Mar 14
KATSEYE texts : ragebaiting
pairing : danon mention , lara raj , manon bannerman , sophia laforteza , megan skiendiel , daniela avanzini , y/n
seen from Italy
seen from Vietnam
seen from Vietnam
seen from Malaysia
seen from Belarus
seen from Slovakia
seen from Indonesia
seen from Ireland
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Thailand
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Thailand
seen from Russia
seen from Russia
seen from Germany
KATSEYE texts : ragebaiting
pairing : danon mention , lara raj , manon bannerman , sophia laforteza , megan skiendiel , daniela avanzini , y/n
S⃢ I⃢ T⃢ W⃢ A⃢ S⃢ Y⃢ O⃢ N⃢ S⃢ H⃢ I⃢ P⃢
ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsɪᴛʏ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ɪᴅᴏʟ!sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ʟᴀғᴏʀᴛᴇᴢᴀ
ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡɪᴇᴡ: She was once just your classmate at one of the most renowned universities in the Philippines. What started as simple seatmates slowly turned into friendship, and somewhere along the way, those feelings grew—quiet, uncertain, but real. Was she ever truly yours? No. But were you hers? Completely. And maybe that’s the cruelest part—loving someone who was never yours to begin with, yet knowing you’d give yourself to her over and over again, if only she asked.
ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏғ: emotional intimacy, jealousy, mixed signals, mixed feelings, confusion, false hope, arguments, heartbreak, comfort
What do you even call someone who isn’t your lover, but already feels like home? The laughs, the small moments, the way time slows down when it’s just the two of you—it felt like everything. You’ve been friends for so long, yet your heart keeps asking: why can’t it be more? She never had to ask for your heart anyways, because it was hers from the very start.
Sophia Laforteza once walked the same halls you do now. A year ago, you sat side by side—seatmates, partners, and maybe something more, though neither of you dared to say it. She carried a warmth that made even the hardest days easier, and a fire that made you believe in dreams again. With her, it was never rivalry—it was rhythm. And maybe that’s why it still hurts, because no one has ever seen you the way she did.
But things changed. Sophia is no longer just the girl who shared notes and late-night talks with you. She’s Sophia Laforteza—the leader of a world-famous girl group, the face on billboards, the dream everyone else is chasing. She left the university to follow that fire inside her, and you were there when it all began, back when it was only an audition and a whispered hope. Now she’s standing on global stages, brighter than ever. And yet, beneath all the lights and applause, you can’t help but wonder—does she still feel the connection you once had, or was it left behind with everything else?
You saw Sophia’s message. You weren’t mad at her for taking so long to reply—you knew her world wasn’t hers anymore. Every second of her life was scheduled, rehearsals that stretched from day into night, cameras always on her, eyes always watching. You understood. You always did.
But understanding didn’t make it any easier. Because you two were never just friends, were you? There was something more—something neither of you dared to name. That kiss, the one that still lingers in your memory, wasn’t a mistake. It was real. It was the kind of moment that made your heart believe there was more waiting for you both, even if the world wasn’t ready for it yet.
At that moment, the connection was still there—fragile, but enough to make your chest ache. The conversation between the two of you was short, barely a few lines, yet it was sweet and disarming in the way only Sophia could be. For a heartbeat, it felt like you were back at the university again, sitting side by side, rolling your eyes whenever her loud mouth got you both in trouble, or when her stubbornness made you laugh despite yourself.
She was still that Sophia. The same warmth, the same fire—untouched by fame, hidden beneath all the lights and noise. And yet, the distance was undeniable. The world had claimed her, and you knew you would never have her in the same way again. Still, that small glimpse, that fleeting exchange, was enough to remind you why you held on in the first place. Because even now, part of you still believes she might find her way back to you… and part of you already knows she never will.
ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ᴘᴀssᴇᴅ:
It’s been over a week since the two of you last really talked. You still sent her messages—little things, pieces of your day, questions you wished she’d answer. But most of the time, they were left on “delivered,” or worse, “seen.” When she did reply, it was always the same: she’s busy, her schedule is full, maybe next time. And you believed her. You understood. After all, the world demanded her time now, not you. Still, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself it was fine, a quiet ache lingered. Because once upon a time, she always found time for you.
You were packing your things, folding clothes into a suitcase that suddenly felt heavier than it should. In a few hours, you’d be on a flight back to the Philippines, ready to focus on what really mattered—your upcoming graduation. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.
But the truth was different. You hadn’t come to L.A. just for yourself. You came because of her. You wanted to watch Sophia perform, to see with your own eyes how far she’d gone, to remind yourself that the girl you once knew had turned into someone the world now adored. More than that, you came to catch up with her—to close the distance, to ask the question that had been haunting you for so long.
The connection. The kiss. The unspoken promise between you two. Was it still there, or had it disappeared somewhere along the way? You weren’t sure what answer would hurt more—her honesty, or her silence. Suddenly, while lying in bed—your clothes scattered, your bags half-filled, your luggage already locked—you stumbled upon a Twitter post. Sophia. With him.
Of course, it had to be him. The same guy who had always lingered around her back at the university, the one who wore his feelings on his sleeve, shameless and persistent. Your rival—not just in grades, not just in pride, but in the unspoken battle for her heart.
She used to laugh whenever you asked about him, swearing she wasn’t interested, telling you he wasn’t her type. You wanted to believe her. You did believe her. But now, the proof was right there in front of you—she wasn’t busy with rehearsals, or locked up in her schedule. She was with him. Those nights you stayed up waiting for her reply, convincing yourself she was just tired? She was with him instead.
You lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of it all pressed down on you. Sophia had seen the post—and worse, she knew you had seen it too. How? Because in a moment of carelessness, you’d accidentally retweeted it on your main account. Now your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing, her name lighting up your screen over and over again.
But you didn’t open a single message. What was the point? In a few hours, you’d be gone anyway. Back to the Philippines. Back to reality. Talking to her through a screen wouldn’t change anything—not when the video had already answered the question you’d been too afraid to ask.
There was nothing between the two of you. Not love. Not a future. Just a fragile, undefined connection—a situationship at best. Something born out of loneliness, or maybe boredom. Something that was never meant to last. And in the end, all it really did was ruin a friendship you once thought would stand the test of time.
You lay there, still not wanting to move, your body heavy with something worse than heartbreak. Heartbreak at least had closure, an ending you could understand. But this—this felt like betrayal wrapped in silence. Sophia knew. She knew how much you hated him. She knew the kind of guy he was—a playboy, a liar, a cheater at best. You had told her, warned her, trusted her to see him the way you did. And yet, there she was, choosing him anyway.
For what reason? Fame? Comfort? Loneliness? Or maybe because he got to her first, said the words you never dared to? The questions spun in your head like knives, cutting deeper each time, and the worst part was you’d never get an honest answer. Not from her. Not anymore.
A few minutes passed before you finally pushed yourself out of bed, half-heartedly fixing the chaos scattered across the room. Clothes piled on the chair, your open suitcase waiting for the last of your things. Then came a knock at the door.
You didn’t think much of it—it was normal. Hotel staff, maybe the cleaners making their rounds. Without hesitation, you pulled the door open, still busy shoving a mess of shirts aside with your foot. “Sorry, but I don’t need anything—” you muttered, not even bothering to look up.
But then, silence. No reply. Just the faint sound of someone breathing in front of you.
And when you finally lifted your eyes, it wasn’t a cleaner standing there.
It was Sophia.
You froze at the door, your chest tightening the moment you saw her. No stage lights, no makeup—just Sophia, standing there like nothing had changed. “Can we talk?” she asked softly.
You shook your head, trying to steady your voice. “What’s there to talk about? I already saw enough.”
Her eyes searched yours, desperate. “It’s not what you think. He doesn’t matter—he never did.”
You laughed bitterly, though it came out more like a crack. “Then why, Sophia? Why was he with you every time you told me you were too busy?”
Her face fell. For a second, you thought she might cry, but instead she whispered, “Why are you acting like we’re more than just friends?”
The words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. But what shattered you completely was when she added, barely above a whisper, “I’m not yours to begin with.”
And just like that, it felt like everything between you was gone—like it had never been real at all.
Her words echoed in your head, sharp and merciless: I’m not yours to begin with. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look at her. “Then what was it, Sophia? That kiss—was it nothing? All those nights we talked, all those times you swore I was the first one you’d tell everything to… was that all just some game to you?”
She looked away, her silence louder than any excuse.
“Because it felt real to me,” you continued, your voice breaking. “Every laugh, every late-night call, every look—we weren’t just friends, and you know it. So don’t stand there and tell me I made this all up in my head.”
Her hands trembled at her sides. For a moment, you saw the Sophia you used to know—the stubborn girl who could never hide what she truly felt. But now, under the weight of her silence, all you could see was distance.
“Tell me, Sophia,” you whispered, tears burning in your eyes. “Was I really just… nothing to you?”
Before you could take back your words, Sophia suddenly pushed past you, closing the door behind her. You stumbled back, caught off guard, when she grabbed your face with trembling hands and kissed you.
Your eyes widened, tears already slipping free. You could feel hers too, warm against your skin, mixing with your own. The kiss was desperate, shaky, nothing like the one you remembered. This one wasn’t filled with promises—it was filled with fear, regret, and the weight of everything left unsaid.
When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless. Neither of you spoke at first. What could you even say? The tears on her cheeks told you everything—she wanted you, but not enough. Not in the way you needed.
Sophia didn’t let go. Instead, she kissed you again—harder, rougher, like she was trying to erase every doubt you had. Her hands gripped your shirt tightly, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.
You kissed her back, but tears blurred your vision. You weren’t sure if you were holding on because you loved her or because you were afraid to let her go. Maybe both. Her lips trembled against yours, and when you felt the wetness of her own tears, your chest ached even more.
It wasn’t a soft kiss. It was desperate, messy, and full of all the words you both never said. Anger, love, hurt, longing—it all crashed together in that moment. You could feel the way she clung to you, like she needed you, like she was terrified this would be the last time.
For a second, the world outside didn’t exist. Not the guy in the video, not the broken promises, not the distance. Just Sophia. Just the way her kiss made you believe, even for a fleeting moment, that maybe she could be yours.
But deep down, you knew the truth. This wasn’t the beginning. It was a desperate attempt to hold on to something that was already slipping away.
When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathless. Sophia’s forehead rested against yours, her hands still clutching your shirt like she was scared you’d disappear if she let go. Neither of you spoke at first. The silence was heavy, but not empty—it was filled with everything you both felt but couldn’t say. She pulled you onto the bed, the mess of clothes and half-packed bags forgotten. You lay side by side, still clinging to each other, your tears mixing with quiet laughter that slipped out between shaky breaths. For once, she wasn’t the global idol everyone wanted her to be. She was just Sophia—the stubborn, loud, reckless girl you first met in the university halls.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against your chest, her voice breaking. “I messed up… but I don’t want to lose you.”
Your heart tightened, but you wrapped your arms around her anyway, pulling her closer. “Then don’t,” you murmured. “Stay—at least with me, like this.”
And with that, Sophia kissed you again—but this time, it was different. Her lips were softer now, tender, like she was afraid of breaking you any further. She lingered, letting the kiss slow, letting it mean something more than just desperation. Her lips trailed down to your neck, warm and careful, before she bit gently—playful, yet full of something deeper. It felt like she was marking you, claiming you in the only way she could, as if to say, 'you’re mine, even if the world doesn’t know it.'
And you let her. You closed your eyes, heart racing, surrendering to her touch, surrendering to her. For once, there was no questioning, no doubt. Just the quiet truth that in that moment, you belonged to each other.
Sophia’s lips moved from your neck back to your mouth, softer now but lingering with heat. Each kiss was slower, deeper, like she was pouring every apology, every fear, every hidden feeling into you. Her hands slid to your waist, gripping you as if she was afraid you’d slip away.
You breathed her in, every touch making your chest tighten, every kiss grounding you in a way words never could. When she pressed closer, the world outside the hotel room vanished—it was only her, only this, only the warmth of her body against yours.
"Don’t let go,” she whispered against your lips, voice shaking. “Not tonight… please.”
And you didn’t. You held her, kissed her back, let her claim you as much as you claimed her. It wasn’t just desire—it was need, it was longing, it was love tangled with pain. Every touch felt like both a promise and a goodbye, but you gave yourself to her anyway. Because in that moment, she wasn’t Sophia the idol, or Sophia the girl in someone else’s arms. She was yours.
ᴀ/ɴ: sᴏ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀʟʏ ɪ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴏɴ ᴀ sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴ sᴘɪʀᴀʟ— ɪ'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ 🙏 (ɪ ғᴏʀɢᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟ sᴛᴏʀʏ ʟɪɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ sᴏ ɪ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ɪᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀs ɪᴛ... ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴏɴ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ғʟᴏᴡ, ɪ sᴡᴇᴀʀ ɪ'ʟʟ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ😞)
ᗴᑎᘜᒪIՏᕼ IՏ ᑎOT ᗰY ᖴIᖇՏT ᒪᗩᑎᘜᑌᗩᘜᗴ 🦅!! (sᴛɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴇxᴄᴜsᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴀʟғ ʜɪɢʜ— ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴅʀᴜɢs ʙᴜᴛ ɪɴ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟɪɴᴇs 🥹)
I only like you when I'm bored ٭
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
PAIRINGS : toxic!manon x model!user
SYNOPSIS : you get tired of manons bullshit
TAGS : fem!user , player!manon , mentions of lara raj , daniela avanzini , megan skiendiel , sophia laforteza , yoonchae jeung , texts , groupchats , fluff , swearing , no smut
▄︻デ ραвσяιтσηg ραgкαкαмαℓι ══━一
ғᴜᴄᴋʙᴏʏ!sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ʟᴀғᴏʀᴛᴇᴢᴀ x ғᴇᴍɪᴅᴏʟ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
♬♫~ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ~♫♬
<ƒανσяιтє мιѕтαкє>
σνєяνιєω: It hurts Sophia to let you go, but you’ve already changed. By the time she was ready to change for you, it was too late.
мєηтισηs σƒ: ғᴜᴄᴋʙᴏʏ!sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ʟᴀғᴏʀᴛᴇᴢᴀ, ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, sᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ, sʟɪɢʜᴛ sᴜʙsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴜsᴇ, ᴜɴsᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ sᴛᴀᴛᴜs, ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇѕѕɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ👀??
They call you Sophia’s mistress, as if that’s all you’ll ever be to her. Yet the truth is, she’s just as desperate for you—for the warmth of your skin against hers, for the comfort of your arms holding her close, for the taste of your lips pressed to hers. To the world, you are her ‘favorite mistake,’ a secret she shouldn’t want but can’t let go of.
Her friends never liked you. They don’t hide their pity when they look at you, whispering that you deserve someone far better. In their eyes, Sophia is nothing more than a sweet talker, a girl with pretty words but nothing real to offer. Lara warned you. Daniela did too. They both told you the same thing: "Sophia will never be the one for you." "She’ll never give you what you truly need." And still, you stayed—because every stolen moment with her felt too intoxicating to let go, even when you knew they might be right.
At first, it was Sophia’s voice that caught you—gentle, warm, almost angelic. You thought to yourself, maybe she’s different. You were an idol too, admired by many, carrying softness in a world that often demanded hardness. When you looked at her, you thought she was just like you, someone who would understand the weight you carried.
But you were wrong. The truth cut deeper than you expected. She wasn’t the haven you thought she’d be. She turned out to be just as useless, just as disappointing as any man who had ever broken you. The only difference was that she's woman—a woman who couldn’t understand, a woman who offered nothing but empty words, a woman with no sense of what you truly needed.
You believed her—maybe she really was sick. You tried to understand, because you knew what it meant to be tired, what it felt like to carry the weight of being an idol, of being human. You told yourself she was just like you, that the pressure was breaking her too.
You opened Twitter just to scroll, hoping to ease the heaviness pressing down on you. Maybe a distraction, even for a moment. But instead of relief, the weight only grew heavier. Her face was everywhere—Sophia, your Sophia, trending again. A fresh post from one of those daily update accounts, a video taken only minutes ago. She was at a club, laughing, smiling, the strobe lights painting her skin. Women surrounded her, bodies pressing close, grinding against her as she bit her lip and swayed along, lost in the music. And the worst part was—it wasn’t the first time.
You’d seen this before, too many times, and each time it chipped away at whatever faith you were still holding on to.
She saw the screenshot—you made sure of it. You sent it to her, desperate for her to finally admit that she lied to you. Deep down, you were still hoping for an explanation, any reason that could make the hurt feel a little less sharp. But all you got was silence. She opened your message, looked at what you sent, and then left you on delivered. No words, no excuses, nothing at all.
At that point, you finally let her go. It wasn’t the first time she had hurt you, and deep down, you knew it wouldn’t be the last.
Weeks passed, and soon you were at an award show. The lights were blinding, the cameras flashing, and everywhere you turned, idols were dressed like royalty. Katseye were there too, rising higher with every performance, their presence undeniable.
And then you saw them. You saw the girls. You saw Sophia.
Your heart tightened, but you forced yourself to look away. You avoided her—not the group, not the others, only her. Still, you could feel her eyes on you, burning holes through the noise and glitter. When you dared to glance her way, she was watching you with an eager look, almost desperate. She saw you standing there, dressed to perfection, flawless under the stage lights, like you hadn’t spent the night before drowning in your own tears.
Her gaze begged for something—recognition, forgiveness, maybe even longing—but you turned away, pretending not to notice. Because if you did, you knew you might break all over again.
You avoided Sophia the entire night, though you could still feel her eyes following you everywhere. Whispers and mumbles surrounded you, people talking about you, but you kept your focus on what had to be done.
The night was a success—you were recognized, and so were Katseye and the others. For a moment, you thought you had escaped her. You told yourself you had moved on, that none of it mattered anymore.
But then Sophia found you. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, her grip firm, pulling you into a quiet corner away from the crowd. You tried to pull free, to fight back, but she wouldn’t let go.
"Mahal, please, I’m sorry," she begged, her voice shaking.
"It wasn’t my intention to lie to you. I’ll change, I swear. Please…" Her words cracked as she pressed herself against you, kissing you desperately, her hands all over your body like she could hold you together. For a second, you froze—part of you wanted to give in, to fall back into the comfort of her touch, the sweetness you once believed in. Her kiss was warm, familiar, and for a moment it almost felt like everything could go back to the way it was.
But then the memories hit—the lies, the nights she left you alone, the videos of her with someone else, the tears you cried when she didn’t care enough to stay. The warmth in her kiss turned to poison on your lips.
You shoved her back, breath heavy, fury breaking through your chest.
"Stop it, Sophia! You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to lie, to hurt me, and then beg like nothing happened."
Her eyes filled with tears, lips trembling as if she wanted to speak.
"We were nothing, Sophia. Nothing real. And you—" your voice cracked, sharp with pain, "—you’ll never be the one for me."
Sophia’s face shifted, her tears drying into something sharper. Frustration burned in her eyes as she stepped closer, refusing to let you go.
"Nothing real?" she snapped, her voice low but shaking. "After everything we’ve done? After everything I gave you? Don’t stand there and pretend you didn’t want this as much as I did."
Her hand tightened around your wrist, nails digging into your skin as if holding you in place would force you to agree.
"You think you’re better than me?" she hissed. "You think you didn’t lie? You think you didn’t use me too? Don’t act innocent. You loved it—you loved me."
She leaned in again, trying to kiss you, trying to erase your words with her touch. "Stop pretending you don’t want this. You’re just angry. You’ll come back—because you always do."
That was it. The dam inside you broke. You yanked your wrist free, your voice cutting sharper than you’d ever intended.
"No, Sophia! I don’t always come back. I’m done. You lied to me, humiliated me, made me believe I wasn’t enough. And now you stand here, trying to twist it like I’m the problem? Like it’s my fault?"
Her face flickered, frustration giving way to something almost wounded, but you didn’t stop. Your chest burned, every word spilling like fire.
"You don’t get to gaslight me anymore. You don’t get to play with me, kiss me, and think I’ll forget everything you’ve done. I’m not your mistake, Sophia. I’m not yours at all." The silence that followed was heavy, her furious breathing the only sound between you. For once, she had nothing left to say.
That’s when Sophia finally realized—you were truly done with her.
For over a year and a half, you endured it all. Her constant nagging, her sharp temper, the way she ignored your needs as if they didn’t matter. The silent treatments that stretched for days. The lack of boundaries, the useless arguments that left you drained. And worst of all, the fame that had gotten into her head, changing her into someone you barely recognized anymore.
You had stayed through it all, holding on, believing she might change. But in that moment, standing in front of her, you knew there was nothing left to fight for. Sophia felt it too—the shift, the finality in your eyes. Her chest tightened, her throat burned. No… it can’t be over— she told herself. She wanted to scream, to deny it, to drag you back into her arms and make you listen. But underneath the anger, underneath the pride, was fear. Fear of losing the only person who saw her beyond the spotlight.
Her mind scrambled for excuses, for reasons, for anything to make you stay. She's just mad. She'll cool down. She always come back. But even as she thought it, she saw the truth in your stance, in the way you wouldn’t bend toward her anymore.
And it terrified her. Because for the first time, Sophia understood—she had finally lost you. Tears slipped past her control, smudging the perfection she carried into the night.
Her voice cracked as she grabbed your arm again, desperate, trembling. "Please… don’t do this," she begged, her pride falling away piece by piece. "I’ll change. I’ll do better. Just don’t leave me. Mahal, please."
Her voice shook, her tears staining her cheeks, but you stood firm. The pain in your chest was heavy, but you needed the truth. Just once.
"Do you even love me, Sophia?" you asked, your voice low but sharp, your eyes searching hers desperately. "Because if you do… say it. Say it now."
The world seemed to pause around you. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Her lips trembled, her eyes darted away, as if she couldn’t even meet the weight of the question. Silence stretched between you like a blade, cutting deeper than any argument ever had.
That was your answer.
All of this—the fights, the apologies, the begging—it was for nothing. She still wasn’t ready, still not willing to give you the one thing you needed most: certainty. Commitment. Love.
You almost gave in, almost let her kisses and tears break you down again. But her silence was louder than her pleas, louder than her sobs.
You pulled your arm free, your heart breaking as you whispered,
"That’s enough."
And this time, you walked away—not because you didn’t love her, but because her silence told you she never truly loved you back.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Without you checking in, Sophia’s days felt incomplete, as if something vital was missing—you.
The absence was deafening. No more of your constant questions, no more of your messages flooding her phone, no reminders of her schedule or little pushes to take care of herself. The silence carved an emptiness in her chest she couldn’t shake.
The girls noticed it too. Their leader, once so full of light, no longer carried the same spark. The cheerful, playful Sophia they knew had faded. She stopped going to parties. She stopped clubbing. She no longer slipped out into the night chasing temporary thrills. Instead, she stayed closer to home. She reached out to her family again. She leaned on her friends in quieter, more genuine ways. Slowly, the bad habits she once clung to began to fall away.
Sophia noticed it too. She saw the change in herself, felt it in the stillness she once ran from. She was becoming better…
but only because she had already lost you.
You, on the other hand, changed too—but in the opposite way.
Gone for weeks at a time, your name was constantly dragged into controversies. You were no longer the calm, collected person people once admired on stage. Instead, you drowned yourself in neon lights and cheap liquor, your nights consumed by clubs and bars.
You drank until your throat burned, until the music was loud enough to silence your thoughts. You surrounded yourself with strangers who didn’t care about you, only about the idol name you carried. Their hands on you, their laughter in your ear, none of it filled the emptiness Sophia left behind.
Scandals followed you like shadows. Paparazzi caught you stumbling out of cars, your eyes glassy, makeup smudged, clothes clinging with the smell of alcohol and smoke. Videos spread online—clips of you snapping at staff, of you pushing past reporters, of you disappearing into the night with people you didn’t even know.
Your fans tried to defend you at first, saying you were tired, overworked. But as the weeks turned into months, even they began to whisper. She’s not the same anymore. She’s spiraling.
And Sophia saw every bit of it. Every headline, every video, every cruel comment. She saw the way the industry painted you as reckless, ungrateful, a fallen angel. And no matter how much she tried to look away, she couldn’t. Because she knew the truth—your downfall wasn’t random.
It had a reason. It had a name. Her.
And that was the part that broke her most.
Sophia couldn’t take it anymore.
She had promised herself she would let you go, that she wouldn’t drag you back into the cycle of pain. But night after night, watching you spiral through headlines, watching the industry chew you up and spit you out, the guilt became unbearable.
So she broke her own rule.
At first, it was subtle—an old number lighting up your screen. “Did you eat?” … “Are you home safe?” … “Please don’t drink too much tonight.” Simple messages, desperate attempts to care from a distance.
When you didn’t reply, she sent more.
Her friends didn’t know. The girls didn’t know. Nobody knew she was still chasing your ghost in the middle of the night, her fingers trembling as she typed and erased words over and over before finally hitting send.
But your phone stayed silent. Her messages sat there, delivered but never opened. And with every unanswered text, Sophia felt the weight of her mistakes all over again.
She was changing, trying to be better, but you—the one person she wanted to prove it to—was slipping further away.
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ᴀ/ɴ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴇᴅ. /ᴊ ᴜʜᴍ... ʜɪ ɢᴜʏs><!!
🄴🄽🄶🄻🄸🅂🄷 🄰🄸🄽'🅃 🄼🅈 🄻🄰🄽🄶🅄🄰🄶🄴 🦅‼️
@firecrackeronacrowdedstreet @jesters-court-of-fools @runm3over (ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜᴜ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜᴄᴋʙᴏʏ!sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ᴘɪᴄs, sᴏᴍᴇ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ'ᴛ ᴜsᴇ ʏᴇᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ, ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ 🤞)
𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓'𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒 ᴋᴀᴛsᴇʏᴇ&(7ᴛʜᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ)ғᴇᴍ!ʀ
ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡɪᴇᴡ: ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇɢᴀʟᴀᴅᴀɴ & sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ ᴡᴏʀʀɪᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜᥫ᭡
ᴛʏᴘᴇ: sʜᴏʀᴛ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ's ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 7ᴛʜ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴋᴀᴛsᴇʏᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪʟᴅ ᴍᴀᴋɴᴀᴇ
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 670-679
ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ: ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ, ᴠᴏᴍɪᴛɪɴɢ, ᴄᴜʀsᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs
ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ: ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ sʜɪᴘ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴏɴᴇsᴛʟʏ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇɢᴀʟᴀᴅᴀɴ & sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ʜᴏɴᴇsᴛʟʏ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀɪɴɢ (ᴀs sʜᴇ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ😝!!)
Being the maknae (youngest) of the group, you can’t escape the Kats’ overprotectiveness—even from Yoonchae, who’s only a month older than you.
Specifically Sophia—she would literally scold you for wearing short skirts like Megan and Lara, for going to parties, and for completely wilding out with Daniela.
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While at a party with Megan, Lara, and Daniela, you felt your phone buzzing like crazy—but you couldn’t care less. You were too busy dancing on stage, grinding with Megan, and laughing your tipsy ass off after one too many shots of soju with Lara.
After a while, you hopped down from the stage and made your way to the restroom. The place was absolute chaos—crowded, loud, your head spinning with every beat as the same gnarly track blasted on repeat. Everyone around you was going wild.
That’s when you finally checked your phone to see who had been blowing up your messages like crazy.
Your eyes widened when you saw the time—it was almost midnight, and Sophia was mad mad. Manon, who was at home with Sophia, had already warned you to “get your ass home,” and even Lara—still on stage with Megan and Daniela—was telling you to leave. Yeah… you were absolutely fucked.
You glanced at your phone again, and your heart started racing. “Shit…” you muttered under your breath, cursing yourself.
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Now you’re sat down on a couch in the club’s lobby, waiting for Sophia to arrive. You already know the script—she’s going to roast you alive and then snitch to your mom. And just to sprinkle some chaos on top, there’s probably already a video of you on that stage blowing up on Twitter or TikTok, dragging your management, label, and group right into the danger zone.
Sophia finally showed up, and the moment you saw her, you burst into tears, breaking down right in front of her. “I–I just… I don’t know… It’s MEGAN’S fault!” you blurted, trying to explain yourself, but you honestly sounded like a total minion. Sophia just rolled her eyes, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you out of the club.
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The leader drove, and you sat in the passenger seat, sobbing like the world was ending. Sophia wasn’t even mad—just seriously pissed—and it was a private club, but here you were, bawling like your entire career had just gone up in flames.
Sophia let out a long sigh, one hand on the wheel and the other reaching over to pat your shoulder like you were a toddler. Then, in a surprisingly soft move, she slid her hand down to grab yours, giving it a squeeze before pulling into a convenience store.
“What you did is very unacceptable. I’m gonna have to tell your mom about this,” Sophia said, giving you the kind of side-eye that could cut glass. She looked dead serious—but you could see that tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth. Oh, she was definitely enjoying watching you squirm. Which worked, because you instantly started sobbing even harder—ugly crying and all—while she kept that fake-serious face like she wasn’t secretly living for the drama, she's gonna spill this to the group chat.
While you were in full meltdown mode, Sophia casually opened her phone and threatened to text your mom about the whole thing—and your manager, too. You sobbed harder, begging her to stop like a toddler mid-tantrum. Unbothered, she started typing, snapped a photo of you ugly crying, then went right back to typing. Her face stayed perfectly serious, but there was the tiniest smirk tugging at her lips. Of course, you didn’t notice—you were drunk as fuck.
You woke up the next morning in your usual pajamas, head pounding but somehow managing to drag yourself out of bed. Grabbing your phone, you saw the group chat absolutely flooded with messages. You honestly couldn’t remember much from last night—until you scrolled down and saw it: a photo of you sobbing, covered in vomit, and a video of you begging Sophia with zero context. Your immediate reaction? “SOPHIAAA!! WHAT THE FUCK!?—”
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ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴅ ғᴜɴ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴛᴇxᴛ ᴍᴇssᴀɢɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪɴɢʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴀsᴇᴅ ᴏɴ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ & ᴍʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ғɪʀsᴛ sᴏᴊᴜ ɪᴅᴋ:')
eNgLiSh aIn't Me LaNgUaGe 😛
ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @baileysoksbakery @valuyhh
ᴅɪsᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ [ʟ.ʀx(7ᴛʜᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ)ғᴇᴍ!ʀ]
sʜᴏʀᴛ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ: ʟᴀʀᴀ ʀᴀᴊᴀɢᴏᴘᴀʟᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 310-314
ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡɪᴇᴡ: ᴍs.ʀᴀᴊ💜 ᴜsɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴏᴛɴᴇss ᴛᴏ ᴅɪsᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.
ᴛʏᴘᴇ: sᴏғᴛ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ (ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ)
ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ: ғʀᴇᴀᴋʏ ʟᴀʀᴀ??
ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ sᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ɢᴀɴɢ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ — sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ᴡᴀs sɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇsɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇʀ, ᴍᴇɢᴀɴ ᴡᴀs ɴᴇxᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴏɴᴄʜᴀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ, ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟᴀ ᴡᴀs ʙᴇsɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴀʀᴀ ᴡᴀs sᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀᴄʀᴏss ғʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ.
ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ, ʟᴀʀᴀ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ ɢʀɪɴ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ, ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ɪɢɴᴏʀɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ᴡᴀs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ. sʜᴇ sᴀᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴀᴍᴇ sᴍᴜɢ ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪɢɴᴏʀᴇ, ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪsᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ — ᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs. ʟᴀʀᴀ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɢᴀɴ ᴛʏᴘɪɴɢ, ᴀ sᴍᴀʟʟ, ᴘʟᴀʏғᴜʟ sᴍɪʀᴋ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ. ᴛʜᴇɴ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴʟʏ ᴠɪʙʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ.
ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ sᴀᴡ ʟᴀʀᴀ’s ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɢʟᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴀᴛ ʜᴇʀ, sʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sʟᴏᴡ sᴍɪʀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ʀᴀɪsᴇ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇʙʀᴏᴡ. ᴛʜᴇɴ, ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴅ, sʜᴇ sᴛᴏᴏᴅ ᴜᴘ — ᴅʀᴀᴡɪɴɢ ᴀ sʜᴀʀᴘ sɪᴅᴇ-ᴇʏᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. “ʀᴇʟᴀx,” ʟᴀʀᴀ sᴀɪᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʟᴀᴢʏ ɢʀɪɴ. “ɪ’ᴍ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀᴅᴊᴜsᴛɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴘᴀɴᴛs, ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ.”
ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, sʜᴇ sʟᴏᴡʟʏ ᴛᴜɢɢᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴏᴠᴇʀsɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴊᴇᴀɴs ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ sʜᴏᴡ ᴏғғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀɪsᴛʙᴀɴᴅ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴀʟᴠɪɴ ᴋʟᴇɪɴ ʙᴏxᴇʀs, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴍɪss ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ.
ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢɪʀʟs ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴄᴀʀᴇ — ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ғᴏᴄᴜsᴇᴅ, ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ. ᴜɴʟɪᴋᴇ ʟᴀʀᴀ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴅʀᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ sᴇᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ sᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴇɢs ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ᴍᴀɴsᴘʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴀᴄʀᴏss ғʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴏʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇs ᴀᴛ ʜᴇʀ, ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇs.
ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇɢᴀɴ ғɪʟɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ — ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴀʀᴀ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀ sᴏᴘʜɪᴀ sᴄᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ, ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ғᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ, ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜsʟʏ, ғᴏʀ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪsᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʜᴜᴄᴋʟᴇ.
ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟ ʟᴀʀᴀ.
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ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs, ɪ ᴡᴀs sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴅ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴏғ sᴍᴜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ's ᴄᴜᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀʏ:']
eNgLiSh AiN'T mE LaNgUaGe 🦅
ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (sᴛɪʟʟ ɴᴏɴᴇ)
manon bannerman texts oneshots
pairing : manon x user
intro ✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧
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𝑆𝑝𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑦
𝑃𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡
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