z

now i have an important question

snake or cat

predebut!megan x fem!reader

content. girlfriends . gxg . sad . sad . sad . sad

saeza notes. sorry for disappearing, but I freaked out a little. BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER because I'm here now. Listening to Olivia's album made me want to write this. I hope you like it. I haven't written in a long time, so if it's shit, don't be mean

You and Megan have been dating for over two years. You met in a dance class when you were both six years old. You still remember crying in the middle of the studio because you couldn't get a step right, and a tiny version of Megan approached you shyly.

She reached out her hand. She wiped your tears with her own sleeve and helped you do the steps correctly.

From that day on, her smile and that pair of dimples under her eyes became your favorite thing in the world.

You became inseparable. Best friends. You told each other everything. Secrets, fears, dreams. But as you grew older and entered adolescence, something always felt wrong. When Megan talked about some guy she liked, you couldn't help but feel a knot in your stomach. An uncomfortable weight that settled in your chest and didn't go away until hours later.

And every time you told her about someone else, she would just say they "weren't good enough for you." She never said why. Just that they weren't.

Until one day you found her crying in her room. She was curled up on the bed, knees to her chest, face buried in the pillow. You sat next to her, touched her back gently, and when she finally looked up, her eyes were so red it broke your heart.

And she confessed everything. That she had loved you forever. That every time you talked about someone else, she felt like she was dying a little. That she tried not to feel it, tried to make it go away, but she couldn't.

You had always known you were in love with Megan. But you never wanted to really accept it. But the moment she kissed you, it was as if everything made sense.

That was two years ago.

Now, two years later, Megan is in front of you with an ear-to-ear smile so giant you've never seen before. THAT smile. The one that makes you fall in love so much. The one that, to this day, after so many years, still makes your stomach flip like it's the first time.

"I can't believe it, I can't believe it, Y/n," Megan says, and she hugs you so tightly she lifts you off the ground with ease, taking advantage of the height difference you've always had. Her arms wrap around your waist and she spins you a little, as if happiness weighs so much on her that she needs to move her body to contain it. "I got into the program. They chose me!"

"I'm so happy for you, mei mei!!" you say with the same enthusiasm, clinging to her shoulders so you don't fall.

Megan slowly sets you down, and then reality settles on her shoulders like a weight she doesn't quite know how to carry.

"So…" you start, your voice coming out shyer than you wanted. "When do you have to leave?"

Her eyes lose a little of their shine. She holds your hands in hers and presses her forehead to yours, so close you can feel her breath on your lips.

"In three months I have to be in L.A.," she says, letting out a sigh. "But we can do it. Our love is stronger than any distance, right?"

"Of course…" you say, and pull her back into a hug. A warm hug, the kind that used to fix everything. But this one doesn't fix anything. It just postpones.

Of course you're happy for Megan. You could say she's the love of your life. You want to see her succeed, fulfill her dream… even if that doesn't include you. All you want is to see her happy.

Even if that happiness breaks you into pieces.

.

You remember the first date like it was yesterday

It was the first time you saw each other after the confession, and Megan couldn't be more nervous. You had agreed to clear things up at your favorite ice cream parlor, the one across from the park with the beautiful fountain that always gave you peace.

She arrived tripping over her own feet, her gaze down, her hands in her hoodie pockets. You went straight to get the ice cream and then went out to sit on the same bench as always.

Megan started stammering something about how sorry she was if this ruined your friendship, that she understood if you needed time, that she didn't want to pressure you. She spoke fast, stumbling, as if the words were escaping without permission. And you were listening, you really were listening, but at some point you looked up and saw her.

Her mouth was full of ice cream. A bit of mint cream had stuck to the corner of her lips, and she was so focused on not messing up her words that she hadn't even noticed.

You laughed. A real laugh, the kind that comes from your stomach and can't be controlled.

Megan was silent for a second. She looked at you. And then she laughed too. And all that tension, all those nerves, all those weeks of doubt disappeared like magic.

Because at the end of the day, you were still Megan and Y/n. If you kissed now, that didn't mean you stopped being you.

You remember that day perfectly. The nerves you felt. The butterflies in your stomach. How beautiful the fountain was under the afternoon sun. And that stupid smile of Megan's, and those stupid dimples, and that stupid way she had of making everything okay just by existing.

How could you forget it, honestly?

You also remember why you chose that place. You knew Megan wouldn't dare look you in the face out of embarrassment, and that having a view in front would make things easier. A piece of rock throwing water is better than staring at the ground, right?

Now, two years later, you're at the same ice cream parlor. On the same bench. In front of the same fountain.

And again, Megan can't look you in the eyes.

But this time it's not out of embarrassment. Shit, you wish it were. And not because this was the third time you'd fought this week.

She says you're being cold. You say she's pushing you away. Both versions are valid, true. But they're nothing more than each of your shields to try to face what you both knew was coming sooner or later.

Neither of you wants to accept it yet. So you just blame each other.

“We tried to recreate our favorite date, but we didn't laugh much this time.”

"Megan, please, can you just look at me?" You gently place your hand on her arm, and when she looks up, your heart squeezes in your chest.

She's crying. Like all week. And the one before. You've lost count of how many times you've seen her like this lately.

"Baby… I'm sorry if I just—"

"This isn't how it should feel," Megan interrupts, between hiccups.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"This is where we fell in love. This fountain is so special… and I just… I can't stop crying." Now they're not light whimpers. It's a waterfall. You swear there's more water on Megan's cheeks than in the fountain itself.

You get up from your chair and kneel in front of her, gathering her in your arms. You hold her against your chest as if you could absorb all her pain, as if your love could be a vaccine against sadness.

"It's okay, baby. Everything's going to be okay."

You'd been saying those words for weeks. So many times they had almost lost their meaning. Or their truth.

Two months….

.

When you were kids, you used to run away from your house and go to Megan's when your parents fought. She would set up a tent with chairs and blankets, and you would lie down inside, and she would promise you that this was a safe space. A place where all the problems stayed outside, and only the two of you existed.

It was stupid. The only thing blocking you from the outside was a couple of pieces of fabric. But it really worked. Maybe it was just Megan's company. But always, being inside there, the weight on your chest would ease. And the only thing that existed was the tent. Megan. Her silly smile. Her dimples.

Who would have thought it still works, right?

After weeks of crying, fighting, and sadness, here you are. Now older, with a million more problems. But inside the tent, they don't exist. Not even the fact that Megan is leaving.

You're resting on her arm, on your side, looking at her. Megan is completely on her back, eyes closed, breathing calmly. Your free hand is intertwined with hers, resting on her stomach.

"I missed this so much," you say in a whisper, stroking her hand with your thumb as you lean in to kiss her cheek.

Megan smiles, and opens her eyes slowly. Her eyes look at you with a softness that disarms you.

"The tent still works, mhm," she says, laughing softly as she straightens up a bit, resting her back against the wall of the makeshift tent.

You feel peace. After so many weeks, you finally feel peace. And with Megan looking at you like that, as if you were the most important thing in the world, you can't help but feel an uncontrollable urge to kiss her.

You get up quickly, sitting on her lap. You wrap your hands around her neck while she brings hers to your waist, and you connect your lips.

It's a needy kiss. But not of lust — it's love, pure and raw. Charged with all the past lived. With everything that hurts. With everything you love each other.

"I love you," Megan says when she pulls back slightly to catch her breath.

But you kiss her again. You don't want to be apart from her for another second. Not after all the previous weeks.

But she pulls back again. You look at her confused, and her eyes are wet. Pleading.

"Say it please. Say it too."

"I love you, Megan."

With just those three words, Megan kisses you again.

It was the first peaceful night you'd had in weeks. You knew it perfectly. Megan knew it perfectly. So why couldn't she stop thinking that it felt like a goodbye on your part?

“And maybe I'm a stubborn overthinker, but I've been thinking over this a lot.”

One month…..

.

Without a doubt, what you loved most since you were a kid were sleepovers.

Talking late into the night. Wearing face masks. Stealing your mothers' dresses and walking down the runway. And any other stupid thing a ten-year-old girl likes to do with her friend.

You loved sleepovers.

And even more if they were at Megan's house.

But this time it felt different.

Megan was leaving for L.A. in two days. Your stomach churned seeing her almost empty room. So many years. So many memories. And now it seemed like nothing.

Only a few old toys remained, her furniture, some clothes she would use these days, and her bed.

Right where Megan was, staring at the ceiling, not wanting to look you in the eyes. Again.

You were leaning against her desk, arms crossed, throat tight. Megan had been avoiding this conversation for days, but you both knew it was time. Whether you wanted it or not.

She noticed it instantly when you walked into her room. The silence. Your gaze. Even your posture. She knew you so well she recognized every gesture and its meaning. And that only made her want to die. Her stomach churned completely.

She had spent nights wishing everything would be fixed the next day. Wishing you would tell her everything was going to work out, that long-distance relationships are fine. But she knew you would never say that.

"Megan, come on. You know we need to talk," you say, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

Megan shakes her head. She doesn't say anything. Just shakes it.

"Megan, please."

Only then, seeing the desperation in your voice, does she get up. She sits on the edge of the bed. And of course, she's crying.

You approach carefully, slowly, as if afraid of breaking her. You sit next to her. You raise a hand and wipe her wet cheek, though it's useless because more and more tears keep falling.

"Mei, please… don't cry. I hate making you cry."

“maybe it'll fix itself tomorrow, but I've been saying that like every night. You say you can't stand to watch me cry a minute more.”

Megan can't speak. She just cries. And shakes her head. Refusing to have THAT conversation, knowing how it's going to end.

"Megan…" you start, holding her hands in your lap.

She shakes her head again, squeezing her eyes shut tight. "Please… just don't say anything. Don't say it," she says, before sobbing again.

"Megan, you know we have to talk about this." You bring your hand to her chin, forcing her to look at you.

"Why?" she asks, and her voice breaks on the first syllable. "It's going to work. We'll video call every night, I'll tell you everything that happens in L.A., and you'll tell me everything that happens here. And I'll visit whenever I can, and—"

"Megan, please." You interrupt her. You feel your own eyes getting wet.

"No, no. It's fine. We don't have to talk about anything. It's going to work. I know it will." She tries to fake a smile, but it comes out crooked, broken, and her little dimples still show. She grabs you by the shoulders, almost desperate. And your heart breaks second by second.

You shake your head. You raise your arms to hold hers, and slowly lower them.

"Megan, you're not listening to me."

"No, I'm listening to you, but I don't understand it. I—"

"Megan, that's not going to work." You stand up abruptly, walk around the room, run your hands over your face. Frustration burns inside you. "Please, understand that."

"No. You don't understand." She stands up too, comes up behind you. Her voice is a thread, broken, desperate. "I love you. I need you. I don't know how to do it alone. I don't want to do it alone. Please."

You turn around. You hold her face in your hands. That beautiful face you love so much. The one with the dimples that made you fall in love at six years old. The one that's soaked in tears.

"I love you too much to ruin this for you, Megan. You know it's not going to work. It's only going to destroy us more, and it's going to take your focus away from your dream. This is a once-in-a-million opportunity. I can't afford to ruin this for you."

Megan brings her hands to yours. She squeezes them. She pulls strength from somewhere she didn't know she had.

"Please, don't do this," she whispers. She presses against you, trying to bring her lips to yours. As if a kiss could fix everything. As if love were enough to overcome the distance.

It hurts you to your soul. It destroys you.

But you pull away. You walk toward the door.

"I hope you make the group. I know you will. And I know you're going to shine, like you always do." Your voice trembles, crying profusely now. "I love you, Megan. Never forget that."

You don't turn to look at her. You know that if you see those sad eyes, you'll never be able to leave.

“if loving me means letting go

and wishing me the best”

Megan doesn't do anything. She can't. Her body hurts like never before. Maybe it's her heart. But she knows she can't force you to stay. And deep down, in some dark corner she doesn't want to look at, she knows it's for the best too.

She feels her knees give out. She crumbles on the floor of her empty room, hugging herself, crying like she's never cried before.

Because yes, she's fulfilling her dream.

But she might have just lost the love of her life.

“the i guss

i wish, i wish, i wish

knight!sophia laforteza x princess!f!reader

warnings/notes: flashbacks in italics. mention of blood & combat. swords. // super slight dacryphilia. fingering. semi-public sex. literally one line of self-degradation.

➶ ➶ ➶

the banquet hall was exceptionally loud for this time of night.

your father threw lavish gatherings whenever the weather started to get cold, as your kingdom thrived in the winter.

you sat directly next to your mother, who was happy being amused by her husband’s antics. your father chortled at some comment made by a prince who was surely fighting for your hand.

when you came of age, all the suitors across the kingdom made a point to declare their desire for you.

except, you failed to return it.