors Note — this was a pretty cool idea and honestly, there might be multiple parts to this, so thank you to the person who requested it. Hopefully you enjoy it! There will be a Manon fic next and then a Sophia one afterwards!!

@miniaturenachoo ; your request! :)

-

It was a long day. Like, unnecessarily long.

Classes were hell and not only that, but you also hadn't gotten the chance to eat lunch earlier. You were so backed up on your main studies that you sometimes completely forgot you had other classes you took and definitely needed. Considering you were passing all of them, you guessed it was okay. Since classes were over and it was a Friday, that meant you could relax all day—until Monday unfortunately.

Looking at your phone and the time, it was 5:45 PM.

There wasn't much you liked to do on a Friday except relax, so that was your plan. Maybe rent a few bad movies, buy a shit ton of snacks and binge watch television. You were walking to your car, the sight alone being like a breath of fresh air. As you got up close to it, you stood there and placed your phone in your jacket pocket. You were now fishing for your keys, hearing the jingle as you dug into the pocket.

You went to pull your keys out but as you did, a loud sound erupted and caused you to jump—your keys falling to the ground. Your eyes trailed up to see the source—it was Daniela, who slammed the door open with almost all her strength. Daniela Avanzini, the sorority girl you have had a crush on for as long as you could remember. You can't even remember when the crush started, you just saw her and it developed.

It wasn't a shocker though because maybe ninety percent of the university had a crush on her. Almost every day when you walked the halls or sat in class, there'd be someone talking about how badly they wanted her. Unfortunately for you, you were amongst one of those people that did. But you've been classified as a nerd on multiple occasions and Daniela made it clear she only liked frat guys.

You weren't trying to stare at her, but when you noticed the angry strides she took, you couldn't help but wonder why. You've maybe spoken to Daniela a few times since you've attended college with her and it wasn't because you didn't want to, it was just the simple fact that you knew she would shut you down. In the past, you only talked because you were tasked to help her with assignments.

But this time, you wanted to see what was wrong.

Because now that you see her, you saw the tears streaming down her face too—the mascara darkening her cheeks slighty.

You were afraid to say anything to her honestly, but you were also too caring. Maybe a little nosey when it came to her.

You picked your keys up and called out, "Hey Daniela," her head turning to you slightly but continuing on her way. You didn't want to seem creepy, but you started jogging up to her, seeing her not speeding up but continuing on her way, "Daniela, wait!" You watched her slow down slightly, letting you finally catch up as you adjusted your bag on your back, trying not to let it fall while you trailed behind her.

She wasn’t looking at you, “what do you want?” Her voice came out almost harsh, like she didn’t want to be bothered and honestly—she clearly didn’t. But you just wanted to delusionally comfort her in your own way, and she possibly knew that.

"Hey, sorry to bother you but uh..."

"Then why are you bothering me?" She asked, still not taking a single glance at you.

You chuckled awkwardly, "that's a fair point but I couldn't help but notice you're clearly pissed off and..." you were walking so fast trying to keep up that you were bumping into a lot of objects in your way, "and I was just trying to see what was wrong if that's not a weird thing to do." That finally got her to stop, you almost fumbling over your own two feet to turn to her, now completely seeing her face.

Oh, she was hurt by something.

You almost never seen her unhappy let alone cry.

Her arms folded over her chest; her purse being sandwiched between her forearm and her chest. Her head tilted slightly, "why the hell do you care? I didn't ask you to come check up on me." She was very upset so you could understand how she felt.

You nodded and licked your lips nervously, pulling your bag strap firmly on your arm to keep yourself steady. "I uh-I don't know. I just saw you crying and clearly upset so I kind of just wanted to make sure you were okay." She stared at you hard, holding your gaze deeply which caused you to swallow nervously.

Her head tilted upward questionably, "why?" She asked, almost a whisper.

You could hardly continue, your lips quivering trying to spit anything out. Her eyebrow raised, waiting for you to continue, "just because you're always happy and in a good mood and I guess I was just a little concerned, that's all." You explained it softly, Daniela staring at you like you just said the dumbest thing ever. She was very unreadable, and her stare was so predatory it had you almost walking away.

"Are you okay?" You asked her after she didn't reply, still not getting a reply from her. It's like she wanted to say something but at the same time, you two didn't really know each other. You literally only occasionally spoke a few times and if she was being honest, you're very nice to her. She didn't have a reason to be mean to you and she knew that but at the same time, she was just upset for her own reasons.

You swallowed and reached a hand out, not touching her, just trying to keep her attention. "Look I can see you're headed in the direction of the sorority house," you informed her, "and I know your boyfriend usually takes you there but considering he's not here right now and you're upset, I'm sure you were going to walk there." You weren't trying to offend her, but when you said boyfriend she looked more upset.

"Bye, ____," she said, going to resume walking.

"No no no, Daniela wait," you gently caught her wrist and this time, she stopped and didn't look annoyed, "I was just going to ask you if you wanted a ride there? I know by car it's like fifteen minutes from here and on foot it would be way longer," she seemed to soften at that which caused you to let her wrist go, "I can take you back there, if you need me to." You offered, seeing her eyes trailing from your feet and back to your face.

She stared at you for a moment, seeing the hopeful look in your eyes. You weren't trying to be weird but at the same time you knew you wouldn't feel right letting her walk back when it would be dark before she even got back. Daniela knew she didn't really want to walk back home, especially since it was also cold too and of course getting dark soon as well. She sighed and nodded, "okay. Yeah."

You let out a breath that you weren't aware that you were holding. You smiled at her, and just for comfort, you reached your hand out and she surprisingly took it. She instantly felt like her entire body relaxed. Not only was your hand super soft, but you were very warm and soothing but not only that, you were just extremely sweet. Daniela felt like she was about to melt from being treated so nicely after what just happened.

When you got to your car, you clicked the unlock button twice to unlock all the doors. You guided her to the passenger side and opened the door for her, watching how she almost elegantly entered your car and let your hand go. You waited for her to pull her legs inside before you softly closed the door behind her with a soft thud. Your heart was basically beating out of your chest; did you really just get the Daniela Avanzini in your car?

Yes, you did.

You opened the backdoor and put your bookbag in it.

After, you walked to your side and pulled the door open, taking your seat as you sat in the driver side and shut the door once you were situated. The sound of the doors locking automatically made the situation even more real, but the sound of her putting on her seatbelt made it almost way too real. You did the same and then turned your car on, the sound of the of your music coming on; being soft and very low.

You turned the heat up just slightly on her side, just to make sure she was warm. "Is that okay?" You asked her, seeing her only nodding which made you do the same. You looked at her again for a second, seeing the still ruined mascara on her face. You reached over her, her eyes following as you pulled open your glove compartment. You had tissues in there, paper towels for when you ate in your car during lunch.

You pulled some paper towels out, "here you go." You softly offered, Daniela eyes looking at yours before she took it.

It was nice interacting with her, but you were still curious why she was crying in the first place. You reversed out of the parking lot and began on your way. You've driven past the sorority house before because it was on the way to your off-campus apartment. The sound of the soft music mingled with the soft hum of your car was soothing. There wasn't as much traffic luckily for you two.

It was really silent and you didn't want to get in her business, but you also didn't want her to be uncomfortable or anything. You coughed softly to get her attention which you did, "you hungry? We can get some food before I drop you off, if you want to?" You didn't know it, but you were for sure having an effect on her. What kind of effect, she wasn't quite sure, but it felt so nice to be talked to so sweetly.

You were showing nothing but genuine care and if Daniela was being honest, that had her feeling less sad. She nodded, "I wouldn't mind getting food. Shake shack, if that's cool." She replied, her eyes turning from looking out the window to now staring forward. You just nodded a couple times, of course that was okay. You actually enjoyed food from there too and if she liked it, then that was definitely nice in a way.

You swallowed before asking her, "may I ask you why you were crying? I legit don't think I've ever seen you sad before."

She didn't answer for a second, you almost regretting asking before you stopped at a stop sign. You saw the flash of her phone screen from your right and when you turned your head, you saw she was showing you a text conversation. It was one of those, "Hey girlie," messages. You nodded, reading the long paragraph from a woman that she didn't know. She was explaining how her and Daniela's boyfriend had been hooking up for a while.

Daniela pulled the phone back and scrolled, turning the phone to you and showing you a picture of her boyfriend and clearly another woman kissing. You didn't know what to say because how could anyone cheat on someone as beautiful as her? Maybe it was an insecurity that he had or he's just a plain ole cheater. You watched her face carefully, seeing how she seemed to be more and more upset at the sight.

Daniela let out a sigh, "I already figured he was doing something behind my back," she said, "I just hate how men will come back to you after knowing they have someone else. It literally pisses me off so bad." She pulled her phone back, turning the screen off and placing it in her purse. You had almost forgot you were at a stop sign; too entranced in what she was telling you.

You nodded once and then a few more times before turning back to the road and proceeding to drive. "Well, it's definitely his loss, Daniela," you told her and caught her attention, "because in the end, the one who is unfaithful always loses. They'll realize that nothing and no one will make them happy, so they will end up just being alone." You didn't see it, but she smiled softly at that. "And you win by not going back. By realizing-you are most certainly the prize."

She tried to contain her smile, but you caught it and it came out, "I'm not going back at all. He's been texting me, but I already gave up on that. This isn't the first time he's made me feel like shit." You hummed questionably, waiting for her to continue, "when we're out, he looks at other women so fucking hard like I kid you not ____, he would break his neck to look at another woman walk by."

You scoffed, "what the fuck?" You asked, "so you're telling me that he has a ten out of ten girlfriend who looks like a super model and he still wants the attention of other women?" You looked at her for a second and saw her nod, causing you to shake your head, "I think men are the dumbest creatures to ever exist because what do you mean you can live with the fact that you fumbled someone this beautiful? Come on!"

That actually made her laugh, the sound catching your ears in the most beautiful way. You smiled to yourself before saying, "I'm serious Daniela. He has to be the dumbest person alive to fumble you. Like there's so many people on campus that wants you and he fumbled so fucking hard. Like that's actually so crazy to me." You insinuated every word with a small tap on your steering wheel.

Daniela sat up straighter in her seat, "that's how men are, unfortunately. They will never be satisfied with just one woman."

"And I mean never, they're so unbearable," you said, both of you chuckling before a soft and charming silence overtook you.

She would occasionally take glances at you, realizing just how soft and sweet you were. The times you had spoken, you were always so nice to her. You were one of the few people that didn't try to impress her or try to get in her pants just because. You were so respectful no matter what and now that she's thinking on it, she's wondering why she had never tried to form a friendship with you. You seemed like a genuine person.

There are definite signs in people that shows that they're just straight assholes, but you for sure weren't. She could look at you from a mile away and can tell you had a pure heart. She knawed on her bottom lip softly, trying to distract her thoughts. Being at this close proximity to you, she could really pick up on your personality. Your clothes were always clean; your car was clean and smelled great.

Small things about you she noticed. And it wasn't because she was overanalyzing you, she was just able to get a good look at you now that she was technically hanging with you. Your whole demeanor was fairly... attractive. She didn't know how to explain it because she wasn't even attracted to nerds. You were, however, very attractive. She looked ahead again, letting the soft music take over her mind.

After you got you both some food, you were on the way to take her home to her sorority house. She hadn't started eating her food yet and neither have you.

"____." Daniela called, gaining your attention as you hummed, "I don't really want to go back to the sorority house." She said.

You eyed her and asked, "oh, why?"

She shrugged, "they're throwing a party there at eight," she explained, "and I really don't want to be around that shit right now."

"I understand," you didn't want to seem weird, but you had to ask, "well, do you want to-I don't know maybe come over?" She looked at you from the side, "I mean, that is if you want. I live off campus and have an extra bedroom if you want to come over for the night."

She stared blankly at you for a second before nodding, "yeah. That sounds fine."

-

You and Daniela were now standing in front of your apartment door, and she was holding your food as you fished out your keys from within your pocket. You unlocked your door and pushed it open, flipping the light on and letting Daniela in. She walked in without hesitation, you closing the door behind you before locking it. You walked to her and ushered her to the living room, "we can eat in here. I'll put a movie on."

You watched her walk into your living room, the strides she took being almost hypnotic. You took your hoodie off and placed it on the back of your couch, now only being in a plain t-shirt and jeans after kicking your sneakers off as well. She took a seat and placed the food on your coffee table, but you missed the way she was staring at you. You didn't turn a main light on, only a corner lamp that was bright enough to light up the room.

She was impressed with how clean it was, cozy, warm and so comforting. You walked over to her and grabbed the television remote that was sitting on the coffee table, just before you turned it on. You scrolled through channels, "anything you want to watch, Daniela?" You asked her without looking at her, hearing her take a bite of a crunchy french fry.

"Anything is fine." She replied.

You flicked through channel after channel until you came across a movie, one that you didn't recognize but it was in the genre of a romance and drama. She hummed approvingly and you decided to take your seat next to her. She was looking at the television when you looked at her. "You can take your shoes off if you want, Daniela. Make yourself at home, I definitely don't mind at all."

You watched her reach down for the shoes on her feet, and you're just now realizing how nice her outfit was. Every time she wore a skirt with a short top and a jacket accompanied by a nice set of heels, it genuinely always took your breath away. It wasn't on purpose, but you watched her slip the heels off and then came her jacket, your eyes trailing away from her so you wouldn't stare too long at her.

She knew you were looking; she saw the way you swallowed thickly and was facing the tv awkwardly. Daniela didn't think too much of it though, because she thought it was cute. Not to have a cocky mindset or anything, but she was aware of how gorgeous she was. There hasn't been a day in her life where she thought otherwise, but seeing you being all flustered and trying to contain your composure was adorable.

You both ate your food in a silence that didn't make either of you uncomfortable. It was hard trying to keep your gaze on the movie because not only did you have a crush on Daniela but having her in your apartment sitting next to you, on your couch, looking as beautiful as ever had your heart racing. It felt unreal, but the fact that you were able to calm her down from what happened made it real.

You had finished your food first and after she finished hers, you had taken both of your trash and threw them away; bringing over some hand sanitizer for her. She thanked you with the most genuine smile, making your heart flutter so sweetly. If you weren't such an overthinker, you would tell her about your crush. Unfortunately for you, your heart would not be able to handle rejection from her.

"____," she called out, your head turning to see her already looking at you, "where's your bathroom? My makeup needs a touch up." She chuckled softly, you doing the same.

You pointed to your dimly lit hallway, "it's the second door on the left. Take all the time you need."

Daniela stood up and grabbed her purse, walking past you in the most gorgeous way. You were trying to look, but she was so beautiful that your eyes couldn't help but stare. You could smell the sweet perfume that she wore when she walked past you; it felt like you were going to faint from that alone. You watched her disappear down the hallway, the sound of your bathroom door opening and then closing softly.

You let out a deep breath, trying to regain the little sanity that you had left. You were very grateful that her now ex did cheat on her and as messed up as it sounds, you were happy it got you in this situation. You didn't know her ex personally, but you knew he was a frat boy meaning he was around women all the time. Daniela was a sorority girl, but you knew she was all about him, unfortunately.

That caused her to be blind of his actions because anyone could look at him and tell he wasn't a faithful guy. It's not like you were paying any attention to him but when you saw her with him sometimes, you could tell he clearly didn't like her. It's like he was only with her the reputation of being one of the most popular frat guys in the entire school, and was dating the most popular sorority girl as well.

Then again, it was none of your business. Your crush for Daniela wasn't exactly clear because you've never shown it. Hopefully you weren't giving off signs that you did have a crush on her because you did not want her to feel weird with you. Considering she hasn't demanded you take her home yet, you're guessing she didn't. She seemed really comfortable around you, and you were happy for that.

After about ten minutes, Daniela came out of your bathroom. You sat up and saw her face and honestly, you couldn't believe how ethereal she managed to look. She only touched up her makeup, and she still managed to make that look gorgeous. This time when she walked past you. she turned her backside slightly in your direction where her ass was basically in your face.

You were so flustered and she could tell. The way you awkwardly looked away from her and to the way your hands fidgeted from in between your thighs. She was satisfied with how effective small things she did affect you. You were actually more attractive when you tried your hardest to not show how flushed you were. Not even just cute nor adorable, you were downright attractive. Very attractive.

Daniela was curious now. Have you ever been in a relationship before? You were so levelheaded and focused all the time, so she assumed you didn't have the time. She has never seen you anywhere outside of campus or in class, so she assumed after classes you would just come straight home. There was nothing wrong with that at all and if anything, it made you even hotter than you already were.

"____," she called, your eyes landing on her seeing how she had one leg over top of her other, "can I ask you something?"

You nodded your head, "sure, what's up?" You asked, turning to her slightly so she could know you had her full attention. You didn't miss the way she swallowed thickly, like she didn't want to ask whatever was on her mind.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" She asked you, seeing how the question clearly caught you off guard.

You shook your head, "no I don't. May I ask why'd you ask?"

She stared at you for a moment, and you didn't miss when she slid closer to you just a fraction. "I don't know what I'm doing or thinking but," her voice trailed off for a second, "I'm just curious if you've ever had sex before?"

You chuckled awkwardly, trying your hardest to figure out where that came from. "I have, yeah. Not recently, but I've been intimate with someone before."

Daniela hummed, just before she looked up at you, "I guess I asked because for some reason," she started, slowly sliding closer to you just a little more, "this night alone is making me feel more than my ex has ever made me feel in the past." She said, watching your face for any discomfort, "and I guess with the way you're acting with me right now has me feeling some kind of way."

Your breath hitched hard when her thigh was pressed firmly against your very own, your eyes never leaving her face. She leaned closer to you which out of nerves, made you lean back just a fraction. You weren't sure what she was trying to do, but your mind could understand what she was implying. It had your heart hammering inside your chest, the sound meeting your ears.

One of her hands went to your thighs, ghosting over it before she grasped it firmly and rubbed it softly. Daniela leaned closer to you, her lips being close to your face. She smiled slightly, "I don't know where this feeling came from, but I want you so bad," her lips got closer to you, a soft chuckle escaping her from your reaction, "when I was in the bathroom just now, I couldn't stop thinking about this."

A giant shiver shook through your body, your hands shaking slightly when you reached up and grasped her arms to stop her. She pulled back and looked at you, seeing how you closed your eyes briefly with your tongue swiping over you bottom lip. "Daniela, I understand what you just went through and I know it must be hurtful. But I really don't want to be your stress relief or rebound. As much as I—"

"As much as you what, ____?" She asked, her voice low and seductive which caused a chill to go up your body, "as much as you clearly want to fuck me?" She asked boldly, her hand going up to cup your jaw and pull your attention towards her. "I don't care about what my ex did. And don't try to act like you haven't been eye fucking me ever since we been at this school. You think I didn't notice when we did work together?"

You swallowed harshly, "I—I can admit I may have looked at you inappropriately before and I apologize for that," she stared you dead in the eyes as you spoke, "and I may have a crush on you but at the same time, I don't want to be a quick hook up for you as revenge for him." Your eyes looked away nervously, the closeness and eye contact that she held being so nerve wrecking.

She smiled at you, "I kind of figured you had a crush on me." She gently pulled your face closer to hers just before she wrapped her free arm around your back, having you pressed firmly against her. "And if I'm being honest, I always found you to be so cute," her lips ghosted over yours, your eyes trained on her beautiful face. "Tell me I'm wrong, ____. Tell me you never wondered what it would be like to fuck me?"

Your mouth hung open slightly, Daniela finding you to be so cute. She leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, feeling you shiver at the contact. Her hand left your face and the other one moved from your back before she grasped both of your forearms; feeling the tension in them. She rubbed them soothingly, "don't worry about my ex baby, I know you want to fuck me. Come on, ____."

You were stuck on the fact that she had kissed you and touched you in such a way that had you shaking now. "Dani—Daniela I—yeah, I mean yeah I've thought about it in the past, but I respected your relationship and let those thoughts go." You confessed almost under your breath, but she heard you clearly. You being so flustered had her so turned on; she could feel a pulse in her clit slightly.

You saw how her legs clenched together, the feeling of her nails trailing up and down your forearms making you gulp. "And what about now? You still want to? Because I want you to."

The Daniela Avanzini wanted you? She wanted you to have sex with her and with you having the biggest crush on her, your mind was telling you to just do it. "If we do this—what would it mean to you?" You asked, Daniela being in awe with how serious this was to you, "Because I've never hooked up with anyone before. I don't want it to be a one night stand Daniela, I want us to be something if we have sex.”

Daniela stared at you for a moment, finding it adorable with how you were. You were just the type of person who never did one night stands; only sleeping with someone if you had a deep connection with them. At the same time, Daniela is your crush and out of respect for yourself—you didn’t know if this was the right thing to do. She was so close to you and the fact that she was touching you, kissing you, had you hardening in your pants.

“We could be something,” she murmured, her hands slowly trailing to your shoulders and caressing them, “maybe friends with benefits or something.”

You shook your head, “I’ve never done that either. I just—I can’t do one night stands, Daniela. I just can’t.”

Her finger went to your lips, “shh, we don’t have to. This isn’t about revenge or making you a stress relief. We can start off slow, if you want. If you don’t want anyone to know about this,” she removed her finger and placed a slow and savory kiss to your lips, “I don’t kiss and tell. We can keep it between us, start off slow, and see where this goes. That sounds better?” She asked.

With a hesitant nod you said, “okay. Yeah, okay that’s fine.” You stopped her again before she could kiss you like she planned, "Daniela. I don't really have any protection or anything like that. Also... I don't want you to regret doing this. Just please tell me you won't forget about me tomorrow, after all this."

Aw.

How cute.

You were really serious about this and it shows.

She reached up and took a hold of the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to hers until your lips melted perfectly together. Daniela could feel how your lips trembled; letting her bottom lip go over yours which caused you to open your mouth slightly. She instantly slipped her tongue inside, the slight taste of mint mingling with your own saliva as she slid hers firmly across yours.

Your body locked up once she swung a leg over your lap without breaking the kiss. Her free hand went to grab one of yours, taking it and placing it on her ass; your palm instantly going to firmly cup the soft flesh of it. She moaned into your mouth, grounding her hips with yours to feel the obvious bulge straining behind the fabric. Daniela's tongue was everywhere, making you gasp when she sucked harshly on yours.

You placed your other hand on her ass, softly kneading the flesh and helping her grind back and forth against you. You groaned in your throat, a husky sound that had Daniela's hands going down your body and taking a hold of the edges of your shirt. She was so eager for your skin against her very own; you could hear it in the shaky whimpers she let out. You were getting more confident by the minute.

The fact that your crush wanted you so badly and now she's in your lap, grinding against you and devouring your mouth was mind boggling. She held onto the hem of your shirt, balling the fabric up in her hands as she stopped so she could continue making out with you. The kiss was so sloppy, her tongue and yours causing saliva to slip around your mouths the more and more she took control over you.

It was almost overwhelming, and Daniela made sure to grind her hips extra slowly and filthy against your cock. She could feel you throb and twitch with every movement, her hips delivering a filthy circle that made your body jerk. She smiled against you before she pulled away, seeing your face as your breathing came out labored. Yours and her lips were overly wet, and her biting her bottom lip was so sexy.

Her eyes were hooded over, hazy and lustful. She sighed approvingly, "____, don't freak out too much. I'm on the pill, baby," she reassured you, her hand going to your cheek to caress the skin there, "I don't do one night stands either, so I won't forget you." She slid off your lap slowly, letting one of hands go to yours as she pulled you up, "Come on. Take me to bed, amor."

You were more nervous now that this was happening, but you slowly guided her to your bedroom that was dimly lit by a illuminated lava lamp. Your hand went to turn the light on, but Daniela stopped you, causing you to turn to her only to see the most sexy smirk ever. “Don’t. The red sets the mood, come on.” She muttered, not even giving you the chance before she had you backing up to your bed.

You stood near the edge once she released you to go to the skimpy top she had on, her fingers gracing it before she pulled it off so slowly. You couldn’t look away and she loved that, hearing your breath hitch from where she stood. She was wearing a dark strapless bra that shaped her breasts almost too well and when she tossed the top to the side, Daniela grasped the edges of her skirt in such a teasing way.

She shimmied her way out of the skirt, her panties matching her bra so beautifully. You shuddered at the sight. She eyed you so intently, not bothering to remove anymore fabric until she gestured to you with a wave of her finger, ordering you to come over. When you hesitated, she could only chuckle, “don’t be shy, baby. Come here.” Her voice affected you so heavily.

Your entire body felt so heavy but you moved anyway, not quite sure what to do when you got in front of her. She was way too beautiful; such a goddess that somehow took an attraction to you even when your looks wasn’t what she’d typically go for. But she knew what to do for you, letting her hands reach out and grab a hold of the edge of your shirt; watching your face for any discomfort.

But you weren’t afraid. You were just nervous. It wasn’t your first time at all but with your crush of so long, you jest wanted to be perfect for her. Her hands slowly pulled the fabric up and over your head, discarding the shirt and tossing it to the side. “Daniela—you’re so beautiful…” She only smiled at you before her hand spread across your chest to push you back until the back of your knees hit the bed.

Daniela took a hold of your chin; letting her manicured nails graze the sides of your face before she pulled you into a deep and slow kiss. It was almost too sensual that you completely forgot how you ended up here. When she pulled away, she stared you deeply in the eyes; not once letting you think she didn’t want this. “Call me Dani, baby. Enough with the Daniela.” She muttered to you.

Her hands went to your shoulders before trailing towards your collar bones, tracing them and skimming over to your abdomen. She let her fingers caress the skin there, letting her touch rake a shiver throughout your body. “Dani…” you whispered, causing her to smile down at you. Your eyes were still full of disbelief, and she could tell by the way your hands shook slightly in your lap.

“Relax, ____,” her voice came out soft, just before she titled her head towards your headboard, “on your back, up there.” You slid back almost too quickly, hearing the chuckle from Daniela before she stopped you briefly; her hands on your pants to pull them down as you slid up the bed. She stared at your underwear once she got your pants off, seeing the obvious huge bulge in them. “Fuck…” She sighed.

Once you were settled against the headboard, you watched her reach for the back of her bra and unclasp it. Your breathing got even more labored seeing her practically naked—basically nude completely. All she had on was her underwear that clung snuggly against her lower regions. She pressed one knee into your bed, her hands following as she crawled up to you in such a predatory way.

Daniela didn’t waste any time before she climbed back over top of you, settling down in your lap and making sure she pressed her covered pussy against your covered cock. She shuddered once she settled on top of you, your eyes closing briefly to try and relax yourself. But she wasn’t having that; her hand going to your hair and craning your neck up to expose the left side of your throat.

You winced slightly, “I like rough and slow sex, ____,” she leaned forward to your ear and placed a kiss against the space underneath it, “and I really like to dominate. I’ve never done it before but you’ll let me right, baby? Say you’ll let me.” You’ve never really been dominated before, always being a sweet and gentlewoman when it came to sex. You only nodded frantically, causing Daniela’s grip to tighten in your hair, “no baby, I want to hear you say it.”

You swallowed thickly, “ye—yeah, Dani. I’ll let you dominate me…” your voice trailed off slightly, trying your hardest to hold onto the little composure you had left.

She smiled into your neck, “good girl,” she purred, her hand letting go of your hair before she took a hold of both of your hands and placed them on her bare ass. It felt so much more soft, so delicate and comforting. “I also like to be called Mommy. Think you can call me that, amor? I want to hear you say that too.”

Her hand snaked up to your throat, not squeezing but tight enough to let you know she was here. You whimpered, “yes I can—Mommy.” You stuttered it out shakily, but she was satisfied with that.

Daniela let go of your throat before she raised her hips just slightly, her eyes being on yours before they trailed down lower. You watched her gaze, following once you felt her hand go over your bulge. She didn’t tease you at all, pulling the fabric up and over your cock, her mouth practically watering as she watched it bob up and against your stomach; a little bit of pre cum flicking from the movement.

She took a hold of it, slowly stroking you from base to tip and smiling as she heard the harsh breath you let out. She held you tightly for a moment so she could reach underneath herself and hook a finger in the band of her panties. She pulled the fabric aside, your eyes watching the way her slick stuck to the panties. Her clit peaked out from between her lips, showing just how aroused she was.

Daniela took a second once she realized just how big you were. Thick and long in all the right places that could hit every spot she needed it to. You watched her intently, the Latina pushing your tip flush with her clit to rub it tenderly. Her eyes closed briefly, a soft sigh leaving her the more she rubbed you against her. She was using her juices to slick your cock up, dragging it nice and slow until it pressed against her entrance.

This was really happening, and you knew you couldn't back out.

You didn't want to.

With a precise angel of your cock, Daniela guided you gently into her drenched pussy that clenched as you entered. She gasped softly, only now realizing just how much you were turning her on. She removed her hand once the tip was firm inside of her, your hands squeezing tightly onto her plush ass; your eyes shutting closed. In an instant, Daniela's hand grabbed harshly at your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze.

"No baby," she cooed with a shake of her head, "keep those eyes on Mommy, understand?" You couldn't even reply as she quickly took you in completely. It burned so perfectly for her, the stretch being so delightful that it had her clenching down on you. Your breathing was ragged, Daniela's eyes taking in your face; watching you clearly struggling with how tightly her walls were gripping onto your cock.

She smiled at the way your lip quivered, not wasting another second before she lifted her hips slowly only to drop down with such deadly vigor. You practically cried out, Daniela moaning before she set a steady and deep pace. Her ass made a filthy pap sound every time she dropped down onto your cock. You wanted to stare at her, but your eyes trailed towards the way your cock opened her up.

It was stretching her so well, and by the way she moaned on top of you confirmed that. Her hand went to your collarbone before she trailed it to your throat, snaking around the back and taking a gentle hold of your hair. Daniela angled your head up to meet her eyes. She tilted her head to the side, her hair hanging so beautifully. She took you in so slowly, flushing her hips with yours to circle her hips so deep and slowly.

Your hands transitioned from her ass and to her hips. You helped guide her movements, "fuck, Mommy..." your voice whimpered, your hips staring to rut up into hers. Her hold in your hair tightened, the feel of her pulling your face close to hers before she pressed her lips deeply into yours. She moaned at the taste of you, one of your arms encircling around her back to hold her almost impossibly closer.

She took the position as a sign to fuck herself onto you harder, her walls delicately dragging every thick vein your cock possessed. She made sure to purposely clench around you every time, your balls being flush with her ass every time she dragged her hips back and forth. Daniela's tongue fought hard with yours; though you were losing big time with the way your cock was already oversentive.

You could feel the way thick globs of precum foamed at your tip but getting lost in the slick Daniela produced. It was the most sensual, slow, and deep moment of intimacy you've ever had. Daniela took you harshly but gently at the same time; and the pace she sent was so foreign and deep that she managed to have her clit rubbing against your pelvis. You touched her everywhere, almost getting completely lost in the feeling.

Daniela's tongue slipped from your mouth, the Latina pulling away with a loud moan of your name. She wrapped her arms around your neck and placed her head in the crook of it. You shivered at the feeling of her lips attaching to the skin there, Daniela instantly suctioning them on a section of your skin. Your hips faltered at the feeling, but it only caused her to slam down harder with the loudest imapact.

"Fuck, mommy..."

"Feels good baby?" She laughed softly into your throat, smiling against it when she heard you struggling to answer her. She went to bouncing on your cock, making sure to only leave an inch between you so you could feel the way her walls tugged you deeper into her. You wrapped both of your arms around her, Daniela whimpering softly at the feeling of being held. You were so gentle even when being dominated.

Your hands were holding onto her tightly, the grip letting her know just how close you were. She pulled off of your throat with a lewd pop, a string of saliva breaking off when she pulled back completely. Daniela placed both hands on your shoulders; her eyes being transfixed on your face. Your mouth hung open slightly, the feeling of her pussy contracting with every bounce almost being too much.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" She smuggly asked.

You nodded your head frantically, "yes Mommy, fuck... so close baby," she left one hand on your shoulder, the other going to your throat to squeeze lightly. Her hips grounded with yours, moving them in fast yet deep circles that had your eyes rolling back into the back of your head. She enjoyed watching you practically break underneath her. Her hold on your throat tightened, her thumb pressing against the fresh hickey she marked in your neck.

"I bet you are close baby," she could feel the twitch of your cock every time she dragged her hips forward into yours. You shuddered, your grip around her body tightening. Your eyes shut tightly but this time she didn't mind it. Daniela loved the way your cock stirred her insides, the thick tip pounding into the deepest parts of her. It rubbed against her cervix just right, the sensation causing her eyes to roll.

You whimpered against her, "look at you, ____," she moaned deeply, her hips picking up the pace to usher you there faster, "fuck, you fill me up so well baby." Daniela's voice came out very shaky, "you love this pussy don't you, amor?" Your whimpering told her all she needed to know, and she was in awe watching your fucked out expression. Her hold on your throat only tightened the closer you got to your end.

Your hands dropped down to her ass to rut yourself inside her, "yes baby, fuck!" Daniela shouted into the air, your hips going to pound up into her. You were right there and Daniela fucked herself down onto your cock when you fucked up into her. Her hand cut off your airflow, making your hips cease again whilst she plummeted onto your cock. "Come on baby, fucking cum inside me—fuck! Come on baby, shit!"

Her begging voice was all you needed before you felt that thick and euphoric surge of cum shoot against her cervix. Daniela released your throat and pulled you flush against her chest, "fu—fuck, Dani..." She dragged her hips harshly against your own, over intensifying and prolonging your orgasm. Daniela's hands went to your back, scrapping at the skin to mark it up in a deep red from breaking the skin.

She held you close to her, making sure her hips continued their onslaught to have you whimpering beautifully underneath her. She pulled you back and pressed your back against the headboard, making sure her grinds were harsh and deliberate so she could watch you twitch. “There you go baby, fuck you’re so sexy.” She loved watching your body jerk, your eyes being unable to stay open now.

Daniela slowed just a bit so she could ask, “can you go again? Gotta make me cum if you want me to keep talking to you.” Your breath hitched before your eyes opened, Daniela smirking at you before she decided to lift herself off of you so suddenly. The lost of connectivity made you let out a husky groan, watching how she got onto hands and knees before you. She wiggled her ass at you and turned her head, “come fuck me. Make it hurt too.”

You were still sensitive but you sat up and took a hold of your cock, it only being semi hard now. You stroked it and took one of her ass cheeks in your hand, kneading it slowly before you angled your tip to her anticipating hole. She arched her back for you, sighing satisfactorily once you settled into her; instantly flushing your hips with her. You leaned over her, your breath fanning the nape of her neck just before she moved her hair out of the way.

It was so sensual once you drew your hips back, slowly pushing back in so she could feel every inch. Daniela pushed back against you, meeting your slow thrust that had her mind hazy. Your chest was pressed firmly against her back; the Latina biting her bottom lip at the feeling of you hitting every sensitive spot just right. Your body caged hers in, your hands going over top of hers.

Fuck.

You didn’t know what you were doing to her.

Your fingers lacing with her had her on the edge already.

You pushed in deeply once, Daniela’s body jerking forward at the deep press it sent. You held yourself there, lowering your head to her neck before you started peppering her in kisses. Her pussy was so tight around you, the wetness feeling like it was trying to push you out yet her walls continuously sucked you in. The feeling was everything and you wanted her to come. Badly.

You flushed your hips with her and thrusted the blunt head of your cock against that spongy spot inside her. That feeling made her fall over onto her chest, looking as if she was trying to squirm away from you. Her body was pressed into the mattress and you followed her, “____! Fuck—fuck you’re—it feels so good, baby—fuuuck!” Your hips were flush with her ass, pulling out just a little to thrust in harshly.

Her ass shook every time you plunged inside of her, a nice ripple being the result of that. Your grip on her hands stayed firm to keep her in place, you deciding that you wanted to pick up the pace and fuck her properly. Daniela’s back arched deeply, giving you a better angle to smother her cervix with an onslaught of heavy thrusts.

Her eyes were sealed shut, that dominance she had earlier completely going away and submitting completely to you. Never did you think you’d have your crush underneath you like this, begging for you and moaning out your name like a symphony. You drove your hips into her faster, pitching a slightly different angle so your balls could impact her clit.

Daniela’s body shook with every thrust, never having felt like this with any one in her life. You hit her spot every time with no fail and you loved the sight of her scrunched up face when you pounded into her. “Daniela,” you moaned, only whimpers leaving her, “you feel so good, baby. Fuck—I don’t think I can get enough of you.” Your voice alone was driving her insane, and you could tell by the way she tightened.

You weren’t cocky, you were genuine with it all and it showed extremely well. You grounded your hips with her, letting your balls massage against her clit to give her that stimulation she needed. The thick wet sounds your cock made inside her pussy was music to your ears, alongside the sight of her squirming against your thick cock. Fuck—this was everything you needed. Everything.

You released her hands and took a hold of her hips, pulling her against you when you fucked down into her. She scrambled against your mattress, one hand reaching back to hold onto you. Instead, you grabbed it and placed it firmly against her back so you could keep the momentum going. You were close again already too, and you wanted to orgasm with her.

With the way her walls spasmed violently around you, you knew she was extremely close. Your eyes shut to bask in the feeling, “fuck you’re gonna make me cum—baby oh fuck!” Your hips slammed into her now, ramming right into her g spot that tried sucking you into her deeper. You removed your hand from her hip and leaned over her, also releasing her hand that gripped the bed tightly.

Your chest pressed firmly against her back, your hips fucking upward into her. Daniela let out a broken moan that was mixed with a sob, feeling your arms wrap around her so you could slowly thrust as deep as you could over and over again. Her body started to shake, her mouth hung open in a silent scream before her entire body locked up against yours.

“Fu—fuck!” Her voice reached a pitch you didn’t think it could, your hips stopping just for a second only to continue when she shakily reached back and grabbed the side of your hip to keep you going. “Please baby, don’t stop—fuck…” You didn’t want to overwhelm her too much but you made sure she felt everything she needed completely.

You were right there too and she knew that. She overlooked her overstimulation and started throwing herself back on your cock; your body halting to let her do so. You shook against her, feeling yourself being pulled into another wave of pleasure that made your grip around her tighten. Only then did you thrust lightly into her, a few deep and jerky movements accompanied by labored breathing.

Daniela helped you move against her, “you’re so beautiful Dani, Mommy—shit,” you groaned, swallowing thickly as you shook.

She didn’t want this to end but at the same time, she couldn’t be here all night. She had never had an orgasm from penetration alone and the fact that you were able to do it so effortlessly has her hooked. Not only that, but she has never been held so sensually during moments like that. She hoped she wasn’t falling for you because that would be too soon.

Way too soon.

—

You woke up with a throbbing headache, wincing at the sight of the sunlight beaming through your blinds. It was very early and that alone let you know you had a very long night—a night that you almost forgot completely. Reaching to both sides of you, you didn’t feel Daniela’s presence there. You finally opened your eyes; sighing at the sight.

She left.

But why?

Apparently it was too good to be true and for you, that was one of the most amazing nights of physical intimacy you’ve had. It was a shame that she didn’t feel the same way because it meant everything to you. Unfortunately though, you were just a victim of a one night stand. You hated the thought of a one night stand, especially from your crush.

At least—you thought.

Your phone buzzed on your night stand. You turned it on to see what it was, a message.

“Unknown Number: Maybe Daniela Avanzini”

You quickly grabbed your phone and opened it, never having put a password on it because you didn’t find it necessary. You smiled once you opened the message because maybe—just maybe, you weren’t just a one night stand. Not even just maybe, you definitely weren’t a one night stand and Daniela definitely let you know that.

—

—

Authors Note — okay so this may have been a little rushed at the end, but I had to get a story out lol. Hopefully it was enjoyable, sorry to the person who requested it like a month ago lmao but hopefully you liked it! I love y’all and I have a Manon story that’s almost done so hopefully I do that tomorrow! Have a great day twins!

[victorianporcelain]

rize kamishiro - toxic

w.c - 1.1k cw: wlw, toxic, emotional manipulation, distancing, angst, hunger and predatory instincts, mentions of blood and human consumption, fear, kissing, emotional dependency

The first time Rize kissed you, she tasted like coffee and blood.

Not fresh blood. Not enough to make you recoil. Just something metallic lingering underneath the sweetness of her lipstick, something wrong hidden beneath something beautiful.

You should've run then.

Instead, you kissed her back.

Tokyo at night always felt colder after meeting Rize Kamishiro. The city became sharper somehow, neon lights cutting through puddles, train tracks screeching like warning signs, strangers looking too fragile under street lamps.

You noticed things now. Missing person posters, dark alleyways, the way Rize watched crowds like she was starving. Because she was.

"You shouldn't keep seeing me," she said one night, sitting across from you in the quiet cafe where you'd first met. Her fingers tapped lazily against her coffee cup. "People die around me."

You tried to laugh it off. "That's a dramatic thing to say."

Her eyes lifted slowly to yours. "You know I'm not joking.

The air between you tightened painfully. You knew what she was. You'd known for weeks now. The realization should've horrified you more than it did. Maybe it would've if it were anyone else, but Rize had already sunk herself into your life before the fear could settle in properly.

She walked you home, remembered your favorite books, brushed your hair behind your ear so gently that it hurt, and somehow, impossibly, she never touched you like prey. That was the cruelest part.

"You're looking at me like you feel sorry for me again," Rize murmured.

"I don't."

"You do."

Her smile was sharp around the edges tonight, brittle instead of playful. You'd started noticing the difference recently, the moments where she seemed almost angry that you cared about her at all.

You leaned forward slightly. "Then tell me what you want me to do."

Her expression flickered.

"Leave."

The word hit harder than it should have.

You stared at her. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

"No," you whispered. "You don't."

For a second, something vulnerable cracked through her expression. Something exhausted. Then it disappeared.

Rize stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. "You don't understand what this is."

"Then explain it to me."

"You can't love me."

The cafe suddenly felt too small. People chatted around you, completely unaware of the way your chest was splitting open.

"Why?" you asked quietly.

Rize laughed once, cold and humorless.

"Because eventually I'll hurt you."

"You haven't."

"That's exactly the problem."

She looked furious when she said it. Like sparing you was killing her slowly.

You followed her outside anyway.

Rain had started while you were inside, thin and icy against your skin. Rize walked quickly down the sidewalk, black heels clicking against the wet pavement while neon signs painted her face red and blue.

"Rize, wait."

She stopped without turning around. "You need to stop following me."

"You keep pushing me away and then coming back."

Silence.

"You disappear for days," you continued, voice shaking now. "And every time I think you're finally gone, you show up at my apartment at two in the morning acting like nothing happened."

Her shoulders stiffened. "You don't get to act confused," she said softly. "I warned you."

"You think that makes this hurt less?"

At that, she turned. Rain clung to her dark hair and eyelashes making her look almost unreal beneath the city lights. Beautiful in the same terrifying way thunderstorms were beautiful. Dangerous enough to ruin lives/

Rize stepped closer slowly. "You want to know what I think about every time I see you?" she asked.

Your throat tightened.

"I think about your heartbeat."

The confession shattered something inside you. Rize's eyes looked hollow now, painfully hungry beneath all the restraint she forced onto herself.

"I hear it when you stand too close to me," she continued quietly. "I smell your blood every time you touch me. And I still can't stay away from you."

You felt tears burning suddenly behind your eyes. "Then don't."

Her expression twisted immediately. "You don't mean that."

"I do."

"You're human," Rize snapped. "You don't understand what hunger feels like."

"Then help me understand!"

"You can't."

Her voice cracked unexpectedly. That silenced both of you. Rize looked away first.

"I hate what you do to me," she whispered. The words barely reached you through the rain.

Your chest ached violently. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

"I know."

That was what made it worse.

Rize lifted a trembling hand like she wanted to touch your face, but stopped herself halfway. You watched her fingers curl tightly instead.

"You make me feel human," she admitted quietly. "And that's not something I can survive."

Your heart broke a little more, because you understoon then.

Loving you wasn't soft for Rize. It wasn't healing. It was starvation. Constant denial. Every second beside you was her fighting her own nature hard enough to tear herself apart. And still, selfishly, you wanted her anyway.

"I don't care," you whispered.

"I don't."

Rize stared at you for a long moment, rain dripping from her jawline. Then suddenly she grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the alley beside the street.

Before you could speak, she kissed you.

Hard.

Desperate.

The kind of kiss that felt like greif.

You hit the wall behind you softly, fingers clutching the front of her coat while she held you like she couldn't decide whether to keep you or destroy you.

Her teeth grazed your bottom lip briefly and you felt her freeze instantly afterward.

Rize pulled away so fast it almost hurt. The look on her face made your stomach drop.

Hunger.

Real hunger.

Her breathing turned uneven as she stared at your mouth.

"Go home," she said immediately.

You reached for her again. "Rize-"

"Go."

The sharpness in her voice startled you. For one horrible second, her eyes flashed black and red. You stepped back instinctively and Rize noticed. The pain on her face was immediate.

There it is, you realized. The thing she had been trying to protect you from.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

You hated how broken she sounded.

Rain poured harder around you now, drowning the city in static noice.

"You should hate me," Rize said quietly. "It would make this easier."

But you didn't. Even standing there terrified, heart racing painfully in your chest, you still loved her. And maybe that was the tragedy of it all. Not that Rize Kamishiro was a monster, but that she loved you enough to know she had to leave.

The last thing she did before walking away was press her forehead briefly against yours. A goodbye disguised as tenderness.

Then she disappeared into the rain, leaving you alone beneath the neon lights with her lipstick still smeared across your mouth like an open wound.

shes actually the hottest woman ever and i love her. also idk how wlw stuff does on here but i’m hoping it does good because i’d like to write for rize more!

[noyoshu]

ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄʟᴏᴄᴋᴡᴏʀᴋ, ɪ ꜰᴇʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ

SYNOPSIS: You didn’t believe in fate. Then Manon left, and somehow the universe kept dragging the two of you back toward each other anyway. CONTENT: idol!Manon Bannerman x singer!Fem Reader TAGS: Angst, Hurt/a lil Comfort, Yearning, a tad bit of fluff, Melancholy WC: 4.6k A/N: this might be one of my favourite things that i've wrote 😭

Manon knew she was going to lose you the second she signed the contract.

Everyone around her called it a dream. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Hybe. Training in LA. The possibility of debuting. Every conversation after that became full of excitement, congratulations, and plans for the future. But every future she imagined had one problem.

You. Not because she didn’t love you. God, that was the problem. She loved you too much.

The company never outright told her she couldn’t date, but they didn’t have to. She saw the way the trainers talked about image, sacrifice, devotion. She watched girls cry in practice rooms because they weren’t improving fast enough. Watched people disappear overnight after evaluations. Everything about the industry screamed the same thing…

There was no room for distractions.

And Manon was terrified that one day, you would become one.

At first, she told herself she could balance both. Long calls. Late night texts. Waiting for each other across time zones. You were patient enough for it, loyal enough for it. Every time she spiraled, you soothed her like it was instinct. Honestly it almost made it worse… You trusted her completely.

Meanwhile, she was falling apart in LA.

Training consumed everything. Her body hurt constantly, bruises marred her body. Some nights she’d stare at the ceiling of the dorms so exhausted she couldn’t even cry properly. Other girls practiced while injured, smiling through humiliation because nobody could afford weakness.

Every time your name lit up her phone, relief hit her so hard it hurt.

You became the only thing that felt safe anymore. Which was exactly why she started pulling away.

You noticed it immediately, of course you did. Shorter texts. Missed calls. The way she hesitated before saying “I love you,” not because she meant it less, but because she meant it too much. Because hearing your voice made her want to throw everything away and go home.

But you never got angry, you just waited. She could tell the waiting was ruining you.

Manon heard it in the exhaustion behind your reassurances. Saw it in the photos your friends posted where your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore. Every sacrifice she made for her career was becoming your sacrifice too, and you kept acting like it was nothing.

You would’ve followed her forever if she asked.

The final straw came after a monthly evaluation. One of the trainees had gotten screamed at for “lacking focus.” Another was quietly sent home the next day. Manon remembered standing in the practice room afterward, sweat cooling against her skin while her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Three missed calls.

A text underneath.

I know you’re busy. Just wanted to hear your voice for a second. I miss you.

Manon stared at the message until her vision blurred.

All of a sudden all she could think was that loving her was turning you into someone who waited around for scraps of attention. Someone who kept shrinking themselves to fit into the empty spaces she left behind.

She couldn’t do that to you. So she made the choice for both of you. Cowardly, maybe. Cruel, definitely. But easier than admitting the truth.

She was scared that if she kept loving you while chasing this dream, eventually she would fail at one of them. She already knew which loss would destroy her more.

The day she called you, her hands shook so badly she almost dropped her phone three separate times.

She sat alone on the floor of the dorm hallway because she couldn’t breathe properly inside her room. Trainees passed occasionally, but nobody paid attention. Everyone here was always crying about something.

Manon called you on a random Tuesday, right in the middle of your music theory class.

The lecture hall was dim and stuffy, the professor talking about harmonic function while students typed notes into their laptops. None of it registered. Your phone lit up in your lap- her name on full display, almost like it hadn’t been missing from your screen all week.

It felt wrong immediately.

Your chair scraped against the floor as you stood, the sound loud enough to turn some heads. The hallway outside was colder and smelled faintly of dust. Fingers fumbled against the screen as you answered, your heart beating out of your chest.

“Hey… Y/N?”

Relief hit you first. “Oh my god, Manon. You’re okay…”

You knew somewhere, deep down in your soul what was coming next. Manon hadn’t called you in days. When she did text, it was brief. But still- you didn’t want to admit to yourself that it was even possible that she would-

“Break up-” Her voice faltered. “We need to break up.”

“What?” Your vision blurred, hallway lights smearing together. Heat pooled behind your eyes, threatening to spill.

“I need to focus on my career- I just-“ your girlfriend well- ex paused, trying to cover up the burn in her throat. “You don’t deserve to be stuck with me like this.”

“Manon, I told you I can wait,” you said, the sentence tumbling out before you could even think. “I’ll wait however long this takes, just please-“

Manon cut you off. “I’m doing this for our own good. Please understand.” 

There was a moment of silence. Static filled the line. Your brain spiraled, grasping for solutions that no longer existed- every version of yourself that could make her stay.

You waited for her to say your name again, say it was all a prank, anything. But instead, the call ended with a click.

Ten years of friendship and romance gone in one second.

Your phone slipped from your hand, your body decided it didn’t want to hold it anymore for you. It hit the hardwood floor, spinning slowly, the screen still glowing with a picture of you and her, it was almost mocking you. 

You stared at it until your eyes burned.

All the memories of your youth came flooding back at once. You’d promised yourself you’d never do this again. Never fall for a friend, it’d only ever lead to more heartbreak in the end.

The first time you kissed her, you were sixteen.

“I bet you won’t climb to the roof of that building with me.” Manon had pointed to a 12-story high apartment. 

“You bet wrong, let’s go.”

“Are we being deadass?” Manon asked, half-laughing. 

“Why not? Let’s go!” you emphasized, gesturing to the building. 

You’d climbed to the roof breathless. Laughing, daring each other to look down. Lucerne stretched thin beneath you, the city lights constellations of their own. The night air was clean and crisp, the concrete on the roof was still warm from the day. You lay on it side by side, shoulders nearly touching.

Manon’s laugh came easier then.

“Your back is going to kill you tomorrow,” she said, eyes fixed on the stars above. 

“Yours won’t be any better, miss weak immune system,” you chuckled.

“Hey! What does that have to do with anything?” She turned your head to look at you, mock-offended.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you. The stars felt brighter up there, the city lights couldn’t quite reach them.

Somewhere along the way, your gaze drifts to Manon. She was beautiful in the quiet, framed by the rooftop shadows. You’d been feeling this for a while, but now you were certain…

You were falling for your best friend. 

“Y/N… You’re staring,” the older girl said like it was the simplest thing ever. Heat rose to your cheeks.

“What can I say? You’re a better view than the stars.”

It was a joke. It really was, you always flirted with her like this. But this time… it felt just a little different. 

“Oh,” she teased, smiling. “So you’re obsessed with me?”

“Well, I won’t be denying that.” You said a little too easily. 

Below, the city pulsed with a heartbeat of its own. The rooftop felt like a secret you could keep forever.

You didn’t know yet that your body would return to this moment over and over again, searching for answers.

Your fingers brushed hers by accident. She’d gone still.

You turned your head back to her and found she’d already been looking at you.

Her fingers made their way to your cheek. Her mouth pressed softly against yours, hesitant. You answered by wrapping your arm around her back and kissing her with certainty.

The world got quieter, the passing cars went silent. There was only warmth and the way her hand fit against your skin. 

“Please never leave me.” It slipped out of your mouth. 

“Of course,” Manon murmurs, forehead against yours. “Y/N, I'd never leave you for anything.”

If only you could tell yourself the heartbreak she’d put you through in five years.

The air in Lucerne was different without Manon. 

Something was just- off. It felt like something essential had been removed and everyone was pretending not to notice. You’d told yourself that the breakup made sense. Of course she’d leave. Of course you’d been stupid enough to think your love could outrun her ambition, that wanting her hard enough might be enough to keep her with you.

The ache never went away, it settled in, became routine- something you learned to carry instead of fix. Breathing around it got easier with time. Some days, you could even laugh again. The air might’ve been different, but adaptation came naturally. Even if memories with her resurfaced everywhere you went, you’d be okay.

But on a particularly hard night, you impulsively wrote a song.

It wasn’t intentional. You just wanted to write out your feelings- some way to get Manon out of your head before the thoughts swallowed you whole. The words spilled out faster than you could censor them, every line unmistakably about her. 

You leaned back in your chair, pulse racing, staring at the ceiling. This was insane, you knew it was. You were painfully self-aware, and you were definitely not okay. Turning the worst moment of your life into a song felt reckless, almost embarrassing. 

Still, the idea of hearing it out loud lingered. You spent the next few hours putting together a rough demo, working faster than you ever had before. No perfectionism, just a minute-long recording, voice a little shaky, the production simple. When you hit the post button on TikTok, it wasn’t with any expectations. You went to sleep thinking nothing of it.  

By the time you woke up, the demo had already begun to spread. 

Notifications stacked so fast you had to silence your phone. Comments flooded in, people saying how relatable it was, how they could feel your emotion. They asked for a full version, asking if you were okay. With nothing better to do, you finished the song. You released it. 

A week later, your inbox was unrecognizable, filled with names you didn’t know. Messages you reread twice to make sure they were real. When Geffen reached out asking if you had more material, your hands shook so badly you almost dropped your phone. 

And somewhere in a rehearsal room in LA, Manon heard your music.

She noticed your name first. Her stomach dropped so suddenly that she had to drop to the floor.  For a split second she wondered if it was someone else, another Y/N, another voice- but then the song began.

It was you.

Not the version of you she’d convinced herself was fine. Or the smiling, patient girl she’d left behind with broken-promises. This was raw, unfiltered. Your voice trembled in a way she recognized too well- how it did only when you were in the darkest time of your life. Every lyric felt like it had been pulled straight from unfinished conversations. 

Her chest tightened, breath stuttering as the weight hit her all at once. She’d told herself leaving you was mercy. She’d told herself you’d do better without her. She’d told herself you were strong enough to be okay. The song proved her wrong. 

It wasn’t angry, and that almost made it worse. It was full of love that had nowhere to go, love she’d abandoned, love she’d asked you to wait with, knowing she might never come back the same. 

“Manon! Break is over,” Missy called. 

Manon didn’t answer. 

Her eyes burned, vision blurring as she stared down at her phone. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, not when everyone in the room probably heard what she’d done to you, not when she was already sure everyone hated her. 

For the first time since she left, Manon understood something terrifyingly clearly.

You hadn’t stopped loving her, and she had never really let you go. 

Music had always been yours long before it became anyone else’s.

Music to you was staying up at two in the morning because a lyric suddenly appeared in your head and refusing to sleep until you wrote it down. It was recording terrible voice memos while walking to class. It was scribbling unfinished verses into notebook margins instead of paying attention to lectures.

Manon loved every part of it, even before anyone else cared

“You know this is insane, right?” you muttered one night, cross-legged on your dorm room floor with your laptop balanced precariously on your knee.

The room was dim except for cheap fairy lights hanging unevenly above your bed. An unfinished demo looped through your speakers for what had to be the hundredth time.

Manon lay sprawled across your mattress behind you, half-asleep but stubbornly refusing to go to bed until you finished.

“Nope,” she said immediately. “Play it again.”

You groaned dramatically. “Manon, you’ve heard this same thirty-second chorus for like three hours.”

“And it slaps every single time.”

“It literally does not. That is most definitely glaze.”

“It literally does,” she argued. “You just hate your own talent.”

“Uhuhh, glaze! Glaze from my girlfriend!” 

You turned around enough to glare at her, but she only grinned wider, chin tucked into your pillow.

Back then, making music had felt safe because it belonged only to the two of you. Tiny projects uploaded anonymously online. Songs with barely any listens and let’s be honest, all the listens were probably from Manon. 

Manon treated every single one like it mattered.

She’d sit through dozens of takes without complaint, even when your frustration made you impossible to be around. She learned enough production terminology just so she could pretend to understand what you were rambling about.

“You hear that layering?” you’d ask excitedly.

“No idea what that means,” she’d reply honestly, “but yes, baby, it sounds sexy.”

You laughed so hard you nearly fell out of your chair.

When you started talking about maybe putting together a real EP someday, something more cohesive and vulnerable and terrifying, Manon looked at you like the idea was obvious.

“You should.”

The certainty in her voice startled you. “You haven’t even heard the concept yet.”

“I don’t need to.” She sat up then, reaching for your wrist gently. “You’re the most talented person I know.”

You scoffed immediately. “Soo why are we lying today?”

“I’m serious.” Her thumb brushed across your skin absentmindedly. “You feel things bigger than other people do. And it sucks sometimes because you overthink everything and cry at the ‘Happier’ music video,”

“I do not cry at music videos.”

“You cried at the dog.”

“The dog was old, Manon.”

She laughed softly before growing serious again.

“When you make music, people feel that.” Her eyes stayed locked on yours. “You make people feel less alone.”

Your chest tightened painfully at the memory now. Because the first person who ever believed you could actually do something with music was Manon.

Long before TikTok, long before strangers memorized your lyrics.

It was Manon sitting on your dorm floor at nineteen, listening to rough demos through blown-out speakers like they were already masterpieces.

That’s probably why losing her hurt so badly. Every dream you had somehow still had her fingerprints on it.

A few years later, Manon bursted into your dorm without knocking, breathless, eyes too bright. 

“I know this sounds crazy, but I got scouted to be a trainee for Hybe.”

You stared at her for a second, waiting for the second part of the joke. “What- how? Is this a prank? And how can you say that so calmly?”

She laughed in response, “Yeah they kinda just dmed me on Insta and were like, ‘Hi Manon, we want to send you personal trainers and then get you to LA’. And I might’ve maybe said yes.” 

“Oh my god,” you breathed. “Manon you’re going to be famous.” Then, it clicked. “Wait- Hybe? That’s K-pop, you literally know nothing about K-pop.”

“Hey,” she protested, but she was smiling so wide it didn’t even sound like she was trying to fight you. “I know… things. Like- BTS!”

“You know nothing. You’re going to get eaten alive.”

“I’ll survive,” she said, softer now. “You can tell me everything you know.”

She turned toward the window, shoulders tightening. You followed her gaze, but there was nothing there. 

Pride flooded you anyway. “I’m so proud of you.”

Manon swallowed. “Yeah.”

You stepped closer. “This is good- This is everything you’ve wanted.”

She nodded again, but her gaze dipped to your mouth. “Yeah.”

You kissed her, hoping it would smooth out whatever doubt she was having. Her lips moved with yours, but it was different. Careful, it felt like she was already holding herself back. 

When you pulled away, her hands were still on your waist, but they didn’t tighten the way they always did. 

You smiled like you didn’t feel the space opening between you.

“You’re scared.” You said, voice soft.

Manon’s breath hitched. “No.”

“You are.”

She looked away. “It’s complicated.”

You wanted to ask her what it meant, to sit her down and pull every fear out of her, name it, fix it. You wanted to tell her that distance didn’t scare you, that contracts and time zones couldn’t destroy what you had.. 

But she leaned forward again like she needed the conversation to stop, and you let her. 

Because you loved her. And without realizing it yet, you were already learning how to wait.

The night before Manon leaves for LA, you find yourself in her bed. You were curled into her, trying to memorize the shape of her before the world took her away.

Manon lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Your fingers traced her ribs slowly.

“Babe, talk to me,” you whispered. 

Manon’s words caught in her throat. “I can’t.”

“You can,” you insisted. “You can tell me anything.”

She turned her head, and for a second she looked like she might cry. 

“It’s going to be like a year,” she said, voice quiet. “Before I can tell you anything about this.”

Your stomach dropped. Though you weren’t surprised, K-pop companies usually had very strict contracts. 

“I understand that, but I can tell something else is bothering you, what is it?”

“I just- don’t want to burden you. I know this’ll be hard on our relationship,” Manon squeezed your fingers. “And I understand if you’d want to break it off.”

The words hit you like a brick. 

You sat up slightly, staring down at her. “Manon.”

Her eyes teared up, she blinked. “I’m not asking you to wait or put your life on pause for me.”

You swallowed, hard. “I choose you, I don’t care how long you’ll be gone for.”

Manon’s breath caught.

“I swear, you will never be a burden to me. I’ll wait however long this takes,”

Manon’s lips parted, you knew she wanted to argue and you wouldn’t let her. 

You leaned down, forehead to hers. “Please, don’t shut me out.”

You could feel her tears now, her arms wrapped around you with desperate force.

“I love you,” she whispered into your hair. 

And you whispered it back, a promise that could override time. You stayed her girlfriend, loved her too much to leave.

By the time you moved to LA, your life had momentum. 

Interviews where you laughed at jokes that weren’t even funny, smiling for cameras until your cheeks ached. You learned how to pretend you were fine so convincingly you almost believed it. Even though you knew you were staying in the same area as Manon again. 

You started to make it big as a soloist. People started recognizing you on the street. And then the people in Geffen started talking about Katseye. 

Manon had made it in and- wait… Wasn’t her training purely with Hybe? But this was a collab with Geffen. Then you realized this was probably one of those things she just couldn't tell you.

You were under the same agency- but that was fine. It’s not like you saw Olivia Rodrigo at all and she’s under Geffen. 

So you decided everything was still fine. Until you saw the clips of how Katseye’s choreography captured the audience- how the crowd screamed. How Manon moved like she was born to do this. How she was smiling almost like she’d smiled at you.

Your chest tightened so fast you couldn’t catch your breath. All the “getting over Manon” you had done was gone in an instant. You shut off your phone hoping it would silence the ache. It didn’t.

Before you knew what you were doing, you were in your car on the way to the nearest club. 

You were just a face in the crowd of many, praying no one would recognize you. The noise swallowed you whole, you drank too fast and that was fine because at least you weren’t crying over Manon again.

Someone slid into the bar stool beside you, seemingly not knowing who you were and you needed that. 

“What brings you here tonight?” 

“Someone I need to forget,” you said absentmindedly, completely honest. 

“Oh? Well perhaps I can help with that.” You hummed in response. 

“I’m Sam by the way, and you are?”

“Y/N, how about you? Why are you here?”

“Same as you actually. How about I get you a drink?”

You should’ve left. You knew you should’ve left. But the attention was a much needed distraction. She wasn’t your friend, just some stranger, there’d be less heartbreak. Right?

She laughed at your jokes, you let her touch your wrist when she talked. And when she asked if you wanted to go somewhere quieter, you agreed a little too fast. 

Manon found out about your new girlfriend the same way she found out everything about your life now. Through the internet.

She’d been scrolling on Twitter during a styling session when a headline caught her eye…

Rising Geffen Soloist Y/N Spotted Leaving Restaurant Hand-in-Hand With Mystery Girl

She shouldn’t have clicked it, she knew that. Unfortunately, her fingers moved faster than her brain could process.

The photos loaded slowly, one after another.

You, laughing.

You, tucked against someone’s side.

You, smiling in a way she hadn’t seen in years.

The girl beside you was beautiful. Dark hair, easy grin, her hand resting naturally against your waist like Manon’s had before.

“Manu?”

Sophia was talking to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond. All she could think was:

Oh.

You really were moving on.

A strange nausea twisted in her chest, sharp and humiliating. She’d broken up with you. She’d wanted you to heal. To find happiness outside of her.

So why did it feel like she was being ripped apart anyway?

Sophia touched her shoulder gently. “You okay?”

Manon blinked hard, locking her phone screen immediately.

“Yeah,” she lied automatically.

But the rest of the day felt wrong.

Every rehearsal mirror became unbearable because she kept imagining your hands on somebody else instead of hers. Every love lyric in practice tracks suddenly sounded cruel.

She realized she had no right to be upset. She was the one who left. That night, alone in her apartment, Manon made the mistake of looking deeper.

Your fans loved Sam.

There were edits of you together already. Slow-motion videos with romantic music layered over them. Comment sections full of people talking about how happy you looked lately.

Manon clicked through a rabbit hole of posts and clips. One sat with her in particular. 

You were leaving an interview laughing while Sam walked beside you. The paparazzi yelled questions over each other until one voice cut through clearly:

“Y/N! Is she your girlfriend?”

You froze for a second before glancing toward Sam.

Then you smiled.

“Yeah,” you answered quietly.

Manon shut the phone off immediately.

For the first time since the breakup, the consequences of her choices finally felt real. You were becoming a life she no longer belonged to. She couldn’t just go back to Lucerne and kiss you anymore… You were gone.

The club lights blurred together in streaks of blue and gold, music vibrating through your ribs hard enough to drown out your thoughts. Sam’s hand rested on your waist as she guided you through the crowd, warm and familiar.

“Baby, you look amazing,” she murmured against your ear.

You laughed softly, though it sounded distant even to yourself. “You’ve said that like five times tonight.”

“Because it’s true.”

She pulled you toward a quieter hallway near the bathrooms, away from the suffocating heat of the dance floor. For a second, you let yourself lean into it. Into her.

Into the idea that maybe this could work if you just tried hard enough.

Then your eyes lifted.

And the world stopped.

Manon stood at the other end of the hallway, frozen mid-step.

The noise of the club disappeared instantly, drowned out by the sudden rushing in your ears. She looked different than she had in Lucerne- more polished, dressed in dark clothes that fit her too well. But her eyes were exactly the same.

And they were already locked onto yours.

Sam felt your body tense immediately.

Her hand loosened around your wrist. “...Oh.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Manon looked like she couldn’t either.

For one horrible second, all three of you just stood there suspended in silence, the years between you collapsing all at once.

Sam followed your stare back to Manon before looking at you again.

Understanding settled across her face slowly, painfully.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.

Your throat tightened. You hated yourself for how quickly tears burned behind your eyes.

Sam let out a small laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Wow.” She looked down briefly, shaking her head. “I really never stood a chance.”

“Sam-”

“No, it’s okay.” Her voice stayed soft, which somehow made it hurt worse. “I think part of me already knew.”

You opened your mouth, but no explanation felt big enough. Not for this.

Not for ten years of loving someone.

Sam looked back toward Manon, who still hadn’t moved.

“She’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room,” she said quietly. “To be honest, you are too.”

Your chest cracked open at the words.

“I did try,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else.

“I know.” Sam smiled sadly. “That’s why I’m not angry.”

The music swelled again around you, distant and muffled. Then Sam stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss against your cheek.

“Go talk to her.”

Your breath caught. “Sam…”

“You deserve closure, Y/N.”

Sam gave your hand one last squeeze before disappearing back into the crowd.

Leaving you standing there and Manon standing twenty feet away, staring at you… She still loved you enough to ruin herself over it.

A/N: oml help i've spent my whole day fixing up old fanfic drafts and making new ones when i have SEVEN finals to study for 💔

[strawberrygarden27]

Still Young and Beautiful

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ≽^•⩊•^≼ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Request: Yes

Summary: You find your first love again after throwing countless parties in hopes of finding her again. She’s still as beautiful as you remember however, she is no longer yours

Pairings: Manon Bannerman x Fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, Romance(?), NO happy ending

A/N: I love this book/movie so much, thanks for the request!!

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ≽^•⩊•^≼ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

The first time you saw Manon was on a summer night that smelled like saltwater and champagne.

You had been seventeen, awkward in the way rich girls often were—too much money, too much loneliness, nowhere to place either of them. Your parents had rented a mansion on the coast for the season, all white marble and glittering windows overlooking the bay. Every evening there were people everywhere: politicians, models, musicians, strangers with expensive watches and fake laughs.

And then there was her.

Manon stood barefoot near the edge of the dock while everyone else danced behind her. Silver jewelry glimmered against her skin. She looked like she belonged to the ocean more than the party itself.

You remembered standing beside her with two untouched drinks in your hand.

“You hate this too?” you’d asked.

She glanced at you, amused. “I don’t hate it. I just think everyone here is pretending.”

“And you’re not?”

She smiled, slow and dangerous.

“No,” she said. “I’m just visiting.”

For the rest of that summer, she became the center of your world.

You drove along the coastline at midnight with music loud enough to drown your thoughts. She climbed through your bedroom window instead of using the front door. You laid on the roof together counting stars while she talked about wanting more from life than parties and cameras and people who only loved versions of her.

And you loved her.

Not in the careless summer way people wrote songs about.

You loved her completely.

Then August ended.

And she disappeared.

No goodbye. No explanation. Nothing.

At first you thought she’d text.

Then you thought maybe she’d call.

Eventually, you stopped checking your phone every five minutes and started checking every hour instead.

Months passed.

Then years.

But you never stopped thinking about her.

By twenty-three, you owned the biggest house on the north side of the bay.

People whispered about you constantly.

The mysterious heiress.

The girl who threw parties every weekend.

The girl no one actually knew.

Your mansion became legendary. Endless lights reflected against the water. Music thundered until sunrise. Celebrities stumbled through the gates beside socialites and influencers and people who simply wanted to say they’d been invited.

No one understood why you hosted them.

But every Friday night, before guests arrived, you stood alone on the balcony overlooking the driveway hoping to see a familiar figure step out of a black car.

Most nights she never came.

Still, you kept throwing the parties.

Because hope was easier than accepting she was gone forever.

Three summers later, she finally appeared.

You almost missed her.

The ballroom was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, gold chandeliers glowing overhead while laughter echoed through the mansion. Someone was pulling you into another pointless conversation when you glanced toward the staircase,

Forgetting how to breathe.

Manon stood there in a dark silk dress.

Older now. Sharper somehow. But still devastating.

Your heart slammed painfully against your ribs.

For a moment neither of you moved.

Then she smiled.

And suddenly you were seventeen again.

You barely remembered crossing the room. One second she was across the ballroom, the next she was standing inches away smelling like expensive perfume and summer rain.

“Hi,” she said softly.

You stared at her like she might disappear if you blinked. “You came.”

“I heard about the parties.”

“You heard about them?”

“Everyone has.”

There were a thousand things you wanted to say.

Why did you leave?

Did you ever think about me?

Was any of it real?

But all that came out was: “You look beautiful.”

Her expression faltered just slightly. “So do you.”

You left the party together without telling anyone.

The house behind you glowed like a second moon while the two of you walked barefoot along the shoreline, heels dangling from your hands.

It felt impossibly easy.

Like no time had passed at all.

You talked for hours.

About everything.

Nothing.

She laughed at your jokes the same way she used to, head tilted back without restraint. You told her about the places you’d traveled. She admitted she still hated loud parties. At some point your fingers brushed together, then stayed intertwined.

And for the first time in years, you let yourself believe maybe this story hadn’t ended after all.

Back at the mansion, the music downstairs had faded quieter. Most guests were drunk or asleep somewhere they shouldn’t be.

You brought her to your bedroom.

Not because you expected anything.

Just because it was the only place that had ever felt entirely yours.

Moonlight spilled across the floor through enormous windows. The ocean shimmered outside.

Manon wandered slowly around the room, stopping beside the shelf where an old polaroid sat framed near your bed.

The two of you at seventeen.

She picked it up carefully.

“You kept this?”

“I kept everything.”

Silence settled between you.

Heavy. Fragile.

Then she turned toward you with an expression that made your stomach twist.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered.

“Like what?”

“Like this can still happen for us.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

You tried to laugh it off. “Why wouldn’t it?”

Manon looked down at the photograph in her hands.

And then quietly said, “Because I’m engaged.”

Everything inside you stopped.

The ocean outside still crashed against the shore. Somewhere downstairs people were still laughing. But it all sounded impossibly far away.

You stared at her.

“No,” you said automatically.

Her eyes filled with something awful. Regret maybe.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So don’t.” Your voice cracked. “Don’t tell me.”

“He proposed last winter.”

You shook your head like refusing reality could change it. “Then why are you here?”

Manon swallowed hard.

“Because I wanted to see you one last time.”

One last time.

The phrase carved straight through your chest.

You laughed then, but it sounded broken. “That’s cruel.”

“I know.”

“Did you love me at all?”

She crossed the room so quickly you barely saw it happen. Her hands cupped your face, trembling.

“I never stopped.”

That somehow made it worse.

Tears burned behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Then stay.”

For one terrible second, you thought she might.

You saw it in her expression, the hesitation, the longing, the grief.

But eventually she stepped back.

And you already knew.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

The driveway outside glittered with headlights by the time she left.

You stood on the balcony watching her car disappear into the darkness beyond the gates.

Just like the first time.

Except now there was no hope left to hold onto.

No fantasy waiting at the end of the dock.

No belief that maybe next summer she’d come back to you.

The parties stopped after that.

The mansion went quiet.

And every night, long after everyone else had forgotten her, you still found yourself staring across the water,

waiting for someone who would never return.

[strawberrygarden27]

Worth Every Petal

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ≽^•⩊•^≼ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Request: No…

Summary: Love can be beautiful even when painful

Pairings: Daniela Avanzini x Fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, Romance(?), NO Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, Right Person, Not Enough Time

A/N: My bad guys…

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ≽^•⩊•^≼ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

The first letter arrived folded neatly beside Daniela’s water bottle after practice.

No name.

Just a single white rose laid carefully on top of the envelope.

The other girls crowded around immediately.

“Secret admirer?” Daniela laughed, though it sounded nervous more than excited.

Megan tried stealing the envelope. Daniela snatched it back with a grin. “Mind your business.”

The paper inside smelled faintly like lavender detergent.

You always stretch your left ankle first even though you injured the right one.

Daniela blinked.

You hum before choruses when you’re trying to memorize harmonies. You don’t notice you’re doing it.

The smile on her face faded slightly.

And when you’re exhausted, you pretend to tie your shoe so no one sees you catching your breath.

No signature.

Just one final line.

Please take care of yourself.

Daniela reread it three times.

Because it was strange.

Too strange.

But also…

weirdly sweet.

The second letter appeared a week later.

Another rose.

Red this time.

Daniela found it in the dorm kitchen at six in the morning before anyone else had woken up.

The envelope already had her name written on it.

Dani.

Only the members addressed her as that.

She opened it immediately.

You looked sad yesterday after the interview.

Her stomach dropped.

You laughed at all the right moments, but you kept pulling at your bracelet when the questions got too personal.

You always do that when you’re uncomfortable.

Daniela sat down slowly at the kitchen counter.

Outside, rain tapped against the windows.

You don’t have to pretend all the time.

Her chest tightened strangely.

Because whoever this was…

they knew her.

Not the idol version.

Not the funny, confident version she gave cameras.

Her.

At the bottom of the page was a tiny pressed flower taped beside the words:

I think your sadness is beautiful even when you try to hide it.

No signature again.

Daniela hated that part most.

Not because she was scared.

Because she wanted to know.

After the fourth letter, the girls became obsessed.

“You have quite the admirer,” Sophia announced dramatically.

“A romantic one,” Megan corrected.

Daniela rolled her eyes, though her fingers carefully flattened the newest note against the table.

Each letter got more personal.

More intimate.

You cried listening to that old song in the shower two nights ago.

You still sleep with one sock on when you’re cold.

You pretend you don’t like physical affection but always lean into it when someone hugs you first.

Some of the details made her skin prickle.

Others made her heart ache.

Because whoever this person was, they noticed everything no one else did.

And somehow… they loved those things.

The roses kept changing colors too.

White.

Red.

Pink.

Yellow.

One day Daniela caught herself wondering what flower she’d receive next before she even checked the mailbox.

That realization scared her more than the letters themselves.

You watched from the hallway as she read the newest one.

Your lungs burned.

You pressed a fist against your mouth hard enough to bruise.

Don’t cough.

Not now.

Not in front of her.

Daniela smiled softly at the paper in her hands.

And God, that smile made everything worse.

Because she looked happy.

Happy because of you.

Even if she didn’t know it.

Even if she never could.

You slipped away before she noticed you staring.

The second you reached the bathroom, the coughing started again.

Violent.

Painful.

Wet.

Flower petals scattered into the sink in shades of deep crimson.

Hanahaki Disease.

Untreated love growing inside your lungs because your feelings weren’t returned.

Or couldn’t be.

You gripped the sink, trembling.

The doctor had told you weeks ago that removal surgery was still possible.

But the surgery erased the feelings entirely.

Every memory attached to the love would become hollow.

Empty.

And selfishly…

you couldn’t let her go yet.

Even if it killed you.

Daniela became consumed by the mystery.

At night she’d reread the letters in bed.

She started noticing things too.

Who stayed behind after practice?

Who knew her habits this well?

Who paid enough attention?

At first she suspected staff.

Then maybe a dancer.

Then maybe someone online somehow gathering information.

But none of it felt right.

Because the letters weren’t obsessive.

They were gentle.

Like someone loved her quietly.

Carefully.

The thought made her cheeks warm every single time.

One evening she found another rose left on her pillow.

This one blue.

Her breath caught immediately.

The note inside was shorter than usual.

You looked beautiful laughing today.

I think I could survive forever on the sound of it.

Daniela stared at the words for a long time.

Then finally whispered into the empty room:

“Who are you?”

You were getting worse.

The girls noticed eventually.

“You okay?” Lara asked one afternoon.

You nodded too quickly.

“Just tired.”

But Daniela frowned.

Because you’d stopped eating as much.

You disappeared between practices.

Your voice sounded rough all the time now.

And sometimes she caught you staring at her with an expression she couldn’t understand before you looked away too fast.

Then came the blood.

Not much.

Just a tiny stain on the sleeve you tried to hide after coughing.

But Daniela saw it.

Her eyes widened immediately.

“You’re sick.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re literally bleeding.”

“It’s nothing.”

Your voice cracked painfully halfway through the sentence.

Daniela stepped closer instinctively.

“You should go to a doctor.”

You almost laughed at that.

If only it were that easy.

The last time Daniela saw you, you were smiling.

Not a forced idol smile.

Not the polished one meant for cameras.

A real one.

Soft.

Tired.

The company had announced your hiatus that morning due to “health concerns,” and the dorm felt strangely hollow already. Suitcases sat by the doorway while the members awkwardly tried to act normal about it.

Nobody wanted to say the scary part out loud.

You looked pale.

Too pale.

“You better text us every day,” Megan warned, trying to sound playful.

You laughed quietly. “That sounds exhausting.”

Sophia hugged you tightly anyway.

Daniela waited until everyone else drifted away before approaching.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked.

You looked at her for a moment too long.

Like you were memorizing her face.

“Yeah,” you lied gently.

Then you handed her a final envelope.

“For later,” you said.

Daniela looked down immediately.

No rose this time.

Just her name written carefully across the front.

When she looked back up, you were already stepping away.

“Don’t read it until tonight, okay?”

Something about your voice made her chest tighten.

Still, she nodded.

“Okay.”

You smiled again.

God, she would hate herself later for not realizing how goodbye sounded in your mouth.

The dorm felt emptier without you.

Too quiet.

Daniela kept glancing toward your usual spot on the couch before remembering you weren’t there anymore.

By midnight she finally remembered the envelope sitting untouched on her nightstand.

She climbed into bed and opened it carefully.

Several folded pages slipped out.

The handwriting immediately made her stomach twist.

Because it wasn’t neat this time.

It looked shaky.

Uneven.

Like writing had become difficult.

Hi Dani.

By the time you read this, I’ll probably already be home.

She smiled faintly at that before continuing.

Or trying to be.

The smile disappeared.

I think you deserve the truth now.

Her chest tightened immediately.

The letters were from me.

Every rose too.

Daniela swallowed hard.

She already knew somehow before finishing the sentence.

Maybe because deep down, part of her had started recognizing you in the letters weeks ago.

The way the words sounded gentle.

Careful.

Like you.

Her eyes continued scanning faster now.

I didn’t sign them because I knew you could never love me back the way I loved you.

And I didn’t want to ruin what we had.

Tears blurred the ink already.

I know you’re straight.

That’s okay.

Really.

Love doesn’t become ugly just because it can’t be returned.

Daniela pressed a hand against her mouth.

Your words felt unbearably calm.

Too calm.

Then she reached the next paragraph.

And everything stopped.

I have Hanahaki Disease.

The paper trembled violently in her hands.

I didn’t tell anyone because there wasn’t really a point.

The surgery would remove my feelings for you entirely, and selfishly… loving you was the happiest thing that ever happened to me.

Daniela’s breathing turned uneven.

No.

No no no.

Her eyes darted desperately across the page.

It started small. Coughing petals after practices. Blood sometimes.

I got good at hiding it.

Suddenly every moment over the last month replayed in horrifying clarity.

Your disappearing acts.

Your exhaustion.

The roughness in your voice.

The way you’d stare at her when you thought she wasn’t looking.

Tears splashed onto the paper.

I think part of me hoped you’d figure it out eventually.

Not because I wanted you to save me.

Just because being known by you felt nice.

Daniela shook her head frantically.

“No,” she whispered to the empty room.

As if arguing with the letter itself.

Her phone suddenly rang downstairs.

Voices erupted faintly in the living room.

Panicked.

Confused.

Daniela wiped at her eyes quickly and stepped out of her room.

Missy stood frozen near the kitchen, a phone to her ear.

Her face had gone completely pale.

“What happened?” Sophia asked nervously.

Nobody answered immediately.

Then Missy spoke quietly.

“They called from the airport.”

Daniela’s stomach dropped.

“They said she collapsed before boarding.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

Then Missy swallowed hard.

“She didn’t make it to the hospital.”

Daniela stopped breathing.

The letter slipped from her hands.

Nobody noticed.

Nobody noticed because Megan had started crying and Manon looked like she might faint and Lara kept repeating “No” under her breath like saying it enough times could change reality.

But Daniela couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Because all she could hear was your voice from earlier that day.

“Don’t read it until tonight, okay?”

You knew.

You knew you were dying.

And you still smiled at her anyway.

The funeral was small.

Private.

Mostly family.

Staff.

The members stood together dressed in black while cameras waited far outside the gates, unaware that one of the brightest people in the group was now lowered quietly into the ground beneath gray skies.

Daniela barely remembered most of it afterward.

Only fragments stayed with her.

Rain soaking through her sleeves.

Yoonchae crying openly into Sophia’s shoulder.

Your mother clutching a handkerchief with shaking fingers.

The white flowers arranged around your casket.

White.

Like the very first rose.

Daniela stood completely still through all of it.

Because every time she tried to breathe too deeply, she remembered the letters.

You don’t have to pretend all the time.

I think I could survive forever on the sound of your laugh.

I just wanted to love you for a little while.

Every word hurt differently now.

Not because you loved her.

Because you thought she could never love you back.

Night had already fallen by the time everyone finally left.

Daniela stayed behind alone.

The cemetery had gone quiet except for the distant sound of rainwater dripping from trees.

She stared at your name engraved into the stone.

It still didn’t feel real.

You had been beside her almost every day for years.

Stealing her hoodies.

Falling asleep during movie nights.

Laughing too loudly at stupid jokes.

Watching her in that soft careful way she only understood now.

Daniela slowly crouched down and placed a blue rose at the base of the grave.

Her fingers lingered against the petals.

“You were so stupid,” she whispered shakily.

Tears slipped down her cheeks immediately afterward.

Because the cruelest part was that you weren’t stupid.

You’d been right.

She hadn’t realized it in time.

Daniela laughed weakly through her tears.

“I spent weeks trying to figure out who loved me,” she murmured. “And it was you.”

The wind stirred softly around her.

She looked down at the grave again.

And suddenly,

something clicked into place so violently it made her stomach twist.

Hanahaki Disease.

A cure existed.

Not just surgery.

Reciprocation.

Returned feelings.

Returned love.

Daniela’s breathing stopped.

Her mind replayed everything differently now.

The way her chest tightened whenever you got too sick to dance.

The jealousy she felt seeing you laugh too closely with other people.

How you were the first person she searched for after every performance.

How your absence in the dorm felt unbearable.

How your goodbye that morning had nearly made her cry for reasons she didn’t understand then.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh my God.”

The words came out broken.

She loved you.

Maybe she had for longer than she realized.

Maybe it had been growing slowly, quietly, the same way your disease had.

And if she had understood sooner,

if she had just realized it,

You would still be alive.

Daniela doubled over as a sob tore from her chest.

“No no no…”

Rain began falling harder around her.

She gripped the edge of the gravestone like it could somehow hold her together.

“You idiot,” she cried. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

But even as she said it, she knew the answer.

Because you loved her too gently to burden her with it.

You’d rather die quietly than make her feel trapped into loving you back.

And God,

that made it worse.

Daniela pressed her forehead against the cold stone.

“I loved you too,” she whispered desperately.

The confession came too late.

Too late for your letters.

Too late for your roses.

Too late for the airport.

Too late for you.

She cried there for what felt like hours, alone beneath the rain, mourning not just the girl she lost,

but the future she never realized she wanted until it was gone.

And somewhere deep down, Daniela knew this grief would never fully leave her.

Because every time she saw a rose for the rest of her life…

she would remember the girl who loved her so quietly that even dying couldn’t make her ask for anything in return.

[skiendielific]

❝A Love Older Than Death❞

↪ 𝓢ynopsis: It was forbidden for Vampires and Vampire hunters to be in relations. They were sworn Enemies from the beginning of time, yet when you ran into the daughter of the Avanzini clan, Daniela Avanzini, you couldn't bring yourself to kill her and every time you did, you made excuses not to kill her until those encounters became intentional and the two of you fell in love. The consequences of that relationship was death, which had come in a very unexpected way.

↪ 𝓦arnings: angst, deaths, lots of blood, gore, themes of reincarnation, blood drinking, suggestive themes, murder, massacre.

↪𝓟airings: Vampire Daniela Avanzini x Vampire Hunter Reader

↪ 𝓦ord 𝓒ount: 4.7

↪ 𝓕eaturing: @meiyokstarr "Jana", @lostrysts "Hana", @mayzini "May" & @meganswhxre "Charlotte".

↪ 𝓐uthor's 𝓝ote: Hello skiendielific nation, this took quite a few days to write. Its my first time writing a vampire themed fiction, and also, I know nothing about Manchac and Louisiana, everything in here is based off of what Google said. I am a bit insecure and unsure about this so a little feed back would be nice. And maybe a part 2 is on the way :)

Manchac, 1897.

You stepped on the lawn, boots crunching the dirt underneath. The air was cold, almost too cold and it felt like someone was watching you because someone was. On the balcony stood a pale woman, her eyes glowing in the dark. She was wrapped in silk and sin, emitting a dark aura that had you gripping your knife. “You came alone, hunter.”

“Who are you? Show yourself!”

“Always so quick with violence,” the woman tsk'd right behind you. The dagger was immediately set on her throat and she slowly walked you back until you reached the moonlight and there you saw her.

Pale. Cold. Iris is as red as wine. She looked hauntingly beautiful and suddenly you felt uneasy. The kind that knew something was about to happen. “You shouldn't have strayed away so far from your pack, hunter,” her voice came out as sweet as honey, and she circled you, silk dragging behind her.

“You don't tell me what to do.”

“Oh but I'm telling you what you should do. How did you find this place?”

How did you find it? Well you were a vampire hunter and the woman before you was a vampire. It was only natural that you found it. Yet, a part of you was being pulled into her charm. Charms she hasn't even used yet. “You're a vampire hunter.”

You lowered the knife and took a step back. “You're not scared of me?”

“Why would I be?” She laughed, biting her lips as her gaze raked you up and down. “You're a measly vampire hunter. A mere human.”

You scoffed. “Do you see any other vampires around here, woman? That's because I killed them all.”

The woman went quiet. A loud whistle snapped your attention away for a brief moment. “You're lucky I have to go,” you muttered as you retreated back to your clan. She watched with a bite of her lip as you disappeared then she did too.

The second meeting happened unexpectedly, or rather, it was planned. You had been injured after hunting for food and somehow the deer put up a much harder fight than usual. The dagger that was supposed to be inside the deer was lodged in your sides. You had stumbled on a vine and landed on top of it, crushing a rib and injuring yourself. Which is how you were sitting up against the tree, trying to stop the bleeding before you went back. The scent of blood would cause the vampires to find the cabin that the hunters were in and you didn't want to take that risk. The bleeding had somehow stopped but the pain was making it hard for you to move.

“Well well well, look what I stumbled upon,” a voice purred from the shadows. Your breathing quickened and you instinctively gripped your dagger. The woman scoffed and stepped out, you instantly recognized her as the vampire you met some nights ago. “It's no use trying to fight me. You're as good as dead.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked through gritted teeth. The woman held up the head of the deer you had been hunting earlier. Coincidentally, you both had been hunting the same animals. “It's pathetic, no? An infamous vampire hunter such as yourself lost to a mere helpless animal. You humans are such ridiculous creatures.”

You tried to stand up but the pain shot through your entire body, causing you to let out a cry of pain. “Let me see.”

“No.”

She ignored you anyway and knelt before you. Probably the only time the vampire has knelt before a human. Your shirt was yanked up and she hummed before ripping the bandage off. “You didn't tie it properly. This won't heal for a good few days. And I'm sure you're not going back to your cabin like this.”

You stayed quiet, watching as she bit her own hand. A small spurt of black blood leaked out and she pressed it to your lips. “Drink. It has healing properties.”

“You expect me to fucking drink your blood? A vampire?”

“This or you die.”

And you didn't wanna die. Not now at least. You still had to hunt down the main vampire family; the Avanzinis. With the hesitation, you leaned forward and drank it, immediately coughing. It was strange and had no taste. Soon, you saw your flesh morphing together and the wound closing up. The vampire let out a huff of pride, and stood up, following. “You healed me?”

“If I'm going to be hunted down by you, you'll need all the strength you can get,” she paused, looking you up, “which isn't much.”

You tried to shoot back with a sparky retort but the woman vanished in thin air.

The third meeting was definitely planned. Ever since the vampire healed you, you had not been able to get her out of your mind. Every night, you toss and turn in bed, her glowing eyes, her sharp fangs, and her extremely unforgettable silhouette interfere with your dreams. You knew you had to meet her again, get her name, and possibly, understand her.

But like every other encounter, she found you first. It saved the trouble of hunting her down. “Third meeting in a row. I'm starting to think you like me, hunter,” she purred, circling with a predatory gaze. Yet beneath those glowing irises, you caught a glimpse of intrigue. “Yeah? What makes you think I like you? What if I'm seeking you out in order to kill you?”

She laughed, the sound tingling your insides. “I know you, y/n.”

Your eyes widened. How did she know? Well obviously she would know but it caught you by surprise. “I know a lot about you. You're the child of Lucien Devereaux. You were born into the strongest vampire hunter house, which has been standing for ages. So, Yn Devereaux, I know you're not seeking me out to kill me. Our last encounter left a very significant influence on you.”

You hummed and took off your hat, smoothing back your hair. This was wrong, so damn wrong, you told yourself. She was a vampire, you were supposed to kill her yet standing before her, your body was frozen in place. “Tell me your name.”

“My name? My name is Daniela Avanzini.”

The dagger dropped from your hands at her revelation. Of course she would be Avanzini, the strongest vampire family to exist. “You-you're the daughter of Avanzini?”

She hummed, smiling at your frozen expression. It sent such a very delicious feeling straight to her brain. She wanted to devour you, but also wanted to slowly unravel you until you were left at her mercy. Because Daniela never felt this way about anyone, yet along a human. A vampire hunter.

The meetings became frequent. You and her would “coincidentally” meet which wasn't really what happened. An old tall tree stood out in the forest, and you built a small hut around it. That's where you and Daniela had the meetings. Every time you'd see her, your hands would instinctively clutch your dagger until you let your guard down around her.

She was soft, gentle. Not something a vampire was supposed to be. But you brought out that side in her. She admired your bravery and listened to you recall your stories to her with a fond smile on her face.

Eventually those meetings turned into intense sessions where Daniela would become vulnerable around you. She trusted you. With her life. With her cold heart. But you made it beat once more. The first time you made love was during one of those meetings where she expressed her concerns for you. If her father was to find out about you, he'd kill you in a heart beat. And you reassured her with both words and actions. “We have to stop this yn,” she whispered, tracing your features with her cold finger tips.

“I can't stay away from you, darling. You can't either. Let's not deny this anymore.”

She chuckled and pressed small kisses to your cheek and nose. “Yes. Indeed. You truly have a hold on this vampire, yeah?” You hummed, watching the way her eyes lingered on your neck.

“You're hungry, yes? I assume our little session drained your energy.”

She sat up, your robe fell off her which was previously used to cover her. “I am.”

“Then feed from me.”

“Yn no. It's too dangerous.” You shook your head and brought her lips to your neck. “Take from me, my love. Never let yourself go hungry when I'm here.”

She hesitated, tracing your pulse point before leaning in to kiss it. A shuddering breath escaped you when Daniela pressed her fangs against your skin. Slowly, she sunk in, the flesh making a soft ‘woosh’ sound as her fangs took its place. She greedily drank her fill, eyes glowing with hunger and love. “That's it, my darling. Take what you need. I'm here.”

Your words were so tender, so gentle, it brought tears to her eyes. She squeezed them shut and continued drinking until she decided that she had enough. Daniela pulled away and licked the wound. “I should go. The sun's coming up,” she mumbled. You nodded and stood up, offering her a hand. “You ripped my clothes by the way. What am I supposed to wear to go home?” Daniela huffed, a small pout forming on her face and your poor heart couldn't handle it. “Wear my robe. I'll be okay.” She smiled, the thought of taking home a piece of you excited her. She put the robe on, which was quite big for her and gave you a deep kiss. “I love you, yn. “

“Oh Daniela, oh my love, I love you more. So much more.” She disappeared within seconds, and you made your way home.

Daniela arrived back at the castle, it was dark, as it always was. “Where were you?” a voice spoke from the shadows. She froze, turning around to find her dad standing there. “I-I was out hunting, father.”

“You smell like humans. That robe doesn't belong to you.”

Fuck. She was absolutely in trouble. Daniela quickly cooked up a lie, hoping her father wouldn't see through. “I killed a hunter. They put up quite the fight and I ripped my clothes in the process. So I took their robe.”

The older vampire hummed before walking away. Daniela breathed a sigh of relief and walked in the opposite direction, clutching the robe tightly since it seemed like the only thing that brought her comfort.

You arrived back at the cabin when the sun came up, your neck exposed with the two teeth marks. “What's that on your neck?” A voice asked from behind you, making you jump out of your skin. “Oh dear god. Please stop sneaking up on me like that, Jana.”

The woman scoffed, trying to hide back a smile as the reaction you just gave off. Then her eyes landed on your neck and saw the marks. “You were bitten? What happened? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, sister. I…” you swallowed, sweat beading at your forehead. “I fought a vampire. They managed to escape my grasp.”

“And they bit you? How could you let that happen?” She asked, concern etched onto her face.

“I was taken by surprise.”

“Don't let father find out. You won't heal the end of it.”

You nodded and thanked her before walking to your room. You touched the mark on your neck, biting back a smile. You could still feel the softness of Daniela's lips, the sting of her bite and you smiled to yourself.

Over time, the secret meetings continued for who knows how long. It didn't seem like anyone knew, or they just probably didn't care. But you knew how the Devereaux family stayed. They hated vampires, especially the Avanzinis. One night as you and Daniela sat on a tree branch, staring up at the sky, she leaned her head on your shoulders and intertwined your fingers. “I have a feeling something isn't right, yn.” Her voice was soft, filled with uncertainty and distress. You frowned and looked at her. “What makes you say that, my love?”

“It's just a deep nagging feeling. I can't shake it off. Ever since our last meeting, I've been feeling like this.”

“Hey, nothing is gonna go wrong. And even if they did, I'd rather die before I leave you.”

She smiled and cupped your face, her finger tips caressing your cheek bones. “Promise me, yn, that if anything ever happens, you'll find me in the next life.”

“My love. I promise. I'll search for you in every life time. I don't ever want anyone else but you.” The promise was sealed with a kiss, filled with unspoken promises and a desire to protect her. She was yours and you were hers.

But every good thing must come to an end. No matter the circumstances. When you went home that day, you found your father, Lucien, waiting for you by the doors. He was enraged, eyes tear streaked. “Father. What's going on?”

“The Avanzinis took your brother. They killed Solomon.” Your eyes widened, body freezing up. “How do you know it was them?”

He scoffed and slammed the Avanzini crest into your palms. “There! You and Solomon were supposed to hunt together! Where were you?!”

“I-I…I was-” “Save it. Jana found the Avanzinis hideout. We go tonight.” You nodded dumbfoundedly, the only thoughts in your mind was to warn Daniela. But how could you? There was no time. Atleast none to warn her yourself. You ran to your room and scribbled a note before typing it to the messenger bird, your companion and it flew away. “Fuck fuck how could this happen?” You whispered, arming yourself. Maybe if you went ahead and took Daniela away, she'd be safe.

“Come on. There's no time!” Jana burst through your room. “I-I know! I'm coming!”

The entire clan was raging, their eyes blazing with hatred. Ascending the glorious stallions, your father took the Devereaux army and marched onwards to the Avanzinis castle. The moon was high, the forest was bright, yet an impending war was steadily approaching. “Break the doors down!” Lucien roared. The guys took a big log and broke the front doors open, revealing the big man himself along with the other vampires. Your eyes caught Daniela's and she gave you a frightened look.

“You took my son!” Lucien roared.

“His death was inevitable,” Rafael spoke, bats flying around him, “Your daughters are next.”

“You won't touch my daughter!” Lucien hissed, descending his horse and so did the others. Everyone pulled out their weapons, aiming them at the vampires. “This is war, Rafael.”

The vampire laughed before charging at your father. A war broke out, blood shedding, vampires biting into the flesh of humans. Both Daniela and you stood frozen, not wanting to engage but the loyalty to your families fought an internal war. In the midst of the chaos, while Daniela was distracted. One of your members took the chance and ran up to her with a wooden stake, aiming for her heart that belonged to you. She had no time to react, and you didn't either. Before he could reach Daniela, a sword pierced through his body and he screamed. You stood there, watching him flatter until he stopped breathing. You had killed your own family, just to protect her.

But alas, your father along with a few others were left standing above the bodies of the vampires. Daniela was the only survivor. “I always knew you'd betray us. The black sheep of this family,” Lucien breathed out, catching his breath. “You protect our enemy. They took your brother! They killed our clan! All this for love.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and stood infront of Daniela. “Move out of the way. I will deal with you later, yn.”

“No father. I won't let you do this. We love each other. Daniela is my everything.”

“Daniela? A vampire? The same ones that took your mother. The same ones that has been killing innocents for blood.”

“They kill for survival! It is the right of every creature! Don't we kill innocent animals for survival too, father?”

He scowled and through gritted teeth, he replied, “That's different. We are humans. They are monsters.”

“The only monster here, is you, father.”

“I had hoped that I would have atleast you after this war. But it seems you want to join your siblings early. Then so be it.”

“Daniela run.”

Daniela shook her head, gripping onto your arms. “Daniela run please!”

“No I'm not leaving you!”

“Just go!” A choked sob escaped her when you pushed her away. When your father charged at you, she took off running but she didn't run far. She hid at a distance, watching as you single handedly took down the other survivors of your clan. However, you were no match for your father. He struck the dagger in your ribs, digging and twisting to hear you scream out in pain. Blood flowed like a waterfall yet his eyes were locked on Daniela I the distsnce. “I'll kill you you fucking vampire bitch!”

With what little energy you had left, you grabbed onto his foot and dragged him down. He knocked down the candles which fell onto the curtains, and the fire spread like crazy.

Lucien struggled under neath you, but the injuries he had sustained from the vampires were now acting up, causing his energy to drain. “I'm sorry father…but I love Daniela…and I can't let you kill her.”

“You…you betrayed me…your own father-aggkk!”

Blood spurred from his mouth as you pierced his heart with the dagger. His eyes were wide open and he stopped breathing. At the same time, the fire had spread throughout the castle, the ceiling, the pillars and everything came crashing down. And somehow, you felt yourself get pulled out of the castle and into the forest. “D-dani…?”

“Shhh. Don't speak. J-just try to save your energy okay! Please you can't die!” But even as Daniela held your body in her arms, she knew it was too late. You lost enough blood that couldn't be given back to you. “I'm sorry…Daniela… I love you.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Don't you dare say you love me when you're gonna end up leaving me! Please please I can't live without you…” she sobbed, holding your body. Her hands were shaking badly as they tried to stop the bleeding and she knew by the time she got help, you'd bleed to death.

“Hey…look at me..” you cupped her face with your own shaky hands. “I'll find you again…I promise…”

“Baby no! No no no! NOOOOOOO!!!”

Daniela wailed in agony as she held your lifeless body. Her screams erupted through the forest yet all that was heard in response was silence. She could only sit there, holding onto your body for hours and days.

Daniela Avanzini never loved again. She waited for over a century for you, yet you never came. Or atleast, that's what she thought.

Louisiana, 2020.

The streets were bustling with activities. In the midst of it all stood a young adult with her three friends. They were coming back from college, on their way back to their shared apartment. The rent these days was out of the world, so it took more than one person to pay it.

You walked behind Jana and Hana, alongside May. The two women in front were busy giggling to themselves, chatting away without a worry. “Your mind is far, honey. What's up?” May asked, snapping you out of your trance. You shook your head, shrugging. “Nah I'm okay. I'm just worried about finding a job, you know. I've sent in tons of applications everywhere I can think of.”

May hummed as you arrived at the apartment. Jana opened the door and led you all inside. “Oh home sweet home. God my back is killing me,” Hana groaned and complained. May went straight into the kitchen and began making everyone food. “You old,” you teased, making Hana hit you with a pillow from the couch. “Stop fighting you two!” May shouted from the kitchen. Once everyone was changed into more comfortable clothes, you all gathered in the living room, eating what May made. “Dude I'm so glad it's the weekend. I can't do college anymore. It's tiring.”

“Right and the assignments aren't doing us any justice,” Jana groaned, stealing food off Hana's plate. “Hey! That's mine!” “It's mine now hehe!”

“What are your plans for the weekend, yn?” May asked, glancing at you.

You shrugged, pushing around the food. “Probably sleep. Or go job hunting. Maybe both.” May hummed. “Good luck with that. At this point, you've applied to every single vacancy available.”

You let out a loud sigh and continued eating. After that, the four of you played uno. And it was as chaotic as ever. May made Hana pick up twelve cards in one sitting, causing the poor girl to almost flip the table, if it wasn't for Jana calming her. Meanwhile Jana won almost every game, calm and collected, as she normally would be. You on the other hand, got distracted, by god knows what. “Okay! That's it! I'm gonna kill May!”

“WAIT HANA NO-” Hana jumped over the table and playfully strangled May who was fake coughing and gasping. “You guys are so silly. I'm heading up.” A chorus of ‘good night yn’ was heard as you went up to your room.

The tiredness now settled in your bones and you let out a loud yawn before falling asleep.

Blood shed. Death. Loud yelling and screaming. Fire. You jolted up from your sleep, sweat dripping down your forehead. Was it a nightmare? You couldn't tell, not with the way your head was pounding, your heart was racing. It felt too real. Like you lived those moments but you didn't. There were so many things going on at once and it sent shocks through your brain. You took deep breaths, trying to calm down and when you decided you were sleepy again, you fell asleep. This time, your dreams were much more calm. You dreamt of a woman. Pale. Irises glowing in the dark. She was calling your name, crying out. But how could she know your name? It didn't make sense at that moment. And probably never will. After all, it's just a dream right?

The following morning, you woke up and made breakfast for everyone. It was quiet, the kind of quiet you hadn't realised you missed until now. Jana was the first to come down, rubbing sleep off her eyes. “Good morning,” she gave you a hug. “You okay? You look like you've slept rough.”

“Yeah I'm alright. I had some weird dreams but that's about it.”

She hummed and poured herself some coffee. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nah. It's fine. Listen, I'm gonna head out. Gonna go hunt for some jobs.”

“You want me to come with you?”

“No Jan, it's okay. I need you here to stop Hana from killing May.” Jana huffed out a laugh, watching as you ascended the stairs to your room. Half an hour later you left the house, inhaling the fresh morning air. People were now leaving their houses to go about their days and as you passed by, you greeted them with a wave and a smile. The job hunt took almost the entire day and you were back in the evening. Somehow, a flyer flew at your feet and you picked it up. There was a job vacancy for a bartender and a live-in maid. It paid really well too, enough for you to pay out your debt.

“Guys! Guys! I found a job!” You ran into the house excitedly, knocking over the vase. “Hey, be careful!” May shouted.

“What's gotten into you? And where have you been?” Hana questioned with hands on her hips. “I found a job! Well technically I just saw a flyer!” Jana took the flyer and inspected it, her brows furrowing in concentration. “Manchac? That place is practically deserted, yn. How are you gonna go there?”

“Honestly, it pays really well. Plus it's only an hour away by train.”

“Yeah but it's a live-in job. Are you gonna be okay?”

You shrugged. The money was all you cared about so it didn't matter what kind of job you wound up with. “Wait, isn't Manchac where vampires used to live long ago?” May inquired. “You believe in vampires? Those are just myths. They're not real.”

“How sure are you that they're not?”

“Well May, have you ever seen one? Exactly.”

“There's this news about a vampire massacre that happened back in…1897,” Jana chimed in, pulling out the phone to search for the article. You rolled your eyes and laid your head on Hana's lap, as the girl began combing her fingers through. For once she wasn't trying to kill anyone. “Maybe I should call the number there.”

You took the flyer and went to your room, dialing the number. A sudden wave of dread washed over you as you kept repeatedly reading the requirements. ‘Must be human.’

“Thank you for calling! How may I help you?” A cheerful bubbly voice snapped you out of your trance. Your throat felt tight, the words getting stuck. “Are you calling about the job vacancy?” The same voice asked, a little more quiet and curious now.

“Y-yes! My name is Yn and I saw a flyer about a job vacancy being available for a live-in maid and bartender?”

“Yes! Are you interested?”

“Yes I am. But I'm asking if I can do it part time. I'm a college student about to go on a two months break.”

The woman paused, then replied, “I'll have to ask madame. Here's what you can do. I'll send an online application, just fill it out and send it back to me this afternoon.”

“Okay. Thank you uh…?”

“Charlotte. Call me Charlotte.” Charlotte hung up the phone and within a few minutes the document was sent to you.

Using your computer, you filled it up quickly. It even asked for a picture of yourself. It seemed like the owner cared about looks rather than skills. Either way, you knew you were good looking so you selected a picture and pasted it. At the very bottom were some additional details about the place. It was a large building situated in a forest-like area. It looked eery and dark. At the bottom section was a club Labelled ‘Noctorune’. Somehow the name sounded familiar and the place looked familiar as well. If you hadn't paid close attention, you'd think it was a mansion of some sort. Once the application was filled, you sent it back and went to sleep, awaiting a response from Charlotte.

The club was packed to the brim with people. It sounded quite ridiculous since it was situated in a rural area but all the rich people with dark pasts go there to conduct business or just to have fun. Strippers were dancing on stage, a DJ was playing music, and at the bar, worked Charlotte. When she saw the notification from you, she left the bar unattended and went ahead to print the document. No one took a chance to mess around with the club since they heard that the owner was quite scary, and they haven't even met her yet.

The printer beeped signalling that it was done. Charlotte took the documents and headed upstairs into the office. “Madame, I have the application here for the person interested. However she wishes to work part time.”

A glass of red liquid was in Charlotte's view, held by a hand, long fingers, sharp nails that were all natural. “Leave it there.” Charlotte nodded and placed the document on the table before leaving. The chair spun around and the woman picked the document up, her eyes immediately drawing to the picture. She traced it, her eyes filled with softness and sorrow. “You came back, didn't you? Now you just have to find me, yn. I won't let you go this time. That is my promise to you,” she whispered and placed the document down on the table

©skiendielific

[babytajin]

museo

— a manon bannerman x reader fic

wherein: precision-focused hands turn delicate at the face of wanting to make art that is everlasting.

ib: museo by eliza maturan

content: not proofread we die like tommen baratheon, ANGSTTT, character death, mentions of brain damage, written in first person (r's perspective)

word count: 1.47k

note: Italic paragraphs are flashbacks.

author's note: OKAY SO uh... first, i kept telling myself that this would only be a blurb, only for it to end up being almost 1.5k words.... and second, i hope the first person perspective is alright with y'all! i just thought it would hurt more if r was narrating all the pain, like a diary. anyway... enjoy!

Museums were one of the few things Manon took seriously in life. Her job was mostly fun, teaching children music and such.

Me, on the other hand… they're the one thing I found entertainment in, away from my stressful job of being a neurosurgeon. I always thought it was absurd how people can perceive art in so many ways. To me, it was all straightforward. What you see is what you get.

Manon? My love? She saw it in many ways. One woman, so many perspectives. And she always made it her goal to open my eyes to all of these stories every piece of art wished to tell.

For years, ever since we met, I studied painting. It became my passion. My love for it burned as brightly as my love for Manon did.

Paintings were my Manon’s favorite form of art. She used to say that even a single brush stroke could tell a whole story.

I used to tease her for it. Joked that paintings weren't as complicated as she made them out to be.

She took it in stride and taught me otherwise.

At this point, we'd made Zurich museums our home away from home. Whenever Manon and I had time off that matched, we went to these museums. Didn't matter if they were famous art repositories or tiny nooks with coffee shops attached to them. 

As long as there was art, there was Manon.

But for me… as long as there was Manon, there was art.

“No, mon amour.” Manon giggled at my ignorance like it wasn't stupid, but something that just needed to be amended.

Half of the time, I don't even retain the information she tells me. But her passion is contagious, so my brain is able to keep all these details despite the fact that every time she rambled, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss those lips with as much love as she had, talking about these artworks.

“This one is called ‘Titania Awakes, Surrounded by Attendant Fairies’. It's by Henry Fuseli who took inspiration from the work of William Shakespeare, this painting particularly inspired by the play ‘A Midsummer Night's Dream’. It depicts one of the characters, Titania…”

It was like everything sounded muffled in my head as I watched my wife elaborate on what this paint on a piece of wood meant, not knowing that all along, she was the only work of art I ever wanted to admire.

I wish I had been more selfish. Asked for more time with her. What ruined everything? A drunk driver, one fateful night.

That man took everything from me. I wish he hadn't died in that crash. I pray that these sins in my head be absolved when I die… but I wish that man suffered more than he did. I wish he suffered slowly. Felt as much pain as me when I lost the one light of my life.

Not only did I lose Manon that night… I also slowly lost my life. Why? Because I was in that crash. While I was unfortunate enough to live, what I got out of it was a traumatic brain injury. That, combined with my stress which my colleagues identified that made my brain look like an 80 year old’s… I knew I'd live and be a person for anywhere from a few months to four years, tops.

I quit my job right away and studied painting.

All I had with me were Manon and I’s cat Spoon, and a young couple in their early 20s that I befriended when they moved next door. I had written out my will already, expressing my wish to have the young couple get custody of my home and Spoon, and some money, while the rest went away to charity.

It’s been three years now, and every second of my day, I spent making what I knew would be my final masterpiece.

What was once a sad home office filled with paperwork both Manon and I had to take home when days got particularly hectic, I turned it into a sanctuary.

No more documents, no more sad gray walls and heavy desk made of some hardwood.

I painted the walls white. I turned it to my very own blank canvas where I'd practice my devotion.

My goal was to turn each wall into a mural of my favorite moments with Manon. A museum of memories. This was why I entrusted my home to the young couple, so that they could perhaps share this museum of love. I wanted the world to know how much I loved my Manon.

Some days, I make a lot of progress. Some days, my body and my brain just won't cooperate with each other. But no matter what, I always push through. Always.

The most difficult day came when I sat down one morning.

I went about my routine. Put my hot coffee aside, made sure my apron was nice and tight before I grabbed my palette, my kit of brushes and paint knives, and the paint.

Bob Ross was playing on a speaker by the doorway. I didn't need the video. Just his voice was perfect. It brought me back to late night marathons of episodes with Manon.

“He makes painting look so easy and relaxing.” I tilted my head in confusion as I watched the man on TV paint little trees with a few brush strokes.

“Because that's kinda his thing, babe. Relaxation and making painting look easy.” Manon shrugged as she tossed some popcorn into her mouth, entranced by the way Bob Ross’ brush glided across the canvas, making those satisfying ‘swoosh’ sounds.

I smiled as I looked at her, so fascinated and clearly in love with the art of painting. “Mon amour… why did you choose to teach music when you're clearly so passionate about painting?”

Manon gave a soft hum as she thought about it. She'd never pondered… never even considered the option of teaching painting.

“Well… to me, painting is a passion. I appreciate paintings, the art styles, the meanings. It's not something I would want to teach because I don't think I could ever truly explain it. Music is just as challenging to explain, but I don't feel the need to give it the depth that I would if I were teaching my students my passion.”

Even the way she answered was so passionate, it bled into me. Like paint mixing into once-clear thinner as an artist cleaned their brush. So I couldn't help but ask…

“Maybe you could teach me someday. Painting. Everything about it. With how ever much depth you want to teach it with. We have time, after all.”

Manon perked up at that, her smile lighting the room like rays of sunshine seeping through curtains as a beautiful morning arrived. She also agreed all too quickly.

A painting date. That ought to be nice.

If only I got to find out how nice it was going to be.

The thought still made me wonder how it would have been to have Manon's hands guide mine with every line, every change of color, every picture painted.

I prepared my paint and dabbed my brush into the skin color first, delicately painting the shape of her face, filling it in before I mixed some colors while I waited for the paint to dry.

That was when I noticed it. When I lifted my hand to stroke the brush against the white wall. I froze before the bristles could make contact because it dawned on me; I couldn't remember what Manon looked like.

The face I spent admiring and worshipping every day of my life since I saw it… gone. I couldn't remember how her eyes looked, the curve of her lips, how pronounced her cheekbones were. It was all blank.

Horror rushed through my veins. How could I forget the one face that got me through my most difficult days?

“No, no. NO!” I yelled out, slamming my palette onto the floor. Paint splattered everywhere as frustrated tears fell from my eyes, mixing with the droplets of oil pigments on the floor.

Clarity hit for a moment as I scanned the room and finally noticed it. Each of my portraits of Manon got blurrier and blurrier as I progressed. More abstract. Like I had slowly forgotten her face overtime, and it filled me with unexplainable rage and disappointment in myself.

At that point, I could feel myself getting lightheaded, my vision getting blurry and not because of my tears. Within seconds, I collapsed, and everything faded to black.

The last thing I saw was the first mural I'd made; my Manon’s face on the ceiling. Smiling gently down at me.

I knew I was going to see her again real soon, and God… I couldn't wait.

[msgorillagripcoochie]

𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔

pairing(s): daniela avanzini x latina!reader, manon bannerman x latina!reader, katseye x latina!reader

summary: a lil fanfic where hxg shoves u out of katseye for being “too hard to market” beside daniela ripping apart the growing love triangle between you, manon and daniela only leading to more drama…

warning(s): angst, unresolved yearning, kpop industry toxicity, love triangle, manon & daniela both being painfully in love with reader, doesn’t strictly follow irl events of actual katseye events so sorry if it doesn’t follow irl and unedited work !

a/n: it’s been awhile since i wrote a fanfic and i’ve had katseye fever so i hope you like it and it might be a little rushed but i just had to write!!

word(s): 7.5k

© msgorillagripcoochie , do not steal or translate my work

after the sis era, things started changing quietly.

not all at once.

at first it was just little things, your lines getting shortened during recordings, your center moments disappearing in choreography revisions, stylists pushing different aesthetics onto you while daniela avanzini’s became more polished, more intentional. executives started hovering around her more, pulling her aside after rehearsals, speaking to her in lowered whispers while you sat across the room pretending not to notice.

you did notice.

so did the girls.

especially manon bannerman.

she noticed the way your smile became tighter during interviews, the way you started asking “is this okay?” before every little thing like you were scared to take up too much space. she noticed how often you stayed behind in practice rooms afterward, dancing until your knees hurt like if you just worked harder they’d stop pulling away from you.

and she noticed daniela noticing too.

that was the problem with the three of you.

too much love sitting in places it shouldn’t.

because before everything got ugly, before executives and contracts and “marketability” conversations poisoned it all, the three of you had been inseparable.

hotel rooms filled with late night laughter, daniela curled against your side while manon laid across both of you dramatically complaining about rehearsal bruises.

“you guys are actually obsessed with me,” you laughed once while manon stole fries off your plate.

“well somebody has to be,” daniela teased softly, and the look she gave you after remained too long to be harmless.

shared headphones during flights, your fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes onto daniela’s arm while manon rested her head in your lap half asleep. the girls used to tease you constantly.

“y/n come get your wives” megan would say anytime daniela and manon fought over who got to sit beside you. lara whining whenever the three of you disappeared together after schedules because she already knew she’d lose you for hours.

and you loved them both differently. that was the intense part.

manon got the softer version of you, lazy smiles meant only for her, kisses pressed onto her cheek before performances, your body naturally finding hers in crowded rooms.

daniela got the quieter things. the lingering stares. the tension. the almosts.

because despite everything, execs constantly pinned you and daniela against each other like there was only room for one latina girl to thrive in the spotlight. every compliment toward you somehow became an insult toward her, every opportunity she got made you wonder what had quietly been taken from you to make room for it.

it poisoned things slowly.

not enough to make you stop loving daniela, never enough for that, but enough to make being around her complicated in ways neither of you knew how to fix.

because with daniela, there was always this invisible scoreboard dangling in between you both.

who got more lines, who got center, whose fancam performed better, whose face executives lit up more around.

you hated it.

daniela hated it more.

manon was different.

manon wasn’t competition.

she was just manon, warm and loud and easy to love, someone who never looked at you like there was something to win from you. being with her felt safe in a way nothing else did anymore.

so you gravitated toward her naturally.

everyone noticed.

especially daniela.

during interviews, your knee would knock against manon’s beneath the table while both of you tried not to laugh at inside jokes. backstage, manon would reach for your hand without thinking, tugging you behind her through crowded hallways while you followed smiling softly.

there was one night after rehearsals where all seven girls were piled into one hotel room eating takeout on the floor. manon had practically climbed into your lap at some point, stealing pieces of food straight from your chopsticks while you laughed tiredly.

“you know i can get my own food, right?” she mumbled around a mouthful acting like you were the one feeding her. you laughed

“then why aren’t you?” you teased, brushing rice from the corner of her mouth with your thumb.

daniela watched the interaction from across the room so quietly nobody noticed.

except sophia.

she glanced between the three of you slowly before muttering, “this is getting insane.”

lara nearly choked laughing “you’re telling me now?” she whispered back because everybody saw it.

the way manon fit against you like she belonged there. the way you softened around her. the way daniela watched both of you, like she wanted in and out of it at the same time.

that was the worst part for daniela.

she loved how kind you were with manon.

she envied it too.

because no matter how close the two of you got, there was always tension sitting beneath it. even your softer moments together carried the weight of comparison and jealousy executives had shoved between you both.

but manon got you naturally.

daniela had to fight for every inch.

fight for space beside you on flights because manon always got there first, fight for your attention during group dinners because, somehow, your eyes always eventually wandered back toward manon.

and still, you never stopped reaching for her too.

that was what kept daniela hooked.

the lingering glances across rehearsal mirrors, your hand brushing hers when nobody was paying attention, the way you instinctively searched for her reactions first after performances.

sometimes daniela thought maybe you loved her differently because you were scared to love her fully.

other times she thought maybe you simply loved manon more.

then came the late nights where conversations turned too personal too fast, where daniela’s hand brushed your thigh and neither of you moved away, where the air seemed thick enough to choke on because both of you knew crossing that line would ruin everything.

“you keep looking at me like that,” you whispered one night in the dark hotel room, laid beside one another while rain tapped softly against the windows. daniela’s fingers halted where they rested on your thigh, the slow absentminded caress far too intimate to mean nothing.

daniela swallowed hard, her eyes dragging up to meet yours. “like what?” her voice came out quieter than she meant it to, almost breathless.

you shifted closer beneath the blankets, close enough for her to feel your warmth. “like you want something.”

her breath caught when your hand slid over hers, guiding it slightly higher against your skin. daniela looked wrecked by it instantly, pupils blown wide, lips parted just enough to make your stomach twist.

“maybe i do,” she whispered.

the room went still after that.

the kind of stillness where every tiny movement suddenly mattered, where daniela’s thumb pressing unconsciously into your thigh made your heartbeat stutter. you smiled softly before leaning in, slow enough to give her time to pull away.

she didn’t.

if anything, she bent closer too, eyes flicking down to your lips like she couldn’t help herself anymore.

but before they could meet, the hotel room door suddenly swung open.

“oh my god, you have to see this!” manon rushed in breathlessly, throwing herself dramatically across the bed between you both with her phone in hand.

you burst into soft laughter immediately, the tension snapping apart so fast it almost hurt.

“manon,” daniela groaned, dragging a hand over her face while you giggled beside her.

“what?” manon blinked innocently before narrowing her eyes between the two of you. “wait. were you guys having a moment without me?”

“you’re so dramatic,” you laughed. “and you love me for it,” she shot back instantly, already curling against your side.

you smiled at her so natural and easily.

daniela tried not to let the jealousy swallow her whole.

maybe that was why it hurt worse when things started falling apart because just when she had you in her hands, you were getting snatched away.

hxg changed their energy toward the two of you.

of course they did.

at first it was subtle conversations about “branding” and “marketability,” executives speaking in circles while all seven girls sat there exhausted after rehearsals, too tired to fully process the passive aggressive comments hidden beneath fake smiles.

they started pairing daniela and manon together more publicly too.

little things at first.

having them sit together during interviews, asking them questions as a duo, posting clips of them laughing together online with captions about “unexpected besties.” executives would light up whenever the fans reacted positively to it.

everyone saw it, you saw it and you didn't say anything, while you kept your distance but you were still kind to her and somehow that made her chest ache even worse.

she didn’t want manon. she wanted you.

meanwhile manon hated all of it immediately.

“they’re literally doing this on purpose,” she muttered one night after an interview, ripping an in-ear monitor out harsher than necessary while staff rushed around backstage.

you sat quietly beside her, exhausted, while daniela lingered a few feet away, pretending not to listen.

“it’s not anyone's fault,” you whispered, grabbing her hand in yours. manon laughed bitterly. “that’s not helping.”

because it wasn’t. everyone knew the way executives smiled wider whenever daniela and manon played into things publicly, the way cameras zoomed in whenever they touched, the way they kept trying to turn your dynamics into something cleaner, easier to market.

except none of it felt real anymore.

especially not to daniela because every time she sat beside manon during interviews, all she could think about was how badly she wished it was you instead.

and manon knew, that became another problem too.

there was tension between them now, sharp and ugly beneath the surface. not because they hated each other, but because they both loved you and neither of them knew what to do while watching you slowly disappear from the center of everything.

sometimes manon looked at daniela like this was her fault.

sometimes daniela thought maybe it was.

then one night they finally said it plainly.

“it’s difficult marketing two latina girls in one group.” the room went dead silent.

you actually laughed at first, not because it was funny, but because hearing it out loud after months of feeling it almost sounded unreal.

“so what?” you asked quietly. “there’s only room for one of us?” nobody answered immediately. instead one of the executives sighed like you were being difficult. “we’ve just decided to… center daniela more. i mean, daniela and manon are the perfect pair.”

they laughed lightly after saying it, like it was obvious.

daniela remembered the exact way your face changed after that.

how your shoulders straightened instantly like if being hurt in front of them was the one thing you refused to allow yourself to do.

and beside you, manon’s expression darkened immediately. “you can’t be for real,” she said flatly, always ready to jump to defend you.

“manon,” another executive warned quickly. “no,” she snapped. “you can’t seriously think this is okay.”

you reached for her wrist beneath the table instantly, a silent plea for her not to make things worse.

daniela watched it happen in real time. the instinctive way you reached for manon and the way manon immediately softened for you. jealousy twisted ugly inside her chest because even now, even while daniela was technically the one being chosen, it still felt like she was losing.

the executives kept talking anyway. about cohesion, audience perception and balancing dynamics.

as if they were discussing concepts instead of people.

as if they weren’t slowly pushing you out of your own dream while forcing daniela to sit there and benefit from it.

and the worst part was daniela sat frozen because she knew exactly what they meant without them needing to say it directly.

one latina girl was easier to sell, easier to brand and easier to center.

she told herself she should be grateful, they had chosen her but at what cost?

after that, everything shifted faster. room assignments changed first.

you stopped rooming with manon and daniela entirely instead they paired you with sophia some nights, megan on others, acting like shuffling sleeping arrangements around would somehow fix the tension they created.

“wait, seriously?” lara had laughed awkwardly the first time management announced it. “why are we switching rooms again?”

“it works better for dynamics,” one of the managers answered quickly.

everyone knew that was bullshit.

manon took it the hardest in ways she tried not to show. she would get quiet whenever your name came up in a meeting, and if daniela said something too soft about “following what management wants,” manon would go cold immediately.

“you keep saying that like it makes it better,” she muttered once, arms crossed tight over her chest after a rehearsal where you had been moved out of the center again.

daniela blinked at her. “what do you want me to do?”

manon’s eyes flashed. “i want you to stop acting like it’s normal.”

the room went still because it wasn’t just about you anymore, not fully. it was about manon watching the situation eat at you and not knowing whether to comfort you or blame daniela for surviving it better on paper.

and that made everything worse.

because manon loved you loudly, and she hated seeing you shrink.

but she also hated that daniela kept getting pulled closer to the spotlight while you were pushed away, like the company had decided to split the two of them into categories and force everyone else to pick a side.

they were angry but they wouldn't let themselves get angry in front of you about it  so sometimes manon and daniela ended up snapping at each other over nothing.

a look.

a comment that landed too sharp.

“you don’t get to tell me how to feel about this,” manon snapped one afternoon when daniela tried to calm her down after a meeting about line distribution.

“i’m not,” daniela shot back, exhausted. “i’m trying to keep us from falling apart.”

“us?” manon repeated, looking almost offended. “what us? because from where i’m standing, it looks like they keep deciding who gets to matter and you’re just letting them do it.”

daniela went quiet after that because there was truth in it, and both of them could feel it.

you were being pushed out and daniela was being elevated just enough to make it hurt. manon was being used to make it all look smoother and none of it felt right.

once the talks about who was leading what songs and who was getting what looks for the new era started everything settled harder into place. you stopped reaching for daniela naturally after that, the lingering touches disappeared first.

then eventually daniela stopped catching you looking at her the way you used to.

but somehow what hurt most was that you stopped reaching for manon too.

during interviews you sat straighter now, careful not to lean into either of them too much. backstage, your hands stayed folded in your lap instead of instinctively grabbing theirs.

you looked lonelier, quieter like you were trying to make yourself easier to remove.

like this wasn't your dream anymore and truthfully it wasn't, you had never felt more like just a product in your life. you were just a face were hybexgeffen to sell stuff.

you stood away and somehow that distance hurt worse than any argument could have because nobody had technically forbidden you from loving each other.

they just made it impossible to do safely.

and manon hated that almost as much as daniela did.

because even while she was mad, even while jealousy and fear kept tangling together in her chest, she still kept watching you like she was the only one who could tell how much it was costing you.

like she was the only one who still wanted to pull you back before the whole thing swallowed you.

then what came next was unexpected.

the girls found out together. all six of them sat in the conference room still dressed from rehearsal, water bottles and hoodies scattered across the table while managers stood awkwardly near the wall avoiding eye contact.

you weren’t there.

at first nobody questioned it too much.

“is y/n still in vocal?” sophia asked casually, glancing toward the empty chair beside manon.

missy cleared her throat. “she’s currently in another meeting.” something about the wording made daniela’s stomach tighten instantly.

the room slowly quieted then came the speech. carefully rehearsed corporate words about restructuring, future opportunities, group direction. every sentence sounded faker than the last.

manon’s expression changed into something upset almost immediately. lara looked confused. megan kept glancing toward the door like she expected you to walk in any second.

then finally… “we’ve decided to continue katseye as six members.” silence.

the unsettling kind like the words were really sinking in.  the kind that rang in your ears.

daniela actually thought she misheard them at first.

“what?” yoonchae whispered.

“no,” daniela said immediately after, shaking her head before anyone else could even react. “no, you can’t do that.”

“this decision wasn’t made lightly,”

“are you serious right now?” manon cut in sharply.

nobody answered her.

daniela felt sick all at once because suddenly every weird conversation, every changed formation, every forced pairing clicked together in the ugliest way possible.

they had released you to focus on her because to them one latina girl was only able to be in the spotlight.

across the room sophia covered her mouth with both hands, eyes already glassy while lara stared down at the table in disbelief.

“does she know?” megan asked quietly. the silence stretched too long. manon stood up so fast her chair screeched against the floor.

“you told her alone?” she snapped.

“manon,” missy warned carefully.

“are you joking?” she said louder this time.

daniela’s chest tightened painfully at the thought. you were somewhere else in this building hearing all of this without any of them there, without her there.

the girls pushed out into the hallway before management could stop them and then they saw you.

standing alone outside another conference room at the far end of the hallway, arms wrapped tightly around yourself like you were trying to physically hold yourself together.

your eyes were glossy already.

completely alone.

daniela’s heart cracked at the sight.

for one horrible second relief still hit her chest because there you were, right there, not gone yet, still close enough to touch. you lifted your head to look at her, the hurt written all over you was something she'd never forget.

and daniela thought

please. please come here. please choose me.

her body had already started moving toward you before she even realized it.

but then manon walked up behind her and your bottom lip quivered "manon." soft. wrecked.

and that was it.

you broke.

a sob escaped you before you could stop it and suddenly you were rushing straight past daniela and into manon’s arms hard enough that she nearly stumbled backwards.

“hey, hey,” manon whispered immediately, holding you so tightly it almost looked painful. “i’ve got you, okay? i’ve got you.”

you clung to her desperately, burying your face into her shoulder while your entire body shook.

daniela stopped moving. because for one horrible second she really thought you’d run to her first.

and maybe that made her selfish.

because you were devastated and somehow her heart still cracked over the fact you reached for manon instinctively so she stood there in the middle of the hallway watching you hold onto manon like she was the only safe thing left in the world.

and maybe she was.

the other girls slowly gathered nearby after, heartbreak written all over their faces. sophia crying openly now while lara rubbed at her own eyes beside her, megan frozen near the wall with yoonchae holding onto her sleeve quietly.

nobody knew what to say because there was nothing to say.

manon rubbed circles into your back, glaring at anyone from management who came too close like she might actually fight them if they touched you right now.

and daniela stayed quiet.

because guilt had rooted her in place.

because some ugly part of her knew she was benefiting from this and she hated herself for it.

after you left, hxg practically erased your name from the building.

the girls weren’t supposed to contact you.

no likes. no comments. no public interactions.

and for a while, nobody did.

not publicly but privately was different because missing you settled into the group like a sickness nobody knew how to cure.

your voice was still buried in old rehearsal videos on daniela’s phone. old selfies still sat hidden in manon’s camera roll, blurry late night pictures of you half asleep against her shoulder in vans and hotel rooms.

neither of them deleted anything.

the fallout after was worse than the actual goodbye.

you stopped mentioning the girls in interviews almost entirely. whenever hosts asked about katseye, your answers became short, careful, polished in that media-trained way that only made fans more suspicious.

“i wish them the best.” or “they’re all talented girls.”

that was it.

no laughter or affection.

and that hurt because the girls knew how much love used to exist there.

daniela looked miserable in interviews after you left even as she became more centered in the group.

it meant nothing. more lines. more solo shoots. more opportunities.

exactly what people online accused her of wanting. she stopped searching her own name eventually because every comment section somehow turned into you.

“she stole y/n’s spot.”

“you can literally tell who hxg chose.”

“daniela got the career, y/n got the talent.”

and still, every night, daniela found herself on your account anyway.

she watched your follower count climb faster and faster after your contract officially ended. watched the grainy studio snippets you’d post at 2am, the selfies where you smiled again for the first time in months.

sometimes she would stare at your pictures so long instagram would start asking if she wanted notifications turned on for your account.

she almost said yes once.

manon missed you louder.

she got colder with management after you left, sharper during rehearsals, harder to control in interviews whenever your name almost came up.

and she stalked your account too.

sometimes at 3am daniela would see manon liking tweets about you from her private account only to unlike them ten minutes later.

sometimes she reposted edits of you before deleting them fast enough that only fans caught screenshots.

the company hated it.

especially because fans never stopped associating the two of you together.

there were entire tiktok compilations dedicated to “manon looking at y/n like she hung the stars.”

and the worst part was they weren’t wrong.

then your redebut got announced and the internet exploded.

a teaser photo first, then another.

then the official lineup reveal of your new girl group.

you stood dead center in the image, prettier than ever, staring directly into the camera with the kind of confidence that only comes after surviving something awful.

daniela’s breath actually caught the first time she saw it because you looked different now.

you looked untouchable.

tiktok lost its mind instantly.

edits comparing your old katseye fancams to your new debut trailers flooded everyone’s feeds.

the worst part?

your new group was incredible.

your debut went viral overnight and suddenly katseye had real competition.

the girls heard your songs everywhere, in makeup rooms, in dance studios, through staff phones backstage.

once, during a fitting, your chorus accidentally started playing from sophia’s phone after tiktok autoplayed one of your performances.

the room went dead quiet instantly.

nobody said anything but daniela looked away too fast and manon left the room completely a few minutes later because hearing your voice unexpectedly still felt like being punched in the chest.

and despite everything, they listened anyway, daniela knew every lyric by heart within a week, your perfect voice that she once harmonized with.

manon watched every performance, the way you moved so effortlessly because these weren't corporate written songs, these were yours. this was your dream and manon felt bitter you were getting to experience it without her.

every fancam and every interview played on their phone after hours they just never admitted it out loud.

your new group became huge fast and suddenly katseye was no longer the shiny new thing hxg thought would dominate forever.

executives panicked immediately and the girls got pushed harder after that.

longer rehearsals, more media training, sharper criticism.

they started comparing numbers openly now, bringing up your streams during meetings without saying your name directly. “your competition is thriving because they are working harder,” one executive snapped once after a rehearsal went badly.

manon nearly walked out.

the tension inside the group rotted fast under the pressure especially between daniela and manon because grief looked different on both of them.

daniela carried hers quietly, swallowing it down until it turned poisonous.

manon carried hers like a lit match.

“you act like she died,” daniela snapped one night after rehearsal, exhaustion making her voice crack harsher than she intended. manon laughed bitterly from across the practice room floor. “maybe because you helped get rid of her.” it was a cruel thing to say and the girl quieted up almost instantly.

lara froze, sophia looked horrified while yoonchae looked between the two girls, even megan stopped stretching.

daniela had no defense against it.

not really because even though she didn't ask for it, she had shoved you out because she never stopped them.

“you think i don’t miss her?” daniela shot back finally, eyes glassy now. “you think this has been easy for me?”

“easy enough that you stayed,” manon didn't mean it, she was angry, angry that they bothed stayed despite the clear mistreatment of the girl they loved but that one landed.

daniela’s face crumpled for half a second before anger covered it back up. “what was i supposed to do?” she huffed throwing her hands up. “leave too?”

manon looked away first because the truth was ugly.

they both loved you, they both missed you and neither of them knew where to put all the blame besides each other.

after that, things with manon got worse fast.

she stopped hiding how angry she was.

at first it was smaller things, snapping during rehearsals when executives criticized the girls too harshly, rolling her eyes during media training, refusing to repeat rehearsed answers in interviews exactly the way management wanted.

then your name started becoming impossible to avoid.

fans spammed comment sections asking about you constantly, posting old clips of you and manon together everywhere. edits of your friendship would go viral overnight, slowed down clips of lingering touches and soft looks with heartbreaking music layered over them.

management hated it, especially because manon never looked unaffected.

during one livestream, a fan comment mentioning you flashed across the screen for less than a second but manon still saw it.

everyone watched her expression soften instantly before she caught herself, that clip hit tiktok within an hour.

“she still misses her.”

“manon looks heartbroken every time y/n gets mentioned.”

“hxg really split soulmates apart.”

the company started monitoring her harder after that, more warnings and more conversations about “professionalism.” but manon stopped caring.

“you can’t control every expression i make,” she snapped during one meeting after an executive complained about her looking “disengaged” in recent interviews.

“we’re asking you to think about the group,” the manager replied tightly. manon laughed bitterly. “funny. you guys didn’t care about the group when you tore it apart.”

the room went still.

daniela sat beside her frozen, heart pounding loudly because everybody knew exactly who manon meant.

the arguments only escalated after that and everyone noticed the tension rise more and more, manon only got more irritated and daniela only felt more alone because everyone knew there was only a matter of time before the corrections turned into actual punishment for manon.

"you need to stop,” daniela whispered shifting uncomfortably in their apartment after another meeting went badly. manon laughed humorlessly without looking up from the glass of water in her hands. “or what?”

“they’re looking for a reason.” that finally made manon look at her and god, she looked exhausted and it mirrored the way you had looked when you were getting pushed out. “maybe i want them to find one,” she said quietly because being in this group knowig their success was at the sacrifice of someone else and sure, you were winning now but it was supposed to be you guys at the top of your game.

daniela’s chest tightened painfully at that because for a second she heard you in her voice, that same defeated emptiness you carried, the same feeling of realizing no matter how hard you fought, someone else had already decided your place for you.

one night after rehearsal the girls were kept nearly four extra hours because management thought their energy felt “off” on stage lately.

everyone was exhausted.

lara was nearly asleep sitting against the mirrors, sophia rubbing at her swollen knees while yoonchae quietly tried not to cry from frustration.

then one executive brought you up again, not directly. they never said your name anymore but everyone knew.

“your competition is outperforming you right now because they want it more.” manon’s head snapped up instantly. “don’t do that.”

missy frowned. “excuse me?”

“don’t compare us to her group like you didn’t create this situation yourselves.”

“manon,” another executive warned.

“no, seriously,” she cut in, standing now. the thought of them using you has an example for them to be better when they were the reason you weren't with them “you push her out, act shocked when she succeeds, then punish us for it? what exactly do you people want?”

daniela felt panic twist in her stomach immediately because she knew that tone in manon’s voice. the one right before she exploded.

“sit down,” missy said sharply. manon laughed in disbelief. “or what?”

“you are representing a company.”

“and you’re representing one that destroys friendships and shows people that they are nothing more than just property.”

the pause was heavy. sophia quietly whispered, getting up grabbing her arm “manon…” trying to calm her down before this got worse.

too late because once manon started, months of anger came pouring out at once.

“you isolated her, you treated her like a problem, then replaced her and expected everybody to just move on like nothing happened,” she snapped. “and now you’re trying to do the same thing to me because i won’t sit here smiling about it.”

daniela looked sick beside her because every word was true.

the staffs's expression hardened completely after that. “i think you need time away from group activities.”

the room froze, manon blinked once. “what?”

“effective immediately.” missy crossed her arms like she had won. showing the girls the power she had. “manon, you’ll be going on hiatus.”

lara gasped quietly. “you can’t be serious,” daniela said instantly but nobody looked surprised except the girls.

manon stared at them for a long moment, breathing unevenly before laughing softly to herself.

not happy.

just exhausted.

“wow,” she whispered.

megan stood up too now, panic fully setting in. “you can’t just pull her from the group.”

“the decision has been made.”

manon looked furious for exactly two seconds before the anger cracked into hurt because suddenly it wasn’t just about you anymore now they were pushing her away too for speaking up

“fine,” she said finally, voice quieter now. “if that’s what you want.”

the room stayed painfully silent while she grabbed her bag.

none of the girls moved at first.

until manon walked toward the door and sophia suddenly ran to hug her tightly, nearly crying again.

lara followed immediately after then yoonchae and megan looked devastated.

daniela hugged her last and that one lingered the longest.

because despite everything, despite the arguments and bitterness and blame, they understood each other in the ugliest way possible.

both of them had loved you and they had grieved the loss of you like you were dead and sure you were somewhere thriving but when everyone makes it sound like you're not around anymore it starts to feel like something worse than death.

grieving someone who was still breathing and living and doing great without you.

then next was lollapalooza. it was supposed to feel exciting.

katseye had spent weeks preparing for it, endless rehearsals for their upcoming era mixed with pressure from management to prove the group was still strong after everything that had happened the past year.

after your departure.

after manon’s hiatus.

after the internet practically turned daniela into a villain, the girls were exhausted before they even landed in argentina. and somehow your name still followed them everywhere.

because by then your new group wasn’t just successful.

you were everywhere. your debut album had exploded months earlier, your newest era teasers flooding social media while fans called your group the future of pop. fancams of you collected millions of views overnight, edits of your stage presence constantly circling online while people praised how much freer you looked now. edit of you with your new members that had once been you and daniela.

even staff talked about you when they thought the girls couldn’t hear especially after your lollapalooza set got announced for the same day as katseye’s.

management immediately shut down any possibility of interaction.

“absolutely no public contact,” they warned firmly backstage that morning. “no photos together, no talking backstage, no posting about her set. understood?”

the room stayed quiet because all of them knew the truth.

they were absolutely going to watch your set anyway. it happened almost accidentally.

katseye had just finished rehearsal on one stage while your group was scheduled nearby less than an hour later. staff got distracted handling equipment issues and suddenly the girls found themselves lingering near the edge of the crowd hidden beneath hoodies and sunglasses while fans screamed around them.

daniela stood furthest back at first like maybe distance would somehow soften this.

then the lights dimmed and you walked onstage.

the crowd erupted instantly.

screams tore through the festival grounds so loudly even the girls beside her looked startled, phones flying into the air everywhere while your intro blasted through the speakers.

and then there you were.

confident and beautiful.

completely perfect beneath the stage lights.

daniela’s chest tightened painfully because seeing your performances online was one thing.

this was different.

you moved across the stage with effortless confidence, sweat catching against glittering skin while the crowd screamed every lyric right back at you. your members looked at you with complete trust, hyping you up between songs, laughing with you naturally like they’d known you forever. she wondered if any of them got to see her in the ways that she had, she wondered which you had clung to.

and then for a horrible second daniela wondered if maybe this was the version of your dream that was always supposed to happen.

without them.

beside her, sophia quietly whispered “wow” after one of your high notes.

and when daniela glanced sideways for half a second, she noticed the empty space beside them where manon should’ve been.

that hurt too because manon would’ve loved this.

your final song ended with the crowd screaming your name so loudly it echoed through the entire field. you stood there breathless and glowing, smiling so genuinely it almost didn’t look real.

daniela couldn’t stop looking at you even when she knew she should. the girls slipped away quickly afterward before staff could notice where they’d gone.

except fate apparently hated them because halfway through one of the backstage corridors, they turned the corner and nearly walked straight into your group.

everyone froze instantly, your members noticed katseye first then you did.

for one horrible second nobody moved the hallway buzzed with distant festival noise and rushing staff but right there it felt terrifyingly quiet.

you looked beautiful up close. sweaty from performing, hair slightly messy, glitter still shining against your skin beneath harsh backstage lighting while your in-ear monitor rested loose around your neck.

daniela forgot how to breathe. management’s warnings echoed loudly in all their heads.

no contact. no talking. no photos.

your members exchanged glances first before one of them smiled softly toward the girls. another gave lara a tiny wave. they were kind like they understood exactly how painful this was.

you just stood there looking at all of them quietly. your eyes lingered on daniela for barely a second longer than everyone else.

that alone nearly destroyed her.

it was an awkward silence until yoonchae suddenly stepped forward slightly before she could lose courage.

“you did great,” she blurted out shyly, she nodded at all the girls before stopping on you. “really great.”

everyone looked at her instantly. your expression softened so quickly it physically hurt to witness like hearing kindness from one of them cracked something open in you before you could stop it.

“thank you,” you said quietly, eyes meeting yoonchae’s warmly. then after a small pause, your lips curved into something softer. “i can’t wait to see yours.”

and god, that almost hurt worse because the thought of you watching their set later settled heavy in all their chests.

because this should’ve been shared. you should’ve been rushing to fix your makeup beside them backstage afterward, laughing breathlessly while sophia replayed videos from the crowd. you should’ve been squeezed into group pictures later that night. you should’ve been standing onstage with them.

instead there was this awful distance between all of you now, built by executives and contracts and silence none of them knew how to break anymore.

one of the managers farther down the hallway suddenly shouted for katseye to keep moving.

reality snapped back immediately, the tension returned all at once.

you looked away, your members gently guiding you forward again while staff rushed around both groups pretending this wasn’t emotionally catastrophic. as you passed them, your shoulder brushed lightly against daniela’s.

probably accidental.

it still sent warmth racing painfully through her entire body and neither of you looked back.

even though all of you wanted to.

after lollapalooza, daniela couldn’t stop thinking about you. she wondered if you did stop and see their show, maybe left before anyone saw you.

so much wondering.

it got bad enough that she started sleeping with your music playing quietly through headphones, staring at the ceiling of hotel rooms while your voice filled the dark like a ghost she couldn’t get rid of.

everybody noticed she was off.

she smiled less during schedules, drifted during rehearsals, spent too much time on her phone between takes. sophia asked if she was okay twice before eventually stopping because daniela always gave the same answer.

“just tired.”

but the truth was uglier than that.

she missed you in this humiliating, aching way that followed her everywhere now.

because seeing you at lollapalooza had ruined whatever distance she’d spent the last year trying to build.

you were real again.

not just edited clips on tiktok.

warm skin brushing hers in a backstage hallway, soft eyes lingering on her for one second too long.

and one night she almost reached out.

she sat curled beneath hotel blankets at two in the morning, your instagram pulled open on her private account. her thumb hovered over the message button while anxiety twisted painfully in her stomach.

what would she even say?

i’m sorry?

i still think about you?

do you miss me too?

before she could decide, a notification popped up. manon made a post on instagram.

daniela clicked the notification instantly.

it was a clip. not just any clip. it was your lollapalooza performance.

specifically the ending.

the moment you stood breathless beneath lights while the crowd screamed your name loud enough to shake the barricades.

manon added no caption.

just a white heart.

daniela stared at it so long the screen dimmed. she knew what would cone next and the comments on the story showed it.

fans lost their minds immediately.

“MANON REPOSTED HER???”

“oh they’re DEFINITELY back in contact.”

“you can’t convince me they weren’t in love.”

“daniela somewhere punching the wall rn.”

edits flooded tiktok within hours. old clips of you and manon tangled together during livestreams, you kissing her cheek before performances, manon staring at you during interviews with love songs attached to each edit.

daniela watched every single one.

even though every video made jealousy crawl sharper beneath her skin because manon got to miss you loudly.

she got to love you without hiding it anymore.

while daniela still sat through interviews pretending your name didn’t make her chest cave in.

then a few days later came the livestream. your group was celebrating something, maybe a teaser release or another chart milestone, everyone crowded together laughing while comments flooded so quickly they barely stayed readable.

daniela shouldn’t have been watching.

she watched anyway.

one of your members read a comment aloud suddenly. “someone said… thoughts on manon?”

the room erupted immediately. your members started laughing while you covered your face for a second. for a moment daniela thought you’d ignore it, she supposed that maybe you had the same rules the girls had.

but there it was.

that smile.

soft, helpless.

“i love manon,” you giggled and all the other girls oo’d and ahh’d before they all laughed too.

just like that the comments went psychotic instantly.

daniela physically felt something twist inside her chest because you said it so naturally like loving manon was the easiest thing in the world.

and maybe it always had been.

that was the worst part manon got your softness without fighting for it while daniela had spent years clawing desperately for pieces of your attention only to lose you anyway.

coachella arrived months later.

and despite everything, despite the success and headlines and screaming crowds, something about it felt hollow from the start.

because this was supposed to be all seven of you.

then six.

and somehow now even five felt wrong without manon there too.

the girls tried pretending otherwise backstage, tried hyping each other up while stylists rushed around them adjusting outfits and touching up makeup.

but there was an emptiness sitting between all of them now.

everybody knew the internet was waiting for them to fail too because you were performing coachella the same weekend and pictures were already posted everywhere of manon being there in the crowd unable to perform because she was being punished.

fans already joked online that your set would overshadow katseye completely.

“watch her outsell her old group live.”

“hxg fumbling her needs to be studied.”

“without manon and y/n, they’re over.”

daniela stopped reading comments after that.

their performance went well. technically.

the crowd screamed and the girls hit every mark perfectly.

but standing beneath coachella lights without you there beside them felt strangely empty and when daniela looked toward the side stage during one of the final songs, she caught herself imagining you standing there in formation like muscle memory still expected it.

afterward the girls celebrated backstage while cameras filmed content for socials.

daniela slipped away quietly, nobody stopped her.

music thundered across festival grounds while she moved through backstage pathways alone, hoodie pulled over her curls while her laminate bounced against her chest.

her heart pounded harder the closer she got to your artist area.

she didn’t even fully know what she wanted, to see you maybe.

to finally say something.

anything.

because she couldn’t keep carrying this around silently anymore while manon got to exist in your orbit openly.

daniela reached your trailer row and slowed.

then stopped completely.

manon stepped out of your dressing room.

comfortable, familiar and beautiful in the most effortless way.

and before the door fully closed behind her, she looked back inside with the softest expression daniela had ever seen.

then blew  a kiss.

daniela wanted to believe that it wasn’t you she was doing it to but then she heard your laugh and a sweet “thank you for coming, manon”

your voice so intimate enough to make daniela feel physically sick.

the door shut gently afterward and suddenly everything inside her went numb.

because there it was.

proof.

proof that while daniela spent months mourning you quietly from a distance, manon had somehow found her way back to you.

all the parts daniela missed so badly it hurt to breathe sometimes.

manon noticed her a second later.

her expression shifted instantly.

surprise first.

then something harder to read.

neither of them spoke.

what was there to say? i loved her too? i lost her too?

manon didn’t move toward her and daniela didn’t move toward the trailer because suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you only to realize you belonged to somebody else now.

so instead she stepped back slowly then turned around, walking away before either of them could say a word.

a/n: hi!! i didn’t have anything else to add for now but i really hope you like it. thank you so much for your time and thank you for reading. i hope you like, reblog and comment. i’d really love to hear your thoughts.

[iloveboobies06]

promise | maddy perez

warnings: angst n' yearning

summary: it sucks not being able to love you

pairings: maddy perez x female reader

wc: 3k

↝ its the winter formal but who cares

↝ know this isn't katseye. just wanted some traction hence the tag. ignore it if you wish.

↝ going back to writing in 3rd. just seems more fitting.

alternate song: good at breaking hearts - jungle

~ season 1 ep 8: and salt the earth behind you, ~

y/n stood before the mirror in her bedroom, adjusting the silk tie around her neck. the tie that matched perfectly with the dress she'd knew maddy would be wearing.

she spent weeks searching for the exact shade, asking the girls subtle questions about maddy's prom dress until she was finally told.

tonight was prom night. the night that really mattered.

her phone buzzed.

kat u still coming tonight? maddys been asking about u

she smiled. maddy had been asking about her. that had to mean something...right?

their friendship had always been intense. maddy knew y/n had feelings for her ever since they kissed.

it was just the summer before, during a sleepover with the girls at maddy's house when her parents were away. the girls had been drinking and eventually passed out on the floor during a movie.

only maddy and y/n were awake, lying on her bed, growing closer to each other. maddy turned to her, smiling softly, then grabbing her cheek in her hand and pressing her lips on hers.

it was the best kiss y/n ever had. she fell asleep that night in maddy's arms with a bright smile on her face and maddy's soft lips stuck in her head.

the next day, maddy pretended it never happened, never spoke about it, but she made it clear she enjoyed it and possibly even wanted more.

but nate complicated everything. their relationship was toxic way beyond belief. just constant fighting and making up that left maddy in tears more often than not.

y/n saw the bruises, heard the shouting, and held maddy while she cried after their worst fights.

kat, bb, rue, and even cassie, (though her and cassie never got along that well), all encouraged her to make a move.

"you're so good to her," rue had told her last week, high out of her mind at a party while y/n stared at maddy.

but maddy always went back to him. always.

she took one last look in the mirror, smoothing out her jacket. she was ready.

==

y/n stepped into the gymnasium, which was covered in large lights and draped fabric. she looked around, her eyes immediately scanning for maddy.

she saw her.

she was sitting at a table, with the girls of course, her dress clinging to her curves, and her hair up and over her shoulders.

her breath caught. she walked closer to the table until she was right behind her. as if feeling her presence, maddy turned, her eyes immediately lighting up when she met y/n's.

a slow smile spread across her face, and she excused herself from the table, making her way towards her and wrapping her arms around her neck.

"you came," maddy said, her voice warm and her smile genuine.

"wouldn't miss it," she replied, her heart pounding. "you look very beautiful, madeline."

maddy's eyes dropped to her tie, her smile widening as she grabbed into between her hands. "we match."

"I know."

they stood for a moment, just looking at each other, a slow song fading in the background.

"you gonna ask me to dance or you just gonna stare at me all night?" maddy teased.

y/n laughed. "would you like to dance?" she asked, pulling back and offering her hand.

maddy took it, her fingers lacing with hers. "I'd love to."

as they made their way to the middle of the floor, y/n caught sight of the girls, giving her thumbs-ups from the table. she couldn't help but grin as maddy dragged her along.

maddy pulled y/n close, wrapping her arms around her neck, while she placed hers on maddy's waist. they moved together in sync, smiling as they swayed.

"i'm glad you came," maddy whispered, her breath warm against her ear.

"where else would I be at?" she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

maddy rested her head on y/n's shoulders, her body growing more comfortable as they moved.

"maddy," she started, her heart racing, "there's something I need to tell you-"

maddy tensed, her head raised and her gaze shifted, her attention diverted by something over y/n's shoulder. y/n followed behind her to see nate just across from them, dancing with some girl she didn't recognize.

he was holding the girl way too close. way too inappropriate for a high school dance.

his hands rested on her ass, gripping it in his hands as he whispered something in her ear, his eyes fixed on maddy the entire time.

maddy's fingers dug slightly into her shoulders. her happy expression vanishing, replaced by indifference.

"what a cunt," maddy muttered under her breath.

y/n's heart sank. this moment, the perfect moment she had been waiting for, was once again ruined by nate.

"maddy," she said softly, trying to bring maddy's attention back to her. "forget about him. I want you to look at me."

maddy blinked, her eyes focusing on her. "sorry."

y/n shook her head, forcing a smile. "it doesn't matter. let's just dance."

the continued but something had shifted between them. the intimacy was gone, replaced by tension. maddy kept glancing over at nate, her jaw tight. she couldn't tell if she was angry or hurt.

y/n tried to ignore it, pretend that she didn't notice maddy's attention was elsewhere. she held maddy closer, trying to remind her that she was here, that she was the one dancing with her.

it was no use. maddy's mind was already across the room, caught up in their toxic bubble.

y/n could feel the tears bubbling in her eyes. when the song ended, she pulled away, forcing another smile. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. I'll be back."

"okay," maddy replied, though her eyes were already scanning the crowd again.

y/n turned and walked away, her chest tight. she had been so close but her chest weighed heavy. she had to get the hell out of here.

==

the sound of the music muffled behind the closed door. y/n leaned against the sink, trying to refocus her brain. her eyes were shiny with tears, her makeup starting to smudge.

a makeup look maddy taught her. she was hoping she would notice. would look at her and notice her gesture besides her tie.

she really thought tonight would be different. she wanted to believe that maddy would choose her, would finally tell her how she feels.

a sob escapes her, followed by another. she sank to the wall behind her, leaning back against it as tears dropped down her cheeks.

the bathroom door creaked open, and she quickly tried to compose herself wiping her eyes with the back of hand.

"hey," rue said softly, her expression concerned. "you okay?"

she shook her head, unable to speak, a lump formed in her throat.

rue sat down next to her. "want a pick me up-"

"nate, fucking nate." y/n cut off bitterly. "dancing with some other girl, and maddy couldn't stop fucking staring."

rue sighed. "he's an asshole."

"he's got the greatest girl and he just—why does she always go back to him?" she asked, her voice cracking. "why am I not enough?"

"hey," rue said firmly, turning to face her. "that's not it. y'know that's not it."

"then what is it?" she demanded, her frustration boiling. "because i'm tired, rue. he doesn't even fucking know her. I know her. I'm so tired of loving her and it not being enough."

rue was quiet, choosing her words carefully. "maddy...she's been through a lot with nate. he's messed with her head, y'know? she doesn't think she deserves good things, good people."

"but she does, she so does," y/n insisted.

"I know," rue said softly. "deep down, I think she knows it too. she loves you. but she's scared. nate has some fucked up kind of power, and even though she knows its bad, it's familiar. it's what she's used to."

"what am I posed to do?" y/n asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"keep being there for her," rue replied. "she'll come around."

rue squeezed her shoulder. "you'll have to decide if you can keep waiting. but i think she will. i really do."

she leaned her head against rue's shoulder. "thanks, rue-rue."

y/n brought her hand up to the back of rue's head, bringing her hand down and pressing a wet kiss to her forehead.

"anytime," rue replied.

y/n sighed, managing a weak smile. "I think I need some air."

"cool," rue said, standing up and offering her hand to help her up. "don't do anything stupid."

"no promises," y/n replied with a smile just as jules walked into the bathroom.

y/n walked out, flashing a smile rue's way.

==

maddy was no longer standing alone. she was on the dance floor, pressed against some guy, her head thrown back on his shoulder.

her movements were deliberate and exaggerated, a performance as nate danced with the same girl, moving to touch her more provocatively, his hands roaming possessively as he started directly at maddy.

y/n couldn't watch anymore. turning, she walked out of the gymnasium, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone.

she walked quickly to her car. once inside, she sat for a moment, her hands gripping the steering wheel.

she didn't go home. instead, she drove to a small, secluded park, a small area she and maddy sometimes went to talk and smoke late at night.

she grabbed the small tin from her glove compartment, along with a pre-rolled blunt. leaning against the hood of her car, she lit it and took a long, slow drag.

she stayed there for hours, looking at the sky, playing on her phone, smoking the blunt until it was nothing more than a roach.

it came around midnight, her phone buzzed in her pocket. the screen lit up with maddy's name.

for a moment she considered letting it go to voicemail, but her thumb moved with a will of its own, swiping to answer.

"hello?" she said, her voice rough from the smoke.

"where are you?" maddy's voice came through, slurred and thick. "I need you to pick me up."

she sighed, closing her eyes. "what happened, maddy?"

"what do you think happened?" maddy snapped with a short hiccup. "nate happened. he's a cunt. the biggest cunt on the entire planet."

"you okay?" she asked, already moving to get into the driver's seat.

"no, I'm not fucking okay," maddy wailed. "he ruined everything. prom's supposed to be perfect, and he ruined it. just like he ruins everything."

"where are you?"

"i'm at the 7-eleven. can you come get me please? I don't wanna be here anymore."

"I'm on my way," y/n said, starting the engine. "stay there. don't go anywhere with anyone."

"m'kay," maddy whispered, her voice suddenly small and vulnerable. "hurry please."

==

the drive was short, but it felt entirely too long. she found maddy sitting on the curb outside the store, her perfect dress now wrinkled, her makeup still flawless despite her tears.

y/n got out and opened the passenger door for maddy, who slid in without a word. as she drove away, a heavy silence filled the car.

"I'm sorry," maddy said finally, her voice barely audible.

"for what?"

"for...everything," maddy replied, gesturing vaguely. "for tonight. for being a bad friend. I totally ditched you tonight, I'm sorry."

she glanced over at maddy, her heart aching. "it's okay."

"no, it's not," maddy insisted, turning to face her. "you're always so good to me, and I always...I always mess It up."

"you don't mess it up, maddy," she said softly. "you're just...you. you're hurting."

maddy was quiet for a moment, looking out the window. "I was happy when we were dancing," she said quietly. "before he showed up. I forgot about everything else. it was just...us."

y/n's heart fluttered. "I was too," she admitted.

maddy turned to her. "I really liked your tie, and your makeup. you look so cute." she said, her hand brushing y/n's arm softly.

she smiled.

fucking maddy.

"can we get food?" maddy asked suddenly. "I'm starving."

she smiled, relieved at the change in subject. "sure. what you want?"

"taco bell," maddy replied immediately. "needa baja blast."

"of course, fat ass," she laughed.

they went through the drive-thru, ordering their usual order.

instead of going straight to maddy's, she pulled into the parking lot of a closed building, finding a secluded spot.

they ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. she watched maddy out of the corner of her eye, noting the way she seemed to relax.

"maddy?" she said, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest.

maddy looked up, her mouth full. "hmm?"

she took a deep breath. "do you love me?"

maddy froze, her taco halfway to her mouth. she slowly lowered it back to the wrapper, her eyes wide. "what?"

"do you love me?" she repeated, her voice steady. "not as a friend. I mean, really love me."

maddy was quiet for a long moment, her gaze dropping to her lap. "you know I do," she whispered finally.

"no, I don't," she replied, her frustration bubbling. "how would I know? you keep going back to him. you avoid me, and you choose him."

"it's not that simple," maddy insisted, looking up at her, her eyes shining with tears.

"please explain it to me. I'm not mad. I'm confused," she demanded. "help me understand why I'm not enough."

"you are enough," maddy said, her voice cracking. "you're more than enough. that's the problem."

"what does that mean?" y/n asked, exasperated.

"it means I don't deserve you!" maddy burst out, tears streaming down her face. "I'm a terrible person, and you're...you're good. you're so good to me, and I would just ruin you, like I ruin everything else."

she stared at maddy, silent. she had never seen maddy so vulnerable.

"maddy," she started, maddy cut her off.

"no, let me finish," she said, wiping her tears. "nate...he's safe. not because he's good or anything, but he's already as bad as he's going to get. there's no risk, no possibility of disappointing him because he expects nothing from me. but you...you see me as someone, and I'm terrified that i'll let you down, that I'll prove you wrong."

"so you'd rather be with someone who treats you like shit than risk being with someone who actually loves you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"it sounds stupid when you say it like that," maddy admitted with a watery laugh.

"it is stupid," she said, though her tone was gentle. "it's the stupidest thing i've ever heard."

before maddy could respond, she leaned across the console and closed the distance between them, pressing her lips against maddy's.

maddy kissed her back, her hands coming up to cup her face, her fingers tangling in her hair. it was an apology. it was everything she had, everything she promised.

when they finally pulled apart, they were both breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other.

"I know," she replied, her voice soft.

==

y/n parked in the driveway of maddy's home, cutting the engine of her car. maddy made no move to get out, just started out the windshield.

"come on," y/n said gently, unbuckling her seatbelt. "let's go inside."

maddy nodded slowly. they walked to the front door, and she knocked softly.

after a moment, the door opened to reveal maddy's mom, her hair in a messy bun and a robe tied around her waist.

"madeline," she said, her eyes taking in her daughter's state. "I was worried."

"lo siento, mommy," maddy mumbled, looking at her feet.

her gaze shifted to y/n, and her expression softened. "hi, sweetie. thank you for bringing her home."

"of course," she replied with a small smile.

"had a rough night?"

maddy flinched. "something like that. she's just really tired."

"okay," her mom sighed, steeping aside to let them in. "well, I'm glad you're safe. and I'm glad you're with her," she added, giving her a meaningful look before heading back to her bedroom. "try to get some sleep."

"we will," she promised, guiding maddy towards the stairs.

she led maddy to her room and to the edge of her bed, where she sat heavily, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

"okay," she sighed softly. "let's get this off."

maddy raised her arms, like a child, as y/n unzipped the top piece from behind her, pulling it off her arms, then pulling the bottom piece down her legs, helping maddy step out of it.

maddy stood bare, in just her underwear, looking vulnerable.

y/n went to maddy's dresser, pulling out a pajama set for maddy, and her own shirt and shorts she had left there. "here," she said, handing them to maddy. "put these one."

they both changed, y/n packing up her stuff. she watched as maddy struggled to remove her makeup, her hands shaking slightly.

"let me," she offered, taking the makeup remover from her. she gently wiped the mascara and foundation from her face. maddy closed her eyes, leaning into her touch.

when she was done, maddy's face was clean and soft. "better?" she asked.

maddy nodded. "don't go," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"wasn't planning to," she replied softly.

she helped maddy into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. maddy immediately curled into a ball, her back to her. y/n opted for sleeping in front of her bed.

maddy shifted, turning over and patting the space beside her. "stay with me."

she hesitated for a second before slipping under the covers. the bed was small, and they were pressed close together, their legs tangled together.

"I meant what I said in the car," maddy whispered, her back still to her. "about being scared."

y/n pressed her forehead to maddy's back, her hand holding her waist. "I know."

"it's not an excuse," maddy continued. "I know I hurt you. I hate myself for it."

"you don't have to hate yourself," she replied, her thumb stroking small circles on maddy's waist. "you just have to start choosing yourself."

maddy rolled over to face her, their face inches apart. "what if I can't?"

"you can," y/n said with certainty. "you're stronger than you think."

maddy reached out, her fingers tracing the line of y/n's jaw. "you're the only person who's ever believed that."

"maybe you should start believe it too," she whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to maddy's forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere," y/n promised, wrapping her arms around maddy.

==

↝ oh so sad

more maddy?

yes pls!

no, someone else

Voting ended onMay 15

[spiderb00]

- STAY WITH ME, M.B

"A thousand things were happening at once in Manon's world. But there was always one person who reminded her of who she really was."

warnings - angst n a little fluff too, i miss manon so bad!

now playing - BUTTERFLIES, by Isaiah Falls, Joyce Wrice

"What you say to me, it matters 'cause you're more than my security"

The days were passing more and more slowly for you. Your mind made it seem as if everything had come to a standstill, slowly crawling through every millisecond of the clock’s hours. Every tiny moment felt like a whole experience in your head. And honestly, it didn’t seem as bad as you’d imagined it would be.

But it wasn’t your own mind you were worried about. It was Manon’s. Your girlfriend was on hiatus—at least that’s what her company had told the press and her fans. Everyone had a different opinion about that decision, and you knew it was driving your girlfriend crazy. You knew that every morning was a new battle for her; you knew how anxious she got over every comment, or even about how she should act when she was in public.

For her, nothing had gone by slowly. Time was passing quickly, faster than she’d like. The announcement of the hiatus seemed like it was the day before yesterday, Coachella yesterday, and today she wanted to figure out what battle she’d have to fight.

Sometimes, Manon thought she was a burden to you. She thought you were sick of putting up with all the anxiety attacks or the sleepless nights she’d been having ever since they decided to snatch her dream from her hands. But those thoughts never got very far when she looked at you.

You met when Katseye was still establishing itself in the industry. No Gnarly, no Gabriela, nothing. Just her and her friends having fun and chasing their dreams. Manon already knew you; everyone knew you. The most promising actress of recent years, that girl who blew up the universe after appearing in the first season of Euphoria, and hasn’t stopped acting since. The same girl who was approachable and had friends and connections everywhere. You knew YouTubers, singers, influencers... you knew everyone, and everyone led you to Manon.

When she met you, she swore she couldn’t take her eyes off you.

God, she wished she could never take her eyes off you.

She kept her eyes on you the whole time. Not out of obsession, but because something about you brought her a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in a long time.

You were like stepping into the sea with calm waves, like bathing in a clean, crystal-clear river. You made Manon feel loved, seen, desired, even when she was sleeping. Her eyes fluttered, still gazing at your half-asleep figure on the white sheets of your bed.

She had been awake for a while, picking up the phone on the nightstand just to check a few things. She wasn’t even sure what had upset her—some jerk’s comment she’d seen on one of your Instagram posts, something her brain couldn’t even recall the exact words of anymore, but it was something related to your relationship. The tears were there before she could even realize it, and looking at you, so peaceful, sleeping beside her, made her breathing calm down almost instantly.

She didn’t want to wake you up, but she put her phone aside anyway to lie down practically on top of you. Her breath caught in her lungs automatically as she felt you stir on the mattress—turning and lying face down. Your skin brushed against the fabric of the sheets as you snored softly. One of her hands slid up your bare back, and her lips left a lingering kiss on your shoulder before her cheek rested in the same spot.

You moaned softly in your sleepy state, giving a small smile when you opened one eye just to see the most beautiful woman in the world in front of you.

“Good morning.” Your voice made Manon’s ears perk up, while her fingers began tracing different shapes on your bare skin. “What time is it?”

“Way too early.” Her voice was slightly hoarse, and you could tell it wasn’t just because of the cold morning.

“Then why are you awake if it’s way too early?” The question was light; your tone was low, soft, almost feather-like.

Your eyes saw your girlfriend’s lower lip tremble slightly. And in the next second, you were already turning on the mattress and pulling her to your chest.

“Hey, it’s okay, my love.” Your voice was sweet as honey, and Manon felt an even stronger urge to collapse into your arms, just so you could comfort her.

“I’m sorry.” The words slipped out involuntarily, almost as if she were apologizing for feeling this way first thing in the morning.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Manon. I’m here for you, my love.” Your hands held her more tenderly and firmly.

Manon breathed a sigh of relief, letting silent tears fall as if that were all she needed to feel better for the rest of the day—just to lift that weight she’d been feeling since she woke up that morning.

You knew exactly how to calm her down.

“Do you want to talk about what made you feel this way? Or do you just want to stay here in my arms for a while?” Your question made your girlfriend think for a moment.

She didn’t want to feel this way; she didn’t want to give in any further to whatever sadness she was about to feel. Everything she was feeling now was just a lighter version of what she’d felt when it all happened, and she knew she didn’t want to have those depressing relapses. Especially not while she was with you.

“I don’t want to stay like this,” she whispered, as if it were a secret only you could hear.

A secret she would only confide in you.

“It’s okay. We don’t need that. Fuck it." The little cheer in your voice made Manon look at you, trying to see what would come next. “We can do whatever you want; I’m on vacation and I’m not going to leave your side all day!”

Every word that came out of your mouth made Manon want to smile a little more. It was simply magical and miraculous to her how you could just break down every single one of her barriers, destroying any sense of loneliness or sadness she might be feeling.

“So… How do you want to start your day, Mademoiselle Manzanita?”

It didn’t take even a second for the two of you to jump out of bed. The sun streamed through the curtains like a shower of molten gold, and you and Manon squeezed into the shower stall in her apartment. Intimacy came easily to the two of you, familiar, almost as if you’d lived like this your whole lives.

After the shower, Manon was already feeling a little better. So, when the two of you put on comfortable clothes and took your coats off the coat rack, the gentle late-winter breeze hit your bodies as soon as you stepped out the door. Your hand was gently—yet firmly—entwined with Manon’s, and you walked down the street as if it were the path you took every day.

The streets were lively, and people seemed exceptionally cheerful that day. The neighborhood where your girlfriend lived was very peaceful, and she loved it. Young couples, elderly people, and small groups of friends sitting close together were the kinds of people you’d encounter as soon as you started wandering the streets.

Manon smiled when you gently stopped walking, just to bend down and greet a little dog that was out for a walk with an elderly lady. She smiled at you and then smiled at Manon. Your girlfriend smiled radiantly, forgetting whatever had happened earlier; she just admired your love for animals.

Manon knew you’d always wanted a dog, but after the two of you adopted Spoon, things got a little more complicated. Because even though the kitten was one of the most beautiful and cute creatures you’d ever seen, the two of you weren’t sure if she’d adjust to a friend with twice—maybe three times—as much energy as she had.

After letting the elderly lady walk back home, the two of you finally arrived at the café you both loved so much. Manon spent the whole time clinging to your arm; your jacket was warm, and your arms seemed particularly big against the fabric—anyway, your girlfriend thought it was all perfect. She watched you place your usual orders, savoring every word that came out of your mouth, no matter how simple, loving how you always got her order right.

You waited a few minutes; when everything was ready, you picked up the takeout and headed to the nearest park. You knew that one of the things that cheered your girlfriend up when she was having a bad day was seeing something beautiful. Anything that reminded Manon that the world was still a nice place helped her think more clearly and not get depressed by the things she was facing.

The two of you sat by the lake, in a secluded spot, but you could still hear the children playing and occasionally some people running nearby. The worn-out bench you sat on was already as much a part of your relationship as you were yourselves. You remember that was where you and Manon would go when you wanted to talk, or just relax and watch the ripples in the water. Every now and then some ducks would show up, but today no one was there to see them.

For the first five minutes you ate in silence. You wanted to respect your girlfriend’s time, and she knew she could speak when she was ready. You were always there to listen to her.

“I think I felt powerless this morning,” she began, almost in a whisper. “I saw something that reminded me of how it all unfolded, and all I could think about was how I couldn’t do anything.”

Her words echoed in your head; you didn’t know exactly what she was feeling, but that didn’t stop your heart from aching at what she was telling you.

“I miss everything. Sometimes I feel lost, sometimes I feel guilty.” She paused for a moment, as if weighing her words. “But sometimes I feel angry—so angry that everything inside me feels like it’s being eaten away. I can’t hang out with my best friends, I can’t have my dream...”

Her eyes weren’t teary like they were this morning; they were slightly sad—the way you hated them to be the most. You remember the last time Manon went out with one of the girls; you took her to Megan’s, and a fan almost exposed your whole plan when he saw the two of them in the same place. Luckily, you remember the fan saying he’d keep it a secret, and that the photos the girls took would be posted at different times, as if they weren’t in the same place at the same time.

“I hate seeing you like this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her.

“I hate that you see me like this,” she whispered back.

Your thoughts scattered quickly, because you knew that no matter how supportive you were, your girlfriend would always feel like she was somehow dumping everything on you.

“Hey, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me things. You can tell me everything, Manon. How you’re feeling, how you’re doing each day, what you want to do or what you don’t want to do...” Your hand grabbed hers, and your free arm went over her shoulder, pulling her closer to you. “I want you to share everything with me, because I love you more than anything and I’ll never leave you alone!”

Manon looked at you as if she were looking at something familiar, a deity, a guardian angel. She knew she was lucky to have you; she knew she should thank the heavens every day from the moment you refused to leave her side after everything fell apart.

She always remembers the late-night FaceTime conversations, when you were recording something and she was struggling with rehearsals and all the pressure from the label and the public. She always remembers how you never let her feel small, or inferior to anyone. And what filled her heart the most was remembering that you gave up everything to be by her side when all the bad things started to really come to light.

You didn’t ask for applause, nor did you brag about all the times she cried on your shoulder. You were simply there.

“I never thought I could love someone the way I love you.” Her voice was sweet, her eyes melted with love. “I never thought anyone could love me so much, that they’d be with me through thick and thin. But you stayed.”

Her hand squeezed yours three times, while a sigh—which you interpreted as a small relief—escaped her lips as if she’d just lifted seven tons off her back. You didn’t know where you found the strength to stay there with her; you’d always been terrible under pressure or in stressful situations. When it came to you, all you did was ignore things until the universe decided to give you a hint.

You learned to be different because of Manon.

“I’ll always be with you.” You let go of her hand, your fingers gently brushing her cheek to wipe away a lone tear that had fallen. “Because no matter where I go, or who I’m with, I’ll always be thinking about you.”

It might seem simple, maybe even vague to someone looking in from the outside. I mean, how could a park and an overpriced breakfast cure a sadness that hurt the soul? But Manon knew better; she knew it wasn’t the places or the things she consumed… it was you. You were the one who brought the sparkle back to her eyes, regardless of whether it would last or not, because you would always be there to remind her of who she really was—not the mean comments, not the company focused on profits and image, not anything from the outside.

Just her.

While I was writing this, I found myself thinking about the way I write about the girls from NJZ. It actually made me even sadder. I miss Manon, guys.

I know it’s been a while since I posted, but I’ve been kind of busy lately, and kind of unmotivated too, to be honest. But I think I might be getting back into the swing of things. My vacation starts in less than a month, and I’ll be ready for summer!

I really want to write more stuff, not just for this blog, but for the other one too. URGH, I have so many ideas, but whenever I start writing I feel so unmotivated. I hope this goes away.

I hope you’re all doing well and taking care of yourselves. I’ve recently noticed that a lot of authors have left the fanfom, and that there are also a lot of tea within the katstumblr community. I have to say I feel like an old lady for not knowing what’s going on here—I just study and work, and I come home too tired to notice anything.

So please, stay safe, drink water, and take care of yourselves a little.

xoxo, spider.

[gabsrevival]

Say Yes

syn: The girls think Manon being spoiled is hilarious, especially when you fold for her every single time. But after weeks of constant yeses, one gentle no hits harder than any of them expected.

tags: manon x rich!reader, spoiled!manon, bratty!manon, soft!dom!reader, established relationship, hurt comfort, angst with happy ending, toxic lowk but affectionate, spoiled princess manon

w/c: 5.3k+

taglist (join here): @racinghost @katsattorney @belzanita @catswag22 @micaluvssoccer @swiftieortega13 @lethal-minds @yournextdooralien @ro2w @plqnetputellas @katscopic @eliyrx @randomperson868 @mochi-nugs @urwavvy @sp1key0 @needmeganskiendiel @aoeiurgnmddk @ctrlamira

a/n: i wanted to do a part 2 of this idea, so here it is! much love xx

(pt1)

By the second week, the shock had worn off.

Not completely—Megan still occasionally stopped mid-sentence when she noticed something absurd sitting casually on the counter—but enough that the girls had stopped treating your wealth like some untouchable thing.

Now it was entertainment.

The penthouse had somehow become a regular hangout spot after schedules ended. Sometimes because Manon invited them. Sometimes because you sent a car without asking. Either way, the girls ended up sprawled across expensive furniture at least three nights a week, slowly becoming desensitized to things that absolutely should not have become normal.

Like the fact that Manon no longer carried her own bags.

Or that your assistant apparently knew everyone’s coffee orders.

Or that Manon could mention liking something once and it would mysteriously appear within forty-eight hours.

Sophia claimed they should stop encouraging it.

No one listened.

“You know,” Daniela said casually one evening, curled sideways against the couch, “Manon kept talking about these boots yesterday.”

You looked up immediately from your phone. “Which pair?”

The room burst into laughter.

Daniela pointed at you so fast she nearly dropped her drink. “SEE?”

Manon looked delighted.

“What?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Megan wiped at her eyes dramatically. “You don’t even hesitate anymore. That’s the problem.”

You frowned slightly. “She liked them.”

“That’s not the point,” Sophia muttered.

Manon, meanwhile, had gone very still in the way the girls were beginning to recognize as dangerous. She tilted her head slowly, studying you.

Testing.

“Oh,” she said lightly. “The black ones with the silver hardware.”

You nodded once. “Those are sold out online, aren’t they?”

“They were,” Manon said.

You hummed thoughtfully, already typing something into your phone.

Megan lunged forward. “NO. No, absolutely not. Don’t do it.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Because she’s doing it on purpose now!”

Manon grinned without shame. “And?”

You looked between them, unconcerned. “I can still get them.”

Sophia stared at you. “That is not helping.”

You smiled slightly. “I’m not trying to help.”

Daniela actually had to lean against Lara because she was laughing too hard.

“This is insane,” Lara muttered, though she looked equally entertained.

Manon stretched out across the couch cushions like a satisfied cat, clearly pleased with herself. “Get the taller ones.”

You glanced at her. “The knee-high version?”

“Mhm.”

“Leather or suede?”

Manon pretended to think about it for all of two seconds. “Leather.”

“Okay.”

Your thumb tapped against the screen once more.

Yoonchae gasped. “You already bought them?!”

You looked up. “Well, yes.”

The room erupted again.

Manon looked downright radiant.

It only got worse after that.

Because once the girls realized how easy it was to provoke a reaction out of you, they started doing it constantly.

“Maaaan,” Megan sighed dramatically a few days later, scrolling through her phone while everyone sat around the kitchen island. “It’s such a shame Manon liked that necklace at the event yesterday.”

You didn’t even glance up from making Manon’s drink. “Which necklace?”

Megan collapsed against the counter laughing.

“OH MY GOD.”

Sophia covered her face with one hand.

Manon slowly turned toward Megan, eyes brightening with immediate interest. “Wait. Which necklace?”

“The diamond one,” Megan said, still laughing. “The stupidly expensive one.”

You handed Manon her drink first before reaching for your phone again.

Daniela pointed aggressively. “There she goes!”

“Hold on,” you said calmly. “Was it the teardrop one or the layered one?”

Manon blinked.

Then smiled.

Slowly.

Dangerously.

“The layered one,” she answered sweetly.

You nodded once. “That one suited you better anyway.”

Sophia made a strangled noise.

“Do you hear yourselves?” she asked. “This is not normal behavior.”

“No, seriously,” Lara added. “You’re creating a supervillain.”

Manon took a sip of her drink, visibly pleased. “Too late.”

She started getting bolder after that.

At first it was little things.

“I don’t like this water.”

A new bottle appeared beside her within seconds.

“I’m cold.”

Your jacket was immediately around her shoulders.

“My phone’s dying.”

You were already reaching for a charger.

The girls started watching the exchanges like they were courtside at a tennis match.

Back and forth.

Request and response.

Effortless.

Almost automatic.

The unsettling part wasn’t even the money anymore.

It was you.

The way you never looked irritated. Never sighed. Never acted burdened. Every adjustment happened instantly, naturally, like making Manon happy had become muscle memory.

And Manon noticed that too.

Which was exactly why she started pushing.

One night, she walked into the penthouse carrying two shopping bags before immediately dropping them by the door.

“I’m over these already,” she announced.

Megan nearly choked. “You bought those TODAY.”

Manon ignored her, looking directly at you instead. “I want different ones.”

You glanced toward the bags. “Okay.”

“Bigger.”

“Alright.”

“Maybe lighter colored.”

You nodded easily. “I’ll find some options.”

Daniela stared at Manon in disbelief. “You’re not even pretending to feel bad anymore.”

Manon smiled lazily, completely unashamed.

“Why would I?” she asked.

Then she looked at you again, eyes glittering with amusement.

“Can you bring me my charger?”

You stood immediately.

Sophia watched you disappear down the hallway before turning slowly toward Manon.

“This is becoming a problem,” she said flatly.

Manon only grinned wider, sinking deeper into the couch cushions.

“No,” she said. “It’s becoming fun.”

It escalated faster than anyone expected.

Mostly because Manon realized there genuinely didn’t seem to be a limit.

The first real warning sign came after practice one night when everyone was exhausted, crammed into the lobby waiting for rides. Manon leaned against you with her cheek pressed lazily into your shoulder, clearly half-asleep.

Your driver had already pulled up.

“So,” Megan said, stretching dramatically, “are you two heading back to the penthouse?”

“Mhm,” you answered.

Manon frowned immediately.

“I don’t wanna drive back.”

The girls looked up automatically.

You glanced down at her. “You don’t?”

She shook her head against your shoulder. “Too far.”

“It’s twenty minutes,” Daniela said.

Manon ignored her completely.

You considered it for maybe two seconds before pulling your phone out.

“Okay,” you said simply. “We’ll stay closer tonight.”

Sophia blinked. “What.”

Megan whipped around so fast she nearly dropped her bag. “NO WAY.”

You were already speaking quietly into the phone.

“Yes, tonight,” you said calmly. “The usual suite is fine.”

Manon visibly relaxed immediately, satisfied.

Yoonchae stared at her. “You just changed hotels because she was tired?”

You looked confused again by the question. “She doesn’t want to sit in traffic.”

Manon, meanwhile, looked impossibly smug.

“Get the room with the bathtub,” she added casually.

You nodded once. “Already did.”

Sophia looked genuinely concerned now.

“This is actually becoming psychologically fascinating.”

A few days later, it got worse.

The girls had stopped by the penthouse after schedules again, food spread across the kitchen island while everyone talked over each other. You stood beside Manon making smoothies because apparently the private chef had the night off and you’d insisted it was “easy.”

Manon took one sip.

Paused.

Then frowned.

“My smoothie tastes weird.”

The room fell silent instantly.

Megan physically turned in her seat. “Oh, this is my favorite game.”

You reached for the cup immediately. “What’s wrong with it?”

Manon handed it over with a dissatisfied expression. “Too sweet.”

You tasted it once.

“Hm,” you murmured. “Yeah, okay.”

Then you dumped the entire thing into the sink and started making another one without hesitation.

Daniela actually slid off her stool laughing.

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN ARGUE.”

“She didn’t like it,” you said simply.

“That was one sip!” Megan shouted.

Manon rested her chin in her hand, watching you remake the drink with visible satisfaction.

“A little more strawberry this time,” she said.

“Okay.”

Sophia stared at the ceiling for a long moment.

“We are actively encouraging terrible behavior.”

“No,” Megan corrected through laughter. “We’re witnessing it.”

You handed the new smoothie to Manon carefully. “Try this one.”

She took another sip.

Then nodded.

“Better.”

Your entire expression softened like she’d handed you praise instead of basic approval.

Sophia caught it immediately.

“Oh, you LIKE this,” she realized.

You glanced over. “Like what?”

“The maintenance,” Daniela said.

“The attitude,” Lara added.

“The fact she treats you like a personal assistant,” Megan finished.

You looked genuinely surprised.

“She doesn’t,” you said.

Right as Manon held her empty smoothie cup toward you without looking.

You took it automatically.

The girls screamed.

Manon burst into laughter against the couch cushions while you rinsed the cup off like nothing unusual had happened.

And somehow, impossibly, it kept escalating.

By the end of the month, the members had a front row seat to the absolute worst version of Manon’s spoiled behavior.

Which was exactly why they couldn’t stop provoking it.

The hotel incident nearly killed Megan.

The group had flown out for schedules, everyone exhausted and annoyed after a long day of filming. The hotel itself was already ridiculous—five stars, massive suites, private balconies.

Apparently not ridiculous enough for Manon.

She walked into her room, looked around once, then immediately frowned.

“I liked the other hotel better.”

Lara froze halfway through taking her shoes off.

Daniela whispered, “No way.”

You looked up from setting her bags down. “The one from Paris?”

“Mhm.”

“That one had bigger closets,” Manon complained, wandering farther into the suite. “And the lighting here is weird.”

Megan had both hands over her mouth already.

Because everyone knew.

Everyone knew what was about to happen.

You pulled your phone out.

Sophia pointed immediately. “STOP.”

You glanced at her. “What?”

“You cannot possibly be changing hotels because the closet isn’t big enough.”

You looked back toward Manon.

Manon looked back at you expectantly.

You hesitated.

Very briefly.

Then:

“I can upgrade the floor.”

The room exploded.

Megan collapsed face-first into the couch screaming while Daniela doubled over laughing.

“You’re INSANE,” Lara shouted.

Manon brightened instantly. “Can the new suite have the city view?”

“Yeah,” you answered easily.

“And the marble bathroom?”

“I’ll check.”

Sophia looked one second away from losing her mind.

“This is not a relationship anymore,” she said flatly. “This is a dictatorship.”

Manon smiled sweetly from across the suite.

“And yet,” she said, glancing toward you, “she seems very happy here.”

You smiled back without hesitation.

“I am.”

—

By this point, the girls should’ve stopped encouraging it.

Instead, they got worse.

The penthouse was loud that night—music low in the background, takeout containers spread across the counter, Megan half-folded over the couch cushions while Daniela argued with Lara about something stupid and unimportant.

Manon sat sideways beside you, legs draped over your lap like she owned the entire room.

Which, honestly, she kind of did.

Megan was scrolling aimlessly through her phone when she paused suddenly.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Manon wanted this jacket last week.”

You looked up immediately.

“It sold out,” Manon said before Megan could continue, tone casual.

You were already reaching for your phone.

“It’s not.”

The room erupted instantly.

“NO,” Daniela yelled.

Megan nearly dropped her phone laughing. “SEE? SEE?”

But Manon wasn’t paying attention to them anymore.

She was watching you.

Really watching you.

The easy confidence.

The complete lack of hesitation.

The fact you’d already started typing before even asking which jacket it was.

And then—Slowly—Manon smiled.

It wasn’t her usual amused smirk.

This one was different.

Sharper.

Interested.

Like something had just clicked into place.

“Oh,” she said softly.

Sophia noticed immediately and physically pointed.

“No,” she warned. “Don’t make that face.”

Manon ignored her.

“The black one,” she told you sweetly. “Leather.”

You nodded once. “The cropped version?”

“Mhm.”

Your thumb moved across the screen again.

“It’ll be here tomorrow.”

And there it was.

The exact moment Manon realized:

she didn’t even need to wait for the girls to say things anymore.

She could just ask.

The next hour became unbearable.

Not for you.

For everyone else.

Because Manon started testing the limits almost immediately.

She picked up her drink, took two sips, then held it out toward you without looking away from her phone.

“Hold this.”

You took it automatically.

Megan made a choking sound.

Manon kept texting calmly while you sat there holding her drink with absolutely no issue whatsoever.

Daniela grabbed Sophia’s arm. “Do you see this?”

“I unfortunately do,” Sophia answered.

A few minutes later, Manon glanced around the couch setup, then frowned slightly.

“I like that side better.”

You looked up instantly. “Do you want to switch?”

“Mhm.”

You moved before she even finished the sentence.

The girls stared in disbelief as you traded places with her without question. Manon settled into the new spot immediately, satisfied, while you adjusted the blanket over her legs like this was perfectly normal behavior.

Daniela looked horrified.

“Oh she’s power tripping now.”

Manon grinned.

“You’re just noticing?”

And somehow—somehow—you looked pleased by all of this.

That was the disturbing part.

Not trapped.

Not manipulated.

Not exhausted.

Happy.

Like every request was something precious being handed to you instead of demanded from you.

Sophia started noticing it more the longer the night went on.

The way your attention stayed fixed on Manon even during other conversations.

How your eyes flicked toward her automatically anytime the room changed volume.

The way you watched her reactions carefully.

And the second something shifted—you adjusted.

Instinctively.

Like devotion had rewired your nervous system.

It only got worse once Manon realized that too.

She interrupted your work call next.

Not even maliciously.

Just because she could.

You’d stepped aside near the windows, speaking quietly with someone from your company while everyone else remained sprawled across the living room. Manon had been half-listening at first, curled into the couch cushions lazily.

Then she looked up.

“Baby.”

You muted yourself immediately. “Yeah?”

The girls froze.

Manon held up her wrist. “Can you unclasp this bracelet?”

You crossed the room without hesitation.

Sophia blinked hard. “You were in the middle of a call.”

You carefully undid the bracelet, fingers brushing lightly against Manon’s skin. “It’s okay.”

Manon tilted her head back to look up at you.

“Thanks.”

You kissed her forehead absentmindedly before returning to the call.

The room stayed silent for three full seconds after you walked away.

Manon looked delighted.

Later, food arrived.

Manon took exactly three bites before leaning back dramatically against the couch.

“I’m bored.”

Daniela pointed immediately. “Do NOT say it.”

Manon looked straight at you.

“Fix it.”

Lara physically covered her face.

You looked thoughtful for maybe half a second.

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

Megan screamed.

“YOU CAN’T KEEP REWARDING HER.”

Manon laughed so hard she nearly slid sideways off the couch.

“No, wait,” Daniela said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Ask for something crazier.”

Sophia looked appalled. “Why are you instigating?”

“Because this is insane.”

Manon sat up straighter now, fully invested in the game.

“Hm,” she mused, pretending to think. “I wanna go shopping.”

“It’s midnight,” Lara said.

You checked your watch. “Some stores can open privately.”

The room exploded.

“WHAT.”

Sophia stared at you like you’d personally offended her.

“You’re telling me stores will OPEN for you?”

You looked confused again. “Sometimes.”

Manon looked genuinely thrilled now.

“Oh, I like that.”

Manon was already spiraling deeper into it.

Not just the money.

Not just the access.

The responsiveness.

That immediate shift in your attention every single time she wanted something.

She started leaning into it shamelessly after that.

“My feet hurt.”

Your hands were instantly at her ankles, gently pulling her legs into your lap.

“I don’t like this lighting.”

You dimmed the penthouse lights without a word.

The girls couldn’t stop watching.

It was horrifying.

Fascinating.

Weirdly intimate in a way that made all of them feel like they were witnessing something too personal.

Because underneath the spoiledness—underneath the absurd luxury—there was something deeply emotional happening.

Sophia saw it clearest.

Especially when Manon stopped paying attention.

That was when your face changed.

Softened.

You’d look at her like you were checking constantly:

Is she happy?

Comfortable?

Still smiling?

Not because she ordered you to.

Because you wanted to.

Sophia leaned back slowly, watching Manon complain quietly about the movie selection while you searched for another one without even being asked directly.

Then she looked at the others.

“This is bad,” she said quietly.

Daniela laughed weakly. “Yeah.”

Sophia shook her head once.

“No,” she murmured. “I mean emotionally.”

Across the room, Manon stretched lazily against your side.

“I don’t like this movie either.”

You picked up the remote instantly.

“Okay,” you said softly. “We’ll find another one.”

—

The penthouse had gone unusually quiet by midnight.

Rain pressed softly against the windows, turning the city outside into blurred streaks of gold and white. The girls had settled into that late-night haze where nobody really wanted to leave but everyone was too tired to keep up full conversations anymore.

Megan was half-asleep against the arm of the couch.

Daniela and Lara were sharing fries directly from the carton beside them.

Yoonchae was curled beneath a blanket scrolling through edits on her phone.

Sophia sat at the kitchen island watching you.

Mostly because lately, she couldn’t stop.

You looked exhausted.

Not dramatically. Not in a way you’d ever complain about. But the signs were there if someone paid attention long enough: sleeves rolled up messily, tie loosened hours ago, untouched coffee going cold beside your laptop, and the tiny pauses before answering people on calls

You’d barely been at the penthouse all week. Meetings. Flights. Investors. Events. Your schedule had been brutal lately, and somehow you still kept checking on Manon every five seconds like it was instinct.

Even now, in the middle of a call, your eyes kept drifting toward her automatically.

Manon was stretched across the couch wearing one of your hoodies, bare legs thrown over Megan’s lap despite Megan complaining about it every three minutes.

She looked bored.

Which everyone had learned to fear.

Your voice stayed low and even as you spoke into your headphones, discussing something none of them fully understood. Numbers. Timelines. An event tomorrow morning that apparently involved people important enough to keep you awake this late preparing for it.

Manon watched you for a while.

Then she sat up slightly.

“Baby.”

You muted yourself instantly.

“Yeah?”

Sophia’s eyes flicked upward immediately.

There it was again.

That automatic attention shift.

Manon tucked one leg beneath herself, gaze fixed on you.

“When’s your thing tomorrow?”

You rubbed briefly at your eye before answering. “The investor conference?”

“Mhm.”

“Nine.”

Manon frowned.

“That’s early.”

A small smile pulled at your mouth despite the exhaustion. “Unfortunately.”

She leaned back dramatically into the couch cushions.

“Cancel it.”

Megan laughed immediately.

“Oh, absolutely,” she snorted. “Tell the billionaires Manon said no.”

Daniela grinned into her drink. Even Lara smiled faintly.

Because obviously she was joking.

Manon didn’t smile.

She was still staring at you.

“Cancel it,” she repeated.

The amusement in the room faltered.

You looked at her properly this time.

“Manon—”

“You’ve barely been here,” she interrupted easily. “All week.”

Your expression softened immediately at the edge in her voice.

“I know.”

“You said this weekend was ours.”

“It is.”

“Then cancel it.”

The room went still.

Sophia slowly lowered her phone onto the counter.

Because Manon wasn’t teasing anymore.

And maybe worse—she genuinely sounded like this should be simple.

Like this was a completely reasonable request.

You stayed quiet for a second.

Thinking.

And the fact you even had to think about it made something flicker across Manon’s face.

Confusion first.

Then irritation.

“You can move it,” she said.

You exhaled softly.

“Not this one.”

“What?”

She laughed once, short and disbelieving, like she genuinely thought she’d misunderstood you.

You closed your laptop slowly.

“I can’t cancel tomorrow.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

Megan sat upright immediately.

Daniela stopped moving entirely.

Even Yoonchae looked up from her phone.

Because nobody—nobody—had ever heard you tell Manon no before.

And judging by the look on her face—neither had she.

She blinked at you slowly.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“It’s important.”

“You always say that.”

Your voice stayed gentle. “This one matters.”

Manon stared.

Then shook her head once like the answer itself annoyed her.

“It’s one night.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you saying no?”

There it was.

Not anger.

Not manipulation.

Genuine confusion.

Like the concept itself didn’t fit correctly in her head.

“You always move things,” she continued, frustration slipping more clearly into her voice now. “You literally moved a trip because I didn’t like the hotel.”

Megan physically winced.

You stayed calm.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Manon.”

“No, seriously, how?” she pressed. “You can move meetings. You do it all the time.”

Your expression shifted slightly then—not cold, not harsh.

Just tired.

And somehow that hurt the room more.

“I told you this mattered.”

“I don’t care about the meeting.”

The words landed harder than she intended them to.

Everyone felt it.

Even Manon, judging by the brief flicker in her expression afterward.

But she was already frustrated now, spoiled instincts taking over before she could stop them.

“You said we’d spend the weekend together,” she said again, quieter this time but more upset somehow. “You promised.”

“And we will.”

“No, we won’t,” she snapped. “You’ll be busy.”

You stood slowly from the island.

Immediately, Manon crossed her arms.

Defensive.

Like she already knew what was coming and hated it.

You walked closer carefully, exhaustion still sitting visibly in your posture. But even now, your voice stayed soft when you spoke.

“Hey.”

Manon looked away.

You touched her wrist gently.

“I can’t this time.”

She pulled away instantly.

The motion shocked everyone.

Not aggressive.

Not dramatic.

Just immediate.

Like she couldn’t stand the answer.

“Fine,” she muttered.

But she didn’t sound fine.

You tried again, quieter now.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“That’s not the point.”

Her voice had gone cold in that dangerous way where it sounded like she was trying very hard not to care.

The room had become painfully awkward by now.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Because suddenly this wasn’t funny anymore.

This wasn’t Manon joking around for reactions.

Wasn’t playful brat behavior being rewarded with affection.

This was expectation.

Dependency.

Weeks and weeks of immediate indulgence finally colliding with the first real boundary.

And Manon genuinely did not know how to handle it.

“You always say yes,” she said quietly.

The sentence hit harder than yelling would’ve.

Something in your face softened immediately at the sound of it—almost sad.

“I know.”

That somehow made her more frustrated.

Her jaw tightened.

Then she stepped backward entirely, putting space between the two of you.

“Whatever.”

“Manon.”

“I said fine.”

But her voice cracked slightly around the edges now, frustration turning sharper because underneath all of it was something younger and uglier:

hurt.

Not because she didn’t get her way.

Because for the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel prioritized.

Sophia realized it instantly.

And judging by the horrified look Daniela gave her across the room—so did everyone else.

Manon grabbed her phone off the couch cushions.

You tried once more, softer:

“Come here.”

“No.”

Another silence.

Heavy.

Embarrassing.

Too intimate for witnesses.

Then Manon shook her head once, eyes fixed somewhere past you.

“I’m going to bed.”

And before anyone could respond, she walked down the hallway.

The bedroom door shut a second later.

The sound echoed through the penthouse.

Nobody spoke for several long seconds afterward.

Then quietly

“Oh my god,” Daniela whispered.

The penthouse stayed silent long after Manon disappeared down the hallway.

Nobody moved.

Daniela was still staring toward the hallway like Manon might suddenly come back and announce she’d been joking. Megan looked caught somewhere between horrified and fascinated, eyes wide as she slowly lowered the fry she’d been holding for the past thirty seconds.

Yoonchae looked genuinely stressed.

Lara glanced awkwardly between everyone before finally looking at you.

You still hadn’t moved from where Manon left you standing.

Not angry.

Not frustrated.

Just tired.

“Oh my god,” Daniela said finally.

The words came out quiet.

Megan blinked hard. “She actually got upset.”

No one answered immediately.

Because suddenly all the little moments from the past few weeks were rearranging themselves differently in everyone’s heads.

The hotels.

The shopping.

The constant “yes.”

The immediate attention every single time Manon wanted something.

At first it had looked funny.

Then dramatic.

Then ridiculous.

Now?

Now it looked dangerous.

Sophia leaned back slowly against the kitchen counter, arms folding across her chest.

“Because she’s used to being prioritized,” she said quietly.

The room fell silent again.

Your expression shifted slightly at that.

Daniela looked at Sophia. “No, but seriously… did you hear her?”

“You always say yes,” Sophia repeated softly.

Megan rubbed both hands over her face.

Because that was the part none of them could stop hearing now.

Not the attitude.

Not even the argument.

The expectation behind it.

Manon genuinely believed you would rearrange your entire life for her because, until now—you always had.

Yoonchae looked hesitant. “Do you think she meant to sound like that?”

“No,” Sophia answered immediately.

And somehow that made it worse.

“She didn’t even realize how unreasonable she sounded,” Sophia continued. “That’s the problem.”

Lara glanced carefully toward you. “You really never tell her no?”

You exhaled quietly through your nose, finally sitting back down at the island.

“It doesn’t usually matter.”

Daniela stared at you. “Canceling an investor conference absolutely matters.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you look guilty saying no?”

That question actually made you pause.

Megan noticed immediately. “Oh my god.”

You rubbed tiredly at your face before answering.

“She’s been upset I’m busy lately.”

Sophia shook her head slowly. “That’s not the issue.”

You looked over at her.

“She’s gotten used to you fixing discomfort immediately,” Sophia said carefully. “The second she wants something, you handle it. Every time.”

“She’s not demanding,” you said instinctively.

The entire room gave you a look.

You blinked once.

Then sighed quietly. “Okay. Sometimes she is.”

“Sometimes?” Megan repeated.

Despite everything, a tiny smile tugged briefly at the corner of your mouth.

“She likes attention.”

Daniela let out a disbelieving laugh. “Understatement of the century.”

But you didn’t seem embarrassed.

Or defensive.

If anything, you looked… fond.

That was what kept throwing all of them off.

Because none of this felt transactional to you.

You genuinely loved indulging her.

Sophia noticed your gaze drift unconsciously toward the hallway again.

Waiting.

Checking.

Like part of your attention was still fixed entirely on Manon even after the argument.

And suddenly the whole thing made sense in a way that was honestly a little terrifying.

You hadn’t spoiled Manon accidentally.

You’d done it lovingly.

Patiently.

Consistently.

Until she stopped expecting limits from you at all.

“Oh,” Lara murmured quietly.

You looked back at them then, finally noticing how unsettled everyone seemed.

Your expression softened immediately.

“She’ll come around,” you said gently. “It’s just a tantrum.”

The girls stared at you.

“A tantrum?” Megan repeated weakly.

You nodded once, completely calm.

“She’s overwhelmed. She’ll cool off.”

Daniela looked halfway between concern and disbelief. “You sound weirdly used to this.”

Another pause.

Then, carefully:

“She doesn’t usually have to hear no from me.”

Sophia actually laughed once under her breath.

Not because it was funny.

Because it explained everything.

It took about twenty minutes before you finally stood.

The girls tried very hard not to look relieved.

“I’ll go check on her,” you said quietly.

Daniela looked nervous. “Are you sure?”

A small smile touched your mouth, tired but fond.

“She’s okay.”

Then you disappeared down the hallway.

The bedroom door was half-open.

You found Manon in the closet.

Of course you did.

She stood in the middle of the massive walk-in surrounded by clothes she’d very clearly been yanking off hangers without actually looking at them. One dress lay abandoned across the bench. Another hung halfway off the rack beside her.

She heard you walk in and immediately reached for another hanger.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Your expression softened instantly.

“I figured.”

Manon tugged a jacket off the rack harder than necessary. “You should’ve canceled it.”

You leaned quietly against the doorway for a second, watching her.

Not annoyed.

Just patient.

“You know I couldn’t.”

“You could’ve.”

“Manon.”

“I’m serious.”

She still wouldn’t look at you.

That was what finally made you move closer.

“You’re angry,” you said gently.

“No, I’m not.”

“You reorganized half the closet.”

That earned the tiniest reaction—her mouth twitching like she almost smiled before catching herself.

But she shook it off quickly.

“You always say yes.”

There it was again.

Softer this time.

Not bratty anymore.

Not demanding.

Just hurt.

You stopped beside her quietly.

Manon finally looked up then, frustration still visible around the edges of her expression.

“You always move things,” she said. “Or fix them or cancel them or change them and—”

She cut herself off sharply.

You waited.

And after a second, her voice dropped quieter.

“I thought you would this time too.”

Something in your chest tightened painfully at that.

Not because she was being manipulative.

Because suddenly you understood what this had actually been about.

Not the meeting.

Not the weekend.

Reassurance.

All those instant yeses, all those little adjustments you made for her without hesitation—they’d become proof to Manon that she came first. That she was wanted enough for someone to reshape their world around her.

And tonight, for the first time, you hadn’t.

You reached for her carefully this time, touching her wrist lightly.

“Hey.”

Manon looked away immediately, embarrassed now that the real feeling had slipped out.

“I sounded insane out there.”

“A little.”

She groaned softly and covered her face with one hand. “Oh my god.”

You laughed quietly under your breath.

“I didn’t mean—” she started, then stopped herself. “I know the meeting matters.”

“I know.”

“I just…” She exhaled hard. “You’ve been busy.”

Guilt flickered across your face instantly.

Manon noticed immediately and frowned. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Look guilty.”

You smiled faintly. “I am guilty.”

“You’re working.”

“And ignoring you.”

“You literally bought me a jacket yesterday.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

The honesty in your voice made her shoulders loosen slightly.

You stepped closer again, hands settling carefully at her waist this time.

“I know I’ve been gone a lot lately,” you said softly. “But saying no one time doesn’t mean you stopped mattering to me.”

Manon’s expression faltered.

Because logically she knew that.

Emotionally?

Apparently not.

You brushed your thumb lightly against her side.

“You know I love taking care of you.”

Her face flushed immediately at how direct that sounded.

Behind the lingering embarrassment, though, you saw her relax a little.

“I got used to it,” she admitted quietly.

“I noticed.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

She rolled her eyes weakly, finally leaning into you instead of away from you.

“There’s my dramatic girl,” you murmured.

“I was not dramatic.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Manon buried her face against your shoulder. “Okay maybe a little.”

You laughed softly again, one hand smoothing down her back automatically.

For a minute neither of you said anything.

Just stood there quietly among the disaster she’d made of the closet.

Then:

“You’re still spoiled,” you said gently.

“Mhm.”

“But I’m keeping the meeting.”

Manon sighed dramatically against your shoulder.

“…Fine.”

You smiled immediately at the lack of actual resistance in her voice.

“And after the meeting?”

She tilted her head back enough to look at you. “You’re taking me out.”

“Demanding.”

“You like it.”

Unfortunately, she was right.

Your expression gave you away instantly.

Manon smiled slowly at that, the last of the tension finally disappearing from her face. “See? That’s your fault.”

“Probably.”

She hummed contentedly and wrapped her arms around your waist fully this time.

A few minutes later, the girls heard soft laughter drifting faintly from down the hallway.

The entire living room collectively relaxed.

“Oh thank god,” Megan muttered immediately.

Daniela collapsed backward against the couch cushions. “I genuinely thought we were about to witness a breakup.”

Sophia shook her head slowly, though there was reluctant amusement in her expression now.

“No,” she said quietly.

Across the penthouse, another burst of soft laughter echoed from the bedroom.

Sophia leaned back against the couch, listening to it.

“They’re way too obsessed with each other for that.”

[0l10c]

Maddy Perez x female reader

𒁂Jealous

➤➤➤

You don't notice it right away. Or rather, you do notice, but you chalk it up to something else—fatigue after a long day at school, another argument with her parents, the general mood that Maddy Perez possesses, as changeable as April weather. She's sitting next to you on the couch in your living room, legs tucked under her in white ankle socks, scrolling through her phone with an expression so focused it looks like she's reading the terms of a nuclear agreement rather than someone's Instagram stories. Her nails—long, almond-shaped, coated in perfect red polish—tap rhythmically against the screen.

You place a hand on her knee, and she doesn't flinch, doesn't pull away, but she doesn't cover your palm with hers either, the way she usually does. She just keeps scrolling.

"Everything okay?" you ask, squeezing your fingers slightly.

"Absolutely," Maddy replies without looking up. Her voice is even, almost sweet, but you've been with her long enough to understand: this doesn't bode well. Maddy Perez has a particular talent—she can wound more deeply with the word "absolutely" than another girl could with a string of curses.

You decide not to push for now. In two years of dating, you've learned the cardinal rule of life with a hurricane named Maddy: when she's simmering, it's better to give her some space. She'll let off steam—she'll tell you. Or show you. Maddy's emotions usually come bursting out fast and flashy, like confetti from a party popper—bright, loud, followed by chaos. But today is different. She's quiet. That unnerves you.

You return to your homework, though concentrating is already difficult. You watch her out of the corner of your eye. Maddy sets her phone down face-first, adjusts her hair—you know this gesture by heart: she runs her fingers through at the roots, slightly lifting the dark strands so they fall with more volume—and finally looks at you. Her gaze sweeps across your face like a searchlight, looking for something.

"You had a fun time at lunch today," she says.

It's not a question. It's a statement, delivered with a faint hint of polite conversation that conceals a trap.

You freeze for a second, replaying lunch in your mind. Yeah, you were sitting on the bench in the courtyard—you, Cassie, Lexi, and a couple of kids from another class. Maddy was at cheerleading practice at the time—they have a big performance coming up, and rehearsals have been more frequent. You remember laughing at some joke Lexi made about the school play, and then helping Cassie decode texts from her new boyfriend, while she chirped away nonstop, as she always does.

"It was fine," you answer cautiously. "Why?"

Maddy tilts her head slightly to the side. Her lips, lined with a pencil a shade darker than her lipstick, curve into the semblance of a smile that doesn't reach her eyes at all.

"Just curious. You two looked really cute together."

Wait. 'Together'? With who?

"Are you talking about Lexi?" you ask, trying to find your footing.

"About Ethan," Maddy breathes the name out like something sour on her tongue, and turns away, picking up her phone again. She's not scrolling now—just holding it, turning it in her fingers like an expensive toy.

Ethan. Oh god. Ethan is the new guy from biology class, the one you were paired with for a lab assignment last week. He did sit with your group at lunch, because he doesn't really know anyone else at school yet. He's funny, a little awkward, and absolutely, one hundred percent, holds no romantic interest for you. You can't even remember if you looked in his direction for longer than five seconds.

"Mads," you set your notebook aside and turn your whole body toward her. "Ethan is just a guy from class. We're doing a project on photosynthesis together. That's it."

"I know what photosynthesis is," she cuts you off, icy.

"I don't doubt you do," you try to suppress a smile, because it's genuinely funny—in any other, non-jealous situation, Maddy would be the first to joke about her grades. "I'm saying he's nothing to me. At all. Zero."

"Then why was he sitting in my spot?"

There it is. That's where the shoe pinches. Not in Ethan as a guy, but in the symbolic "her spot." On the bench where you always sit together, where you first kissed after she walked up to you in the school courtyard six months ago, in front of everyone, and said, "Listen, I think you should be my girlfriend." To your right. That's where Maddy always sits, and Cassie usually sits to your left. But that day, Maddy wasn't there, and Ethan, unaware of your group's unspoken seating chart, plopped down in the empty spot.

"Because he doesn't know. Nobody told him, Mads. To him, it was just an empty bench."

"It's not empty," she enunciates. "It's my spot. Next to you."

Maddy Perez's jealousy isn't shouting or breaking dishes, as you might expect given her explosive temperament. It's something far more sophisticated and quiet. It's a checklist in her head that she's constantly reviewing: who looked at you, who you smiled at, who stood too close, who touched your shoulder, even by accident while passing a textbook. It's a database where every interaction gets its own category: "threat," "potential threat," "can be ignored." Ethan, apparently, jumped straight into the red zone over a single lunch.

You reach for her, but Maddy gets up from the couch—fluid, like a cat—and walks into the kitchen. You hear her open the fridge, the clink of a glass water bottle.

You follow her. You lean your shoulder against the doorframe, watching her pour water into a glass. Her movements are still smooth, but there's tension in them—her back too straight, her fingers gripping the neck of the bottle too tightly.

"You know I love you," you say quietly.

Maddy takes a sip, sets the glass down on the counter. Turns around. Now she's looking right at you, and her dark eyes finally betray the emotion she was trying to hide behind indifference. It's not anger. It's fear.

"Then why didn't you tell him to move?" she asks. Her voice cracks half a pitch lower, almost a whisper, and that makes it hurt even more. "Why did you just let him sit there, like it doesn't mean anything?"

Now the puzzle pieces click into place. It's not just about the spot. It's about the fact that Maddy saw—or thought she saw—you having a perfectly good time without her. You were laughing, talking, your world didn't collapse during the forty five minutes she was running drills in the gym. And that—that is the most terrifying thing for a girl who is used to being the center of someone's universe. First at the center of Nate Jacobs' universe, which turned into a catastrophe, and now at the center of yours.

Maddy isn't just jealous of another person. She's jealous of the possibility of you existing without her. Of the thought that you are whole and separate, and she isn't the only axis you revolve around. But you understand something else too: it took her incredible courage, after everything that happened to her, to trust someone again. And now she is desperately terrified of losing it. Losing you. So every little thing swells in her mind to the scale of a tragedy.

"Come here," you open your arms.

She hesitates for exactly one second. Maddy Perez isn't someone who easily lets herself be comforted. She's used to being strong, prickly (:p), the one who hurts first so she doesn't get hurt. But with you, she's trying to be different. And you appreciate that.

She steps toward you, presses her forehead into your shoulder, and you catch the scent of something sweet from her body—perfume with notes of vanilla and sandalwood, the one she always wears before bed, even if bedtime is hours away. You wrap your arms around her, running your palms down her back, feeling the tension slowly release.

"I don't see anyone but you," you whisper into the crown of her head. "Seriously. You can ask Lexi, Cassie, anyone. I look at Ethan the same way I look at a lab microscope. Functionally. With no emotion."

She snorts, and that's already a victory.

"He's an idiot anyway," Maddy adds, not lifting her head. Her voice is muffled but without the ice. "He has a stupid haircut."

"Really stupid," you agree, even though objectively the haircut is just a haircut, totally ordinary, but now is not the time for objectivity.

"And he laughs too loud. It's annoying."

"So loud," you chime in, stroking her hair.

Maddy finally pulls back and looks at you. Her makeup is still flawless, not a single eyelash has smudged, but in the corners of her eyes you see a wet gleam she will never, ever admit to. She sniffles—elegantly, almost imperceptibly—and then suddenly smiles. A real smile, the very one that made you fall for her in the first place.

"Tomorrow I'm coming to lunch myself," she announces in a tone that brooks no argument. "And if that moron sits in my spot again, I'll give him such a photosynthesis lesson, he'll run all the way across the school."

"I'll warn him," you laugh. "Like, my girlfriend is the cheerleading captain, she can do a backflip with one hand and knock your tooth out, so you'd better relocate to another planet."

Maddy rolls her eyes, but the sparkle is dancing in them again. The crisis has passed.

Later, when you're lying in bed and it's already dark outside, she laces her fingers with yours and spends a long time examining your hands together—hers, adorned with a couple of silver rings, and yours.

"I'm sorry," she says, barely audible. "I know I act like a psycho sometimes. It's just… I don't know how to be any other way yet. But I'm learning."

You turn your head toward her. Maddy's profile in the half-dark looks drawn—the sharp arch of her brows, lashes, lips. You kiss her shoulder.

"We're learning together, remember? Me—not to be jealous of every lamppost, you—to tell apart those… chloroplasts and mitochondria."

"To tell chloroplasts apart from mitochondria," Maddy corrects, and you hear a smile in her voice. "I actually know biology better than you."

"Oh, so you're not just the most beautiful, but also the smartest?" you tease.

"Exactly," she answers with absolute seriousness. "And tomorrow I'll prove it to the entire school courtyard. And Ethan can sit on the other side of town."

You laugh, and she laughs too, and this is the best proof that the evening, which started with passive-aggressive scrolling, ended the right way. Maddy will be jealous again—it's part of her nature, the same as her love for sparkly earrings or the habit of painting her nails exclusively red. But she's not afraid because she doesn't trust you. She's afraid because she's been burned before. And you're ready to prove your love to her as many times as it takes.

[ysaintlorient]

monaco

pairing: model!daniela avanzini x f1driver!gp!reader

synopsis: monaco has a way of making everything feel like it’s about to become something else. when daniela, your teammate’s sister, walked into the paddock you felt it immediately.

content: MDNI. there’s plot and also SMUT. blowjobs, cunnilingus, backshots, size kink, big dick!reader, beefy!reader, unprotected sex, breeding, mentions of cock/pussy, dirty talk, drinking, sad talk, carlos sainz big brother, probably not a good portrayal of f1, taller!dani for plot reasons.

— now playing die for me by chase atlantic

the williams motorhome sits wedged between the barrier and the pit lane wall like it always does in monaco.

smaller than it looks on television, louder than anywhere else you've ever been, smelling permanently of tire rubber and industrial cleaner and whatever the caterers are burning two floors up.

thursday. practice day. the harbor shimmers behind the wall if you look up from the right angle, which nobody does, because looking up in the paddock is what tourists do.

and you're not a tourist.

you've been racing here since you were twenty.

all three seasons in this same garage, two podiums on this specific stretch of asphalt, and a reputation for going deeper into the hairpin than anyone has any business going. williams likes you for it. sponsors love you for it.

carlos sainz, your teammate, thinks you're slightly unhinged for it and he is probably right.

he finds you in the garage, leaning against your car's nose cone with your arms crossed, watching the mechanics work on the floor. you're in the team’s kit, navy williams polo, sleeves straining at your biceps, which is either a sizing issue or the gym has gotten out of hand. you stopped caring which one is it a long time ago.

"hey," he says. comes to stand next to you. "my sister's coming to the paddock today."

you don't look up from the floor.

"okay." you nod once, direct. almost disinterested.

"she's a model and probably won't care about any of this." he gestures at the garage, the car, the controlled chaos of two dozen mechanics doing their jobs.

you glance at him. "why are you telling me this?"

he gives you that look. the one that says you know exactly why.

you do know why. you have a reputation in the paddock that has nothing to do with your lap times.

"i'll behave," you say.

he doesn't look convinced. you return your attention to the mechanic on the floor.

you forget about what you said twenty minute after.

there's a technical briefing, then a debrief from the engineers, then a half hour where you're supposed to be eating something before the afternoon session but instead you're standing outside the motorhome with your phone, squinting into the thursday sun.

monaco during may has this specific quality of light; gold and almost aggressive, bouncing off every reflective surface in the paddock until the whole place feels overexposed. like everything's been turned up slightly past what it was meant to be.

you're reading something that isn't important when you hear carlos's voice from the paddock walkway.

and then you look up and see his sister.

she's taller than you expected.

not tall like you because you've got five or six inches on her easily but the model thing makes sense immediately. you observe the way she moves through the paddock like the space is slightly smaller than it should be for her.

she's wearing wide-leg white linen trousers and a dark fitted tank, thin straps, nothing complicated. a pair of oversized sunglasses pushed up into her brown, wavy, thick hair. simple silver earrings.

she looks like she got dressed without thinking about it.

her face, from where you're standing, is a lot. jaw, nose, the geometry of it. sharp in the right places.

she's looking around the paddock with an expression that isn't bored; boredom is lazy, and her face isn't lazy but something cooler. observational. taking inventory of everything around her.

you watch her do it.

carlos is talking to her. she nods. smiles at something he says, and the smile is warm, quick, real and reserved for him specifically, not for the paddock.

she hasn't seen you yet. and you can’t wait to make your presence known.

carlos spots you and waves you over. "this is my sister, daniela."

she turns and looks at you.

and there it is. that observational look, up then down, settling at your face with the sunglasses still in her hair and her chin lifted by half an inch. the adjustment is quick and she doesn't make it obvious, but you catch it. you're used to catching it.

"hi," she says.

"hi, i’m y/n y/l/n" you put your hand out. she takes it. her grip is firm, which you note, and her hand is cool from the water bottle she's been holding at her side.

"carlos didn't mention you were—" she seems to reconsider the sentence.

"what," you question, finding it amusing.

a small smile. "nothing." she drops your hand.

you feel immediately that she is going to be a problem.

"first time in monaco?" you ask.

"second. i came four years ago." she's looking at the pit lane, the cars, the controlled mess of it all. "it's smaller than i remembered."

"most things are, when you come back." you smile.

"most things," she repeats. not agreement. more like she's filing the sentence somewhere, turning it over.

"have you been to milan?" you ask. "for work perhaps?"

"milan, paris, new york. depends on the season." she looks back at you. the sun is doing something specific to her face, catching the angle of her jaw, the line of her nose and you are registering all of it simultaneously with the part of your brain that catalogs and the separate part that should probably mind its own business.

"do you always ask questions like a someone from the press, or is this specifically for me?" she questions, not bothered but amused.

you smile. slow, deliberate. "specifically for you."

she doesn't smile back. but something shifts in her expression. a small recalculation. like you've changed the math and she's running it again quietly.

carlos comes back from wherever he wandered. the moment closes. you let her slip away.

the afternoon session runs long.

by the time you're out of the car and through the debrief it's past six, the light is gone, the paddock beginning to thin. you shower in the motorhome and change into a clean dark shirt, nothing promotional, the kind of thing you wear when you're not being a brand.

and you're not thinking about carlos's sister when you head down to the hospitality level.

except you totally are.

the williams hospitality suite at monaco has glass panels along the back wall that look out over the harbor. the water in the evening is a different color than in the afternoon, it’s deeper, less gold, more indigo, the kind of blue that only exists in this specific city at this specific hour. the catering team has done a little more than usual with the tables tonight. it's monaco week. everyone performs slightly harder.

daniela is already there.

she's changed. a dark dress, some draped fabric that sits off one shoulder in a way that looks unplanned and a thin gold chain that catches the light when she moves. low black heels. her hair down and settled, the kind of looseness that takes effort to achieve.

the latina is standing with two of the williams comms team, holding a glass of white wine, and she's smiling at something one of them said, a real smile, warm and quick, the one she doesn't hand out to everyone.

you get a drink. you sit with your engineer and go over the next day setup in your head while you eat, because that is your job and the job doesn't pause for dinners.

you don't look at her more than necessary.

which means you look at her approximately fourteen times in an hour.

you notice, each time, that she doesn't look back.

you have spent your career in rooms full of people who don't look at you and it has never once registered as a thing worth noting.

the comms team drifts away. carlos gets pulled into something with the team principal at the far end of the room. daniela settles alone at the table with her phone face-down, wine glass in hand, and looks out through the glass panels.

you have no logical reason to do what you do next.

you pick up your drink and cross the room towards her.

she looks up when you sit down. doesn't say anything. she sets her phone down and waits. there's something in how she waits — like she knew you were coming, like she's already further along in this conversation than you are.

"how's the wine?" you ask.

"it’s fine." she folds one leg over the other. "how's the dinner?"

"also fine" you take a sip of your drink.

outside, the harbor is lit, the boats still on dark water, the buildings stacked and pale and illuminated behind them, monaco doing its particular thing at night where everything looks slightly fake because nothing that expensive is supposed to actually exist.

"what does it feel like," she says suddenly. "the car."

you weren't expecting that.

"depends on the day," you say.

"what about today?"

you think about the afternoon session. the heat rising off the asphalt in the tunnel. the way sound becomes physical in there. the car getting loose into the chicane and then catching, the exact sensation of the rear stepping out and coming back. three seconds of controlled falling. then the wall, then the instinct to hold the line.

"like something that's always about to become something else," you say. "you're right on the edge of the next thing the whole time. and then it happens, and there's half a second where you know you made it. and then you have to turn on the next corner."

she's looking at you. there's something behind her eyes and you don't know her well enough to name it. you are generally good at reading rooms. she isn't offering you any translation.

"i know what that feels like," she says and it doesn't sound like flattery. it sounds like a fact she's decided to share.

"i bet you do," you say. quiet.

you're closer than you realized, your elbows on the table, both of you leaning in without deciding to and the overhead light is low enough that you're inside it together. her chain catching at her sternum. her face is a few degrees of angle from yours.

she doesn't look away.

under the table, you feel her foot against yours. barely. the kind of contact that could be an accident.

it isn't an accident.

you don't move. neither does she.

carlos comes back to the table with something to say about the team and the room opens back up around you. you finish your drink. the evening moves. but her foot stays exactly where it is for the next forty minutes.

you are both perfectly aware of it without saying anything about it at all.

you find her again later.

it's near ten when the dinner starts breaking up and you slip out the side door of the hospitality suite onto the service terrace. it's a narrow strip of space behind the motorhome with two white chairs, a railing, the paddock below and the harbor beyond it.

the night doing that monaco thing where the darkness isn't quite dark because everything is lit from the lights of the city.

you've been up here before. when the rooms get loud, when the sponsor conversations go an hour past useful, when you need to be somewhere without walls or people for five minutes.

you're standing at the railing with your third drink of the night when you hear the door.

she doesn't look surprised to find you here.

"carlos is looking for you," daniela says casually. she comes to stand at the railing beside you, a few inches of air between your arms.

"carlos knows where i go."

she's close enough that you can see the city lights reflected in her earrings. she looks out at the boats, her forearms resting on the railing. the chain falls forward when she leans.

you let the quiet sit.

"what's your boat called?" she asks interested while looking at the harbor.

"princesa." you whisper.

she turns her head to look at you. something shifts in her expression.

"princesa," she repeats it a perfect spanish accent. looking at you like she's deciding what to do with that information.

"it’s quite a story," you say. "bought her three years ago. she's there." you point along the port to where the princesa sits; sixty feet, white hull, lit at the stern. not the biggest boat in there and not trying to be.

daniela looks at her for a long moment.

"she's beautiful," she says. quiet, and she means it.

"i know." you smile at her. memories of the day you bought it and named in honor of one of the most important person in your life, came rushing into your mind.

you're both quiet again. below, the building is thinning out, the lighting on the garages dimming to maintenance level. the music from the port reaches up here.

"how long have you been doing this," she asks. "formula one."

"since i was seventeen. karting before that." you put your drink down on the ledge. "my whole life has been this. every decision. every morning, afternoon and nights of my life"

"does that bother you? " she tilts her head.

you think about it. the real answer, not the interview answer.

"no," you say. "i chose it every time. everyday even when i didn't have to, i still chose it." you pause. "i don't know how to want something halfway."

she's looking at you now. not the same look from earlier in the paddock but softer, like she's adding something new to what she already has.

"no," she says, finally. "you don't look like you do."

the air between you is different than it was inside. smaller. the whole terrace is three meters wide and you are occupying it together and the distinction between the space that is yours and the space that is hers has gotten very unclear.

"tell me more about you," you say. "about your travels, about what you do there."

she's quiet for a moment. considering, you think, how much to give you.

"there's a studio in paris near the marais i've been going to for five years," she says. "the photographer there, an older woman, she's been working since the seventies and she's the only person i've ever worked with who shoots without telling you what to do. she just waits." daniela pauses. "most people can't work like that. they need direction, need to be told where to put their face. but she waits until you do something real, and then she takes it."

"and you can do that," you say. "the real thing."

"it took me a long time," she says. "to stop performing and just… be there." daniela pauses. "now it's the only way i know how to work."

you look at her profile. the line of her jaw in monaco’s lights.

"so right now," you say. "are you performing?"

you both pause.

"no," she says. she doesn't look at you when she says it. "i stopped about three hours ago."

something moves in your chest. you don't do anything with it.

you reach out and put two fingers under her chin. gently. turn her face toward you.

daniela lets you.

up close, her eyes are very dark and steady, and she's looking at you the way a photographer waits, like she's already somewhere past the pretense, already at the thing underneath.

"i have a bottle of something good on the princesa," you say. "and it's ten o'clock on a thursday in monaco."

she holds your gaze. the calculation happens fast; you see it, the decision assembling.

"how far is it from here," daniela says.

"eight minutes"

she looks at you for one more second.

"then let's go," she says.

the dock is quiet.

you go through the paddock exit badge-first, the security guard not looking up, then out through the rue de la piscine and down toward the port, the two of you walking close but not touching or at least not yet, that's a choice you're both making, letting the anticipation stay a little longer.

monaco at eleven smells like money and salt water and something floral from the hotels above the port. her heels on the dock boards are the loudest thing.

the princesa sits lit at her stern, fenders out, the water beneath her black and still. you step aboard first and offer her a hand down.

she takes your hand, and steps down into the cockpit light.

she looks around mesmerized by her surroundings.

the princesa has an interior that someone very good spent a long time on. it’s decorated with warm-toned wood, low lighting. there are books in the salon. an actual rug. a painting on the forward bulkhead that you bought at a small gallery in lisbon two seasons ago because it reminded you of something you couldn't quite name.

daniela takes it in with that observational expression. but something in her face is warm.

"i didn't know what to expect," she says.

"what did you expect?” you ask with curiosity.

"more mirrors," she says. "more things to look at yourself in."

"i spend enough time looking at myself on tv."

she laughs at that, real laugh, quick and unguarded, different from the ones she gave carlos at dinner. you grin at that.

you go below and open the wine, a white burgundy, the good one, the kind you keep on the boat for nights that earn it and when you come back up she's standing at the stern rail looking at the lights of the other boats and the buildings above the port, the whole lit-up dreamlike version of monaco at night.

you hand her a glass. she doesn't move from the rail.

"it's different from here," she says. "the city."

"always is, on the water." you stand beside her. you're close. the terrace back at the motorhome was three meters wide. this deck is narrower.

"do you sleep here?" she asks.

"when i can. not on race weekend, it’s too close to the paddock, team has opinions about my sleep schedule." you look out at the water. "but the weeks before and after. i'd live here if i could."

daniela is quiet. she takes a sip of wine and you watch her throat when she swallows, the chain catching.

"why princesa," she asks, with interest.

"my grandmother called my mother that. she called me that too, when i was small." you don't usually tell people that. it comes out uncalculated.

"my mother died when i was fifteen. the year i started taking the karting seriously." you pause. "it felt like the right name. something carried forward."

she turns and looks at you.

"i'm sorry, y/n" she says and means it; you can tell the difference by now, the weight of a real one versus a polite one.

"i know," you say. "it's fine. she'd have hated all this." you gesture at the boat, the port, the whole thing. "she thought racing was stupid and dangerous."

"it really is stupid and dangerous." her shoulders drop.

"yes, you’re right" you say shrugging it off "but here we are."

she sets her wine glass down on the ledge. she turns to face you fully now, closer.

"here we are," she whispers.

you put your free hand at her waist. just the palm of it, fingers at the curve, testing. she doesn't move back. she looks up at you with her lifted chin, her hand finds the front of your shirt.

you set your drink down next to hers.

and then you pull her in.

her mouth is delicate; you savor the sweet gloss on her plump lips.

she kisses you the way she moved through the paddock, like she's already past the opening question, already decided this is fine, already somewhere ahead of you.

her hands are in your shirt, fingers curled against your chest, and you have one hand at her jaw and one at the small of her back

you pull back. look at her.

"want to go below?" you say.

she looks up at you with hooded eyes and nods.

the princesa's master cabin is in the bow; a proper bed. white linen. a small porthole above the waterline that shows the black water and the lights of the port upside-down. a lamp on the forward bulkhead that puts out warm gold light.

she looks around the cabin with that same taking-in expression. then she looks at you.

you reach out and trace the chain with one finger, from the clasp at the back of her neck, over her collarbone, down to where it settles against her sternum.

she watches you do it.

"you've been looking at this all night," daniela says.

"it’s beautiful, it suits you."

"i know." her hands come up to your chest. palms flat, feeling the breadth of you. she takes her time.

"you're very strong," she says. not a complaint. information.

"is that a problem?” you whisper, your hands secured around her waist.

"no." she tilts her head back to look at your face. "i just want to feel all of it."

you bring both hands to her face and tilt it up and kiss her again, slower, the door is now closed, the boat rocking barely under you. she grips your shoulders and you feel the exact position of her thumbs.

you reach for the zip at the side of her dress. she helps shifts her arm, finds it with you. the fabric loosens and falls. she steps out of it without looking down, keeps her eyes on you, and in the lamp light daniela is breathtaking. you take a moment to appreciate her.

"what?" she asks, aware of her naked figured.

"nothing." you put your hands at her waist. "just looking."

the latina makes a sound that isn't quite a laugh and reaches for your belt.

“you know, staring isn't exactly the politest way to show appreciation." her hands works to unfasten your belt, her movements slow, almost teasing.

"but then again," daniela adds, her tone dipping just a little, "i don’t mind the attention." the latina mumbles under her breath "in fact..." her hands leaving your belt to run up your chest, feeling the texture of your shirt, "...i might even enjoy it."

daniela hands move to the buttons of your shirt, undoing them one by one. she takes her time, her knuckles occasionally brushing against your bare skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“maybe I like knowing you can't keep your eyes off me," she murmurs. "it’s… flattering." the latina grins, undoing the last button and pushing your shirt open.

her gaze drops to your now bare chest admiring the sight of you. daniela’s delicate hands trace the lines of your chest muscles, her touch light but electrifying.

she lets out a soft sigh, her eyes flickering back to yours. "you're just so fucking sexy, you know that?" she says, stepping even closer. "it's almost unfair." she bites her lip, leaning forward to press a kiss to your collarbone.

you sigh loudly, your head dropping a little to watch her next movements.

daniela continues a path of light kisses up the side of your neck, her hands roaming across your shoulders, down your biceps, scratching your abs.

she hums softly in appreciation, feeling all your strength beneath her fingertips.

her lips reach your earlobe and she sucks gently, her breath warm against your skin. "so strong," she murmurs again, her hands drifting down to your hips, where she hooks her fingers into the waistband of your pants.

“you're too damn handsome for your own good," the brunette whispers, her voice thick with desire.

your hands work along hers as you help her remove your pants, sending the article of clothing pooling around your ankles.

daniela’s gaze drops to your lower half, her eyes taking in the sight, her cheeks flushing slightly. she lets out a soft breath, a hint of anticipation in her voice.

“what?” you smirk, your hand grabbing hold of your hard cock.

"you're so..." she starts, her words trailing off as her hand reaches out to cup your cheek. daniela’s fingers trace the edge of your jaw, her touch soft but deliberate. she steps forward, her body pressing against yours.

and then you watch daniela sink to her knees in front of you, her movements graceful and confident.

there's an air of excitement mixed with a hint of mischief in her eyes. her touch is firm, yet delicate as she wraps her hands around your length. you can practically feel the heat coming off her.

She looks up at you from under her lashes, her tongue darting out to wet her plump lips. “you know what they say—" she purrs, "bigger is better, right?"

you grin at her comment and daniela can’t help but return your same energy, her eyes sparkling with desire

then, as she takes you in her mouth, that look in her eyes turns into something a little bit devilish. as she hollows her cheeks, she looks up at you, waiting for whatever comes next.

your grip tightens around the back of her neck just enough to guide her, and daniela doesn't flinch, instead, she relaxes her throat and takes you deeper, her hands resting lightly on your thighs.

“mmh—" the sound is muffled by your cock in her mouth, like she’s laughing at you without saying a word. her fingers dig into your skin just a little, nails pressing into your muscles.

you moan her name without shame.

your thrusts grow quicker, more urgent; each push drawing a muffled gasp from daniela as she fights to keep up. her long nails dig deeper into your hips, her breaths ragged through her nose, but she doesn’t stop you.

you grab her long hair in your hand and go even deeper; the sensation of her warm mouth taking your whole length without any difficulty is driving you insane.

and just as you’re getting on the edge, she does something; flattening her tongue and humming, the vibration tearing another mown from your throat.

her eyes lock onto yours, dark with triumph. and you know she’s daring you to come.

the second your release hits her tongue, daniela's smirk grows even as she works to swallow every last drop of your cum. she pulls back slowly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, but her eyes never leave yours.

“you’re delicious, y/n” she grins “just as i expected”

the latina surges up onto her knees and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on her lips.

you finally push her to the bed taking off her tiny black underwear in the process.

she's warm under you and all you can think about at first, her skin against yours. she looks up at you with that dark steady gaze and her hair spread against the pillow.

daniela shivers as your lips brush across her skin, a soft gasp escaping as you shower her with kisses. her hands move to tangle in your hair, fingers clenching as she trembles beneath you. but then something in her eyes hardens and she bites her lip.

you know she wants more.

and so, you give it to her.

daniela arches beneath you, her breath hitching as your mouth moves lower, teasing. her fingers tighten in your hair, not pulling, just holding you close, like she’s afraid you’ll stop.

then you don’t tease anymore.

her hips jerk the second your tongue drags over her pussy, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat.

“fuck—" her legs tense, one heel digging into the mattress, the other hooking over your shoulder like an anchor.

every flick of your tongue, every suck has her squirming, her breath coming in ragged little pants. “y/n—" it’s half a whine, half a warning, but she doesn’t push you away. instead, her grip on your hair tightens, her thighs trembling as you work her toward the edge with precision.

you can feel that she's close, the tension wound so tight in her body. one more drag of your tongue along her folds, one more suck and a twist, and she's shaking, her breath coming in harsh gasps now.

she falls apart completely in your mouth. it’s wet, it’s warm and you swear it’s your favorite taste in the whole world.

daniela’s back bows, her fingers clenching in your hair, and the sound she makes are shameless. it’s loud, desperate, and so utterly wrecked that you can't help but feel satisfied of your performance.

her body is still trembling as she gasps for air, the aftershocks coursing through her as you continue. then you kiss her, tongue diving into her mouth, and she can taste herself on you.

she arches into the kiss, chasing it, greedy even now. her hands are everywhere, roaming over your skin, nails scraping your arms, like she's trying to mark you.

“díos, y/n” she chases your lips, pecking and biting

you kiss her neck. “you’re gonna ruin me, dani”.

she smiles. completely satisfied with your comment, she can feel your hard shaft pressing into her cunt. you need her. she knows exactly how to drive you insane.

daniela’s hands grip she sheets as she shifts to all fours. she looks over her shoulder at you, eyes dark with desire, her lips curled in a smirk.

"what're you waiting for, papi?" she purrs. "don't keep me waiting."

you almost short-circuited right there.

daniela arches her back slightly, giving you a perfectly clear view of exactly what's on offer and exactly what she wants. It's a shameless tease, and she knows what it does to you.

she shivers as your hands close around her hips, her back arching slightly more at the contact. she feels the heat of you pressed against her, and the anticipation makes her breathless.

her voice is low, almost a whisper, when she speaks.

"don’t be gentle with me," she murmurs. "i can take it."

the latina words send a surge of heat through you, and you adjust your hold on her hips, your fingers digging in just a little bit rougher than before. she can feel the change and her breath catches.

“are you sure about that?" you ask, your voice dropping to a rough whisper.

daniela shivers at the tone in your voice. there's something about it, the low whisper, the hint of warning that makes her heart race, her breaths coming in harsher pants.

"yes." her answer is immediate, "i'm sure. don't hold back."

she looks back at you over her shoulder, her expression a mix of confidence and excitement. it’s like she wants you to show her what you're made of.

daniela gasps as you finally push into her, her fingers clenching the sheets beneath her. you stretch her so good. her pussy walls are warm and the sensation is delicious and overwhelming.

"f-fuck—" her voice is already wrecked, her body arching back against you instinctively.

she doesn’t finish the sentence, because you start moving; her moans come in ragged bursts, her hips rocking back to meet each thrust.

"y-yes— like that, just like—" she moans as you pick up the pace. your hands guiding her hips to meet your thrusts.

“you’re so sexy like this, dani” you bit your lips while moving inside her.

daniela's cries grow louder as you drive into her, each thrust sending shocks of pleasure through her body. she bites her lip hard enough to leave marks, but it doesn't stop the moans from slipping free.

her hands grab on the sheets, twisting them into fists as she pushes back against you, matching your rhythm with desperate urgency. "papi, voy a—" she moans loudly.

the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, mingling with her whimpers. her body trembles, legs shaking, she's close, you can feel she’s close, and she can't hold back anymore.

the latina’s body locks up as the climax crashes through her. a silent scream parting her lips before she finally finds her voice again in a sharp cry. her back arches impossibly deeper, pressing flush against your chest as she shakes beneath you.

you can’t hold back anymore and release all your cum inside her while still thrusting into her slowly, riding out you orgasm.

for a moment, neither of you speak. you both just stay there, catching your breath and trying to gather your thoughts. then, finally, daniela breaks the silence with a soft smile. with her head against your chest.

"...you didn’t disappoint me at all."

and she finally collapses forward, you slip out of her as she breaths heavily against the mattress, she turns her head just enough to glare at you through hazy, satisfied eyes.

“i’m glad you think so” you smile at her, your eyes locked on hers. you collapse next to her.

later she's on her back looking at the porthole.

you're on yours. your arm is around her and her head is on your shoulder and the chain is cold against your skin where it falls between you.

the boat rocks, barely. the harbor makes small sounds against the hull.

"i have an early flight," she says. casually.

"so you’re going back to paris" you knew it.

"yeah, paris." she whispers.

your heart beats a little too fast now.

"i don’t want you you to leave," you say. vulnerability is written all over your face.

daniela doesn't say anything. but she turns, settles in closer and puts her hand flat on your chest, over your sternum, the same weight as before except now you're in the bow of the princesa and the whole evening is stacked up behind the gesture.

you put your hand over hers.

you don't sleep for a while, lying there, the boat rocking under both of you.

you think about the corridor earlier. the displaced air when she passed too close. her foot under the table that she never moved. you think about her face on the deck, looking out at the harbor.

she breathes slow and even against your shoulder.

you close your eyes and let sleep consume you.

she's gone before six am.

you’re half-wake when the latina gets up. she’s careful, practiced, the movements of someone who has had early flights her whole adult life. the bathroom. the zip of her dress. the particular quiet of someone holding their breath so they don't wake you.

you let her think it's working.

you hear her pause at the cabin door. two seconds, three. four.

then the sound of her footsteps on the ladder. the dock boards. then nothing.

you look at the porthole. the sky is just starting to lighten past the port, the lights of monaco going amber in the early hours.

you sleep again. but without her in your arms.

carlos finds you in the garage at eight forty-five. coffee in hand, setup sheet in the other, a look on his face that you identify and do not acknowledge.

"had a good night?" he asks nonchalantly

"fine," you say. you take the coffee from him.

he doesn't push it. you like that about him.

you strap in at nine for the morning session and the helmet goes on and the paddock disappears, carlos disappears, the princesa disappears, the white linen sheets and the warm cabin and the chain cold against your chest disappear.

and it's just you and the car and the next corner. as always.

into the hairpin you brake later than anyone else on the grid.

you come out clean.

your phone is in your kit bag. you don't check it until after the debrief, after the shower, after the long conversation with your engineer about what you need to make the next session better.

one message.

unknown number:

you were right about the hairpin. it’s stupid.

you stare at it. you're standing in the corridor with your hair damp from the shower and your second coffee going cold as something very inconvenient is happening in your chest.

you:

you watched the whole session?

daniela:

maybe i did. tried to catch a glimpse of you.

you:

paris is one hour away from monaco by plane. six hours by car.

daniela:

are you asking me to come back or telling me you're coming to paris.

you read it twice. your heart rate increases.

you:

which do you want?

daniela:

i’m waiting for you, y/n. don’t make me wait too long.

you read it standing in the corridor in the williams motorhome with the paddock noise all around you. you put your phone in your pocket and go back to work.

but you're smiling because you know you’re booking the next flight to paris as soon as you win the monaco grand prix.