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Can we go home now?- Sophia Laforetza x Fem! Ex 7th member!Reader

✏️: 7Th member au, EX 7th member, Sort of Post-breakup tension (though a relationship wasn’t established before), Friends/Lovers to strangers to lovers, Jealousy, Fame & fallout, Emotional whiplash, Unresolved feelings, Past relationship, Reunions, VMAs Afterparty drama, Sexual content (SMUT), Malcom Todd appearance!!!

WC: ≈10K

After walking away from Katseye at the height of your fame, you swore you’d move on- make a name for yourself all on your own, keep yourself afloat without the support of the 6 other girls you’d grown to know as family. It worked- almost too well- until the night of the VMAs drags the past right back into focus. Between flashing cameras, champagne toasts, and old ghosts dressed in designer, you find yourself face-to-face with Sophia Laforteza- the woman you left behind and the one who never really let you go.

You’d always had a heart of ambition, but you didn’t think this would be the way you achieved your dreams.

Getting kicked out of Katseye wasn’t exactly on your five year plan- but contracts have clauses, and emotions have limits, and somewhere between the sleepless nights and the silence from upper management, something snapped.

Missy had tried to help, bless her terrifyingly efficient soul and ever present too-tight bun, but it was too late for you. Too many “discussions” behind glass doors, too many polite smiles hiding knives. Eventually, someone just decided it would be easier if you weren’t there anymore.

So you left.

No, scratch that- you ghosted.

The kind of ghosting where you change your number, disappear from group chats, and pretend you don’t see the unread messages piling up under the “KA7SEYE” thread. You told yourself it was self-preservation, not cowardice- that if you didn’t look back, maybe you could move forward faster.

And somehow, you did.

You built a solo career out of the ashes- late nights, new producers, a thousand tiny reinventions. Your songs charted, your face was on screens again, and people stopped introducing you as “the one who left Katseye.”

You were finally, officially, you.

And now here you were, twenty years old, standing backstage at the VMAs- nominated for Best New Artist.

The irony was not lost on you, especially since Katseye was also here. Nominated for the Push Performance award for Touch.

The song you co-sang. The one with your harmonies still layered in the chorus.

You leaned against a wall near the dressing rooms, trying to steady your breathing as a production assistant sprinted past with a clipboard. The air smelled faintly of hairspray, coffee, and stress. Everywhere you looked, there were sequins and smiles- and yet somehow, you felt like an intruder in a party you weren’t invited to.

You weren’t sure if it was the nerves or the ghosts.

Your name glowed on the schedule sheet tacked to the wall, right next to Katseye. Seeing it there- side by side- made your stomach twist in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

You told yourself it was fine. You’d done harder things. Red carpets, interviews, performing live without backup vocals- all child’s play compared to this. But standing here, a few meters away from six girls you used to share a dorm, a dream, and a dozen inside jokes with? That felt like walking barefoot through glass.

You’d watched them from afar, of course. You weren’t heartless. When Touch hit a hundred million streams, you let yourself smile- just a small one. You even added it to your workout playlist once. (Then promptly deleted it when your voice came in during the bridge.)

The worst part wasn’t the fame or the fallout; it was the knowing. Knowing that they were probably fine without you. That maybe you’d been the problem all along.

You adjusted your mic pack, mostly to give your hands something to do, and tried to shake it off. You were here as an artist, not a cautionary tale. Smile. Shoulders back. Pretend you belong.

“Three minutes to standby,” someone called.

You nodded at no one, pushing off the wall and heading down the narrow hallway lined with mirrors and cables. Each reflection you passed caught a flash of the old you- tired eyes, stage makeup, that relentless drive.

You wanted this, you reminded yourself. You earned this.

Still, your chest ached with that uninvited cocktail of pride and regret. Maybe that was the price of ambition: you got what you wanted, just not the way you wanted it.

You turned a corner, lost in the thought- and slammed straight into someone.

“Fuck!, I’m so-”

You look up frantically, and in an instant the rest of your apology dies right there- on your tongue- because of all the people you could have bumped into tonight, it just had to be Sophia fucking Laforteza.

The Filipino beauty glows in front of you, all gentle lines and soft perfume, wearing that same shade of pinkish lipstick she’d always worn before a show. Her dress looked expensive enough to buy back your old contract, her expression unreadable in that perfect, practiced way you remembered too well. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all- except everything had.

For a moment, the two of you just stare.

You can’t tell whether the sound in your chest is your pulse or the echo of all the things you never said before you disappeared.

Naturally, she was the one to break the silence.

“Of course it’d be you,” she breathes, her voice smooth but edged- like a note struck just off-key. “You always did have terrible timing.”

You manage a laugh- weak, more of a choked breath.

You could almost hear the hum of old memories between you- rehearsal rooms at midnight, the sound of rain on dorm windows, whispered harmonies when the others were asleep.

Sophia’s gaze flicked down and back up again, her mouth pressing into a soft, unreadable line. Then, so quietly you almost missed it:

“You look good.”

It wasn’t said with jealousy or spite- just honesty. A little stunned, maybe. Like she hadn’t prepared herself to see you in the flesh again.

Maybe none of them had. You couldn’t say you had, either.

You blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of her words. You’d honestly expected… more. More fury? More anger? More indifference? You weren’t even sure what you wanted her reaction to be.

You barely manage to nod in time to her words, stammering out your response, “Oh. Uh- thanks.”

Her expression softened- barely, but enough for you to see the cracks in her composure. “I saw your performance last month,” she shuffled on her feet, words a little tentative- like she wasn’t sure if this was a subject she should… could broach. “The live one. You were… different. In a good way.”

You shifted your weight, pretending to adjust your mic pack again, just to have somewhere to look at- somewhere that wasn’t directly at her. “Yeah, I, uh- guess solo work does that to you. Forces you to grow.”

Sophia tilted her head slightly. “Or maybe you just finally let yourself.”

That landed heavier than you expected. She always had a way of seeing through you- slicing past the polish and getting right to the raw.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she murmured, almost too quickly. Then, softer, almost to herself: “Of course I noticed.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, not exactly- just… dense. The kind that feels like it could tip either toward a laugh or a confession, if someone dared to move first.

And for a brief, fleeting second, you wondered what would happen if you reached out- if you let yourself bridge that tiny, electric space between you- but before you could, someone called Sophia’s name from down the hall.

She glanced over her shoulder, then back at you- eyes full of everything she didn’t have time to say. “You should get ready,” she sighed. “You’ve got a big night ahead.”

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “You too.”

Sophia hesitated for just a heartbeat more, lips parting like she wanted to add something- then stopped. Her fingers brushed lightly against your arm as she passed, a fleeting touch, warm and gone too soon.

You stood there for a long moment after she disappeared into the noise, your pulse still catching up.

Somehow, her compliment hurt more than any confrontation ever could.

You were still standing there, pulse drumming somewhere in your throat, when the spell shattered.

“-THERE you are!”

The voice sliced through the noise like a fork through expensive fondant. Before you could even turn around, a flash of neon pink and an overpowering cloud of perfume came barreling toward you.

Your manager.

Nadia Vale. 5’6 feet of pure attitude, 1957 Chanel perfume, and an impatience that could match that of the greek god Zeus. You didn’t even get a full breath in before she had a hand on your shoulder, steering you down the hall like a particularly annoying shopping cart- the ones that you pay $2 to use only to find out one of the wheels were broken or jammed.

“Where the fuck have you been?” she hissed- though, in true manager fashion, it came out like a stage whisper that still managed to turn three heads. “Do you have any idea how many people I’ve lied to in the past ten minutes? I told the press you were in the bathroom, I told the stage manager you were praying, and I told your stylist you were having a mental breakdown. Which, honestly, was the closest to the truth.”

“I was- uh-”

“Don’t even start,” she snapped, waving a manicured hand. “I don’t care if you were crying, meditating, or rewriting the bible itself- your category is up in six minutes.”

You blinked. “Wait, six-?”

“Five now,” she said, checking her phone, scrolling, frowning. In that order. “God, why are they letting him present again? If I have to watch that man pretend to read off a teleprompter one more time, I’m walking into the Pacific Ocean.”

You leaned over her shoulder, stifling a laugh once you realised who she was talking about. Howard- such a fucking douchebag. He’d called you, and you quote, a “walking existential crisis”, when the announcements of you leaving Katseye came out. That, and an “attention-seeker”- which might have just been the worst out of the two insults.

Yeah, you smile bitterly, fuck him.

Nadia caught the smile- because of course she did. “Don’t grin at me, superstar, you’re lucky I like you. Barely. You know you stress me out so much my therapist asked for your name?”

You mumbled an apology, which she ignored completely as she spun you around and started fixing your hair with the focus of a bomb defuser.

“Hold still. Christ, how is your skin so good? I’ve been running on oat milk and spite for fourteen years and I look like a leather handbag. Who did your makeup? They deserve a raise. Unless it was you, in which case, of course it was you- because you’re you.”

“Thanks… I think?”

She hummed, squinting at you. “You know, I was just telling someone that you’ve really come into your own lately. And by someone, I mean that useless PR intern who thought you were a finalist for Best Pop Duo. I mean seriously, why do they always flock to me? do I look like I raise idiots?” she pauses, noticing the way your mouth actually parted to respond. “Don’t answer that.”

You tried not to laugh- mostly because she’d definitely hear it and start a new rant.

She didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop talking- one moment pinning your mic wire in place, the next taking verbal shots at random celebrities in your proximity.

“God, I swear if I see that influencer again- the one who thinks a granny sweater counts as an outfit- I’ll commit a crime. It’s the VMA’s honey- not the fucking SSA. And don’t make that face, you know which one I’m talking about.”

You nodded, because yes, yes you did.

Then, mid-sentence, she turned that sharp focus back on you. “But listen- seriously- whatever you just did, keep doing it. You look like a million bucks, and not in the usual fake-Hollywood way. You look… happy. Ish. Well-rested, maybe. Slightly haunted, but in a sexy way.”

“Thanks, that’s exactly the vibe I was going for,” you deadpanned.

“Good,” she chirped, patting your cheek lightly before stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Now, go win something. Or at least lose gracefully. No crying. Unless you’re a pretty crier- then we can work with that.”

You couldn’t help it this time- you laughed, full and unguarded.

She smirked, satisfied, and handed you your lipgloss. “Let’s go. And for the love of God, try not to bump into anyone else. You’re a headline waiting to happen.”

Too late, you thought, but didn’t say it.

The stage lights burned like miniature suns, spilling through the cracks in the curtains. You could hear the crowd- that restless, electric roar that only existed in moments like this. Every cheer, every synth-heavy transition between presenters felt like the world holding its breath.

You now stood just offstage, blinking into the golden wash of it all. Cameras swooped overhead like hawks. Stagehands whispered cues into headsets. Your manager gave your shoulder one last dramatic squeeze before vanishing into the wings, muttering something about finding champagne “in advance of either outcome.”

“Best New Artist,” you repeated under your breath, as if the words might feel less unreal if you said them yourself. Like you could physically manifest the title into existence if you said it enough.

The stage manager pointed you toward your seat in the front section, the kind that looked close enough to touch fame itself. As you moved through the crowd, you caught flashes of sequins, chrome jewelry, gloved hands waving to unseen fans. The air was a mix of perfume, spotlights, and adrenaline.

You slipped into your seat just as the category graphics exploded across the massive screen: five names, five faces. Yours among them- the photo from your debut era, the one where your eyes looked steadier than you ever actually felt.

And then, just one row over- Katseye.

All remaining 6 members.

Your stomach flipped at that.

Sophia sat second from the aisle, legs crossed, a soft-focus goddess in black. The others were chatting among themselves, the kind of relaxed chaos that only comes from shared success- but Sophia wasn’t laughing- not right then. Her eyes caught yours through the low haze of stage light, and for a fleeting moment, the noise around you dissolved.

It was strange- seeing her like that, all perfect poise and polished grace, when you still remembered her half-asleep on rehearsal room floors, mumbling harmonies into her phone mic. The contrast hit harder than you expected.

“-and now, to present the award for Best New Artist…”

The presenter’s voice thundered through the venue, jolting you back. The camera’s red light blinked somewhere nearby. You sat a little straighter, smiled the way you’d practiced. A thousand lenses stared right back.

Your category played in montage- snippets of choruses, stage clips, your own shaky debut footage cut together with cheers. The crowd reacted with polite applause, and somewhere behind you, your manager was probably praying to whatever deity handled career milestones.

The envelope rustled.

You exhaled slowly, trying not to look nervous- which was, ironically, the most obvious thing you could do.

The presenter smiled that too-wide, TV-perfect smile, the gold envelope gleaming under the stage lights like it held the secrets of the universe.

You could hear everything.

The hum of the crowd. The click of cameras adjusting their lenses. Someone in the row behind you whispering a prediction. The faint buzz of your own heartbeat in your ears.

It was funny- you’d imagined this moment a hundred times before. You thought you’d feel powerful, invincible, maybe even detached. But sitting there, with your name and face still flickering on the giant LED screens, all you felt was small. Small and human and very, very alive.

The presenter held the envelope up like a priest about to perform a ritual.

“Big year for this category,” he drawled, dragging the words out with professional cruelty. “Incredible new voices, record-breaking numbers…”

Your mouth went dry.

You tried to smile, but your face felt like it was made of porcelain. Every instinct in you screamed to look away, but your eyes were glued to the stage- to that shining rectangle of paper that could flip your life in a single second.

In your periphery, Sophia shifted- a soft movement, but somehow loud enough to pull your attention. She was watching you again, chin tilted just slightly, the kind of quiet, steady gaze that felt like both a challenge and a prayer. They were all watching you- but Sophia’s gaze was more prominent. More heated. More intense.

You forced yourself to breathe.

Once. Twice.

“-and the VMA for Best New Artist goes to…”

The presenter slid a finger under the seal. The paper crackled like thunder.

Time stretched.

You could see your reflection in one of the camera lenses- wide eyes, hands pressed together too tightly, the image of someone pretending not to care. Somewhere behind you, your friends muttered a half-whispered “Come on, come on,” like they could will the universe into cooperation.

The presenter opened the card. Squinted for drama.

You could feel your pulse in your throat.

A thousand invisible threads pulled taut across the air- all the rehearsals, the crying, the quiet mornings where you doubted everything, the way Sophia’s voice still lingered in your memory like smoke.

A pause. A beat of silence that stretched like taffy.

Then the name hit the speakers like a flare.

You blinked, barely processing the sound of your own name echoing through the arena.

The crowd erupted. Lights exploded into motion. Someone touched your arm, urging you to stand, but your legs didn’t quite get the message at first.

Then applause- real, thunderous, yours.

For a moment, you didn’t move. The sound hit you, but it didn’t land- not really. You blinked once, twice, like the syllables had come from underwater. When you finally got a sense of your bearings- you rose, stunned, as cameras caught every frame of your reaction. You managed to laugh, dazed and bright, brushing at invisible wrinkles on your outfit as you made your way toward the stage.

Just before you climbed the steps, you glanced back -almost involuntarily. Towards them.

Sophia was clapping. Slow, deliberate, a real smile tugging at her mouth this time. The kind that wasn’t for the cameras. The look in her eyes wasn’t envy or even surprise. It was something heavier. Something like pride, tangled with a hundred things she couldn’t say.

Something unknotted in your chest- small, but real.

As you started toward the stage, the camera caught your face- wide-eyed, teary, half-smiling. You forced yourself to breathe, but the air felt too thin, too bright.

Passing their row, you felt the moment stretch-Daniela giving you a thumbs-up, Lara mouthing go, Manon bouncing in her seat, Megan and Yoonchae clapping over their heads like they were trying to lift you there themselves.

Sophia was saying something- something you couldn’t make out over the ringing in your ears.

You didn’t have time to figure it out.

The lights swallowed you whole as you stepped onto the stage.

The stage felt unreal- too bright, too loud, too big.

You could barely see past the haze of light, but you could feel them- thousands of eyes, hundreds of cameras, every flashbulb capturing the precise moment your life split neatly into “before” and “after.”

A VMA.

Your VMA.

You took the heavy, glass-edged trophy from the presenter with both hands, half-afraid it would slip through your fingers. The applause blurred into one long, shimmering sound. You leaned into the mic, heart still sprinting.

“Um- wow.”

A nervous laugh escaped you. The crowd laughed softly with you- or maybe at you- but it didn’t matter. The sound grounded you.

“I, uh- this doesn’t feel real,” you began, glancing down at the award like it might start talking back. “When I started… I just wanted to make something that mattered. Something that could outlast the noise.”

You took a breath, voice steadier now. “There were a lot of times I thought I’d never even make it here. Times I didn’t really believe in myself- or, honestly, even like myself that much.”

The audience went quiet, that respectful hush that means they’re actually listening.

You smiled, soft and a little shaky. “But the people around me- even the ones who aren’t anymore- they taught me a lot. About patience. About strength. About what it means to fight for something you love, even when it hurts.”

You didn’t look at the girls directly. Not yet. But your throat tightened anyway.

“So… thank you. To everyone who ever told me I couldn’t do this- you made me try harder. And to the ones who believed I could, even when I didn’t-”

You hesitated, eyes flicking briefly toward that familiar row.

Sophia’s gaze met yours again, steady, unreadable, glimmering faintly under the stage lights.

“-thank you. Really.”

The applause rose again, soft at first, then building. You laughed through it, breath hitching, eyes stinging just enough for the cameras to catch the glimmer.

You lifted the trophy slightly, as if it weighed less now. Cheers broke out- scattered at first, then swelling, filling the space like a tide.

You stepped back from the mic, heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Then the lights dimmed. The cameras cut away. The crowd shifted.

And you, trophy in hand, just stood there under the gold haze- beaming, shining, and trying not to fall apart.

After the ceremonies were over and awards were handed out- you barely had time to step back stage before your manager was on you.

“Holy shit.”

You glance up, half-laughing, half-shrinking away. You lift the award like it’s a peace offering- or a shield. Maybe both.

“I survived.” You croak out, unable to believe it yourself.

“Survived?” she repeated incredulously. “You won a VMA! A VMA! Look at you! Standing there with that trophy like it’s no big deal. You know people are going to obsess over every outfit change, every camera angle, and yes, your hair, which, by the way, looks amazing.”

You snorted.

“Don’t snort at me,” she snapped sharply, then sighed dramatically. “But also, I’m proud. Very proud. And slightly terrified. Mostly proud. Okay, mostly terrified, too.”

You laughed at that, just a little, catching your breath from the adrenaline.

“And let me tell you,” she continued, lowering her voice as if sharing state secrets, “some of those other celebrities- oh, honey, they are outdone. Completely outdone. Not even close. I mean, they’re cute, I guess. But compared to you? Please. They might as well be holding balloons and calling it a performance.”

You shook your head, grinning. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Pep talk? This is me managing reality, okay? Reality is brutal, and you just went up there and owned it. Just don’t trip when you get back to the dressing room. People will die if the VMA’s newest icon eats shit.”

You laughed, but it was easier this time- part relief, part disbelief. She shook her head and muttered something about needing a drink, already racing ahead down the hallway, leaving you holding the trophy and trying to calm your still-thudding heart.

Your thoughts drifted back to the girls- to Katseye. They’d won the award they were nominated for- which, you didn’t doubt them one bit, but watching them get on stage… laughing, smiling, celebrating- together- almost made bile rise in your throat. In another life you would have been up there with them- should have been up there with them.

It felt almost poetic- that despite the fact that you were no longer together, all 7 of you had still won an award at the same time.

You didn’t let yourself dwell on that thought for too long though- lest you end up in your room, sobbing into your pillow and clutching your trophy to your chest as you chugged down a bottle of fireball.

No- the night wasn’t over. In fact, it only just begun. The after parties were always the main event- the pearl of the awards ceremony. You’d be shooting yourself in the foot if you missed it- especially when your career was still so fresh.

Besides, Nadia would kill you herself if you missed it.

By the time you arrived at the first party, the air was already thick with the scent of expensive perfume and expensive alcohol. The venue itself was decadent, a sprawling rooftop terrace overlooking the glittering city skyline. DJs spun tracks that vibrated through the floor, and the crowd roared in time, glasses spilling in celebration, obnoxious laughter ricocheting off the walls.

You scanned the crowd of mostly C-listers, refraining from rolling your eyes at the sight of some of them in particular. There was only a handful of people here that you actually respected. People that weren’t assholes.

You moved through the crowd like a ghost at first, letting others approach you- industry contacts, journalists, influencers- but taking mental notes of everything. Each handshake, each smile, each forced “Congratulations” felt like currency you were banking for later. You sipped your champagne slowly, letting the bubbles chase down the knots of tension in your chest, all while keeping your eyes peeled for familiar faces.

The energy was intoxicating. Groups of people clustered around tables heavy with bottles of champagne and vodka, while smaller pockets of conversation hummed in quieter corners. You watched the dancers on the balcony, swirling effortlessly to the music, envying their freedom, their lightness.

Somewhere in the chaos, the thought of the girls crept back in, uninvited. Katseye, celebrating together, laughter like a melody you used to know by heart. You forced the thought away, focusing instead on the immediate thrill: being here, surrounded by people who now recognized you, who would soon remember your name. Tonight was yours.

You were just turning away from the balcony railing when someone gently tapped your shoulder.

“Congratulations,” a smooth, confident voice spoke.

You turned, and almost choked on your champagne. The person was tall- a little lanky- with shaggy dark hair and eyes so brown you almost though you were staring into the gaze of a newborn calf.

You were standing in front of the Malcolm Todd. Of all the people here, him.

“Holy shit,” you managed, failing to sound casual while internally doing backflips.

He smiled, a warm, genuine one that immediately put you at ease. “You were incredible tonight. Honestly. Your stage presence… it’s electric.”

Your cheeks heated. You had rehearsed so many thank-you speeches in your head, and none of them had sounded like this. “That… really means a lot coming from you- fuck, I swear I was just listening to your song on the way here-”

He let out a laugh, leaning closer with an awkward shuffle. He almost looked bashful in this light. “Seriously? I was listening to yours!”

You can’t help the flutter that settles in your stomach at that. Him, listening to you? God- maybe you passed out during the awards ceremony and this is all a dream.

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even hear his next words- but based on the smile and little wave of his hand, just assumed he was telling you to follow him.

You did- no questions asked- following him through the crowd, careful not to spill your drink. Outside, the music was still heavy, but the hum of the city air made it feel… different. Cleaner, quieter, intimate even.

“So,” he drawled, turning to you with a playful grin, “how does it feel, officially being a VMA-winning new artist? Still pinching yourself?”

You laughed softly. “Pinching myself would leave bruises. I’m still trying to figure out if this is real.”

“Good,” he murmured, leaning casually against the railing beside you. “You deserve to enjoy it. Everyone else can wait.”

His tone had a teasing edge that made your chest warm. You couldn’t tell if it was the champagne or him, but either way, you weren’t complaining.

“You know,” you breathe, feeling a little light-headed, “I thought I’d be nervous around people like you. But… you’re not intimidating at all.”

Malcolm laughed, a rich, contagious sound. “Maybe I’m just saving the intimidating stuff for later. But don’t worry- I promise, no awards ceremony scariness tonight.”

You smirked, leaning against the railing. “So… you really think I didn’t trip on stage? Because I feel like someone would’ve caught that on camera.”

Malcolm laughed, shaking his head. “No way. You were smooth as hell. Honestly, I was impressed- and slightly jealous. I’d still be doing some awkward interpretive dance trying to hold a trophy like that.”

You grinned, nudging him lightly. “Glad to hear it. I’d hate to think my award came with embarrassing viral moments.”

“Trust me,” he scoffed, leaning a little closer, “if anything goes viral, it’s only because people are jealous of how effortlessly cool you are. And maybe your outfit.”

You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Effortlessly cool? I was basically sweating glitter and praying no one noticed.”

Malcolm chuckled. “Hey, if you were sweating glitter, it’s probably the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done on a stage. I’d definitely be fanboying right now.”

Your eyes widened a little, grinning. “Fanboying? About me?”

“Absolutely,” he quipped, pretending to straighten an imaginary tie. “And not the embarrassing kind. The, like, ‘wow, I need to get to know this person before they disappear into superstar territory’ kind.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Okay, wow. That’s… actually really flattering.”

He shrugged, grinning. “I call it like I see it. Also… you seem like way too much fun to take seriously all the time. Which is rare, honestly.”

You felt the excitement buzzing in your chest- this was different from the usual press interviews or fan encounters. Here, it was like you were just… talking to someone who got it.

Your chat wrapped up pretty quick- it wasn’t like you could spend the entire party with only one person. You waved and slipped away, weaving back through the crowd, letting the sounds of the party wash over you. The music was loud, the chatter endless, but somehow your steps felt purposeful, urgent even.

Rounding a corner toward the restroom, you almost bumped into someone- again.

“Sorr- oh, Sophia?”

Well, this moment was pretty full circle.

She froze for a second before looking up at you. There was no cheerful smile this time. No easy warmth. Just a quiet intensity, her gaze sharp and almost unreadable.

“Hey,” you murmured softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Hey,” she replied, her tone clipped, almost careful. She wasn’t angry exactly, but something was simmering beneath the surface. Her arms were crossed loosely, and her eyes held a focus that made you suddenly hyper-aware of yourself.

You swallowed, noticing the way her presence made the room feel smaller, heavier somehow. The glow of the city outside didn’t touch her the same way it touched you. She was… brooding.

That was strange- to say the least. She’d been cordial with you back at the venue- even cheered you on when you won your award. Besides, shouldn’t she be celebrating about her own award?

“Are you- okay?” you asked, a little hesitantly, not sure what else to say.

She hesitated, then looked past you, out toward the action, her jaw tightening slightly. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

There was a pause, thick with unspoken history, and you felt your pulse quicken. This wasn’t the cheerful, easy Sophia from before. This was someone guarded, intense- someone you knew from experience you’d have to navigate carefully around.

And yet, even like this, you couldn’t look away.

She looked like she had stepped out of a noir film rewritten for the twenty-first century. You hadn’t adequately appreciated her look before- but now, seeing her after the high of winning your award? You couldn’t help but go weak at the knees. Her dress was midnight black, sharply tailored, hugging her form with a precision that suggested power and intention. Her ponytail was slick and gelled back- not one strand out of place- smoothened to perfection.

Perfection. The only word you could ever use to describe a woman like Sophia.

Her gaze flicked past you for a moment, and you followed it, realizing she’d likely noticed you earlier, laughing and leaning close to Malcolm Todd on the terrace.

“So,” she hummed finally, voice low and almost casual, but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Is that how you left the group? Secured your career using connections and just… abandoned ship?”

Your stomach tightened. There was no accusation in her tone- well, not exactly- but there was something heavier beneath it. Pain? Jealousy? Resentment? You couldn’t tell, and the uncertainty made the air between you feel sharp.

You opened your mouth, but no words came immediately. Malcolm wasn’t here- this was just you and her- and suddenly all the history, the laughter, the fights, the late nights rehearsing together, felt like it was pressing down on your chest.

“I… didn’t leave like that,” you mumbled finally, careful, measured, though your voice wavered a little too much. “I left because I had to… because it wasn’t right for me anymore. You know that.”

Sophia’s eyes didn’t leave yours. Her expression softened ever so slightly, but the intensity didn’t fade. “Yeah, I know,” she said quietly, almost too quietly. “Doesn’t make it any easier to watch, though. Especially seeing you… cozy with someone like that.”

You blinked, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you felt, how much old wounds were resurfacing, how much you’d missed her. And maybe- just maybe- how much you still cared.

The city skyline shimmered behind her, distant and cold, but the air between the two of you felt suddenly impossible to ignore.

You shifted slightly, hyper-aware of how close you were standing. The music from the party drifted through the walls, distant enough to be background noise, but it only made the silence between you feel heavier.

“I… I didn’t mean to make it seem like I’m flaunting anything,” you sighed. “He’s just… someone I met tonight. That’s it.”

Sophia’s gaze didn’t waver. Her arms were still crossed, but there was a tension in her shoulders, a storm barely contained. “Right,” she drawled slowly. “Just someone. That’s how it looked from where I was standing.”

You bit your lip, wanting to reach out, to explain more, but the words tangled in your throat. The truth was complicated- your pride, your need to be independent, and… maybe a little annoyance over the fact that she still had this pull over you.

Sophia took a step closer, and the energy between you skyrocketed. “You know,” she breathed, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable, “it’s hard… seeing you here, doing everything you said you wanted, while… we’re still over there. Still together, still…” Her words faltered, and she glanced away briefly, jaw tight.

“Still what?” you asked softly, heart thudding.

“Still… me. Still here.” She looked back at you, eyes sharp, but something else lingered there- pain, longing, frustration. “It’s hard not to wonder if you ever… cared about any of it, about us, the group… the people you left behind.”

You swallowed, the past and present colliding in a way that left you breathless. “I did care,” you whispered. “I still… care, Sophia. About all of it. About you.”

Her expression flickered, the storm behind her eyes softening for a heartbeat, then hardening again. “Yeah?” she scoffed, a little wry, a little bitter. “Funny how it didn’t stop you from walking away.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The air felt electric, heavy with everything left unsaid. You wanted to bridge the distance, to close it, but the history between you made every move tentative, dangerous, thrilling.

You exhaled slowly, but the air still felt too heavy to breathe. “You think it was easy?” you hissed, your voice low but trembling. “Walking away from all of that- from you- like it meant nothing?”

Sophia’s jaw flexed. “Didn’t really look hard from the outside,” she shot back. “One week you were there, the next, gone. No warning, no call, nothing. Just a note from management and a PR statement.”

You flinched. “You think I had control over that? You think I wanted to disappear like that?”

Her laugh was soft but bitter. “You sure didn’t fight it very hard.”

That hit deeper than you wanted it to. You took a step closer before you could stop yourself, the words spilling out faster than you meant. “I fought everything, Sophia. I fought to keep my head above water in that place. You all were my family, and I still felt like a stranger every damn day.”

For a second, her face cracked- just a flicker of something raw- then she looked away, muttering derisively, “We were all drowning, you weren’t the only one.”

“I know that,” you croaked, voice tightening. “But you had each other. I didn’t. The second I started slipping, it was like no one even-” You stopped yourself, swallowing hard.

Sophia’s gaze snapped back to you, sharp again. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is standing here pretending you didn’t see me falling apart,” you snapped. The words came out before you could catch them, too loud, too honest.

The silence that followed was a live wire- bright, dangerous. You could almost hear both of your hearts racing.

Her expression softened for half a second, then she shook her head, a humorless laugh escaping her. “You always do that,” she murmured. “Make it sound like you were the only one hurting. Like none of us bled too.”

You felt something twist in your chest. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” she murmured, stepping closer now, eyes flashing. “You just walked out and left the rest of us to pick up the pieces. And then tonight-seeing you up there, smiling like none of it mattered…”

Her voice caught, breaking through the anger for just a heartbeat.

“…It’s like it never even happened, you know? Like we never happened.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. The city noise below blurred into static, and for a moment all you could see was the look in her eyes- furious, hurt, familiar.

“I didn’t forget,” you breathed finally, your voice quieter, rougher. “Not for a second.”

Sophia’s breath hitched- just enough to betray something beneath the fury- and for the first time tonight, neither of you knew which one of you was about to walk away.

The silence stretched, vibrating with everything unsaid. The party noise behind the wall had dulled to a throb, like the city itself was holding its breath.

Sophia took a slow step closer, close enough that you caught the faint scent of her perfume- something soft and sharp that hit like déjà vu. “I think about it every day,” she whispered. “All those nights when it was just us- no cameras, no rules, no pretending we weren’t…” Her voice trailed off, the rest swallowed by the space between you.

Your breath hitched. The distance between you was barely a breath now, and her eyes- furious, glassy, searching- found yours and stilled.

“Don’t,” you whisper quietly, though you weren’t even sure what you meant.

Sophia’s lips curved into something- something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You left, and I still can’t walk into a rehearsal room without hearing your voice. You think that goes away?”

You shook your head, trying to hold yourself steady. “Then why are you so angry?”

“Because,” she snapped, the word sharp, almost breaking, “you got to leave. And I’m still there, still trying to unlearn you.”

The air between you cracked open- anger and longing tangled so tightly you couldn’t tell which one was winning.

You wanted to speak, to reach out, to apologize or to argue or to pull her closer- anything but stand there and feel every memory flood back through the inches between you.

Sophia’s eyes flicked down, just once, before snapping back to yours. “You drive me insane,” she whispered, the words trembling, half-plea, half-confession.

“So stop looking at me like that,” you breathed back.

“I can’t.”

The words hung there, fragile and furious. One heartbeat. Two. You could feel the warmth of her skin, the faint tremor in her breath. The air seemed to pull tight around you, the kind of silence that only breaks one way or the other.

For a second, the world tilted- music thumping distantly below, champagne laughter spilling through the hall- but here, it was just you and her, every memory collapsing into now.

Then, almost at the same moment, you both moved- closer, not quite touching, but close enough that it felt inevitable. The kind of nearness that erased all the noise, all the years, until there was only the pulse of what neither of you could undo.

Her hands were up before you could register the movement, not pushing you away, but cupping your face- a sudden, fierce tenderness that shattered the careful tension. The touch was an electric current, a memory made real, the soft skin of her palm against your jaw, warm and slightly shaky, just the way you remembered from a thousand forgotten moments.

The breath you’d been holding escaped, ragged and silent, and then there was no more air, only the brush of lips.

It wasn't a gentle press, nor a slow, hesitant return. It was a collision, a reckless, hungry, necessary crash of lips and teeth and shared, desperate need. All the pent-up fury, the aching longing, the months of separation- it all poured out in that instant.

It tasted like the forbidden promise of a mistake, like the expensive champagne and a deep, grounding memory of rain on pavement. There was a raw, bruising quality to it, the kind of kiss that wasn't about sweetness but about reclamation. Her mouth moved against yours with an almost violent certainty, a silent scream of, I told you I couldn't stop looking.

You didn't hesitate. You were already past the point of no return. One hand shot to the small of her back, pulling her flush against you, erasing the last few inches of air and formality. The other cupped her jaw, tilting her head back, deepening the kiss until the world narrowed to the sound of your combined breath and the frantic rhythm of your own heart hammering against your ribs.

The distant music and the laughter from the hall faded to a dull, unimportant drone. There was nothing but the heat of her, the urgent pressure of her lips, the way her body molded perfectly to yours- a terrifying, exhilarating proof that some connections don't die, they just lie in wait.

You drove her backward until her back hit the cool, textured wallpaper and a gasp cut through the silence of the secluded hallway. Her right hand reached up to entangle itself in your hair and she practically melted into your touch in an instant, kissing you back with just as much fervor.

Your lips broke apart with a soft sound- both of you desperate to catch your breaths. Her head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, giving you full access. You were driven by a sudden, primal need to mark her, to taste the skin you’d spent months only dreaming of. Your kisses became a shower of hot, desperate pecks- a trail of apologies- working their way down her elegant, exposed throat.

She was arching into the pressure, her hands now abandoning your face to grip the back of your dress, bunching the expensive fabric in her fists. A faint, shuddering noise, half-whimper, half-pleasure, escaped her as you reached the delicate hollow of her collarbone.

You felt the fragile bones there, just beneath the skin, and paused for a second- a breath of reverence escaping before the rush took over again. The low-cut neckline of her dress made it easy, and you didn't miss any chance, leaning down to press a burning kiss to the smooth skin just above her heart. The silence of the hall was now broken only by your ragged breathing and the soft, insistent friction of your dress against hers.

You glance up momentarily, voice nothing more than a soft whisper in the fragile moment. “Right here?”

The Filipino goddess bites her lip, glancing around tentatively before two hands moved to your shoulders- pushing down.

You got the message and promptly sunk down onto your knees. Tilting your head up, you gazed at Sophia through thick lashes and heavy-lidded eyes. You wouldn’t- couldn’t do anything without permission.

Without her permission.

A shiver ran through Sophia at your obedience- at the fact that still, all these months later, you knew your place. She reached down, running her sharp nails through your hair and lightly scratching at your scalp- drawing a low whimper from the back of your throat.

Taking that as a nonverbal ‘yes’, you eagerly bunch up Sophia’s skirt with one hand- pulling down her black laced panties with the other. You almost let out laugh when you feel just how soaked the fabric was.

"God, you’re already so wet," you murmur, pressing your cheek lightly against her thigh before looking back up fondly.

Sophia closed her eyes, biting back a groan. She was going to combust right there if you kept up this combination of apologetic adoration and devastating focus. It took every scrap of her considerable will not to just grab your hair and grind down until she found oblivion, but she knew that move would only break the tension.

Whether you sensed her restraint or the universe decided to reward her forbearance, you finally, finally started kissing and nuzzling up her inner thigh. The first touch of your mouth on her cunt was an electric jolt.

Sophia's hands shot out and tangled instantly in your hair, the dark strands a perfect, velvety anchor against the relentless waves of sensation. You fucked her with your tongue, your fingers sliding deeper inside her as you sucked and licked at her clit with the same focused, relentless fervour you’d shown the rest of her skin.

She didn't know how long she stood there, the world narrowed down to those two points of burning contact- her hands in your hair, your mouth on her core- encouragement and begging (or maybe a little bit of just straight-up whimpering) spilling from her lips. She didn't care, so long as you kept on doing that. But eventually, it was too much. Her knees buckled, and she tumbled forward.

Luckily, you were there, breaking her fall, your shoulders a soft, warm support.

You didn't seem inclined to push her off, either. So Sophia stretched out, prodding and twisting around until she was comfortable, her thighs propped up over your shoulders.

You didn’t stop there- eating her out like you were stranded on a deserted island and her cunt was the only source of water. She let out a whine, hands tugging at your hair to draw your attention. “My legs are giving out” she whimpered, yet her hips didn’t stop rolling against your mouth.

You ignored her, instead running your tongue flat against her clit. This time, she nearly doubled over- yanking your head off of her.

You let out a whimper- both in pain and at the loss of contact (though it was mostly due to the latter)- but Sophia just shakes her head, pulling you up onto her level until she can crash her lips back onto yours.

A moan tears through her mouth and vibrates into yours as she tastes herself on your lips. You let out a whine- breaking the kiss and pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes.

Sophia almost coo’s at the soft, pleading look in your eyes. She reaches a hand up to cradle your face gently, words a soft purr against your cheek, “Tell me what you need, Mahal.”

You let out a shuddering breath- one single word spilling from your lips unbridled. “You.”

Sophia smiles, hands dragging down your body until she can firmly grasp your hips and pull you down onto her thigh. You gasp- hands reaching down to bunch up your dress. You’re so wet now- that your panties have stuck to you, the rough fabric rubbing against your clit deliciously everytime Sophia pulls your hip back and forth.

You thrust back with just as much fervour- practically falling into Sophia as you clutch and scratch at her clothed back. Your chests were perfectly moulded together, and you could feel her warm breath brush against the side of your throat every-time she breathed.

She didn’t bother to quieten your moans- in fact, they only spurred her on. Her grip tightened and her thigh flexed up into you, drawing a particularly sharp gasp from your throat. Your voice was getting sharper, higher, whinier- a telltale sign that you were close.

She thought of teasing you- of punishing you for all the shit she went through dealing with your sudden absence- but the moment was too fragile- too soft for her to ruin. So she kept going- kept dragging you back and forth and flexing her thigh sporadically until you buried your face into the crook of her neck and trembled against her.

She held you through it all while murmuring sweet-nothings into your hair. All while you came apart in her arms, a shuddering, breathless wreck against her neck. She didn’t move at all until your body had completely stilled.

Sophia kept one arm locked securely around your waist, using the other to gently guide your head from her neck, pushing you back just enough to look at your face. Her eyes, usually so sharp and commanding, were soft, filled with a deep, consuming tenderness.

"You okay, pretty girl?" she murmured, her voice rough, a low texture you felt more than heard. She didn't wait for a verbal answer, though. Her thumb, surprisingly careful, wiped a stray tear from your cheekbone- a tear you hadn't even realized you’d shed.

You could only manage a nod, your breathing still too shallow and fast for words.

The atmosphere in the secluded hallway had completely changed. The reckless heat was replaced by a gentle, languid warmth. She didn't press you, didn't ask for a repeat performance or even an apology. Instead, she slowly, deliberately, reached down with her free hand and smoothed the fabric of your skirt back into place, tucking it down around your hips to cover the exposed skin.

With that, she drew you back into her embrace- leaning back against the wall and running a soothing hand through your hair.

It was like that for a while, just silent comfort in the still-secluded hallway until her voice rang out once more. It was small, unsure, and croaky- barely a whisper.

“Why’d you leave?”

You swallowed, hard. You didn’t know what to say- how to respond without making yourself look shitty, without making their management look shitty. You settled for a quiet truth- one that involved her but didn’t quite tell the whole story. “I… I didn’t know how to stay,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared, Sophia. Scared I’d hurt you, scared I’d get lost in all of this… and scared I’d never find my way back to myself.”

Her grip on you tightened just slightly, not in restraint but in reassurance, as if she could absorb your fear into herself. “You could’ve told me,” she shot back, a faint tremor betraying how much she had restrained herself over the months. “You didn’t have to go alone.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I thought… maybe you’d be better off without me.”

Her lips hovered near your forehead, brushing it lightly in a tender, almost apologetic gesture. “Better off without you?” she echoed, voice thick. “Do you have any idea how wrong that is? You’ve always been a part of my heart, even when I couldn’t have you.”

Your chest tightened, and you leaned into her embrace, letting the vulnerability you’d buried for months finally spill over. “I missed you,” you whispered. “Every day, Sophia. I tried to keep busy, tried to forget… but I couldn’t.”

Sophia’s shoulders sagged slightly, a weight you hadn’t seen in months finally breaking through her usually unshakable poise. She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, and you could see it there- the raw exhaustion, the quiet storm she’d been holding in.

“It was… so fucking hard,” she admitted, her voice tight, ragged at the edges. “Being the leader when every day I was unraveling because you weren’t there. I had to be strong, to hold everything together, smile, keep the group from noticing I was falling apart inside.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the intensity, by the admission that she’d been breaking quietly while keeping everything afloat. “I… I didn’t know,” you murmured. “I thought you were fine. I thought you… had it all.”

She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips, small and fractured. “Fine? No. I smiled, I joked, I performed… but inside? Every rehearsal, every meeting, every stage- I was holding on by my fingernails. I kept looking at the empty space where you should have been, and it tore me apart. I couldn’t show weakness to them, not to Katseye, not to anyone. And it hurt- God, it hurt like hell- that you weren’t there to hold me while I tried to hold everything else together.”

You reached up, cupping her face again, needing to anchor her, needing her to feel that she wasn’t alone anymore. “Im sorry. I’m so, so sorry-“

Her lips trembled as she pressed a brief kiss to your forehead, a gesture of both relief and lingering pain. “I just… I didn’t know if you’d ever come back. Every day, I thought maybe you’d forgotten me, or that you’d decided I wasn’t worth it. And that thought- it was unbearable.”

You shook your head, tears spilling freely now. “I could never forget you. You’re… you’re my heart, Sophia. Always.”

She let out a shuddering breath, letting herself collapse into your arms again. “I needed you, and I hate that I had to survive without you for so long,” she admitted, voice breaking. “I hate that it took this long for us to find each other again.”

You hugged her tightly, pressing your forehead against hers.

Sophia lifted her head slightly, eyes shining with something like awe as she stared at you. “And… and I have to say this,” she said, voice thick with emotion, “seeing you win that VMA… tonight… I don’t even have words. You… you were incredible. Absolutely incredible,” She cupped your cheek again, thumb brushing softly over your skin. “I hope you know, I’ve been carrying that pride with me all day. That was my girl up there, shining, and I… I couldn’t be prouder, even if I tried.”

You swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat- and quietly leaned further into her embrace. Only when the music had started to dull and the cheers got louder did the two of you pull away- you sheepishly, Sophia bashfully.

“I should go rejoin the girls…” She murmured softly, busying herself with brushing out her dress.

You nod mutely, stepping back to give her space. You needed to go fix your makeup anyway- since it was no doubt ruined from earlier.

You turn, about to leave, when your legs suddenly still. Sophia’s voice comes out shaky, but the words are firm- steady. “You… You still have my number, right?”

You were quiet for a moment, before a soft smile bloomed across your face. “Yeah, I do,”

she reached out, gently tugging you around and closer to her before leaning forward to press a quick, tender kiss to your lips. “Call me tonight, okay?”

You blink, before nodding mutely. She squeezes your hands and with that- turns and disappears down the hallway.

Once you’re sure she’s gone- you lean back against a nearby wall.

Holy shit.

A whirlwind of emotions settle in your chest. Fear, awe, disbelief, regret- but most of all? Hope.

Hope to rekindle your relationship.

Hope to be something real- something real with Sophia.

Hope to finally let yourself believe that maybe this time, it could last.

a/n: i know i said im on a break until my finals finish but i couldn’t help myself 😭 stayed up all night just to finish this. it’s currently 8am and i cba to proof read so plz ignore any mistakes 🙏 also the song was kind of a last minute addition, so i hope it fits the storyline

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#vmas 2025