#soeyekonic

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. you get me so high ⭑ D.A

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis during a livestream, dani plays it cool when a comment hints at something between you two, but later it’s clear things aren’t as simple as she lets on.

disclaimer daniela avanzini x 7th member!fem!reader, secret relationship (but there’s actually no relationship), closeted dani, slight angst. pt2 (angst version) pt3 (fluff version)

currently playing: you get me so high - the neighbourhood

it’s not a relationship, well, not officially. it’s not something either of you ever said out loud.

not when she kisses you in dressing rooms and pretends nothing happened two hours later. just reapplies her lip gloss in the mirror and smiles at the others like her mouth wasn’t just on yours.

not when you wake up with her legs tangled in yours, her head on your chest, and her voice sleepy and low as she mumbles, “this doesn’t count, right?” against your collarbone.

not when she lets you touch her like she belongs to you, but walks three feet ahead of you in the airport.

not when she tells you she thinks she’d fall apart without you, but won’t say a word if anyone else walks into the room.

but you know better.

you feel it. you feel it when her hand finds yours under the table, small and quiet like it means nothing, but her pinky always hooks with yours like it remembers the way your spine arches when she kisses you slow.

you feel it when she waits for everyone to fall asleep and then slips into your bed, curls into your side like it’s instinct.

you feel it when she watches you during rehearsals instead of the mirror.

you feel it when she smiles like she’s memorizing you, like it’s the last time. like she’s always afraid she’ll have to forget.

no one talks about it, but the others know.

manon figured it out first. of course she did. she watches everything. she caught the way daniela looks at you when she thinks no one’s paying attention. like she’s trying not to want something she already has.

lara picked up on it soon after. she doesn't say anything, but her eyes follow the way you shift when dani enters a room, how your shoulders ease when her laugh finds you.

you don’t bring it up. none of them do. you don’t want to ruin whatever it is that’s been building between you and dani. quiet. hidden. careful.

something sacred, maybe.

something no one else is supposed to see.

something that doesn’t survive daylight.

—

the livestream is meant to be fun. it's just the four of you tonight. manon, lara, daniela, and you. you’re on the hotel couch in sweats and oversized hoodies, bare-faced and glowing from the stage high.

the lights are warm. the mood is easy. a bowl of popcorn rests between crossed legs. dani’s thigh presses lightly against yours, like she doesn’t even realize it.

manon’s holding the phone. scrolling through comments. laughing. lara’s leaning into her side, chiming in with answers.

'who’s the messiest member?' “lara, 100%,” dani says immediately. lara shrugs like she can’t even deny it. “i contain multitudes.”

daniela leans into you a little more when she laughs, and you swear no one else notices the way her pinky curls around yours for just a second. it’s featherlight. subconscious. maybe. but it happens every time she’s near.

‘who’s the clingiest?’ manon reads. “oh, that’s you, dani.”

“shut up!” dani laughs, tossing a pillow at her. “i’m not clingy!”

"you literally follow her around like a puppy," lara says, tilting her chin toward you, her tone casual, like she’s talking about the weather.

daniela’s cheeks flush. rosy-pink. she glances at you, but doesn’t say anything. you try not to smile. try not to look too much like you want to press your mouth to her flushed skin.

and then, manon snorts, squinting at another comment. "wait, this one, ‘my favourite lesbians 🙏’"

you don’t even get the chance to smile. don’t get the chance to laugh it off or lean your head into dani’s shoulder like you want to.

daniela cuts in too fast. too sharp. “pause. pause, pause.”

she waves her hand, grinning like she’s playing around, like it’s lighthearted. "i’m straight."

silence.

it lands like a brick.

manon freezes mid-smile. lara’s shoulders stiffen. both of them glance between the two of you.

you can feel the blood drain from your face, but you don’t move. you blink too fast, like that’ll keep your eyes from shining. your throat dries up before you can even think of something to say.

daniela doesn’t look at you. not once.

she stays facing the camera, still wearing that half-smile like she didn’t just gut you with five small words. like she didn’t call your hands home last night.

you laugh, or something like it. a breath through your nose, short and fake. you don’t trust your voice. you don’t trust anything right now.

you shift just barely to the side. enough that your knees don’t touch anymore. you fold your hands in your lap so she can’t reach for them again.

you feel manon’s eyes on you. lara’s too.

they don’t say anything. but you can feel it, they know.

they all do.

but daniela keeps smiling for the camera like it never meant anything.

—

after the stream, you don’t speak. you get up first. slip away without a goodnight.

you go to your room and close the door. you press your forehead to it and breathe like you’re trying to hold the pieces of yourself together.

you don’t cry. you’re used to this. this game. this silence. this pretending it doesn’t hurt when she disappears the second someone’s watching.

twenty minutes later, there’s a knock.

soft. like she doesn’t want to be heard.

you open it just enough to see her standing there in her hoodie, sleeves covering her hands, eyes tired. guilty.

“you know i didn’t mean it like that,” she says quietly.

your heart clenches. “didn’t mean it, or didn’t mean to say it out loud?”

she flinches. your voice doesn’t even rise, but it hits like a slap.

“i panicked,” she whispers.

you stare at her. the girl who’s kissed you like you’re the only thing that makes her feel alive. the girl who touches your skin like she’s trying to stay on this earth. “you panicked and said that?”

her eyes drop to the floor. “i didn’t want it to become a thing. you know how people are.”

your voice sharpens. “yeah. i do.”

you pause and watch her. the hoodie sleeves. the hands fidgeting with the hem. the mouth that knows every inch of your neck, now too scared to even say your name.

she looks up finally. her eyes are soft. watery. she opens her mouth. closes it.

"you get me so high." her voice cracks. "no one else does that to me."

your heart stumbles. because you believe her.

you always believe her.

and maybe that’s the problem.

you close your eyes, grounding yourself. “you said you were straight.”

she breathes out slowly, like it hurts. “i have to be.”

you meet her eyes again. tired. aching. “no, you chose to be. right then. in front of everyone.”

the silence is louder than anything she could say.

you wait.

you wait for her to do something. reach out., pull you close, tell you she’s scared, but not enough to keep hurting you. tell you this means more.

but she doesn’t.

she never does.

and that’s what breaks you.

you shut the door. slow. soft. final.

you don’t cry. not yet. you just crawl into bed and stare up at the ceiling.

you try not to think about how many times she’s held you here. how many times she’s kissed your wrist and whispered things she never says with the lights on.

you try not to wonder if she’s still on the other side of the door, hands trembling, too afraid to love you where someone might see.

she gets you so high. but the fall,

the fall is always yours to survive alone.

a/n: ngl…i thought billie bossa nova or twenties would win…oh how i was wrong

[cinnamanz]

i fear im in my rio era??? im writing a manon fic rn and im at 11k words??! and im not done??? ive never written this much before for a fanfic...

AYEEEEEE IM HAPPY FOR U the hard thing for me ab it is tryna cut down on the words or it wldve turned into a whole book... the sophia fic was originally supposed to be 20k... GIVE US A BOOK‼️🙏

[edamameiyok]

i js got caught up on the ryummate chronicles and wow 😀

i was in shambles! devastated! my writing was at its best TRULY tho i cant lie…. 🤣

[coolwyous]

omd?? i just realized i WANST following u!? i really thought i was- ur katseye fics live on my home page 💔

ohhhhh hi new moot 😁😁😁 <333

[brnbeexx]

heyy, tysm for the tag!!!! 🫶🏻

@downbadace @lafortezasboy @soeyekonic

tag game i saw on pinterest!! just search up the words on pinterest to see how pinterest sees you :)

Here’s mine:

tagging: @sugarfaist @femme-lusts @cinnamongmm + anyone who wants to do it!

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. back to friends ⭑ D.A

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis after months of pretending nothing happened, dani overhears you talking about someone new, and suddenly, the silence between you isn’t so easy to ignore anymore.

disclaimer: daniela avanzini x fem!reader. pt2 of ‘you get me so high’. slight angst… i feel like it isn’t heavy but from what i learned from pt1, my perception might be a bit off 😣

currently playing: back to friends - sombr

the weeks after the livestream feel like walking through an old house you used to live in.

everything’s still there, her laugh, her hoodie draped over a chair, the late-night snacks she picks at in the green room. but now, there’s something missing.

the warmth that used to live in the silence between you. the comfort of her hand brushing yours when no one was looking. the secret you used to share like a song only you two could hear.

you still talk.

you still work together, still dance, still stand next to each other in interviews.

you still laugh when she says something stupid and roll your eyes when she steals the last fry. and every so often, she slips.

a look that lasts too long.

a text at 2:14 a.m.

a kiss behind a locked bathroom door in a hotel in korea.

you let her. every time, you let her. because you want to believe maybe this time will be different. that she’ll wake up and finally say it out loud.

choose you out loud.

but she never does.

instead, she pulls away before the sun comes up and says, “we should keep this between us,” like that’s love.

—

you start pulling back. not all at once, but in tiny pieces.

you answer her texts slower, you start sleeping with your door locked, you stop waiting for her to choose you.

and one day, you realize it’s not even anger anymore. it’s grief. grief for the version of her you thought might fight for you.

—

it’s been three months. enough time to fake some kind of peace.

you’re sitting on the floor of the dance studio with lara, scrolling through photos between run-throughs. she’s got her head on your shoulder, watching your screen.

you swipe past a blurry selfie, sunlight and someone else’s smile tucked into your neck.

“who’s that?” lara grins.

you hesitate for half a beat. “oh, uhm. her name’s mia,” you say finally. “we’ve been seeing each other a little.”

lara blinks. then smiles softly, genuine. “you look happy.”

you do. or maybe you're trying to be.

you don’t look up at her, but someone else hears.

across the studio, daniela freezes mid-step, she wasn’t supposed to be listening. she wasn’t supposed to care.

but she does.

“you’re seeing someone?”

you look up. your stomach sinks. dani’s standing there, arms crossed, trying too hard to sound casual.

lara stands, sensing the tension and quietly backing away.

you nod. “yeah.” dani doesn’t say anything, just stares.

“what’s her name again?” she asks, tone sharp. “mia.” “right.” she scoffs. “that was fast.”

your jaw tightens. “it’s been three months, dani.”

“so what, you’re just over it now?” you blink. a bitter laugh leaves your chest. “over what?” she doesn’t answer. “over you pretending i didn’t exist? or you only wanting me when no one else was watching?” daniela’s face hardens. “you know why it had to be that way.”

“no,” you say, louder now. “i don’t.”

she steps closer, arms falling to her sides. “i had to protect myself. my image. if i say something, if we confirm anything, it turns into a headline, a scandal. not a relationship.”

you shake your head, voice shaking. “you didn’t have to protect yourself. you just had to keep me hidden.” her eyes flash. “that’s not fair-” “you’re right, it’s not.” she swallows hard. “you think i don’t care about you?” you laugh, dry and tired. “you care about the version of me that lives in secret. you care about me in hotel rooms and locked bathrooms and 2 a.m. phone calls. but you don’t care about me when people are watching. you never have.”

“that’s not true.” “then why-” your voice breaks, and you try again, quieter. “why did you let me sit there on that livestream while you called yourself straight? while everyone watched and knew and you still couldn’t even look at me?”

she looks like she might cry. but you’re already past the place where that changes anything. “i was scared,” she says, barely above a whisper. “i didn’t know what would happen if i said it.”

“i know what happened when you didn’t.” your voice cracks. “i sat there like a ghost. like i didn’t matter. like i wasn’t the one you’d been crawling into bed with for months. like none of it was real.”

she’s shaking her head now. “it was real.”

“then why couldn’t you say it?”

“because i’m not you,” she snaps suddenly. “i don’t know how to be that brave.”

and that, that’s what does it. you go still.

you look her dead in the eyes and say, “i wasn’t brave, daniela. i was in love. there’s a difference.”

her breath catches. her lips part and she says nothing.

you stare at her for a long moment, and then, quietly, “i needed someone who wouldn’t hide me.”

you turn, walking away slowly, not out of drama but out of the weight of finally putting something down.

and her voice follows you, cracking in the silence. “is this really it?” you stop at the door.

“you made it ‘it’ the second you cared more about being seen as straight than being seen with me.”

and this time, you don’t wait for her to follow. you don’t want her to.

because loving someone isn’t supposed to feel like disappearing.

and you’re done being invisible.

a/n: uhhhh ty so much for all the support since i posted “miss possessive” and especially since i posted “you get me so high” i didn’t expect this much attention, i was just writing for funsies 😭😭😭 i will let this marinate a litttttle before posting the alternative pt2

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. same boat ⭑ M.S

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis while visiting her hometown, megan is reunited with you, the childhood crush she’s never truly gotten over. as her feelings grow stronger, fear makes her pull away, until a late-night breakdown leads to the confession she never thought she’d say out loud.

disclaimer : fluff 🙌. mutual pinning. megan skiendiel x childhood friend!fem!reader. slight angst (not really..just some overthinking). idk guys… megan js gives me lizzy mcalpine vibes 😣

currently playing same boat - lizzy mcalpine

megan hadn’t been back to honolulu in over a year, and everything felt too familiar and too foreign at once. the breeze still smelled like plumeria and salt. her old bedroom, still full of her childhood posters, felt smaller now. her mom still made spam musubi first thing in the morning, like megan hadn’t grown up and flown across the world.

but this time, she wasn’t alone.

katseye had landed in hawaii for a much-needed break. the girls were staying at a nearby beach resort, all sunburnt smiles and windblown hair, thrilled to finally meet megan’s infamous hometown. and all megan could think about was you.

you, the childhood friend she never got over. you, who she hadn’t seen since she left for los angeles . you, who were apparently also home visiting family.

and now, according to her mom, you were coming over. with your family. for dinner. tonight.

“megan’s gonna freak,” manon said, leaning over the kitchen counter. “you talk about her all the time. i thought she was a myth.”

“i don’t talk about her that much,” megan muttered, trying not to burn the tofu sizzling in the pan.

“megan,” yoonchae deadpanned. “you once wrote a whole verse in a demo about her eyes. we had to cut it because it was too obvious.”

the other girls laughed. megan blushed, hiding her face behind the cabinet door.

“she’s just…important, okay?” megan mumbled. “we grew up together.”

daniela tilted her head. “important like ‘first love’ important or…?”

megan didn’t answer. she didn’t have to. they already knew.

—

you showed up with that same shy smile megan remembered from when you were thirteen, all sun-drenched and soft-voiced. she hadn’t realized she’d missed your voice until she heard it again.

and the rest of katseye? instantly loved you.

“you’re the y/n?” lara asked, eyes wide. “the real y/n?”

you laughed. “depends on what megan’s told you.”

“she said you saved her from drowning once,” sophia chimed in. “but that she jumped in after a beach ball, so maybe it’s not as dramatic as it sounds?”

“she exaggerates,” you teased, nudging megan gently as you passed her a plate. “she was fine.”

the night blurred into stories, grilled fish, and ukulele strings echoing in the background. you sat beside megan on the porch steps, just like you used to when you were kids, watching the stars.

and she was overthinking again.

you looked older now, but still familiar. her heart squeezed when you laughed at something daniela said, when your eyes lingered on hers a little too long. did you know? could you tell?

maybe you were just being polite. maybe you didn’t feel the same. maybe megan had made it all up in her head…again.

—

the days after, you started hanging out with the group. going on hikes, lounging on the beach, late-night snacks at megan’s, karaoke that got too loud. you were a perfect fit. everyone saw it. everyone but megan.

because something was shifting inside her and she was scared.

the second or third time she caught herself staring at you for a little too long, she panicked. she was used to liking you, sure—but this? this was different. the feelings were louder now, older and sharper. you weren’t just a memory to hold onto, uou were right there, laughing in her passenger seat, falling asleep in her mom’s living room, humming along to her favorite songs.

she liked you. bad. and it was terrifying.

so she started pulling back.

by day four, you noticed.

at first, you thought maybe she was just tired. but then it kept happening. she stopped walking beside you on hikes. she avoided eye contact during group dinners. and when you texted her to hang out, her replies got shorter.

“rain check,” she said one evening.

that was it. no smiley face. no promise of tomorrow.

you stared at your phone for a long time, fingers tightening.

had you said something wrong? crossed a line?

that night, you stayed late at megan’s house while everyone else was watching a movie in the back. you wandered into her room, fingers tracing the books on her shelf, the polaroid pictures still hanging above her mirror. then you saw her in the hallway, eyes locking with yours. you smiled. she froze.

then she turned and walked away.

megan ran.

she didn’t mean to. she just… couldn’t be there anymore. the air in the house felt too thick. she couldn’t look at you and pretend she was okay. so she left. quietly, slipping out the back door, sandals in hand, feet hitting the sand without thinking.

the beach was nearly empty, moonlight casting silver shadows across the tide. megan sat down, knees to chest, trying to calm the pounding in her head.

why couldn’t she just be normal about this? why couldn’t she just tell you?

because she was scared. scared that if she confessed and you didn’t feel the same, she’d lose you completely. scared that maybe you were just being nice, and this was all one-sided. scared that her feelings would ruin everything.

“megan?”

she whipped her head around.

you were standing there, barefoot, breathless, your hair falling over your shoulders. you walked toward her slowly, eyes wide and hurt and confused.

“did i… do something wrong?”

megan’s mouth opened, then shut.

you sat beside her, arms crossed tightly over your chest, voice smaller this time. “you’ve been avoiding me.”

“i know,” megan whispered.

you blinked, waiting.

megan looked down at her hands, digging into the sand. “i didn’t mean to. i just… i got overwhelmed.”

“with what?”

“with you,” she snapped, then instantly looked away. “i mean—god. just—everything.”

you didn’t say anything. so she kept going. words spilling too fast, too raw.

“i thought i was okay. i thought i could just be around you and pretend it’s nothing. that it’s just nostalgia or whatever, but it’s not. it’s not. i like you, y/n. i like you and it’s driving me crazy and i didn’t want to ruin anything so i just started acting weird and now i’m ruining it anyway and i hate that i can’t just be normal about this but you’re just—god, you’re you and—”

“megan.”

she stopped.

you leaned in. quiet. sure.

“i like you too.”

megan blinked, stunned. “you- you do?”

“i thought i was being too obvious,” you admitted, smiling faintly. “but you were too busy spiraling.”

megan laughed, hands shaking, face flushed with relief and disbelief. “so i didn’t screw everything up?”

“not yet,” you teased. “but you came close.”

you both laughed then, softly. and when megan looked at you, really looked at you, moonlight in your hair and the ocean whispering behind you, she felt steady for the first time in days.

“i don’t want to lose you,” she said quietly.

“you won’t,” you promised. “you never did.”

so she kissed you. right there on the sand. the kind of kiss that felt like home, like healing, like something that had been waiting for years.

and for the first time since coming back to honolulu, megan wasn’t overthinking.

she was just... finally living it.

—

megan woke up with sand in her hair and sunlight warming her face. the sound of waves still lingered in the background, but softer now, gentler. you were curled up beside her, head resting on her shoulder, arms wrapped around your knees, both of you still in last night’s clothes.

she didn’t want to move.

everything from the night before felt surreal. your voice asking “did i do something wrong?”, the way her panic had spilled out of her, and your calm answer: “i like you too.”

her heart had been on fire, and then you’d touched her hand, and suddenly, she could breathe.

now, with the ocean stretching out in front of you and your fingers loosely laced with hers, she felt it fully. the quiet kind of happy. the kind that settled in your chest and didn’t ask questions.

“hey,” you whispered.

she turned her head. “hi.”

you smiled, lazy and sweet. “we slept on the beach.”

“i know.”

“my back hurts.”

“mine too.”

but neither of you moved.

later that morning, when megan walked into the kitchen of the beach house, barefoot and still sandy, the girls were already awake, half-dressed for a beach day, eating fruit straight out of the fridge. daniela was wearing megan’s hoodie. lara was using a butter knife to aggressively cut a mango.

manon was the first to notice. “she returns,” she said dramatically, bowing. “where have you been, miss skiendiel?”

“yeah,” sophia added, squinting. “we thought you got swept away by the tide or something.”

yoonchae narrowed her eyes. “you didn’t come back last night.”

megan blinked. “i—i was at the beach.”

“with who?” lara asked, tilting her head. then a beat passed. “wait. with who.”

megan looked down, cheeks flushing.

and then the room exploded.

“no. no way,” daniela shrieked, dropping a slice of pineapple. “you kissed her?”

megan tried to say something, but sophia clutched her arm and gasped. “she kissed her. she’s not denying it!”

lara screamed into a towel.

yoonchae smiled softly. “finally.”

megan hid her face in her hands as the girls circled her like sharks who smelled blood, but the good kind. the best kind.

“we’ve been rooting for this for months,” manon said. “honestly, i’m relieved. i was tired of being subtle.”

“you weren’t subtle,” megan muttered.

“details,” she waved off.

then, through the noise, you stepped into the kitchen holding two iced coffees, one for you, one for megan.

everyone went quiet.

“oh,” you said, glancing around. “did i… walk into something?”

megan walked over, took the coffee from your hand, and, before she could think too hard, kissed your cheek.

“nope,” she said softly. “perfect timing.”

the girls screamed again. megan laughed into her drink. and for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t running from anything.

she had everything she needed, right here.

a/n: guys i love this song so much. like u don’t understand

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. billie bossa nova ⭑ D.A

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis you're not supposed to fall for someone who never stays, but daniela keeps making it feel like maybe she might.

disclaimer: daniela avanzini x fem! reader, suggestive…a little, u and dani are hook up buddies…yay 🤗, a little fluff

currently playing: billie bossa nova - billie eilish

you knew what it meant when your phone buzzed past midnight.

no greeting. no explanation. just a dropped pin, a suite number, and a time.

it’s always like this with daniela. clean, wordless, purposeful. she never says she misses you. she never admits she’s been thinking of you for days while doing press junkets or rehearsals across the country. but that’s what this is, isn’t it? a confession in coordinates. an invitation written in silence. a soft command.

tonight’s hotel is even nicer than the last. sleek, modern, draped in white and gold like it’s pretending not to be indulgent. you pass through the lobby like a shadow, neither acknowledged nor stopped. your name is already on the guest list. a courtesy, no doubt arranged hours earlier by her manager, her assistant—someone who doesn’t ask questions. someone who thinks you’re a stylist, or a friend.

when the elevator doors close, you take a breath.

because it’s not just lust that makes your hands tremble. it’s the quiet thrill of being chosen again. it’s how every time she calls, she’s not supposed to, and you’re not supposed to answer.

but you do. you always do.

the hallway is quiet. suite 2006. you knock once, she opens immediately. and just like that, the world narrows.

daniela’s in silk. pale champagne-coloured, thin straps slipping down her shoulders like a secret she’s already halfway ready to tell. her hair’s up, loose curls framing her cheekbones, and there’s a glass of red wine in her hand that she abandons on the console the moment you step inside.

she closes the door behind you and leans in close, her voice brushing your skin before her lips do.

“took you long enough,” she says softly, but her mouth is smiling against your jaw. “i was starting to think you’d forgotten how to follow instructions.”

“not a chance,” you murmur.

there’s no rush. there never is. daniela is precise. she takes her time. with her, foreplay is an art form, the way her fingers brush your back as she walks by, the way her perfume lingers when she passes you the wineglass, the way she looks at you over the rim of her drink like she’s memorizing your shape.

you talk for a little while. or, rather, you flirt through half-sentences and inside jokes no one else knows exist. you sit near each other on the couch, your knees grazing hers, and her hand resting on your thigh like it was always meant to be there. outside, the city stretches out beneath the balcony, glowing and oblivious.

she touches your cheek. “you look good.” “so do you.”

“i’m serious,” she says, eyes soft now. “you look like trouble.”

“and you look like someone who likes it.” daniela hums in approval and leans in.

the kiss starts slow. careful. like she wants to savor it. but it deepens fast, as it always does, all need and urgency, as if she’s trying to drink you in. her hands find your waist, your neck, your back, pulling you onto her lap, her body a magnetic force you’ve never been able to resist.

the wine is forgotten. the city noise fades. all that’s left is her. her hands, her lips, her sighs in your ear when you whisper her name like it’s holy.

you make it to the bed, eventually. clothes scattered like petals. sheets tangled. her breath catching when you laugh against her throat. she holds you like she can’t help it.

and maybe she can’t.

her fingers trail along your jawline, down your neck, teasing every sensitive spot she knows will make you shiver. her lips brush your earlobe, and she whispers, “i want you, all of you.”

you shiver at her words, heat pooling low in your belly as she presses soft kisses along your collarbone and chest, every touch setting fire to your skin.

her hands roam under your shirt, palms warm and sure, while her mouth traces slow circles on your sternum. you arch into her, needing more, craving her touch like air.

she grins against your skin, biting lightly as she trails downward, hands slipping beneath your waistband with expert ease. your breath hitches, fingers tangling in her hair as she takes her time, savouring every inch, every gasp, every whispered plea.

you pull her up for a fierce kiss, tongues dancing, teeth grazing, both of you melting together in a rhythm only you two understand.

-

you wake to the weight of her body curled against yours, her breath warm and steady on your neck. you reach back, fingers brushing the soft curls that spill over her shoulder.

“stay,” you whisper.

her lips twitch into a smile. “i wish i could.”

you turn to face her, tracing her cheek with your thumb, memorizing the curve of her mouth, the softness in her eyes that she rarely shows anyone else.

she catches your hand, holding it to her chest where you can feel her rapid heartbeat.

you could stay like this forever. but you won’t.

her arm tightens around your waist. “you leave early, right?”

“before housekeeping. like always.”

a pause.

“i hate that,” she says, almost too quietly.

you don’t answer. because what would you even say?

this is the arrangement. unnamed, unclaimed, but undeniably real in the dark. you both agreed, no expectations. but lately, the lines blur. the silences hold weight. the kisses last too long. she watches you like she doesn’t want you to disappear. and you feel it, deep in your chest, every time she lets go first.

she turns to you, her brow furrowed like she’s thinking too much again.

“do you ever think about what this would be like if…” she trails off.

“if?” you echo.

“if i weren’t…me. if you weren’t just…in hotel rooms.”

you don’t answer right away. instead, you reach for her hand, lacing your fingers through hers.

“i think about it more than i should,” you admit.

she nods, staring down at your hands like they’re dangerous.

“me too.”

“tell me you want more than this,” you say, voice barely audible.

she sighs, a mix of frustration and longing. “i want everything. but i’m too afraid to ask for it.”

you lean in, kissing her gently, promising with your lips what words can’t yet say.

“it’s not real, but i’ll try to pretend…”

the sun starts to rise. the light creeps in slowly, wrapping everything in amber. you sit up, pulling the sheets around your chest, looking out toward the city. daniela moves behind you, her hand resting on your back.

“i have a flight at eleven,” she says. “i know.”

“i’ll text you.”

“you always do.”

you dress slowly. she watches. you don’t say goodbye when you leave. she never walks you out. but you both linger in the doorway a second too long.

and as you step back into the elevator, heart heavy but still glowing, your phone buzzes.

a message, already. no words. just a pin. a city you’ve never been to, you smile.

because she doesn’t belong to you.

but somehow, she still keeps calling you home.

a/n: another dani fic act surprised 😱 it was only right to post this today for her birthday

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. call it the end ⭑ D.A

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis it’s been months since the livestream that altered your relationship with daniela and the members take matters into their own hands to rekindle your guys’ relationship.

disclaimer: pt3 of “you get me so high” (fluff version), slight angst, fluff, here’s pt2 - angst version see…sorta inspired by parent trap but i actually cannot remember that movie for the life of me so it might actually not be…inspired by parent trap 😭😭😭

currently playing: call it the end - rosé

the fallout isn’t loud.

you don’t scream. you don’t block her. you just stop giving her pieces of yourself.

you stop waiting for her texts. you start sitting farther away in rehearsals. you leave before she can find you backstage.

you stop looking at her like you’re still hoping she’ll choose you.

and she notices.

it’s in the way her voice wavers during vocal runs when you don’t meet her eyes. in the way she stays behind after practices, watching you walk out of the room without turning back. in the way her laugh rings hollow now, like she’s trying to convince herself she’s still happy.

the others notice too.

manon sees it first. she’s always watching.

lara sees it in your posture.

sophia’s the one who says it out loud, during a late-night takeout run when the three of them are waiting for their orders.

“okay,” she says, staring at the pickup counter. “is it just me or do they both look, like, dead inside?”

“it’s not just you,” lara sighs. “i heard crying in the bathroom after rehearsal two days ago. don’t know which one it was, but...”

manon peels the wrapper off her straw. “it’s both of them. they’re just miserable in shifts.”

“you’d think after all this time they’d get over themselves and talk,” sophia mutters.

“they’re not gonna,” manon says. “not unless we do something.”

lara raises an eyebrow. “like what?”

manon shrugs. “i dunno. trap them in a room until they work their shit out?”

sophia looks way too into the idea. “no wait…seriously. like... do it old-school. lock the door. no one leaves until someone cries.”

manon glances at lara, who’s already nodding. “they’re useless. it’s time.”

—

they do it after practice.

manon times it perfectly. she pulls dani aside and says, “hey, can you grab my jacket in the second vocal room?” sophia asks you to check for her phone charger in the same place. lara pretends she forgot her speaker.

you both walk in, separately, at almost the same moment.

you freeze when you see her.

she freezes when she sees you.

then the door slams shut behind you. click.

locked.

you whip around. “what the-?”

manon’s voice is heard from the other side. “you’re welcome!” “we’ll be back in an hour!” you hear sophia yell out, followed by lara. “don’t kill each other!”

then silence.

daniela is sitting on the edge of the platform riser. she looks like she hasn’t slept in a week. you stand by the wall, arms crossed, heart pounding in your ears.

at first, neither of you say anything. the air is thick. full of unsaid things. heavy with the weight of everything that never got to be love.

finally, daniela breaks the silence. her voice is small, careful.

“why have you been ignoring me?”

you laugh, but it’s cold. “you can’t be serious.”

she winces. “i mean- i know you’ve been mad. but… not like this.”

you look at her slowly, exhaustion pooling in your chest.

“you said you were straight,” you say. “on a livestream. with me right next to you. and you acted like what we had, like i, didn’t mean anything.”

daniela opens her mouth, but you hold up your hand.

“you don’t get it,” you continue, voice trembling. “i gave you everything. i let you into parts of me i’ve never let anyone near. and you didn’t even hesitate to shut it all down.”

tears prick at your eyes, and you hate how easy it is for them to fall now.

“you laughed. you laughed and said you were straight like i was just another joke to you. like i wasn’t someone you were crawling into bed with every night.”

daniela flinches. she’s crying now too.

“i wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“well you did,” you say, voice breaking. “and you never apologized. you just left me to figure it out alone. i was humiliated, dani. i didn’t want to be your secret. i wanted to be your person.”

daniela stands up. steps closer. desperate now.

“you are my person,” she says. “i just, i didn’t know how to say it. i was scared. everything in me was screaming to say something but i panicked. and then when you stopped talking to me i thought maybe you were just... done.”

you wipe your face. “i was trying to protect myself. because loving you hurt. because you made me feel like i was something to be ashamed of.”

her voice cracks. “you’re not. you never were.”

“then why didn’t you fight for me?”

“i didn’t know how,” she says. “but i want to now.” you hesitate. it’s still raw. still so broken in places.

“you really think it’s that simple?” you whisper. “that you can just show up now and everything will be okay?”

daniela drops to her knees in front of you. her hands shake as she reaches for yours but doesn’t touch, just hovers.

“i love you,” she says. “i love you so much it makes everything else feel smaller. and i want to try again. out loud. publicly. with you. if you’ll let me. if you can still let me in.”

you look at her. really look.

she’s not hiding anymore. not even a little.

and finally, finally, she whispers, “we don’t have to call it the end.”

your walls don’t fall in one go. but you let her take your hand. and you let yourself hope.

—

the next few days feel different. lighter. real.

you don’t talk about it with the others, but they know. you walk a little closer to each other again. daniela doesn’t reach for your hand in secret anymore.

you laugh at her again. you let her touch you in front of people. you even let her kiss your cheek backstage, once, when she thought no one was looking, but manon definitely was, and she winked like a menace.

you don’t say the word “together” out loud. but it lives in the space between your smiles.

a couple days later, you’re doing a chill livestream with daniela, manon, and lara, promoting gnarly, answering questions, teasing each other.

it feels like it used to. better, even.

daniela reaches across you to grab a hair clip from the table, and says without thinking, “love, can you pass me that notebook?”

you go still.

manon and lara freeze too. wide-eyed.

daniela doesn’t even blink. she’s completely casual. like she didn’t just drop the word love in front of tens of thousands of fans.

you glance at her, stunned, then you smile. huge. real. “of course, my love.”

and you hand her the notebook without breaking eye contact.

manon immediately makes a fake gagging noise. lara dramatically falls back onto the couch, muttering “i’m gonna be sick.”

daniela just grins. you laugh.

and this time, no one hides. no one runs.

maybe this is what it means to start again. not from scratch,

but from something earned.

a/n: idk which version i like better 😣 anywhooo this concludes ‘you get me so high’ thank you to everyone who was, for some reason, interested in this also idk why..but when i was writing this, i started thinking abt parent trap. i haven’t watched that movie in YEARS so i went by memory 😭😭😭

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. miss possessive ⭑ S.L

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis jealousy isn’t her style. sophia just reminds you, with a look and a kiss, exactly who you belong to.

disclaimers: sophia laforteza x fem!reader. fluff…? slightlyyyyy suggestive 🤘 there’s definitely some tension here guys 😣 (not proofread) idk what else…possessive sophia 🙂‍↕️

currently playing miss possessive - tate mcrae

the room hums with music, laughter, and the low buzz of too many conversations blending together. you don’t even know why you’re here, at some afterparty following an event you only half-listened to, your head already elsewhere the second sophia laced her fingers with yours on the way in.

you had every intention of sticking by her side the whole night. you always do. but somehow, you ended up at the bar alone while she got pulled into some conversation with industry people.

and that’s when she appeared.

the girl was pretty enough. big smile, glittering eyes, dressed like she wanted attention. and unfortunately, she picked you for hers. she leaned in close, voice loud over the bass-heavy song vibrating through the walls, hand brushing your arm like you were already familiar.

you laughed politely, shifted slightly, but you didn’t step away. not because you were interested, never, but because you knew who was watching.

you felt sophia’s eyes before you even saw her.

across the room, standing near the corner, drink still full in her hand, sophia’s gaze was locked on you. on her. on the way the girl’s hand grazed your waist a little too comfortably. her expression wasn’t angry. sophia never explodes, not like that, but there was a sharpness under her calm exterior, something dangerous glittering behind her eyes.

possessive.

like she was ready to snap her fingers and have the world rearrange itself.

you let the girl finish whatever dumb story she was telling, nodding, laughing politely again, but your attention wasn’t on her. your whole body was hyperaware of sophia’s stare, like a string was tied between you, pulling tighter with every second.

finally, you excused yourself, lips curling in an easy smile, walking away like it didn’t take every ounce of self-control not to turn around and smirk.

you didn’t need to look to know.

sophia followed.

the hallway outside is quieter, darker, and the door barely clicks shut behind you before you hear her voice.

“was she funny?”

you turn to face her. she’s already close. always so fast when she wants to be. the moment you meet her eyes, your stomach flips. there’s something electric about her in these moments, when the sweetness fades just enough to let the edge of her possessiveness show.

“what?” you ask, playing dumb.

sophia tilts her head slightly, smirk creeping across her face. “that girl. the one who couldn’t keep her hands off you. was she funny? cuter than me? smarter? more your type?”

her words drip with sugar and venom both, her voice low enough that it vibrates in your chest. she steps closer, boxing you in against the wall without even touching you yet, like she knows you won’t move away. like she knows you never do.

you bite your lip, fighting the grin that threatens to spill out. “are you jealous?”

her gaze darkens, narrowing just slightly. “no.”

“i just like what’s mine to act like it.”

and god, you loved when she said that. you love how it makes you feel. wanted, claimed, owned in the softest, sweetest way that still sends heat down your spine.

you reach up, fingers curling into the collar of her jacket, tugging her in like you can’t help yourself. “you’re crazy.”

she smiles wider, that dangerous kind of smile that always gets her exactly what she wants. “i know. that’s the part you like, isn’t it?”

—

back at your apartment, she’s worse. and you love every second.

she touches everything like she’s reminding the space who you belong to. her fingertips trail along your dresser, your vanity, the corner of your bed. she picks up one of your necklaces and drapes it around your throat herself, lips ghosting over your neck as she fastens the clasp.

“you looked good tonight,” she murmurs against your skin, voice like silk. “even with people staring. even with that girl thinking she had a chance.”

you shiver, breath hitching as her hands slide down your sides, pulling you flush against her. she’s wearing that signature pink lipgloss. the one you know she reapplied on purpose in the car ride over, like she was preparing for this.

“did you think i’d get mad?” she asks softly, lips brushing your ear. “did you want me to get mad?”

you don’t answer. you don’t need to. the way you melt into her grip tells her everything.

her hands find your waist, then your hips, fingers curling like she owns every inch. “i don’t share, baby. not your time, not your smile. definitely not your mouth.”

“you sound like a brat,” you tease, breathless now, even as you lean further into her, daring her to close the distance. “you know that?”

sophia laughs quietly, leaning in, her lips grazing yours, but not connecting them yet. “i sound like someone who knows what she wants.”

“and what is it you want, laforteza?”

finally, she kisses you. full and hungry. her possessiveness bleeding through every touch. it’s not desperate, it’s controlled, calculated, but you can feel the need behind it. you always can. she pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips,

“you, baby. always you.”

you feel your back hit the edge of the bed as she walks you backwards, never breaking eye contact. her hands never leave your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush, heat radiating between you.

she dips her head again, lips brushing just under your jaw. “say it.”

your pulse races under her touch. “yours.”

she smiles against your skin, breath warm against your ear as her grip tightens slightly, not rough, but firm enough to send that familiar shiver down your spine.

“mine,” she echoes softly. “and don’t forget it.”

her hands slide up your arms, fingertips grazing your shoulders, drawing goosebumps across your skin. the tension hangs thick in the room. electric, intimate, and heavy with all the words unspoken between you.

sophia finally leans in again, voice low, velvet smooth. “you like how i get, don’t you?”

you nod, barely breathing. “i do.”

her lips ghost yours again, so close it’s dizzying, but she doesn’t press in fully. she makes you feel every millimeter of space she controls, savoring the power of it.

and when she finally does kiss you again, it’s slow, deep, and utterly consuming. not rushed, not frantic, just hers.

and you let her take her time. because you’re hers.

a/n: i love tate mcrae… that’s all 🤷‍♀️

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. bad for business ⭑ M.S

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis you and megan are forced to distance yourselves when your closeness threatens the group's image, but despite knowing what’s best, neither of you can fully let go.

warnings: bittersweet angst 😝 idol!megan x 7th member!fem!reader. this one felt shorter than uge... don’t know the word count tho... 😀

currently playing: bad for business - sabrina carpenter

the first time it became a real problem, you and megan had been sitting too close in a recent interview, waiting for the questions to start. it wasn’t anything unusual. your knees brushing, her pinky teasing the side of your hand on the couch, but the tension was enough to pull every camera in your direction.

sophia was the first to notice. “they’re filming.”

you didn’t even have to look up to know she was right. lara cleared her throat, and daniela let out a quiet laugh, nudging megan’s shoulder like she was trying to break whatever spell she was under.

it was yoonchae who finally snapped, whispered, “can you guys stop? seriously, it’s getting obvious.”

you flinched at that, straightening up, but megan only smirked. “is it?”

yes. yes, it was.

the problem wasn’t that you and megan were together—because technically, you weren’t. it was the way you hovered around each other like two planets caught in each other’s orbit, the way your eyes always found hers first in a crowded room, the way she pulled you closer when no one was watching and smirked at you like she knew she was being reckless.

—

the first official warning came in the form of a meeting.

“do you know how this looks?”

the manager’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tense silence of the practice room.

you sat next to megan, hands gripping your thighs as the words sank in.

“we’ve seen the compilations, the edits, the way fans are picking up on it,” he continued. “we know you’re close, but you can’t be this obvious. it’s not good for the group.”

it wasn’t a warning. it was a demand.

you stole a glance at megan, but she was unreadable, her lips pressed into a thin line. she didn’t speak up, didn’t argue, didn’t fight.

just nodded.

and something in you cracked.

—

the distance started slowly.

megan stopped reaching for you first. you stopped holding her gaze for too long.

she started sitting next to lara instead of you in the van. you laughed at sophia’s jokes instead of megan’s.

it was subtle, but the tension between you was different now. forced, restrained, carefully measured in every interaction.

and it was awful.

but it wasn’t just the distance. it was the silence in the little moments you used to share: the gentle brush of your fingers as you passed her a drink, the way she would pull you into her side when it was cold, the soft, teasing smirk she used to flash when she was up to something. now, there was nothing but space, a painful reminder of what you couldn’t have.

you thought back to the nights where you would sit close together, her shoulder leaning into yours, as the two of you shared stories and laughter that felt like only the two of you existed in that moment. you remembered how you used to tease each other for no reason at all, her playful glint in her eyes making your heart race, her laugh the kind of sound that made everything else fade away.

in those moments, you felt something more than just friendship, and it was beautiful. it felt right. but now, there was only this painful distance, and it hurt more than you could put into words.

during rehearsals, you could feel megan’s eyes on you, but the second you turned to meet them, she looked away. at events, she answered interview questions with a smile, but her voice lacked the warmth she used to have when she teased you.

it was self-preservation, you told yourself.

it was what was best for the group.

it was what was best for you.

so why did it feel like you were breaking?

—

the dorm was quiet that night.

the members had gone to bed, exhaustion settling in after a long day of schedules, but you couldn’t sleep. instead, you found yourself in the kitchen, gripping a glass of water like it might stop your hands from shaking.

you didn’t expect megan to walk in.

she hesitated in the doorway when she saw you, her eyes flickering with something unspoken. you thought she might turn around and leave, but after a beat, she stepped inside, wordlessly opening the fridge.

the silence stretched. then, softly,

“you okay?”

you exhaled. “are you?”

she huffed out something that wasn’t quite a laugh, shaking her head. “no.”

the quiet between you was suffocating.

“i hate this,” you admitted. her jaw clenched. “me too.” your fingers curled against the cool surface of the counter. “then why are we doing this?”

megan didn’t answer right away. instead, she placed a carton of juice back in the fridge, shutting the door a little too hard. “because we have to.”

your throat tightened.

because she was right.

because this wasn’t just about you.

because there were cameras and contracts and expectations, and no matter how much megan made your heart feel like it was on fire, you weren’t just two people in love, you were idols.

and idols didn’t get to be reckless.

megan turned to face you fully then, her expression unreadable. she looked tired, like she had spent the past few weeks feeling just as hollow as you had.

“we can’t keep doing this,” you whispered. she nodded, swallowing thickly. “i know.”

and maybe this was the part where you were supposed to walk away. maybe this was the part where you let go, where you buried whatever this was for the sake of everything you had worked for.

but neither of you moved.

because even if you knew what the right choice was, you weren’t ready to make it.

and maybe you never would be.

a/n: hey yall… it’s been a while 😃

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. forget her ⭑ M.B

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis you let go of manon thinking forgetting her would mean healing, but love doesn’t vanish with memory, it lingers in the gaps, in the ache you can’t name, in the places your mind avoids but your heart won’t.

disclaimer : manon bannerman x fem!reader. i recently watched esotsm for the first time and it has yet to leave my brain and i kinda wanted to make a fic based off the movie. angst…ofc. esotsm spoilers…kind of- just the basis stuff (memory erasing...lol) idk chat..they were just toxic

currently playing: forget her - jeff buckley

you met her on a tuesday.

not that tuesdays are particularly magical or memorable, but this one stuck. it was cold and rainy, and you were in line at a hole-in-the-wall bookstore-slash-café, the kind that smelled like old paper and espresso beans. you were tired, burnt out from work, and had just finished your conversation, ranting to your friends about how you were probably going to die alone watching netflix while your dirty pile of laundry stares at you untouched. but then you saw her again.

she was standing in front of you, hair a beautiful shade of brown, wet curls sticking to the sides of her face. she was humming to herself, something you vaguely recognized from a french indie playlist, and tapping the heel of one foot like she was too big for the space her body occupied. her coat looked thrifted and covered in enamel pins. she smelled like strawberries and something artificial, maybe candy.

when she turned around, it was because you sneezed. violently.

she blinked at you. "bless you."

you offered a half-smile. "thanks. sorry."

she tilted her head. "don't apologize for being allergic to the universe. it's not your fault."

you blinked. and maybe that was the first moment she had you.

she stepped aside in line. "order with me. i can't decide if i want coffee or tea and i need someone to force a decision."

you hesitated.

she looked you dead in the eye. "c'mon. it's just caffeine, not marriage."

so you ordered with her. she got an espresso and jasmine tea. you went with black coffee, no room for cream. she winced dramatically when you said that. "you're definitely a taurus or something," she said.

you weren't, but you didn't correct her.

the place was crowded, so she said, "let's share a table. if you try to murder me, i will throw this scalding tea in your face and scream. deal?"

you laughed before you could stop yourself. "deal."

you don't remember most of what you talked about, not in detail. you remember the rhythm of it. how fast she spoke. how fast she made you forget to be guarded. how she asked you questions with her whole body, like everything you said was the most interesting thing she'd ever heard.

her name was manon. "like 'manon of the spring,' but more annoying," she said, sipping her tea. "i do art. and other things. i get bored easily."

you told her you worked in design. you didn't tell her how lonely it felt. how most days you went to bed feeling like you'd sleepwalked through your own life.

she leaned forward and said, "you feel sad. not like... right now, but like, in general. you carry it around."

you blinked. "you always this blunt?"

she smiled, unbothered. "yeah. sorry. it scares people sometimes. but i'm not trying to scare you."

you weren't scared. you didn't leave. you didn't want to.

she wrote her number on a napkin with a heart beside it.

you texted her that night.

the beginning was chaos and thrill. manon didn't just walk into your life, she burst in, electric and too bright, like a song turned up too loud. she was spontaneous and unpredictable. she'd show up at your place at 11pm with a bottle of sake and a stolen traffic cone. she'd disappear for three days and then come back with three new tattoos and a story about a drag show in queens.

you never knew what to expect with her. but for a while, that was the whole point.

she made you feel alive. she made you feel like something was happening.

you first kissed in the middle of an empty street at 2am, both of you half-drunk and laughing, the snow falling around your shoulders. she told you she was a terrible girlfriend. "just a warning," she said. "i'm messy. and loud. and i change my hair every two weeks. and sometimes i say things i don't mean."

you said, "i don't care."

you meant it.

but love wasn't enough.

not when she came home exhausted and refused to talk. not when you sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for her to say something, and all she did was sigh and bury herself under the covers like you didn't exist.

not when she accused you of not listening, of holding things in, of being cold. "you never let me in," she said once, curled up on the couch, eyes rimmed with red. "it's like you've already decided i'll leave, so you're trying to get ahead of it."

you didn't answer.

"say something," she begged.

and you said, quietly, "i don't know how to love you the way you want me to."

she stood up, shoved on her boots, and left. no jacket. just fury and heartbreak, storming into the street like the night could swallow her whole.

she came back hours later, drenched and shivering, cheeks raw from the wind. you helped her out of her soaked clothes. she let you. she let you wrap her in blankets and press kisses into her hair while she cried silently into your chest.

other times, it was louder.

like the time she found your old journal. read the part where you questioned everything. whether you were happy, whether you were safe with her, whether you'd made a mistake letting her in.

"you don't trust me," she said, standing in the doorway, journal clutched in her hands. "you've never trusted me."

you tried to explain. "that was months ago. i was scared—"

"you still are."

she threw the journal on the ground like it burned her. "why do you even keep it if you're not going to tell me these things to my face?"

"i don't say everything out loud. that doesn't mean i don't feel it."

"that's the problem! you never say anything until i'm already drowning in it."

the fight lasted hours. you cried. she cried. you screamed. she left again, always leaving, like pain was a revolving door she had to walk through to make sense of things.

but then came the soft moments, too.

she'd come home with groceries and cook your favorite meal. "you need to eat something that doesn't come in a box," she'd say, handing you a bowl, eyes tired but gentle. you'd sit together on the floor, eating in silence, knees touching.

or the time she stayed up with you until 4am, talking you through an anxiety spiral. you couldn't breathe. she got in the shower with you fully clothed, let the hot water run over both of you. "you're okay," she whispered, over and over. "i've got you."

and maybe that was the worst part, the way you kept surviving the breaking.

it always ended in some fragile apology, some middle-of-the-night confession under shared blankets. "i'm trying," she'd whisper.

"i know," you'd say. "me too."

you'd kiss her then, slow and exhausted, both of you already knowing it wouldn't last. but the softness made you stay anyway.

there was always another fight. another snap. another silence that lasted too long.

like the one over her friend you never liked. someone who texted her at 2am and sent hearts too often. you didn't accuse her of cheating. you didn't have to.

"you don't trust me," she said again.

"because you keep putting me second."

"i can't make the world disappear just to make you feel secure."

you told her to sleep somewhere else that night. she didn't. she curled up on the floor, crying quietly, refusing the bed. you watched her from the doorway, arms crossed, and hated how much it hurt to see her hurt.

she moved back to the bed eventually. you held her while she shook.

"i'm sorry i don't know how to be softer," she said, voice cracking.

"i'm sorry i make you feel like you have to be," you whispered back.

but the apologies were wearing thin.

you accused her of turning everything into a game, of never taking anything seriously, of loving the version of you that smiled more than the version that shut down. she told you she couldn't read your mind, that she wasn't a mind-reader, a therapist, a punching bag.

you told her she made everything too loud. too sharp. that she didn't know how to sit still with things, how to let silence be a comfort instead of a weapon.

"i don't think you actually like who i am," she said once, during a fight that started over dishes and ended in catastrophe.

"that's not fair."

"you want me to be simpler. quieter. someone you can manage. that's not me."

"you want drama," you snapped. "you create it. you can't go five minutes without chaos."

she flinched like you hit her. "at least i am able to feel things."

that night, she didn't sleep in your bed.

you laid there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of her breathing on the couch. the distance between you felt endless.

a week later, she left.

no dramatic speech. no closure. just a note on the counter in her handwriting:

‘i think we broke each other. maybe that's all we were ever going to do.’

you wanted to scream. you wanted to chase her. say you could fix it, again.

instead, you sat on the floor of your apartment for hours, holding a hoodie she left behind, breathing her in like oxygen.

you didn't see her for two weeks after she left.

there were no texts. no calls. no breadcrumb trail. just silence. thick, total, deliberate.

it was almost worse than a fight.

you went through the motions of life like someone underwater. work, home, sleep, cry. you deleted the photos. then re-downloaded them from the cloud. you opened her favourite book to find the underlines she made in the margins. you told yourself you were fine.

then the envelope came.

plain. unmarked. just your name on the front in stark block letters, no return address. you slit it open with a key, half expecting it to be a letter from her.

but it wasn't a letter. it was a form. a cover sheet. clinical. cold.

lacuna, inc.

our clients thank you for respecting their right to privacy, comfort, and mental wellness. the following individual has undergone a memory erasure procedure and has specifically requested that you do not contact them or attempt to rekindle any prior relationship:

manon bannerman.

you read her name twice before it fully landed.

there was a line below it. your name, typed in sharp black font.

you flipped through the rest of the packet, hands trembling. it was a list of instructions, like you were contagious, don't approach, don't call, don't attempt to remind them. for the sake of her emotional well-being, you were to pretend she never knew you. like you never happened.

the paper crumpled in your grip. your ears rang. you felt sick.

she erased you.

not blocked. not ghosted. not pushed away in the heat of an argument. she deleted you from her brain. like it would make things easier.

you called the number on the bottom of the page.

you don't even remember what you said. something about an appointment. something about making the pain stop.

—

you went in on a tuesday.

the office looked like a dentist's waiting room. pleasant. generic. you sat in a stiff chair beneath a framed painting of a meadow. the girl at the front desk offered you tea. she wore blue glasses and smiled like she wasn't telling people how to forget each other all day long.

then someone called your name.

dr. mierzwiak was older than you expected. soft-spoken. polite. with a tiredness behind his eyes like he'd seen people make the same mistake too many times.

"we'll need a few things," he said, handing you a clipboard. "anything and everything that reminds you of her. gifts. pictures. notes. clothes. audio recordings. we use those to map the memories."

you stared at the form. "how long does it take?"

"the mapping takes a couple hours. the procedure itself is overnight. you won't remember the session. you'll go to sleep and wake up, and she'll be gone."

gone.

it echoed in your chest.

you came back the next day with a box. it felt like a betrayal, giving her things away like they were evidence in a case you were losing.

inside was the hoodie she left. the journal with her handwriting. a playlist burned onto a cd. photos. receipts from your first trip together. a birthday card. her hair tie.

you left out the ring she gave you, a cheap, silver one from a flea market that didn't fit either of you right. that one stayed in your coat pocket.

dr. mierzwiak didn't ask.

that night, they put a cap on your head, wires connected to a computer, a screen flickering with dots and lines you didn't understand. you stared at a monitor while someone asked you to describe her.

her face. her voice. her smell after the rain. the way she licked her thumb before flipping pages in books. how she always said your name twice when she was drunk.

"start from the beginning," the technician said. "we'll move through the memories one by one. try to let yourself fall into them."

you closed your eyes.

manon's laugh. her teeth against your neck. the fight about the dishes. her eyeliner smudged after crying. your hands clutching her hoodie in bed the first time she left. the way she kissed your knuckles when she thought you were asleep. that look she gave you from across the subway platform.

the technician typed something. "okay. we're good."

you laid down on the recliner. a blanket was tucked over you. they dimmed the lights.

"sleep well," the woman said gently. "when you wake up, it'll be like she was never there."

and maybe that was the worst part.

because you didn't want to forget her.

but you already felt her slipping.

the memories began to disappear one by one.

you were inside them, literally inside them, watching yourself move through old moments like a dream you couldn't control. there was no linear order. they came at you like waves during a storm, some soft, some furious, some you didn't even realize you still remembered.

the first time you met.

you were sitting alone in a coffee shop, reading something you'd later pretend to love just to impress her. she walked in wearing a green coat and silver hoops, her hair a messy halo of red and copper, like she had sprinted there from another life. she ordered something absurd, matcha with oat milk and cinnamon, and when the barista gave her a look, she winked. then she saw you.

"is that any good?" she asked, nodding to your book.

you blinked, startled. "not really."

she grinned. "at least you're honest."

that was it. then when you saw her again, you knew that was the beginning of something unforgettable.

you watched it fold in on itself, the smile fading from her face, the ambient coffee shop sounds muting into a soft hiss. you tried to hold the chair she sat in, tried to keep the way she bit her straw when she was nervous, but it slipped through your fingers like water.

the memory collapsed.

the park in spring.

manon in a yellow sundress, her knees scraped from falling after trying to climb a tree because she wanted a better view of the sunset. you had laughed. she had pouted dramatically, holding her scraped hand out to you like a child needing a band-aid. you kissed her palm. she blinked, stunned for half a second, then pulled you in by the collar.

that kiss lasted forever. until now. now it was nothing.

gone.

another memory surged up, violent and raw, the fight in your bedroom at 3am. you were both screaming over something stupid. dishes? plans you'd canceled? it didn't matter. she had tears in her eyes and mascara streaked down her face. you had said something cruel. you didn't even mean it. her lip had trembled before she slammed the door behind her. you chased her down the hallway. apologized in a broken whisper. she had folded into your arms like paper.

you tried to hold that too. but it faded.

the next memory hit like a knife.

you were both lying in bed in total silence. one of those nights after a fight where no one knew what to say. the room was dark, your backs to each other, but you had reached out, your pinky finger brushing hers, just enough. she turned, barely, and murmured, "i don't know why we keep hurting each other."

you whispered, "because i'm scared of losing you."

she turned all the way, her voice soft. "then stop pushing me away."

you didn't answer. you never did. and now you never would.

gone.

another memory.

the night she got drunk and started crying about her mother. you hadn't seen that version of her before — the one that unraveled like thread. you held her in the kitchen, the smell of tequila and salt and grapefruit sharp in your nose. she told you, slurring, that sometimes she felt like she wasn't real. that maybe she was just a storm pretending to be a girl.

you had whispered, "you're the most real thing in my life."

she had kissed you then like it was a promise.

gone.

the memory of you bringing her soup when she was sick. of her groaning dramatically under blankets and calling you her "nurse" in a fake british accent. of feeding her strawberries and rubbing her back while she sniffled. of her half-laughing, half-coughing and whispering, "don't fall in love with me, okay? i'm too much."

too late, you'd said. and meant it.

gone.

the memory of your birthday.

she'd filled your entire apartment with string lights and old records and tiny photos of the two of you stuck to the wall like constellations. she gave you a ring, a cheap, silver one that turned your finger green, but you wore it anyway. she looked scared when you opened it, like she thought you'd say no.

"i just wanted you to have something of me," she'd said.

you had kissed her slow and deep and whispered, "i already do."

gone.

gone.

gone.

you started to panic.

the memories were unraveling faster now, fraying at the edges before you could even feel them fully. you started running — through doors that no longer led anywhere, past places that no longer had names.

the fights. the nights apart. the quiet moments. her sleeping on your chest. her dancing barefoot in your kitchen. the way she always said "i hate you" before kissing you senseless.

the night she said "i think we're doomed" and you laughed until you realized she meant it.

her crying into your coat at the train station. her voice shaking as she said, "i don't know how to stop loving you, but i also don't know how to keep doing this."

your hand reaching for hers. her stepping back.

then, in the middle of it, she was there.

not the memory version. her.

manon.

or some figment of her your brain was clinging to with everything it had left.

she looked different here. blurry. soft around the edges. but her eyes were the same.

she looked at you like she'd just woken up from a nightmare.

"why are you here?" she whispered. "you're not supposed to be here."

you reached for her. "you left. you erased me."

she looked down. "i didn't think you'd do it too."

you grabbed her wrist. "i didn't want to."

"then why did you?"

you swallowed. "because i couldn't keep waking up without you."

her eyes glistened. "i was scared."

"i was too."

she leaned into your touch. "we can hide. we can stay in the memories. think of something. there are still places they won't look."

you followed her.

you buried yourselves inside the cracks.

a made-up apartment with walls you painted together. a childhood treehouse. a drive through a city you never visited. the night sky from her hometown. a room filled with books you never read, but she swore you'd love.

each time, the walls collapsed around you like paper burning at the edges.

you clutched her tighter.

"i don't want to forget you," you choked out.

she looked at you, eyes glassy. "then remember me now."

"tell me something only i would know."

she leaned in close. "you cried after i kissed your shoulder for the first time. but you said it was because of the movie we were watching."

you laughed, even as you cried.

"tell me again."

she kissed your cheek. "i loved you."

the room faded.

"say it again."

"i love y—"

gone.

you woke up gasping.

and the ache in your chest was enormous. like something had been torn out without anesthetic. you didn't remember her name. her face. her voice. but you missed her.

you missed her so much it felt like drowning in a dream you couldn't quite remember.

—

it was snowing again.

not the heavy kind, not a storm, just a slow, drifting fall, like the sky was emptying itself in the gentlest way it knew how. the kind of snow that softened the city, blanketed the world in hush. traffic moved slower. voices grew quieter. every sound was absorbed into white.

you walked down 7th street with your hands in your coat pockets, scarf drawn up to your nose. you didn't have a destination. just movement. sometimes it helped. sometimes it didn't.

today, everything ached without explanation.

your fingers were cold. your chest was heavier than usual. there was something playing on your phone through your earbuds, lo-fi, wordless, the kind of music you always chose when you didn't want to think too hard. and still, something stirred.

a memory that didn't feel like a memory.

a girl laughing in a kitchen.

cigarette smoke on a balcony.

a fight in a hallway that ended with someone saying, "don't walk away again."

but no name. no image. just static where something important used to be.

you pulled your coat tighter. turned the corner by a bookstore you used to like but didn't remember why. that feeling was happening more often now, small places or objects or sounds tugging at something you couldn't quite grab. you figured it was just déjà vu. or anxiety.

the wind blew past.

and then-

you saw her.

walking toward you on the opposite side of the sidewalk. the crowd parted like a trick of fate, just long enough for your eyes to find her.

she wasn't looking up at first, she was pulling something out of her bag, her pace quick, her hair short, auburn maybe, with streaks of gold like it had once been bleached and grown out. she wore a navy coat and brown boots, and she had a small tear in her scarf, right near the collar.

you stopped.

your breath caught in your throat before your brain could catch up.

then she looked up too.

for one unbearable second, her eyes met yours.

and the world stopped.

not metaphorically. not just in your head. it truly stopped.

the wind stilled. the snowflakes froze mid-air. a bus idled in the street but didn't move. your heartbeat thundered in your ears, not fast, just loud, like it was echoing off of something deep and hollow. the shape of her face, the tilt of her head, the slope of her mouth, none of it felt new.

but you couldn't place her.

she looked at you like she was trying to solve a riddle. her eyes scanned your face, then flickered down to your hand, where you were clenching something without knowing, the corner of a wrinkled paper, sticking out from your pocket. you hadn't noticed it before.

you didn't know where it came from.

she didn't say anything.

you didn't either.

but something passed between you. a heaviness. a pull. a gravitational echo of a thousand things left unsaid. her mouth parted like she might speak, but didn't. instead, she gave the smallest smile. polite. cautious.

familiar.

and then she walked.

right past you.

you turned, just a beat too late, just in time to see her disappear into the crowd. you could've called out. could've said, excuse me, have we met? but you didn't.

because how do you ask a stranger if they once held your heart in both hands?

you kept walking.

and the snow kept falling.

you didn't notice you were holding the paper until the wind almost stole it.

you pulled it from your pocket and opened it. there was no return address, no letter, just a page, yellowed and creased, torn from a notebook. on it, in handwriting that looked an awful lot like yours, were the words:

"remember her anyway."

you stared at it for a long time.

then folded it and tucked it back into your pocket.

you didn't know who she was. or what she meant. but tonight, you'd dream of someone dancing barefoot in your kitchen. you wouldn't know why it hurt.

you wouldn't know why it mattered.

you'd forget again.

but something would always stay.

a/n: in my head, this was supposed to be longer ☹️ i fear i might not have done the movie justice... getting back into my angst era. the season is changing and i’m sad

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. comfortable ⭑ D.A

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis on a rainy sunday wrapped in hoodies, shared cereal, and slow kisses, you and daniela find comfort, not in grand gestures, but in the quiet kind of love that feels like home.

disclaimers: daniela avanzini x fem!reader. this was a request and i hope i did justice to it 😣 all fluff. just all cutesy and domestic yk?? i wanted to get this out quickly before i forgot so i didnt proofread…my apologies if there are typos or grammar mistakes 🥀😣

currently playing: comfortable - h.e.r

rain taps gently on the windows, slow and persistent like a song on repeat. outside, the world is gray and blurred, trees bending slightly in the breeze, puddles forming like little mirrors on the sidewalk. inside, the appartement is warm, quiet, dimly lit by a soft lamp in the corner and the flickering glow of the tv, which is playing some 2000s rom-com you’ve both seen at least ten times.

you aren’t really watching it.

daniela is stretched across the couch, one leg over yours, body tucked into your side like a puzzle piece. she’s wearing your hoodie, that soft brown one she always steals, and a pair of loose shorts that have seen better days. her hair is unbrushed, wild curls spiraling freely over her shoulders and down her back. she hasn’t bothered with makeup, not even lipgloss. and still, somehow, she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

you’re half-draped in a knit blanket, shared between you like a truce. her toes are cold where they press against your thigh, but you don’t mind.

you haven’t moved in a while. neither of you seems inclined to.

“baby,” she murmurs, not looking up from her phone. “is it bad that i want cereal for dinner?”

you tilt your head lazily, looking down at her. “you had cereal for breakfast.”

“and lunch,” she adds, grinning as she locks her phone and tosses it onto the coffee table.

you raise an eyebrow. “at least let me make you something real.”

“but your pasta involves actual effort,” she pouts, nestling further into your side. “and i’d have to sit up.”

you smirk and shift your arm around her waist, pulling her in until your chests are pressed together. “you’re getting lazy.”

“i’m getting comfortable,” she corrects, nuzzling her nose against your shoulder.

the word lingers in the air. comfortable. it sounds exactly like what you have. not just in this moment, but in every way.

you run your fingers through her curls, detangling slowly and gently like you’ve done a hundred times before.

“i like you like this,” you say.

“messy?”

“real.”

daniela hums, eyes fluttering closed under your touch. “you used to only see me when i was all done up. hair flat-ironed, makeup perfect, some overly coordinated outfit.”

“you looked like you walked out of a fashion editorial.”

“i was terrified of not being enough,” she says softly. “of you seeing me and thinking, ‘oh. never mind.’”

you pause your fingers in her hair.

“dani,” you say, heart clenching a little. “that could never happen.”

“i know that now,” she murmurs. “but back then… i was trying so hard. and now we’re here. i’m in a hoodie that smells like you, my curls are a mess, and i haven’t worn real pants in three days.”

you laugh gently, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“and i’m more in love with you now than i ever was back then.”

her breath catches, barely. she looks up, meets your eyes. there’s something unspoken in the look, something soft and grateful and full of quiet wonder.

she leans in, pressing her lips to yours. it’s not a kiss filled with heat or urgency , it’s slow, sweet, unhurried. like she has all the time in the world to love you.

when she pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours.

“i don’t think i’ve ever felt this safe before,” she whispers. “like i can just be. and you’ll still be here.”

you close your eyes, letting her words sink in like sunlight through skin. “i will. always.”

there’s a long pause as you just breathe together. the movie keeps playing in the background, unnoticed. outside, thunder rumbles low and distant.

eventually, daniela sits up, stretching her arms over her head, hoodie riding up slightly. she yawns, blinking blearily.

“okay,” she announces. “i’m going to attempt to make cereal. i will brave the kitchen for the love of honey nut cheerios.”

you reach for her hand. “let me come with you. you need a spotter in case you trip over your own socks.”

she looks down at the offending avocado socks and gasps. “rude! these are limited edition.”

you both shuffle to the kitchen, barefoot and drowsy. the lights are still off, and the pale late afternoon gray seeps through the windows like soft smoke. daniela opens the cabinet, pulls out the cereal box, and hands it to you like it’s a sacred ritual.

while she gets the milk, you start lining up two bowls side by side but she nudges you with her hip.

“no, no. one bowl,” she says. “we’re doing this romantic movie style.”

you grin. “lady and the tramp but with cereal.”

she gasps. “we should make that a tradition. every sunday. one bowl, shared spoon, pajamas optional.”

“optional?” you glance at her oversized hoodie and bare legs. “that implies you own actual clothes.”

she shrugs dramatically. “not when i live with you. your wardrobe is my wardrobe now. i’m basically a very cute, well-dressed parasite.”

you nudge her lightly with your hip. “you’re lucky i like you.”

“mmhm,” she says, spinning in a slow, sleepy circle before curling back into you, bowl in hand. “you love me.”

you kiss her temple. “that too.”

back on the couch, you curl up again, the two of you tangled together, sharing bites between soft laughter and quiet sighs. the storm outside grows louder, the wind brushing against the windows like a lullaby. daniela rests her head on your shoulder again, chewing slowly.

“isn’t it wild,” she says after a moment, “how easy this feels?”

“what do you mean?”

“i spent so much of my life thinking love had to be hard. like… passion and pain and drama. like the more it hurt, the more it meant something.”

you nod, understanding. you’ve both had those relationships. the kind where you confused chaos for connection.

“and then i met you,” she continues. “and it’s just… slow. and quiet. and soft. and right. it feels like home.”

you don’t know what to say to that, except: “you’re my home too.”

daniela turns the spoon in her hand thoughtfully. “i want to grow old with you. just like this. sunday rain and cereal. hoodies and quiet kisses. all of it.”

“you will,” you say. “i’m not going anywhere.”

she smiles. you can see it, even without looking.

then, softly, almost shyly: “marry me someday?”

your heart skips. “what?”

daniela shrugs one shoulder, not looking directly at you. “i mean, not today. but yeah. i want it to be you.”

you set the cereal bowl down and gently tilt her face toward yours.

“it’s going to be me,” you say. “every time. every lifetime.”

daniela kisses you again, not because it’s dramatic or perfect, but because it’s natural. easy. because she wants to. because you’re hers.

later, as the storm outside quiets and the light shifts to soft evening gold, you both drift into a nap, still curled on the couch. the bowl forgotten. the tv still playing.

and the world, messy, loud, overwhelming, feels very far away.

here, in this little apartment filled with rain and love and avocado socks, there’s only you and her. and it’s enough. it’s more than enough.

it’s comfortable.

a/n: i fear it’s getting easier to write fluff. i kinda like it now

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. i'm not that girl ⭑ M.B

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis you were never the girl who got noticed, but loving manon in silence still felt like something beautiful. until it started to hurt.

disclaimer: popular!collage student!manon bannerman x collage student!fem!reader. slight fluff?? not really…maybe. slight angst. reader is down bad for manon. lowkey hating on herself bad…

currently playing: not that girl - cynthia erivo (wicked)

the music pulsed through the house, the bass thrumming under your skin as you lingered near the edge of the crowded living room. people swayed and laughed, drinks sloshing over the rims of red cups, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and too many bodies pressed together.

you shouldn’t have come.

but she was here.

manon bannerman. the kind of girl people told stories about. the kind who made heads turn just by existing, who had an entire campus wrapped around her finger without even trying.

she sat on the arm of a couch, dark eyes flickering with amusement as she sipped her drink, a lazy smirk playing on her lips. her dark curls, framing the sharp angles of her face, and she moved with the kind of effortless confidence that made her seem untouchable.

and you? you were just the girl standing in the corner, watching.

you should stop watching.

you should stop wanting.

but it was impossible not to, not when she was right there, not when you could still remember the one time, just once, when her eyes had met yours.

it had been a week ago. maybe less. you had been leaving class, shoving your notes into your bag, when you nearly collided with her in the hallway. for one impossible, heart-stopping second, she had looked at you.

not through you. not past you.

at you.

"careful, sweetheart."

sweetheart.

it had probably meant nothing. it had probably meant everything.

but now, as you stood on the outskirts of this party, you knew how foolish it had been to let yourself believe, even for a second, that you were someone to her.

because now, her gaze was locked onto someone else.

you swallowed hard, fingers tightening around your cup as you watched her lean in, her lips brushing against the shell of another girl’s ear. the girl, perfect, radiant, someone who mattered, laughed, tilting her head just so, and manon reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

it was intimate. thoughtless, maybe, but full of a warmth you had never been on the receiving end of.

and it made something inside you ache.

you had spent too many nights indulging in stupid, hopeless thoughts. imagining a different world, a different version of yourself, one that fit into her orbit instead of orbiting around it.

in that world, she looked at you like that. in that world, she leaned in close, her voice low and teasing just for you.

in that world, you were enough.

you exhaled sharply, shaking your head at yourself.

this wasn’t some fairytale. you weren’t that girl. the one who got noticed, the one who belonged at her side.

no matter how much you wished otherwise.

the moment between them stretched longer, and you knew you couldn’t stand here watching anymore.

you set your drink down on the nearest table, barely hearing the music anymore over the sound of your own heartbeat. the walls felt too close, the air too thick, the weight of your own foolishness too heavy.

you turned toward the door, slipping through the crowd unnoticed. it wasn’t hard to disappear when you had always been invisible.

the night air was sharp against your skin as you stepped outside, and you inhaled deeply, trying to steady yourself.

maybe tomorrow, this feeling would fade. maybe tomorrow, you’d stop looking for her in every crowded room.

maybe tomorrow, you’d stop wishing you were someone else.

but not tonight.

because tonight, she was still everything.

and you were just a girl who had never stood a chance.

a/n: first manon apperence on here 🙀. also??? not that girl??? my fav song from wicked. i love it sm. i had to do a wicked song for manon, it only felt right yk???

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. the truth? ⭑ M.S

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis megan wants to end things, and though her reasons are painful, they’re clear. you want to hold on, but the truth settles between you, sometimes love isn’t enough. you don’t beg her to stay.

disclaimer slight angst (i’ll write fluff one day chat), break up, megan skiendiel x fem!reader

currently playing: the truth? by kiana ledé

you know something’s wrong the moment megan tells you she wants to talk.

it’s in the way she won’t meet your eyes, the way she keeps shifting her weight from foot to foot, like she wants to run but forces herself to stay. you’ve known megan long enough to read her, to catch the hesitation in her body language before the words even come out.

you just don’t want to believe it.

the hotel room is dimly lit, the glow of the city outside barely reaching where you sit on the bed. megan stands by the window, arms crossed, looking anywhere but at you.

she inhales sharply. exhales slowly. “i don’t think we should do this anymore.” for a moment, the words don’t register. or maybe you don’t want them to. you blink. “what?”

megan swallows, gripping her arms tighter. “us. this. whatever we’ve been doing.” her voice is quiet but firm. “it has to stop.”

it’s like the air gets sucked out of the room.

your heart pounds so loudly you barely hear yourself speak. “you’re kidding.”

she doesn’t answer.

your stomach twists. a bitter laugh escapes your lips. “no. no, you don’t just get to say that like it doesn’t mean anything. like we don’t mean anything.”

megan finally looks at you then, and her eyes, god, her eyes, are filled with something that makes your chest ache. guilt. regret. pain.

but not doubt.

and that’s when you know. she means it.

your hands tremble as you push yourself up from the bed. “you’re serious.” megan presses her lips together, nodding slightly. “yeah.”

you shake your head, stepping closer. “megan, don’t do this.” “i have to.”

“no, you don’t.” your voice cracks. “you’re choosing to.” her expression flickers, but she doesn’t deny it. the silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating.

you swallow past the lump in your throat. “tell me why.” megan sighs, running a hand through her hair. “because this isn’t fair to either of us.”

you scoff. “not fair?” the words feel sharp on your tongue. “what’s not fair is you making me believe we had something real. making me feel like i mattered to you.”

“you do matter to me.” “then why are you leaving?”

megan closes her eyes for a moment, her jaw tightening. when she speaks again, her voice is quieter. “because i don’t think i love you the way you deserve.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. you physically take a step back. “what?”

she looks at you now, really looks at you, and it’s like she’s memorizing every detail, like she knows this is the last time she’ll get to.

“i thought i did,” she admits, voice barely above a whisper. “i wanted to. but it’s not enough.”

your whole body goes cold.

“you’re lying.” the words come out too quickly, too desperate. “this is about something else. are you scared? are you worried about what people will think? because i don’t care about any of that. we can figure it out, megan, we always do—” she shakes her head, cutting you off. “no, we don’t.”

you freeze.

megan’s eyes are sad. “that’s the problem, isn’t it? we keep pretending this is something it’s not. that i’m someone i’m not.”

your breath catches. “you don’t mean that.” she exhales. “i do.”

and just like that, whatever hope you were clinging to shatters.

you stare at her, trying to find something, anything, that tells you this is just fear, that she’ll take it back. but there’s nothing.

you feel sick.

“so that’s it?” your voice is hollow now. “you just get to walk away?”

megan hesitates, guilt flickering across her face. “i’m sorry.”

sorry. that’s what she has to say after all of this. after everything.

your hands clench into fists. “no. you don’t get to say that. you don’t get to act like you’re the one hurting.” “i never wanted to hurt you.”

“well, congratulations,” you snap. “you did.” megan flinches but doesn’t argue.

you let out a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as the tears threaten to fall. but you refuse to let them. not in front of her. not when she’s the one doing this.

she shifts on her feet, like she’s waiting for you to say something. maybe even hoping you’ll make this easier for her. but you won’t.

you shake your head. “i hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

megan’s brows furrow slightly, but she doesn’t respond.

you take a deep, shaky breath and nod.

“okay.” your voice is barely above a whisper. megan’s throat bobs as she swallows. “okay?”

you force yourself to meet her eyes. “if you don’t love me, then i’m not going to beg you to.”

something in megan’s expression falters. for a second, she almost looks like she regrets this. but she doesn’t take it back.

and that’s all you need to know.

you step around her, moving toward the door. your hand grips the knob, and for a moment, you hesitate.

then, without looking back, you whisper, “goodbye, megan.”

and this time, she doesn’t stop you.

a/n: omg first megan fic 🙀

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. ceilings ⭑ D.A

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis after two years, daniela returns, reigniting old feelings during a quiet night. as tension builds between you, the unspoken love you share feels distant, leaving you wondering if it will ever become reality or remain unfulfilled.

warnings: slight angst. tiny bit of fluff. mutual pinning (??). daniela avanzini x fem!reader

currently playing: ceillings - lizzy mcalpine

the wind carries the distant hum of the city through the open window, filling the quiet apartment with a gentle buzz. it’s late, but you don’t know the exact hour. the world outside is moving, lights flickering in the distance, but inside, time feels suspended.

you stare at the ceiling, tracing invisible patterns in the dim light. your body is still, but your mind is running. thoughts unravel like a film reel. flashes of tonight, of her, of the way she looked at you with something unreadable in her eyes.

daniela.

her name lingers in your mind like an echo. she’s somewhere in the apartment, moving through the rooms like a presence you can't escape. you can hear her faintly, her laughter drifting through the cracks of the walls. it’s warm, familiar. a sound that feels like home, yet right now, it unsettles you.

you shouldn’t have stayed this long.

it was supposed to be simple, a night out, a few drinks, a few moments stolen from the reality you both live in. but something shifted. it started with the way her hand brushed yours across the bar, a touch that sent a sharp current through your body. then, the way she looked at you when you both realized you were the last ones left, her brown eyes searching yours, waiting for something you couldn’t name.

and now, here you are, lying in the guest bedroom of her apartment, staring at the ceiling like it holds the answers you need.

you close your eyes. the memory of the night replays in your mind, filling in the silence.

"come home with me."

the words were simple, said so casually that they could’ve meant nothing. but the way she said them, the way she looked at you when she did, it meant everything.

you hesitated for just a second. but then she smiled, and suddenly, the hesitation didn’t matter anymore.

you followed her through the city streets, walking side by side but never touching. the cold air wrapped around you both, and you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, watching her from the corner of your eye. she was humming a song under her breath, one you didn’t recognize, but the sound of it felt like something familiar.

at some point, she turned to you and whispered, "you’re quiet."

you shrugged. "just thinking."

she didn’t ask about what. maybe she already knew.

you kept your distance, but every now and then, her hand brushed yours, and each time, you felt that electricity shoot through you like a small shock. you wanted to reach for her. to pull her closer. but the moment always passed before you could.

eventually, you found yourself at her apartment, sitting at the edge of the guest bed she’d prepared for you. the lights in the living room flickered off, leaving only the moonlight casting shadows on the walls. daniela was somewhere in the other room. her presence felt like a pull, a gravitational force, drawing you in, but you didn’t want to go to her. not when you didn’t know what any of it meant. not when she hadn’t said anything that would make it clear.

a soft knock on the door pulls you back to the present. you don't answer right away, but the door opens anyway, and daniela steps inside.

she’s wearing an oversized sweater, her hair slightly messy from the wind. her presence fills the room, the air around you shifting just from her being there.

"you’re still awake," she says softly, crossing the room to sit at the edge of the bed.

you don’t look at her. instead, you focus on the way the moonlight falls on the wooden floor, casting long, pale streaks across the room.

"yeah."

she doesn’t say anything at first. she just sits there, her fingers playing with the edge of her sleeve. then, after a long pause, she whispers, "what are we doing?"

the question hangs between you like something fragile, like glass on the verge of breaking. you don’t answer, because you don’t know.

or maybe you do, and you just don’t want to say it out loud.

her fingers brush against yours. the touch is light, hesitant, but enough to make your heart race. you should pull away. you should say something to break the moment before it becomes something more. but you don’t. instead, you let your fingers linger against hers, just barely, like you're both waiting for the other to close the distance.

she exhales, almost like a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. "you drive me crazy, you know that?"

you look at her then, really look at her. her eyes are searching, hopeful, scared. a storm of emotions hidden behind a quiet facade.

your voice is barely above a whisper when you say, "i don’t want to lose you."

something in her expression shifts, her lips parting like she wants to say something, but the words don’t come. instead, she lets out a breath and looks away, her fingers pulling back from yours.

"you won’t lose me," she says. but it doesn’t sound like a promise.

silence stretches between you. she looks at you again, eyes soft, lips slightly parted like she’s waiting for something. maybe she’s waiting for you to be brave. to say something real.

but you can’t.

and maybe that’s the problem.

she stands up slowly, the warmth of her presence retreating with her. she hesitates for just a second, like she’s giving you one last chance to stop her. but when you don’t, she nods, almost to herself, and walks toward the door.

she pauses in the doorway.

"goodnight," she says, her voice so soft you almost don’t hear it.

and then she’s gone.

the door clicks shut behind her, and you are alone again, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of your heartbeat echo in the empty space she left behind.

you lie there, your chest heavy with a quiet ache. your heart pulls in two directions, tethered to her and yet so far away. her absence is almost physical now, a thing that fills the room, pressing down on you as you lie motionless.

you don’t know what you were expecting tonight. it was supposed to be like any other night. but it wasn’t. something changed when you saw her again. something you can’t quite name.

you wonder if she feels it too.

you glance at the clock. it's past midnight now, the hours slipping by without you noticing. your fingers brush the sheets beside you, imagining her there beside you, her warmth, her laughter, her smile. but it feels like a dream.

your phone buzzes, pulling you from the haze of your thoughts. you pick it up, seeing a message from her, short and to the point.

"sleep well."

the words sting more than they should. something so simple, yet so final. so far away from the way you had once dreamed of hearing her say them.

you let out a shaky breath and set the phone aside. you stare at the ceiling again, your mind racing, but no clearer than before. you don’t know where you stand with her now.

and maybe that’s the hardest part.

the love is there. but it’s unspoken. it’s lingering in the spaces between your words, in the silence you share. a love that never fully becomes reality. and maybe that’s just how it was always meant to be.

a/n: how did u guys feel abt gnarly 🫠 it might take me a while to get used to the lyrics, but the beat and visuals are really good 😭🙌