synop . . . ˖᯽ ݁˖ you both live in different worlds, yet somehow you make it work with her. she's your golden retriever, you are her sunflower. but somehow, your mother gets in the way of your love with one another, and all of a sudden nothing is perfect anymore.
rough sex, g!p megan, p in v, breeding, vulgar language, angst, megan being a flirt, smut, angst (did i mention that)?, megan is aged up years later, megan is in a lower class situation, inspired by the notebook, and minors dni
note . . . ˖᯽ ݁˖ i've been wanting to write something like this for so long because i'm a sucker for the notebook lol but i hope you like this one! did you guys miss me?
hey y/n,
it’s been years since i’ve tried to reach out. i guess i can’t really blame you for blocking me—i probably would’ve done the same. still, i figured an email might actually get through, so… here i am.
i just wanted to say that i miss you. i think about you more often than i probably should. sometimes i drive by the old treehouse—the one we said we’d fix up—and it’s still standing, somehow. i go there when things get too loud. it feels quieter there, even now.
people in town told me you left a long time ago. they wouldn’t say where you went, though. maybe that’s for the best.
we promised we’d come back for each other, remember? i keep wondering if you ever meant it the way i did. are you happy now? married, maybe? i hope someone’s making you laugh the way you used to with me.
or maybe this is me being delusional again, holding on to something that’s long gone.
still… if you ever feel like it, write back. no pressure. i’d like to know you’re okay.
megan
7 YEARS AGO.
the night was soft with noise — laughter spilling from every direction, the smell of fried dough, the glimmer of cheap lights that made everything look golden. you were with your friends after exams, finally letting go of the week that had dragged you down.
you weren’t supposed to be here. your parents thought you were having a calm night out — a movie, maybe dinner. definitely not a carnival. but here you were, in sneakers and jeans, with claire’s arm looped through yours and sugar on your fingertips.
brian leaned closer. “do you want me to take you home later?”
you smiled politely, slipping out of his reach. “no thanks. claire’s got me.”
“she sure does,” he said, reaching for claire’s cotton candy and getting smacked for it.
“don’t touch my food!”
“you know she hates that,” you said, laughing as the two of them bickered their way toward the spinning teacup ride.
after a few dizzy minutes on the ride, your head felt like it was floating — the world spinning in flashes of color and laughter. brian sat beside you, his arm draped a little too close for comfort as the teacup twirled faster. claire and manuel were laughing across from you, trying to make the cup spin even harder, and you held onto the edge just to stay steady.
“you okay?” brian shouted over the music, his voice a little too eager.
“yeah, i’m fine,” you said, laughing softly but leaning away when he tried to steady you by the shoulder. his touch lingered a second too long, and your smile faltered.
he grinned, mistaking your silence for shyness. “you know, i could hold you if you’re scared.”
“i’m not scared,” you said quickly, eyes on the spinning lights beyond the ride’s fence. “just dizzy.”
“that’s cute,” he teased, inching closer.
you rolled your eyes and pretended not to hear him. he kept talking—something about how the lights made your eyes look nice—but the words slid right past you. you didn’t want to be here with someone who treated you like a dare.
the ride finally slowed, the spinning fading into a blur of blinking bulbs and night air. you let out a breath of relief when the latch clicked open. claire stumbled off laughing, clutching her stomach, and manuel was already teasing her about turning green.
“that was insane!” claire said, wiping tears from her eyes. “i think i left my soul somewhere back there.”
brian chuckled, stretching his arm again—that same move, that same hint of something you didn’t want. “want to go on the ferris wheel next? just the two of us?”
you forced a polite smile. “no thanks, i think i need a break.”
“come on, just one ride,” he said, trying again. “you might actually enjoy being close to me for once.”
claire groaned audibly. “brian, stop. she said no.”
you exhaled, grateful for her interference. “i’m gonna grab something to eat,” you said, stepping back before he could respond.
he shrugged, pretending it didn’t sting, but you saw the flicker of disappointment cross his face. you didn’t feel bad about it. you just wanted space — air that wasn’t full of forced laughter and unwanted closeness.
as you walked away, the sounds of the carnival grew softer — replaced by the smell of butter and caramel drifting from a small stand by the carousel. the lights there were warmer, gentler. something about it felt grounding, a quiet break from the noise and the spinning world you’d just left. the popcorn stand was tucked between two rides, its warm light cutting through the dark. you walked up, fishing a few coins from your pocket, when a voice stopped you.
“hey there,” someone said, low and teasing.
you looked up.
the girl behind the counter smiled, and for a moment, you forgot where you were. she was tall, with wind-tangled hair streaked faintly pink, her sleeves rolled up, her eyes bright beneath the glow of the bulbs.
“you want popcorn?” she asked, leaning slightly forward, that grin still there, being playful.
“yeah,” you said quietly, handing over the coins.
she scooped a bag full and passed it to you, her fingers brushing yours. “you from around here?”
“yeah. why?”
“just wondering,” she said, tilting her head. “you don’t look like you belong at a place like this.”
“and you do?”
“maybe not. but i make a mean bag of popcorn.”
you smiled despite yourself, shaking your head. “thanks for the popcorn.”
“wait—” she called out as you turned to leave. “you’re really just gonna leave like that?”
you stopped, turning halfway. “you’re a stranger selling popcorn.”
“an interesting stranger,” she said easily. “come on, one date. i’ll even buy you something that’s not carnival food.”
is she serious right now? the thought hit you before you could even stop it. who just walks up to someone and asks them out like that—no introductions, no small talk, just straight to a date? it was ridiculous, completely impulsive, and yet... there was something disarming about it.
you studied her for a second, half expecting her to laugh and say she was joking. but she didn’t. she just stood there, that confident little grin on her face, as if she knew something you didn’t. her eyes were steady, bright, and full of something playful that made it hard to look away.
you could feel your heart beating faster, and it annoyed you—you weren’t the type to get flustered over a stranger, especially one who worked at a popcorn stand and flirted like it was second nature. still, there was something magnetic about her, like she carried her own gravity and you’d somehow stumbled too close.
“no thanks,” you said finally, crossing your arms to shield yourself from the way her smile made you feel. you tried to sound firm, but your voice didn’t quite cooperate. there was a tiny waver in it and by the look on her face, she noticed.
“why not?” she asked, stepping out from behind the stand. she had that same stubborn energy that made you both nervous and curious.
“because i don’t know you,” you said, trying to sound rational. “and because you’re being kind of—”
“persistent?” she cut in, smiling. “yeah, i get that a lot.”
you sighed, trying not to smile. “you really don’t take no for an answer, do you?”
“not when i see something worth saying yes to.”
you froze and tried to look away, but you couldn’t. something about her voice—light, teasing, a little rough around the edges—made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect. you could play this game all night if you had to.
you turned away first, trying to hide the grin that kept tugging at your lips. “you really don’t give up easily, do you?”
“not when i see something worth chasing,” she said, and you could hear the smile in her voice.
you started walking, half hoping she’d drop it—or maybe hoping she wouldn’t. the sound of her footsteps followed close behind, quick and unhurried.
“hey,” she called out. “you didn’t even tell me your name! that’s not fair.”
you glanced back at her, your amusement slipping through before you could stop it. “maybe i don’t tell strangers my name.”
“then let me stop being one,” she grinned, stepping closer, her hand outstretched. “i’m megan, by the way.”
you hesitated, then shook her hand firmly. “hi megan. i’m y/n. now go, because i won’t say yes to you.”
her smile widened. “you sure? you sound like you’re still thinking about it.”
“i’m not,” you said, even though your heartbeat begged to differ.
“come on,” she laughed softly. “one date. not even a date, really—just a walk, maybe a coffee, a conversation. worst case, you find out i’m crazy and you never see me again.”
“i already think you’re crazy.”
“perfect,” she said. “so the hard part’s over.”
you sighed, shaking your head as she matched your pace. she had this maddening way of making everything feel easy—like it wasn’t weird at all that she was flirting with you out of nowhere, that she was looking at you like you were the only thing in the carnival that mattered.
“you don’t even know me,” you said, trying one last time to sound firm.
“then let me,” she replied simply. “give me a chance to.”
the silence stretched between you for a moment—just the faint hum of music from the carousel, the scent of butter and sugar in the air.
“you’re impossible,” you finally muttered.
“i’ll take that as a yes.”
you huffed, trying not to laugh. “fine. but only because i want to prove you wrong.”
she grinned like she’d just won something important. “i’ll take what i can get.”
you handed her your phone, watching as she typed in her number, saving it under her name with a little cherry emoji. she handed it back and winked. “now you can’t pretend you don’t know me.”
and just like that, she started to walk away—slow, casual, like she had all the time in the world. but halfway down the path, she turned around, still moving backward, her hands tucked into her pockets.
that grin of hers was still there—that dumb, heart-twisting smile that made her look both like a douche and a little bit reckless. the carnival lights flickered over her face, painting her in gold and pink and blue, and for a moment, everything else faded: the music, the chatter, even the cool night breeze that brushed past your skin.
she kept her eyes on you the whole time, walking backward through the crowd like she didn’t care who bumped into her. you wanted to tell her to watch where she was going, but the words got lost somewhere in your throat.
you tried to play it off, to look unaffected, but your face betrayed you. you could feel the warmth rising in your cheeks, creeping up until it reached your ears. it was ridiculous—blushing over a stranger who’d spent ten minutes teasing you and somehow left you completely off-balance.
she laughed quietly, like she could tell, like she knew exactly what kind of mess she’d just made in your chest. and just before she finally turned around to go, she called out—her voice soft but sure, cutting clean through the noise of the carnival.
“i’ll see you soon, y/n!”
you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. you just stood there, heart still beating a little too fast, watching her fade into the crowd—the taste of popcorn and her laughter still hanging in the air.
a voice behind you broke the spell. “seriously?” claire said, disbelief dripping from every word. “you gave your number to her?”
you turned, startled. “you saw that?”
“everyone saw that. y/n, she’s not one of us. she’s literally working a popcorn stand. what are you even doing?”
you frowned. “she’s a person, claire. not a category.”
“i’m just saying,” claire pressed, lowering her voice. “you could do better.”
you looked down at your phone, her contact name glowing back at you like a secret. then, quietly, you said, “maybe i don’t want better.”
“what does that even mean?” claire asked.
you smiled to yourself, unable to stop it. “it means she’s cute.”
claire groaned, throwing her hands up. “whatever, this is your life.”
“yeah,” you murmured, slipping your phone into your pocket. “it is mine.”
you didn’t tell anyone where you were going—especially not bert. you asked your driver to drop you off two blocks away, pretending it was because you wanted a walk, but really, you just didn’t want him to see you meeting another woman. it was easier that way.
the city was quiet in the evening—the kind of quiet that only new york could manage, where silence still carried the faint hum of life. when you reached the met, you spotted her instantly.
she was sitting on the steps—legs crossed, paper bag in her lap, sipping from a soda cup like this was her idea of fine dining. for some reason, the sight made your chest ache a little. you thought she’d be the kind of person to pick a fancy restaurant, but this… this was real. simple. maybe even better.
you smiled before you even realized it.
“i never thought you’d take me here,” you said, walking up to her.
she looked up at you with that grin—the one that could undo you completely “hi,” she said, handing you the extra paper bag like it was a peace offering.
“hi yourself.” you peeked inside. “is this—”
“burger and fries,” she interrupted proudly. “the finest cuisine this city has to offer. care to eat the unhealthiest meal on the museum steps with me?”
you raised a brow. “wow. in and out?”
“sorry,” she said with a little laugh, brushing her hair under her cap. “you were probably expecting something fancy—candles, champagne, a rooftop view—”
“i like this,” you said before she could finish. and you meant it. “it’s… different.”
her grin softened. “different good?”
“different good,” you nodded. “but really? you want to eat here?”
“yeah,” she said, already unwrapping her burger. “trust me, this is the best burger you’ll ever have.”
you laughed quietly, sitting beside her. “i can’t believe i let you talk me into this.”
“you’re welcome,” she said with a mouthful of fries, completely unapologetic.
you took your first bite, and the grease and salt and warmth hit you all at once—maybe it was the food, or maybe it was her sitting this close, her shoulder brushing yours.
you looked at her cap pulled low, her hair peeking out beneath it, her eyes bright even in the faint wash of moonlight. she looked so ordinary like this, so far from the way you met her just last night. “you look happy,” you said softly.
she glanced at you, lips curved around a bite of her burger. “that’s because i am.”
you smiled. “why?”
she shrugged, swallowing. “because you came.”
“for a flirt like you, i didn’t think you’d say something that sincere,” you teased, taking a bite of your burger. the salt and grease lingered on your tongue, and you hummed softly, trying not to smile too much. “so, where do you live?”
“queens,” she said, taking a long sip from her soda cup before glancing sideways at you. “you?”
“manhattan.”
“ah.” she clicked her tongue, leaning back against the steps. “so you’re rich.”
you grimaced at that. it wasn’t like she said it to hurt you—just a fact stated plainly—but it still landed in that awkward place between truth and misunderstanding.
you grew up comfortable, sure. two parents who loved you in their own complicated, overprotective way; a house too big for the three of you; a life where the word no never really meant no. people called it privilege. you just called it expectation. and you did your best to carry it well—studying hard, keeping yourself together, trying to be the kind of person they could be proud of.
“i guess so,” you admitted, tracing a thumb along the edge of your paper cup. “but it’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”
“oh, poor little manhattan girl,” she said with a grin that softened the teasing.
you rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “do you always sell popcorn at the carnival?”
“nah,” she said, shaking her head. “only when it’s in town. the rest of the time i help out at the lawn near my place—mowing, cleaning, sometimes fixing fences. whatever pays.”
“that’s nice,” you said honestly, turning to look at her. “i’m sure your parents appreciate that.”
“i’m actually the one who’s grateful,” she said, smiling down at her burger. “it’s cash i need, for later.”
“for later?”
“yeah.” she tilted her head back, eyes finding the stars that barely peeked through the city haze. “i’m saving up to leave.”
“leave where?”
“no clue,” she said with a small laugh. “maybe california. somewhere where i could be truly happy.”
you smiled faintly. “sounds like a plan.”
“yep.” she turned to you, her grin returning—soft, a little messy, with a streak of mayo at the corner of her mouth.
you noticed it instantly. your first instinct was to reach out and wipe it away, thumb brushing against her skin, but you stopped yourself halfway. the thought alone made your chest flutter. she’d probably think it was weird.
so you just smiled instead, trying not to stare too long.
“new york isn’t for me anyway,” she said finally, her voice gentler now. “people here want too much.”
“what do you want?” you asked quietly.
she looked at you then, her eyes bright and searching. “something authentic.”
and for a moment, the world felt quieter than it should have.
it was already past one in the morning when your phone started buzzing again—your mother’s name flashing across the screen for the fifth time. her texts came in one after another, each one more urgent than the last. you ignored them all. you didn’t want to leave. not yet.
the night air in central park was crisp, the kind that carried every small sound—the distant rush of cars, the quiet chirp of crickets, the soft rhythm of your footsteps beside megan’s. she kept brushing her hand against yours, not quite holding it, but close enough that you could feel the warmth of her skin each time your fingers grazed.
it was perfect—the kind of night that felt untouchable. you didn’t want to break the spell by looking at your phone again. you just wanted to stay here, with her.
megan was talking about her life, her voice soft but steady. you listened to every word—the stories of her mom working late shifts, her brother trying to help however he could, the years when they lived on food stamps just to get by. there were moments she laughed, and others where her voice cracked just a little. you didn’t know what to say sometimes, but she didn’t seem to mind. she just liked that you listened.
“things are better now,” she said eventually, kicking at a pebble on the path. “not great, but better. we’re managing.”
“you’ve been through a lot,” you murmured.
“everyone has,” she replied, smiling faintly. “some of us just hide it better.”
you reached into your pocket, pulling out a small keychain you’d bought on a whim at school the week before—a tiny metal charm shaped like a star. “here,” you said, pressing it into her palm. “for luck.”
she looked at it like it was made of gold. “this is the first time i’ve received a gift from someone.”
“not even from a friend?” you laughed.
she shook her head, her smile curling into something teasing. “i mean… from someone i like.”
you felt your chest tighten, warmth blooming behind your ribs. you were about to say something back—something half-shy, half-bold—but your phone started buzzing again, the sound breaking the moment apart.
“i should probably go,” you sighed, pulling it out. “my driver’s waiting.”
she nodded slowly, her smile faltering just a little. “right. of course.”
you started to turn away when you felt it—her fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. it wasn’t rough or desperate, just enough to make you stop.
“wait,” she whispered.
you turned back, confused, and before you could ask what she was doing, she tugged you closer. the world seemed to still right then—the distant city noise fading, the air holding its breath—just long enough for her to lean in and kiss you.
it was soft, hesitant at first, like she was asking for permission without words. but then you kissed her back, and it deepened, the kind of kiss that made time feel irrelevant. it wasn’t perfect—your noses bumped, you both smiled halfway through—but it felt magical, and that was enough.
when you finally pulled away, your breath came out uneven. she was smiling, that same dumb, giddy smile that made your heart feel too full.
“that was…” you started, still trying to catch your breath. “that was the best kiss of my life.”
her eyes softened, and she leaned her forehead against yours. “good,” she whispered. “because i want to see you again.”
and before you could respond, your driver honked from the curb—loud, impatient, pulling you both back to reality.
you looked at her one last time, her hands still lingering at your wrist, and smiled. “text me,” you said.
“i will.”
and as you walked away, you swore you could still feel the ghost of her lips on yours—the warmth of her hand, the way she said again like it was already a promise.
ever since that night at central park—since that kiss that left you dizzy and breathless—you and megan had been inseparable. it wasn’t perfect, not even close. you argued sometimes, mostly over stupid things, like when you could see her or how long you’d stay. she’d tease you about your curfew, you’d snap at her for being reckless, and then somehow, the fight would end the same way every time—with her voice softening, her fingers brushing your cheek, and your lips finding hers again like you’d been waiting your whole life.
the world outside your little bubble didn’t make it easy. claire and manuel wouldn’t stop talking about her. you could even hear claire saying, “she’s nobody, y/n,” claire said once, her voice sharp as glass. “what if she’s just using you?”
you wanted to believe their words didn’t matter. but sometimes, late at night, they found a way to echo in your head anyway. what if she was right? what if this was just infatuation? what if you were falling too fast?
but then you’d see megan again—her messy hair, that dumb grin, the way she said your name like it was something holy—and all those doubts would just... vanish.
so one afternoon, you decided to surprise her. you asked your driver to drop you off near the field where she worked—some neighborhood lawn, full of kids running and the smell of cut grass. she didn’t see you at first, but when she did, her face lit up so bright you could feel it from across the street.
“y/n!” she called out, throwing her gloves aside before sprinting toward you. she caught you in her arms and lifted you clean off the ground, spinning you around while you laughed into her shoulder. her skin smelled like sun and grass and something purely her.
“i can’t believe you’re actually here,” she said, still laughing, still holding onto you like she wasn’t ready to let go. then she kissed you—quick at first, then longer, like she was trying to make up for every second you’d been apart.
“i missed you,” you breathed, forehead pressed to hers. “and you promised me something.”
she smirked. “yeah? what’s that?”
“you said you’d take me to the lake.”
“did i?” she teased, brushing her nose against yours. her coworkers started cheering and whistling from behind her, and she turned around, rolling her eyes. “oh, shut up! i’ve missed my girlfriend.”
she laced her fingers with yours, tugging you toward the trail that led down the hill. “come on,” she said. “you’re getting that lake day.”
the air grew cooler as you reached the water, the sun dipping low over the trees. the lake shimmered gold, still except for the soft ripple of wind across its surface.
“you’re not serious,” you laughed, watching her strip down to her tank top and shorts.
“dead serious,” she grinned, stepping backward into the shallows. “come on, baby. water’s fine.”
“megan, no—” you started, but before you could finish, she splashed you, laughing loud and wild.
“oh, you’re so dead!” you shrieked, running in after her, the cold hitting you like a shock.
you splashed back, both of you laughing until your sides hurt, your screams echoing across the water. it was messy, stupid, perfect—two people forgetting the world for a while. it almost felt like you were stupid—stupid in love.
after what felt like hours, you both crawled out of the lake, soaked and breathless, collapsing onto the grass. you lay beside her, your heart still racing, as the sky above painted in streaks of pink and gold.
she tugged you closer until your head rested against her chest. her heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, grounding you. she traced lazy circles on your shoulder with her fingertips.
“you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she murmured against your hair, her voice barely more than a breath. she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, lingering there for a moment like she was afraid you might vanish if she moved too fast. “i can’t believe you’re really here with me.”
you smiled, eyes half-closed, your heart aching in the best possible way. you couldn’t believe it either. somewhere in another version of your life, maybe you would’ve ended up with brian—someone predictable, someone who made sense. but megan? she was chaos wrapped in warmth, sunlight tangled with storm. and somehow, she made you feel alive in a way no one ever had.
her hands moved slowly up and down your arms, tracing the shape of you like she was trying to memorize every inch. the warmth of her touch spread through your chest, grounding you. was this what love was supposed to feel like? the calm between heartbeats, the ache in your ribs, the quiet realization that you didn’t want to be anywhere else? if it was, then you never wanted to leave.
“i can’t believe you’re here either,” you whispered, your voice playful but soft, meeting her gaze with a crooked grin.
she smiled back, that lazy, radiant smile that always made your pulse quicken. then she pulled you closer, her lips finding yours in a kiss that started gentle but deepened until everything else blurred away—the taste of her, the sound of her breath, the world spinning quietly around you.
she pulled back only when she needed air, her forehead pressed to yours, her voice trembling just a little. “don’t go,” she whispered.
you blinked, still dazed. “w-what?”
“don’t… disappear,” she said, her hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your skin like she was afraid you’d slip through her fingers. there was something in her eyes then—something raw, almost pleading. “i want you here, okay? i want you to be mine for a long, long time.”
you reached up, covering her hand with yours. “hey,” you said softly, your smile gentle, steady. “i’m not going anywhere, megan. i promise.”
and just like that, her face broke into that ridiculous, golden-retriever grin—the one that always made your heart do that stupid flip. she laughed quietly, kissed you once more, and whispered against your lips, “good. because i don’t think i could let you go even if i tried.”
“megan?”
you whispered her name as you stepped through the trees, your shoes crunching against the dry leaves. the night air was cool, filled with the faint hum of cicadas. she stood ahead of you, grinning like a kid who’d just pulled off the greatest surprise in the world.
when you got close enough, you finally saw it—the treehouse. it was old, a little crooked, wood darkened by time and weather. you froze, your eyes wide, your hand flying up to cover your mouth.
“are you fucking kidding me?” you gasped.
“calm down,” she said with a breathless laugh, throwing her hands up. “trust me, baby. this isn’t sketchy at all.”
“yeah, but this thing looks like it’s about to collapse!”
“hey,” she smirked, reaching for your hand. “you scared of a little adventure?”
you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing as she led you up the creaky ladder, her grip firm and warm. once you climbed through the small opening, you stopped again—this time, not because you were scared.
the inside was small, but cozy. she’d laid out a blanket across the floor, a single candle flickering softly beside a box of takeout and two bottles of soda. the air smelled faintly of wax and her perfume. she sat down, patting the spot beside her, her smile proud and shy all at once.
“what do you think?” she said, leaning back on her hands. “i think i’m a romantic.”
you laughed, sitting down next to her. “i think you’re crazy,” you whispered, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “but this is amazing. thank you.”
“five months,” she murmured, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. “five months with you.”
you leaned into her side, smiling. “time flies, huh?”
she hesitated for a second, then reached into her pocket, pulling out something small. when she opened her hand, you saw it—a thin silver ring with a tiny knot in the middle.
“what’s this?” you asked softly.
“a promise ring,” she said, her voice quieter now. “i know it’s stupid, but… i wanted to give it to you tonight.” she reached for your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. “it’s a promise, yeah? that no matter what happens, you won’t let me go. and i won’t let you go either.”
you stared at the ring, then at her, your throat tightening. you know that megan did probably spent a week trying to find a perfect ring, because you know her too much—she would actually make things perfect so that you could be happy.
“megan…”
“say it,” she whispered. “promise me.”
you nodded, your eyes glassy under the candlelight. “i promise,” you said, your voice barely above a breath.
she smiled then—soft and trembling—and before you could say another word, she leaned in. the kiss started slow, tender, like she was testing the edges of your promise. but then her hand slid up the back of your neck, and something in you both shifted.
it deepened, the air between you thick and charged, your heart pounding as she kissed you like she’d been waiting forever. you felt her fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, her touch feather-light but enough to make you shiver.
you gasped softly, but you didn’t pull away. her lips trailed down your jaw, back to your mouth again, desperate and sweet all at once.
“you have no idea what you do to me,” she whispered against your lips, her breath shaky, her forehead resting against yours.
“i love you,” you whispered to her—which you were surprised to yourself. you and megan have never let those little three words out, and you were shocked that you were the first person to say it. she looked at you deeply with her brown eyes, curving into a smile with her teeth showing. she kisses you again and pulls you much closer to her body.
“i love you too,” she mumbled as she trails her mouth on your jaw, then to your neck as you let out a tiny moan. “i love you, baby.”
you and megan kept kissing like you couldn’t get enough, her lips always finding their way back to yours. her hands wandered up your body until her fingers brushed against your chest, pulling a quiet moan from you. you drew back slightly, breath trembling.
“a-are we ready?” you whispered.
“i’m ready,” she murmured, her touch moving lower as her lips found your skin. “are you?”
and for the first time, you truly were. you’d been with someone before, but this—this felt like your real first time. better. different. you nodded and pulled her into another deep kiss, your back pressing against the wooden floor beneath you.
you and megan moved closer, the space between you disappearing as your lips met again, slower this time. her hands trembled slightly when they found the edge of your shirt, and you helped her, your fingers brushing over hers as you pulled it over your head. the air felt different—softer, charged—and she looked at you like she’d never seen anything more real.
she hesitated for a moment, tracing small circles on your skin, and you did the same, your fingertips brushing over her shoulders before sliding down her arms. neither of you said anything; you just kept kissing, deep and unhurried, like you were learning each other all over again.
the sound of your breathing filled the quiet of the treehouse, the old wood creaking beneath you as she whispered your name against your lips. it wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t planned—it was gentle, nervous, and full of the kind of love that felt too big for words.
you watched as megan's cock grew harder and harder, her chest heaving with every deep breath she took. your eyes met again, and you couldn't help yourself, pulling her down into a passionate kiss. you tugged at her, trying to get her to lie back on the wooden floor with you again.
she pulled back reluctantly after a few moments, her hand going to her cock, stroking it in an almost jittery rhythm. she spread your legs open wide, the cool air hitting your hot, wet core and making you shiver.
"you're so beautiful like this," she whispered, her voice rough with desire, leaning down to lick and suck at one of your nipples. you mewled and whined, scratching at her back as your hips lifted of their own accord, the tip of her cock brushing against your clit and making you throb. "baby..."
"please," you whined, trembling with need as she pushed your hips back down, her cock dragging over you again, making you shudder. "please, megan, put it in…
"yeah?" she teased, her voice breathy and playful, lining herself up with your entrance. she rubbed the head of her cock against you, making you whimper and squirm. "do you like it?"
"yes," you gasped, your hips twitching. "yes, i love it, please, megan, give it to me..."
she grinned, the tip of her cock finally sliding into you. she went slow, letting you feel every inch of her as she pushed in. you were dripping wet, your body more than ready for her, but she still felt huge like this, stretching you open in the best way.
"Oh fuck," she breathed, her arms trembling on either side of you. "you're so tight..."
you could only moan in response, your head thrown back, your body shaking underneath her. she worked herself all the way in, not stopping until she was buried to the hilt. the feeling of being so completely filled up, of having every inch of her inside you, was enough to leave you breathless and dizzy.
she gave you a moment to adjust, kissing up and down your neck, nibbling at your pulse point until you were squirming underneath her again. "ready, baby?" she asked.
you just nodded, whimpering a little, your nails digging into her shoulders.
she started slow, rocking her hips against yours, letting you feel every inch of her dragging in and out. she hit your g-spot with every thrust, making your toes curl and your back arch. you met her thrust for thrust, the two of you quickly finding a rhythm.
"you feel so good," she groaned into your ear. "you feel so fucking good."
"faster," you moaned, your hips snapping up to meet hers. "harder, please—"
“you want me like this?” she taunted as she kisses you again, her tongue lapping against yours as she sets a slow but rough pace, like she was in a hurry or something. “i love you so much.”
megan started moving faster, her hips slamming against yours, skin slapping against skin. you reached up, grabbing her face and pulling her down into a messy, open-mouthed kiss, tasting her sweat and letting her taste yours.
"you're so big," you moaned into her mouth, making her shudder. "no one's ever taken me like this before."
she made a low, needy noise, her hips stuttering. "can i turn you around?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes dark with lust. "i want to see your back."
you could only nod, your whole body feeling like it was on fire. you let her turn you over, lying flat on the floor. she grabbed your hips, yanking them up until you were on your knees, your face pressed against the wood.
she didn't waste any time, thrusting back into you, fucking you harder than before. you could feel every inch of her as she worked herself in and out, your bodies pressed together. she might have been inexperienced, but she was learning quickly.
"i've never felt like this before," she panted, her hips snapping against yours. "god, baby, you feel so good."
"you want me like this?" you asked, echoing her earlier tease.
she moaned, long and low, bending over you to kiss the back of your neck. "i love you so much," she breathed against your skin, setting a slow but rough pace, like she was in a hurry to feel you come undone around her.
megan fisted a hand in your hair, pulling your head back and crashing her lips down onto yours. she kissed you deeply, messily, moaning into your mouth with every thrust. you could feel her sweat-slicked chest sliding against your back, her hard nipples dragging over your skin.
"don’t let me go," she mumbled into your mouth, punctuating her words with a particularly hard thrust—she was begging, and you’ve always hear her beg. but not like this. "i love you, y/n. d-don’t let me go."
"i love you too," you sobbed, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure. "i love you, please, harder, i need more."
she obliged, snapping her hips against yours with enough force to jolt you forward. she was moaning almost constantly now, the sounds muffled by your mouth. you never thought this would happen to you, making love to someone whom you’re crazy about, underneath the stars in the sky while the heat is running through your body—her hands all over you, her grunts against your ear. it was mere perfect, so fucking perfect.
megan spun you around again, pulling you onto her lap. she lifted you up and slammed you back down hard and fast on her cock. you screamed, unable to stop yourself, feeling your breasts bouncing wildly with every rough thrust. she stared on them, dark with lust. you grabbed her face, forcing her to look up at you. "do you love me?" you whispered, your voice shaking.
she nodded frantically, licking a stripe up your shoulder, her hands tight on your ass. "i love you so—fucking—much," she stuttered, fucking you with every word. her voice was wrecked, broken, like she could barely think straight.
you whimpered, her words sending shivers down your spine. you leaned in, kissing her hard, messy and desperate. she moaned into your mouth, the sound high and needy, her fingers digging into your skin.
"i love you," you gasped, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. "i love you, i love you, i—"
she cut you off with a moan, yanking you down and rolling her hips, fucking you as deep as she could. you could feel her cock twitching inside you, feel her getting close again already, and it was enough to send you hurtling over the edge.
"i-i'm close," megan grunted, her eyes rolling back as she palmed your left breast, squeezing it roughly. "i need to cum, i—"
"me too," you panted against her lips, rolling your hips to pull yourself off her cock. you could see it glistening with your wetness, and it sent a thrill through you. she took the tip of her cock and started jerking it fast and hard against your clit, staring at you with desperate, needy eyes. "baby, i'm almost—"
"take me in again," she whimpered, begging you, and you were helpless to resist. you sank back down onto her cock, taking her all the way inside you. she held you close, her arms wrapped tight around your body like she never wanted to let you go. "cum around my fucking cock."
you came hard, your whole body tensing, your nails digging into her shoulders hard enough to leave marks. you clamped down on her cock, your walls pulsing around her as you tried to milk her for all she was worth. she was only a second behind you, shouting as she came, her hips bucking wildly, as she fucks you through both of your orgasms. you could feel her filling you up, her cum hot and thick inside you, and you moaned her name once more, your hands fisted tight in her hair.
"fuck," megan whimpered, her hips jerking as she chanted your name. "oh fuck."
she pulled out, watching as her cum dripped out of your cunt, her eyes rolling back with pleasure. she set you down on the floor, spreading your legs, and you panted heavily, pushing sweat-slicked hair out of your face.
you watched, dazed, as megan tried to calm herself down, jerking her cock slowly, cum still oozing from the tip. you giggled, covering your face with your hands. "i can't believe you aren't done yet," you whispered.
megan laughed breathlessly, her hand still on her length. "i can't help it," she said, sounding wrecked. "you wore me out."
as if to demonstrate, she held your thigh, spreading her cum all over your skin. you moaned, watching as she jerked herself, her eyes dark with lust. she was still hard, her cock twitching with every stroke.
eventually, after she was done, she cleaned your thighs with a small rag as she lied down beside you, her arms wrapped around your naked body. she kisses you lazily, pushing your sweaty hair from your face as she giggled. you rolled your eyes and whispered, “what?”
“i love you,” she whispered, her voice rough around the edges, as if the words had been waiting a long time to be said. she pulled you close, tucking your head under her chin, her heartbeat loud and steady against your ear. “i never thought it could feel like this.”
you smiled faintly, still catching your breath. “like what?”
she hesitated, her eyes searching yours in the dim candlelight. “like something real,” she said finally, her words barely above a whisper. “i’ve been close to people before, but it never felt like this. not like us.”
you reached up, brushing your thumb across her cheek. “that’s because this isn’t just some moment, megan. this is us.”
she grinned a little, leaning her forehead against yours. “you’re gonna ruin me, y’know that?” she said quietly, the words carrying both laughter and fear.
you laughed softly and as soon as you were about to say something—a noise broke through the stillness. distant at first, but growing clearer: a voice calling your name. your mother’s voice.
your stomach dropped. how on earth did she find you?
“oh no,” you muttered, sitting up, panic already rising in your throat.
megan blinked, confused. “what—”
“my mom,” you hissed, eyes darting toward the small window. “she’s here.”
her eyes went wide. “shit,” she whispered, fumbling for her shirt. both of you scrambled to gather your clothes, bumping into each other in the cramped space, hearts pounding so loud it felt like the whole forest could hear.
“y/n!” your mother’s voice echoed from below the treehouse, sharp and furious. “you better come down right now!”
you froze, looking at megan helplessly. she reached for your hand, squeezing it once. “hey,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “it’s okay.”
but it wasn’t.
you climbed down the ladder, your hands shaking, the cold air biting your skin. the moment your feet touched the ground, your mother was there—eyes blazing, her face pale under the headlights of her car.
“mom, wait—” you started, but the words died the instant her hand struck your cheek.
the sound cracked through the night.
you gasped, your hand flying to your face, eyes stinging with tears you didn’t want to let fall.
“how dare you sneak out like this?” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “do you have any idea how worried i was?”
you opened your mouth, but she wasn’t finished. her gaze shifted past you—and landed on megan, who was halfway down the ladder, frozen.
your mother’s expression hardened. “and this is who you’re with?” she said coldly. “this girl?”
“mrs. l/n,” megan began softly, but your mother cut her off, her voice sharp.
“don’t speak to me. i know who you are. your family can barely keep a roof over their heads, and this is what you think is good enough for my daughter?”
“mom, stop it!” you shouted, stepping between them, your voice breaking.
megan stood silent behind you, her fists clenched, jaw tight—but her eyes were glassy, humiliated. of course, you didn’t want megan to feel like this. you knew this day was about to come, but not like this—not when megan is about to get humiliated.
and your heart aches because of it.
“you don’t know her like i do,” you said, pleading now. “she’s good. she’s good, mom.”
“good?” your mother spat. “she’s trouble. and if you don’t end this, you’ll end up just like her.”
for a moment, no one moved. only the wind moved through the trees, brushing against your skin like a warning, and the old treehouse above you creaked softly as if it, too, understood the weight of what just happened.
your cheek still burned from your mother’s slap, but that wasn’t what hurt most. it was the look on megan’s face—the way her shoulders shrank, the way she couldn’t even lift her gaze from the ground.
“mom,” you said, your voice trembling, eyes glassy with tears. “how could you talk to her like that?”
your mother turned sharply, her expression unmoved. “because someone needs to talk sense into you. you don’t belong here, y/n. and she—” she gestured toward megan with a cold flick of her wrist “—she’s not the kind of girl you should be sneaking out to see.”
you felt something twist inside your chest, something heavy and raw. “you don’t even know her,” you said, your voice breaking. “you don’t know what she’s been through, what she’s like when she laughs, or how hard she works, or—” you stopped yourself, choking on your words. “she’s kind, mom. she’s real. and she makes me feel alive.”
“alive?” your mother snapped, stepping closer. “she’s going to ruin you. this little fantasy you have—it’s beneath you, y/n.”
you stared at her, stunned, your throat tightening. “beneath me?” you whispered. “you think she’s beneath me because she’s poor? because she doesn’t live in some penthouse or wear the same clothes as us?”
“enough.” your mother’s voice was like a blade. “get in the car.”
you shook your head, tears spilling freely now. “no. not until you say you’re sorry.”
“excuse me?”
“say you’re sorry to her,” you said, turning to megan, who still stood there, small and silent under the dim light of the car. “say you’re sorry for talking to her like she’s nothing.”
your mother brushed you off as she stomped herself into the vehicle, hearing the door shut loudly. you turned around to megan with tears in her eyes, trying to wipe them with the back of her hand. you shook your head as you cupped her face, your voice sobbing.
your mother’s car door slammed shut, echoing through the quiet night like thunder. the sound made you flinch, but you didn’t look back. you couldn’t. your heart was fixed on megan—standing there, her hands shaking, her eyes red and wet as she wiped at her face like she could erase what just happened.
“megan,” you whispered, stepping closer, but she only shook her head, taking a step back.
“don’t,” she said, her voice cracking like a snapped branch. “please, don’t.”
“what are you talking about?” you said, your voice breaking as you reached for her hand. “you didn’t do anything wrong—”
“yes, i did,” she interrupted, pulling her hand away. “y/n, i shouldn’t have brought you here. i shouldn’t have let it get this far.”
you stared at her, stunned, your breath catching in your throat. “what are you saying?”
“i’m saying i don’t belong in your life,” she said, louder this time, her chest rising and falling as her tears started to spill again. “look at me, y/n. i sell popcorn for a living. I—fuck, i work at the fucking lawn. i live in a house that leaks when it rains. i can’t give you anything—nothing like what you’re used to.”
you shook your head furiously, stepping closer to her, your voice trembling. she was wrong, she was wrong about this. “that’s not true—”
“it is true!” she snapped, tears streaming down her face now. “you come from money, from… people who expect things. i can’t fit in that world. i wouldn’t even know how to. and you—” she pointed at you weakly then at her. “you’ll get tired of this. of me.”
“megan, stop,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“i do,” she said, her tone collapsing into a sob. “god, i do. i’ve been trying not to, but i do. your mom’s right. i’m not good for you.”
“don’t you dare say that,” you cried, grabbing her face in your hands as your tears fell onto her cheeks. “don’t you dare believe that, mei! you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. you’re—”
“stop it,” she said, pulling your hands away from her face, her own fingers trembling as she did. “don’t make this harder.”
you stared at her, eyes wild with heartbreak. “harder? you think walking away is going to make it easier?”
“yeah,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “for you.”
“no,” you said fiercely, shaking your head. “not for me. not even close.”
she laughed bitterly through her tears, looking away. “you’ll see. in a few weeks, you’ll forget about me. you’ll meet someone who fits into your world, who doesn’t make your mom glare at you like you’ve done something wrong.”
“stop saying that!” you screamed, your voice shattering. why was she saying this? so she could push you away? everything was starting to hurt, you could even feel it in your bones. “you don’t get to decide that for me, megan. you don’t get to tell me what i’ll feel.”
she looked at you, her eyes were full of love and grief all at once, like she wanted to memorize your face but couldn’t stand to keep staring.
“you deserve more than me,” she whispered, her voice trembling like she could barely hold herself together. “someone who can take you to dinner, not sneak burgers by the met steps. someone who can buy you flowers, not pick them off a lawn they’re supposed to mow.”
“i don’t want that,” you said, stepping closer, your voice cracking. “i don’t want any of that. i want you.”
you knew you sounded delusional, but you coudn’t help it. because right now, you could possibly lose the actual love of your life, the girl who moved you—the girl who would move the world for you.
but it seemed like everything was fake, like it was a facade. what if she did use you? no, you couldn’t believe that. megan is not like that.
she shook her head, her lip quivering as she whispered, “you say that now.”
“and i’ll say it again tomorrow,” you said, your voice breaking. “and the day after that. and the day after that.”
she let out a sob that tore through the silence, clutching at her hair before covering her face. “god, y/n, why are you making this so hard?”
“because i love you!” you shouted, the words ripping out of you before you could stop them. “i love you, megan, and i don’t care if we’re different or if the world doesn’t make sense. i just—i love you.”
“don’t say that,” megan whispered, her voice breaking apart. she looked at you like she wished she could take the words back, but it was too late.
“why not?” you shot back, your tears spilling hot down your cheeks. “it’s the truth, megan. i love you. i love you!”
“stop!” she shouted suddenly, the sound echoing through the night. “you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“don’t tell me what i know!” your voice cracked, trembling with hurt. “god, why are you doing this? why are you pushing me away?”
“because i have to!” she yelled, clutching her hair, her voice breaking apart. you follow her as she takes a few steps back, staring at you with her red eyes from crying. “because it’s the right thing to do!”
“no, it’s not!” you screamed back. “you’re just scared! you’re scared of loving me because you think you’re not enough, but you are, megan—you are!”
her jaw tightened, her eyes glossy and fierce. “you don’t understand, y/n. i’m not good for you. i’ll mess everything up. i already have.”
“bullshit,” you said, stepping closer, your voice shaking. you hit her chest, and she lets you, and keep hitting her until she tries to stop your hands—but you were too angry, too angry at this world, too angry at your mother.
“stop,” she whispered to you as you let out a sob, slapping her chest hard. “stop this!”
“you are such a fucking liar,” you say angrily as you cried. “you are a liar!”
“fine!” she yelled as she hits her face, and you immediately stopped her hands. she removes herself from you as she shouted, “what?! now i can’t hit myself?”
“you don’t get to decide that. you don’t get to tell me who’s good for me.”
“you’ll regret this,” she said, her tone shaking but sharp. “you’ll wake up one day and realize i was the mistake.”
“then let me make it!” you shouted, your voice breaking under the weight of it. “let me make that mistake, megan! because i don’t care—I’d still choose you!”
choose me, you thought to yourself—like it was a chant. you were going to lose her, whether you liked it or not. but how could you make her stay? how could you make this right?
she let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, her tears falling freely now. “god, y/n, you make everything so fucking hard.”
“then stop pretending you don’t want me!” you yelled, stepping so close your breaths were colliding. “stop pretending you don’t love me when you do!”
she froze—her lips parted, her eyes softening for just a moment. and then her voice came out in a whisper, small and trembling. “i do love you,” she said. “that’s the problem.”
you stared at her, and for a second the world tilted off its axis. everything—the wind, the chirping night, the sound of the cars somewhere far away—faded into nothing. it was just her. her trembling lips. her tear-streaked face. the quiet breaking of the only thing that ever felt real.
your breath hitched, a sharp, aching sound that scraped the back of your throat. you could feel it happening—the slow, unbearable pull of her slipping away from you, like sand running through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to hold on.
your chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. you wanted to say something—anything—to stop her from walking out of this moment, out of your life. but the words wouldn’t come. all you could do was look at her and know, with a clarity that cut straight through your ribs, that you were watching the person you loved the most become someone you’d have to live without.
it felt like the kind of loss you didn’t recover from. like every version of your future suddenly blurred and rewrote itself without her in it.
and still—you couldn’t stop looking. because how do you turn away from the person who just took your heart with them?
“then why are you doing this?” you whispered, your voice breaking completely.
she looked away, her voice shaking. “because loving you means ruining you. and i can’t do that. i won’t.”
the silence that followed hurt more than any scream could. your heart felt like it had cracked clean in two.
“so that’s it?” you asked softly, barely managing to keep your voice steady. “you’re just… letting go?”
megan’s lips trembled. “i don’t want to,” she whispered, “but i have to.”
you took a step forward, your tears unstoppable now. “then don’t,” you said, your voice fragile and shaking. “please don’t.”
but she didn’t move. she just stood there in the middle of the dirt road, tears streaming down her face, her hands trembling as if she didn’t know what to do with them anymore. your mother’s voice cut through the silence—sharp, impatient. “get in the car.”
you hesitated, your hand still hovering near megan’s, the space between you humming with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t. your throat burned, your heart felt too big for your chest, and all you could manage was a whisper that never reached her.
then, with your mother’s voice rising again, you turned—slowly, like moving through water—and climbed into the car. the door shut with a hollow thud that felt final.
as the engine started and the car rolled forward, you looked back through the window. megan was still there, her face buried in her hands, her body shaking as she cried into the night. you pressed your palm against the glass, wishing somehow she could feel it—that she’d know you didn’t want to leave, that none of this was what you wanted.
the headlights cut through the trees, and soon she was gone from view, swallowed by darkness. but the image of her—crying, breaking, still standing there—stayed burned behind your eyelids long after the car had driven away.
seven years later, the world looked different. the city skyline was sharper, the lights brighter, and the silence of your apartment heavier than you remembered it ever being. you sat curled on the couch, a mug of coffee gone cold between your palms, half-listening to the tv humming in the background while your mother flipped through the channels beside you.
“you’re on your phone again,” she said absently. “you’re supposed to relax on weekends, not edit drafts.”
“it’s not work,” you lied, your eyes glued to the glowing screen of your phone—emails, deadlines, models to approve. being the youngest editor at lumine magazine had its privileges, but it left you little space to breathe.
“fine,” she said, pressing the remote. “at least watch something decent with me.”
you nodded as you placed your phone onto the cushion, glancing at the television. but then your world stopped—as if you couldn’t breathe. it couldn’t be—
you froze, your head snapping up before your mind caught up.
there she was. megan skiendiel. onstage. confident, radiant, and rather alive.
she stood under the stage lights, mic in hand, her hair a different color now—a gleaming black hair with strands of pink within instead of the soft dark brown you used to thread your fingers through. she wore an outfit of red, shimmering under the spotlight as the crowd roared her name. the screen cut to the title card: “katseye – performing ‘garbiela’ live at the VMAs.”
your heart slammed against your ribs.
“oh, she’s lovely,” your mother murmured, adjusting her glasses. “wait—” she squinted, leaning closer to the screen. “that’s the girl from your old town, isn’t it? what was her name again?”
you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “megan.”
“yes! megan.” she smiled faintly, unaware of the storm unraveling inside you. “didn’t she use to help her parents at the lawn? i can’t believe she’s on television now.”
you could barely breathe. every note megan sang hit something inside you—something that hadn’t been touched in years. she moved like she was born for that stage, her voice low and raw in a way you’d never heard before. and yet, beneath all that polish, beneath the glamor and the lights, you could still see her. the girl who once took you to the lake and made you promise you’d never let go.
your chest tightened, that old ache returning as memories began to spill back like rain—her laugh, her hands, the way she looked at you under the flicker of candlelight in the treehouse.
“she always said she wanted to be a performer,” you murmured, mostly to yourself.
your mother looked at you then, puzzled by the softness in your tone. “you remember that?”
you nodded slowly, a small, sad smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. i do.”
on screen, the camera zoomed in close—megan’s eyes glistened under the lights, her expression fierce yet familiar, and for a heartbeat, it felt like she was looking straight through the television. straight at you.
you looked down, unable to hold her gaze even from a world away.
“she made it,” you whispered. “she really did.”
your mother hummed in agreement, already reaching for her tea. “seems like she found where she belongs.”
but you weren’t so sure. because as the last note of garbiela echoed through the room, you realized that a part of you still belonged to that girl—still waiting in the past, by that lake, whispering promises neither of you ever managed to keep.
you tried to move on. god knows, you really did. you built a life, piece by piece, until it looked almost whole again. for seven long years, you let the memory of megan fade into the background noise of your mind—something bittersweet that lingered, like an unfinished song. after your family moved back to jersey, you focused on what you could control: finishing your degree, working your way up from unpaid internships, writing articles that no one read until suddenly everyone did. you became the writer you never thought you’d be, and later, an editor people actually listened to.
and yet, every night before bed, your thoughts drifted to her—megan skiendiel, the girl who kissed you like the world was ending and loved you like it might’ve been saved. you wondered sometimes, when you visited your old town, standing beneath the rotting frame of that treehouse, if she ever thought of you too. if maybe, in some other version of the world, your parents didn’t intervene, and you two grew up side by side—reckless, in love, and unstoppable.
but she never called again.
and you never answered, even when she did.
you had blocked her number after that night. it felt right at the time—a clean cut from a wound that never healed properly. but the silence that followed became its own kind of ache.
then one rainy afternoon, sitting alone at your favorite corner table in a coffee shop downtown, you found her again. you were scrolling through your inbox, half-distracted, sifting through press releases and submissions, when a name stopped you cold. your breath caught as you frowned, hovering over the search bar, heart hammering as you clicked.
200 emails, all unread.
your fingers trembled as you opened the first one.
hey… i don’t even know if this is still your email, but i just wanted to tell you i auditioned for something. a show. a survival one. i don’t think i’ll get in but… i just needed to tell someone who used to believe in me.
you swallowed hard and opened the next.
i made it, y/n. i’m actually in the lineup. i cried when they told me. god, i wish you were here. i wish you could see it.
another.
we debuted today. i can’t even describe it. i think i almost fainted during rehearsal, but it’s happening. i’m in a girl group. a real one. i wish i could tell you everything, but you probably don’t want to hear from me anymore.
and another.
we won something. not big, but it means a lot to me. i used to dream about stages and lights, and now they’re mine. i hope you’re doing okay. i miss you.
your head was spinning as your mouth dried up, covering it with your fingertips.
we finally made enough money to buy a house for my parents. it’s small, but it’s ours. i think you’d love the kitchen—it has those stupid yellow tiles you always talked about. i thought about that when we signed the papers.
and then one, sent at three in the morning, subject line: i can’t sleep again.
it’s been years, and i still think about you every night. i don’t know why i’m writing this, maybe because it’s the only way i can talk to you now. i see your face in crowds sometimes, i hear your laugh when i’m alone—i tell myself i’m fine, that i’ve moved on, but then i close my eyes and i’m right back in that treehouse, holding you, feeling your heartbeat against mine. you ruined me in the best way,
y/n. i still love you. i always will. i just wish you knew how much.
by the time you reached the last email, your coffee had gone cold.
if you’re still out there, i just hope you’re happy. i don’t know if we were meant to last forever, but i think about you every time i sing that one song i wrote years ago. you know the one. the one about the lake.
you sat there, silent, tears stinging your eyes as the world moved quietly around you. the barista called out names, the grinder buzzed, a couple laughed near the window—but all you could hear was her voice, echoing through seven years of distance and unread words.
you pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to steady your breathing. she had written, over and over again. she had tried. she had never stopped.
and now she was out there, shining on a stage you once promised to stand beside her on—while you were here, finally realizing that you’d spent all this time trying to forget someone who never once forgot you.
before you could close your laptop, a shadow fell across your table. you looked up—half expecting the barista—but your breath caught midair. standing there, framed by the soft glow of the café lights, was megan. she looked different now, older, steadier. her hair was longer, a little darker, and she carried herself like someone who had finally found the ground beneath her feet. in her hand was a cup of coffee, steam curling upward between you like a secret.
“you’re still so beautiful,” she murmured, the words almost swallowed by the low hum of the café. you couldn’t tell if she meant to say it out loud, but it slipped through anyway, tender and trembling.
you stood up so quickly your chair nearly tipped. the sight of her—so real, so heartbreakingly familiar—knocked the air out of your lungs. you didn’t even think. your body just moved, arms wrapping around her, pulling her close. she melted into you instantly, like she had been waiting for that exact moment, that exact breath. her face pressed into your neck, her coffee still clutched awkwardly in one hand as the other found its way to your back.
you felt her exhale—shaky, relieved—like she’d been holding that breath for years.
“i never thought i’d see you again,” you whispered, your voice breaking into her shoulder.
she pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes glistening. “i didn’t either,” she said softly, a smile trembling at the corners of her mouth. “but waiting was worth it.”
then she leaned in, and before you could think, she kissed you.
it wasn’t desperate like before—it was deep, slow, and sure, like something rebuilt after years of distance and ache. her hand came up to your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin as if to make sure you were real.
you kissed her back, letting the world around you fade into a blur of warmth and memory and everything you had both lost and found again. when you finally parted, foreheads resting together, she whispered, breathless, “you have no idea how many times i imagined this.”
you smiled through the tears you didn’t realize were falling. “megan,” you breathed, almost laughing from disbelief. “you’re really here.”
“i am,” she said, her voice steady now, like a promise. “and you’re never leaving again.”
outside, the city moved on as if nothing had changed—but for you, it had. for the first time in years, you didn’t feel like something was missing. she was right there, warm and real in your arms, and suddenly, the waiting, the silence, the ache—every bit of it made sense.
because somehow, impossibly, megan had found her way back to you.
synop . . . ˖᯽ ݁˖ you are sophia's childhood best friend and spent every waking moment together. now that she's a performer, she comes back home to introduce you to her friends. and that's when you meet megan, who made you feel things that you never expected to feel.
g!p megan, first time, lost of virginity (megan and reader), dirty talking, p in v, no minors dni, wc 9.7k (megan and reader are both 19 years old here).
note . . . ˖᯽ ݁˖ i am filipino so please i hope i did well writing this one-shot LOL enjoy the ride :)
play . . . ˖᯽ ݁˖ "tears" by sabrina carpenter
. . . masterlist | m.s masterlist ⋆˚࿔
when you were kids, sophia laforteza sat two rows ahead of you in grade school—the girl with the neatest handwriting and the brightest laugh. she was always humming some random tune during art class, the kind that got stuck in your head all day. you didn’t know how it happened exactly—maybe it was when you shared your snacks with her after she forgot hers, or that one time you both got scolded for laughing too much during science—but somewhere along the way, sophia became your best friend.
back then, when she still lived in manila, the two of you were inseparable. weekends meant adventures, and adventures always meant getting lost in binondo. you’d roam around the crowded streets, clutching paper bags of hopia and siopao, daring each other to try something new. once, you accidentally ordered a dish way too spicy for human consumption, and sophia laughed so hard she almost cried—you remember thinking, even back then, that her laugh sounded like sunlight.
she was always the performer—the girl who sang with too much passion during school programs, who turned every hallway into a stage. you used to tease her about it, but you also couldn’t help being in awe. she’d sing theatrically, dance beautifully, like she was already living inside her dream.
and then, two years ago, she told you she was leaving for america. it was one of those late nights in your room—music playing softly, the city buzzing faintly outside. she sat cross-legged on your bed, her suitcase half-packed.
“i got in,” she said, eyes wide and shining.
“got in where?” you asked.
“dream academy,” she breathed out. “hybe’s training program, they accepted me.”
you didn’t know what to say at first—pride and disbelief tangled in your throat. she was really doing it. she was going to chase the dream she’d been talking about since you were both twelve.
when she won—when katseye was officially announced—you were so proud you could’ve cried. you called her that evening, hands trembling with excitement.
“i’m so proud of you, pia,” you said, smiling so wide it hurt.
on the other end of the line, her voice cracked a little. “i miss you, y/n. i’m coming home soon, okay? intayin mo lang ako diyan.” wait for me there.
you laughed softly, trying not to sound emotional. “sus, ingat ka palagi, pia.” take care always.
“of course,” she said, giggling through the static. “i wouldn’t be here without you.”
you still remember that call sometimes—her voice, the tiny sniffle she tried to hide, and how you stared at your ceiling after, both proud and a little lonely.
two years later, it happens. you’ve just gotten home from college when the news breaks online: katseye is in manila. your timeline is chaos—fancams, photos, people losing their minds—but all you can think is she’s here. before you can even process it, your phone starts ringing.
“hello?”
“hey!” sophia’s voice practically bursts through the speaker, bright and familiar. “guess where i am?”
you roll your eyes, grinning. “hmm, let me guess… a concert stage? an airport?”
“wrong. i’m home,” she says, laughing. “as in, home. come over, please? mama is excited to see you!”
your heart does that thing again—the one where it skips a beat and then races to catch up. sophia’s house. that house. the same one where you used to spend your afternoons after school, the one that smelled faintly of vanilla candles and her mom’s cooking.
you glance at the clock—it’s barely 4 p.m. you could say no, tell her you’ve just gotten back and you’re tired. but instead, you find yourself grabbing your keys
“on my way,” you say, and she cheers over the phone before hanging up.
you don’t know what exactly to expect—maybe a simple reunion, a few laughs, a couple of old stories shared over snacks.
you can’t wait to see your best friend again.
****
you push open the familiar gates of the laforteza house, the hinges creaking just the same way they used to back in high school. the garden looks a little neater now—new plants, a fresh coat of paint on the fence—but the air still smells like sampaguita and home.
as soon as you step inside, the maid spots you from the porch. she pauses for a second, squinting, then her face lights up.
“ay, ikaw nga! si y/n, ’di ba?” she says, smiling wide. “naku, matagal ka na naming ’di nakita!” (oh, it’s really you! y/n, right? we haven’t seen you in so long!
you grin. “oo nga po, yaya. tagal na.” yeah, it’s been a while, yaya.
she nods enthusiastically, wiping her hands on her apron. “nandiyan siya sa loob—with her new friends!” she’s inside—with her new friends!
you let out a small laugh, half teasing, half nostalgic. “new friends? yaya, ako ang best friend niya.” new friends? yaya, i’m her best friend.
she chuckles, eyes crinkling. “at ’yung tanging isa,” she adds under her breath, still smiling. and her only one.
you shake your head, laughing softly as you climb the front steps. before you can even knock, the door swings open—and there she is. sophia, standing in the doorway like time hasn’t moved at all. her hair’s a little longer now, her posture more confident, but her eyes—those bright, laughing eyes—are exactly the same.
“y/n, oh my god—namiss kita!” y/n, oh my god—I missed you!
she throws her arms around you before you can even respond, pulling you into a tight hug that smells faintly of vanilla perfume and memories. for a second, you forget the years in between—the video calls, the concerts, the distance. it’s just her again, your best friend, right here.
“i missed you more, silly,” you laugh, pulling back just enough to cup her face. her skin feels warm under your palms, and for a second, you just take her in—the glow, the energy, the way she somehow looks even more like herself now. “my god, you look beautiful.”
she smirks, tilting her head with that familiar sparkle in her eyes. “you like my new style?” she says, adding a playful wink—typical sophia. even after all these years, she still knows how to turn a simple question into a performance.
you roll your eyes, grinning. “i would—kung magluluto si tita.” i would—if your mom cooked.
her eyes widen for a moment before she bursts into laughter. “ay, oo nga! she did!” oh, right! she did!
she grabs your hand, tugging you inside before you can say anything else. the air inside the house smells the same—like freshly cooked rice and vanilla-scented candles. you pause by the living room, taking in everything. the chandelier still hangs above the ceiling, its crystals catching the afternoon light just like they used to. you can almost see your younger selves again—sophia throwing those little rubber balls up there while you scolded her, terrified she’d break it.
“i swear, i still don’t know how that chandelier survived you,” you tease as you follow her further inside.
“because it’s my house,” she says proudly, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
you laugh, shaking your head, and then you reach the kitchen. it’s warm and busy—mrs. laforteza is there, standing over the stove with two maids bustling beside her. the smell of garlic, soy sauce, and something sweet fills the air.
“tita!” you call out, smiling as she turns around.
“ay, y/n!” she exclaims, eyes lighting up. “look at you, anak! ang tagal mong nawala.” oh, y/n! look at you, my child! it’s been so long.
you step forward for a quick hug, laughing softly. “miss ko na ’tong lutong bahay niyo po, tita.” i missed your home-cooked food, tita.
“then you came on the right day,” she says proudly. “your favorite—adobo.”
you glance at sophia, who’s leaning against the counter with that same smug little grin.
“see?” she says, raising a brow. “the universe heard you.”
you shake your head, smiling. “or maybe tita just loves me more than you.”
“uy!” she gasps, laughing. “no one loves you more than i do.”
sophia clapped her hands together, that same energetic grin spreading across her face. “come on,” she said, motioning for you to follow her toward the mini living room outside. it wasn’t there before—just a small space by the garden now transformed with new furniture and soft, golden lights hanging overhead.
you follow her out, the late afternoon air warm but pleasant, the faint hum of the city spilling over the walls. she gestures proudly at the space, like she built it herself. “i didn’t even know mama wanted a little renovation,” she says, still looking around in surprise.
you laugh as you take a seat on the small rattan couch by the corner. “yeah. she has a patio now,” you say, glancing at the little plants lined neatly by the wall, all thriving under the soft glow of fairy lights. “it’s cute. very tita-coded.”
“well, you know her,” sophia says with a grin, sitting beside you and tucking one leg under the other. “she can’t go a month without rearranging something. last time i was home, she was obsessed with those aesthetic diffusers she saw on tiktok.”
you laugh, shaking your head. “that sounds like her. i bet she has one in every room now.”
“oh, she does.” sophia leans back, stretching her arms behind her head. “but hey—oh my god—you should meet my friends!” her eyes suddenly widen like she just remembered something monumental.
you tilt your head at her, smiling. “your multilingual friends?” you tease, crossing your arms.
she lets out a loud, playful laugh, her whole body rocking as she nods. “exactly!” she says between giggles. “the world’s most chaotic yet talented group of girls. i swear, you’re gonna love them.”
“we’ll see about that,” you say with amusement. “you’ve been hyping them up for months.”
“because they’re worth the hype!” she shoots back, grabbing her phone from the table. “hold on, i’ll call them. i’m sure they’re dying to meet you. well, okay—some of them are dying to meet you.”
you raise a brow curiously. “some?”
she smirks, scrolling through her phone as if she’s trying to look casual, but her tone gives her away. “you know, megan’s been asking about you since i mentioned you last week,” she says, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. “i told her about my best friend back in manila—how you used to drag me to binondo, how you’d scold me every time i threw things at the chandelier, how you’d always buy extra food ‘just in case.’”
you blink, trying not to smile too much. “you… told her all that?”
“of course i did!” sophia says proudly. “i had to make sure she knows you’re iconic. she even said, ‘i can’t wait to meet her,’ in that cute accent of hers.”
you laugh, cheeks warming a little. “wow, no pressure.”
sophia grins wider, clearly delighted by your reaction. “oh, there’s definitely pressure. i might’ve told her you’re just as cool as i am.”
you snort. “then she’s in for disappointment.”
“please,” sophia scoffs, standing up and brushing invisible dust off her jeans. “you two are going to get along so well. trust me.”
she turns toward the glass door, calling into the house with her usual bright, commanding voice. “guys! come out here! i want you to meet someone!”
the laughter from inside grows louder—footsteps, voices overlapping in different accents, the sound of a door sliding open.
you can feel your heart start to beat faster without really knowing why. sophia’s friends—katseye—are coming. you’ve seen them on tv, on your phone, in every other post sophia’s tagged in, but this feels different. this time, they’re not distant faces behind a screen—they’re walking toward you.
and somewhere in that group, there’s a girl named megan skiendiel, who apparently already knows your name.
it’s funny, you’ve met plenty of famous people before—through family gatherings, fundraisers, or random social events sophia used to drag you to—but somehow, this moment feels heavier. scarier, even. maybe it’s because sophia’s world feels bigger now, and you’re stepping into it again after years of watching from afar.
you were raised in a well-off family like sophia, but your parents taught you to keep your feet on the ground. no arrogance, no unnecessary pride. money isn’t the measure of kindness, your mother used to say. so you always carried yourself quietly, smiling politely, keeping your head low when others talked too loudly about what they owned. maybe that’s why your hands suddenly feel clammy—you’re not sure how to act around people who live so brightly.
sophia turns toward the sliding glass doors and waves her arm. “guys, come on! this is y/n!”
the first one to appear is lara—sharp-eyed, confident, yet instantly warm when she spots you. she has this easy energy about her, the kind of presence that makes a room lighter without even trying. “hi!” she says, stepping forward with a bright smile. “you’re sophia’s best friend, right? i’ve heard so much about you.”
you laugh, returning her smile. “all good things, i hope.”
“mostly embarrassing ones,” lara teases, glancing at sophia, who gasps dramatically.
next is dani, practically bouncing as she comes up beside lara. her voice is cheerful, lilting with that mix of languages that somehow sounds like music. “hii! i’m dani!” she chirps, reaching out for a quick, friendly hug. “pia always talks about you when she’s homesick!”
you chuckle. “does she, now? i should start charging her for using my name.”
dani laughs, her eyes crinkling. “you totally should.”
then comes yoonchae, who looks a bit shy at first but greets you with a sweet, polite smile. she bows slightly, her voice soft but clear. “nice to meet you, y/n.”
“nice to meet you too, yoonchae,” you say, matching her calm tone. sophia watches proudly from the side, like she’s introducing her two favorite worlds and hoping they’ll blend perfectly.
manon follows right after, her blonde hair catching the light as she waves.
“bonjour,” she says with a playful grin, then quickly adds, “sorry, i still forget to switch sometimes.”
you grin back. “it’s okay. bonjour works.”
“you have a nice accent!”
“no, i don’t,” you protest immediately, laughing.
“you do now!” manon insists, and sophia just shakes her head, clearly amused.
you’re mid-laughter when you notice another figure lingering by the doorway. she steps out a little slower than the rest—hands tucked into the pockets of her baggy jeans, a white shirt slightly oversized on her frame, and a black cap pulled low over her hair. megan skiendiel, the girl that sophia was talking about—of course, you knew her.
she looks up, just briefly, her cap casting a shadow over her eyes. when she does, it’s like time forgets how to move. there’s something quietly magnetic about her—confident, but not loud about it; shy, but steady in the way she carries herself. her steps are unhurried as she walks toward you, one hand still tucked in her pocket, shoulders slightly hunched like she’s trying not to take up too much space.
and you can’t help it—you’re completely mesmerized. she’s beautiful in that effortless, undone kind of way, like she doesn’t even realize it.
“hi,” she says softly, her accent lilting, her tone almost shy. “i’m megan.”
you stand to meet her halfway, your pulse jumping unexpectedly. “y/n,” you manage to say, offering your hand. she smiles genuinely and reaches out to shake it. her hand is warm, her grip gentle but firm. “it’s nice to finally meet you,” she says, a hint of laughter hiding somewhere in her voice.
“finally?” you ask, raising a brow.
“sophia talks a lot,” she replies, glancing at your best friend with mock accusation.
“hey!” sophia protests, but she’s laughing too.
the moment hangs there for a bit—letting yourself enjoy with their presence. megan lets go of your hand, her smile still lingering, and joins the others as they settle around the small outdoor living room.
“how’s manila treating you guys?” you ask as the maid arrives with a tray of tall glasses filled with iced tea, beads of condensation sliding down the sides. she sets them neatly on the coffee table, the clinking of glass against wood filling the small pause between conversations.
“it’s very hot,” lara says immediately, fanning herself with her hand. “i mean—of course i expected that. but it’s not dry, that’s for sure.”
you giggle, leaning back against the couch. “are you culture shocked yet?”
lara groans dramatically. “quite literally.”
the others laugh, the air already feeling lighter. manon is sitting cross-legged on one of the patio chairs, a slice of mango in her hand. she gestures with it as she speaks. “you know, sophia has been wanting to come home for a while,” she says, glancing at her friend with a fond smile.
you turn to look at her—and that’s when you notice megan sitting quietly beside her. she’s holding her glass with both hands, fingers tracing the rim absent-mindedly. when your eyes meet hers, it’s only for a second, but she looks away almost instantly, her shoulders shifting as if to shake off the moment. your chest tightens a little, and you don’t even know why.
“it’s good to see her this happy, right, pia?” manon adds.
sophia rolls her eyes and grabs a throw pillow from behind her. “manon, stop being sentimental.” she tosses it playfully at her, and manon lets out a small yelp before laughing.
the laughter echoes through the space. even yoonchae, who’d been quietly sipping her drink, hides her smile behind the glass. but megan—megan’s eyes flicker toward you again through it all. she doesn’t say anything; she just smiles softly when you catch her looking, then quickly drops her gaze to her lap. her fingers fidget with the hem of her shirt, twisting the fabric, the same way someone does when they’re trying to keep busy.
you find yourself watching her longer than you mean to. there’s a calmness in her, but also this quiet nervous energy—like she wants to say something, yet doesn’t know how. every time she sneaks another glance, it’s fleeting but enough to make your heart skip.
then sophia loops her arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer. “there are two things i’ve always wanted,” she says dramatically, voice full of mock emotion. “one is to spend more time with my family—especially my siblings. and the second one is you, y/n, my guardian angel.”
you snort, shaking your head. “you make it sound like i’m dead.”
the whole group bursts into laughter, even megan, though hers is softer—low, almost like she’s trying not to draw attention to herself. she glances up at you again while the others are still laughing, and this time, she doesn’t look away right away. her lips curve into the faintest smile, and you feel something twist pleasantly in your chest.
you laugh along with everyone else, cheeks warm, heart doing cartwheels you pretend not to notice. were you even that funny? you wonder. maybe not. but if it made her smile like that, you’d gladly play the comedian any day.
the sun was beginning to dip lower, painting sophia’s patio in a soft, honey-colored glow. everyone was still deep in conversation—lara talking about her favorite local food so far, dani excitedly describing jeepneys, and manon trying to remember the tagalog word for “thank you.” the air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses.
you leaned over to sophia and whispered, “hey, i’m just gonna take a call real quick, okay? i’ll be in the garden.”
she looked at you over her shoulder, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “don’t take too long. i know your ‘quick calls’ last for thirty minutes.”
you grin. “promise, i’ll be back before you finish your third glass of iced tea.”
she rolled her eyes but waved you off.
the garden was exactly as you remembered it—lush, a little overgrown, and humming with cicadas. the faint scent of sampaguita hung in the air, sweet and familiar. you wandered deeper along the stone path until the chatter from the patio turned into a distant murmur.
pulling out your phone, you checked your notifications and saw a string of messages from your group chat. party tonight? one said. you coming, y/n?
you smiled softly, typing a reply:
can’t—sophia just got home. maybe next time.
a few seconds later, the replies came in.
ahhh okay! tell her we said hi!
miss her already!
you laughed under your breath, shaking your head at your phone. the screen dimmed, and for a moment, the only sound around you was the low hum of cicadas and the rustle of leaves.
“hey.”
you turned. megan was there, standing a few feet away, like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be. one hand in her pocket, the other tugging slightly at the edge of her cap.
“oh,” you said, a little surprised. “hey.”
she gave a small nod. “sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“you didn’t,” you replied warmly. “i was just about to call with my friend.”
“oh—”
you blabbered. “i-i’m sorry—”
she shook her head quickly. “no, no—it’s fine,” she said, her tone gentle, almost apologetic. “i just… needed to breathe a little. jet lag’s hitting me harder than i thought.”
you nodded, understanding instantly. “yeah, i can imagine. long flight?”
“long everything,” she said with a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “but it’s nice here. i just—needed a bit of space, i guess.”
you smiled, gesturing toward the bench under the big acacia tree. “this is the best spot for that. sophia and i used to hang out here all the time after school.”
she followed you over, sitting down a bit hesitantly at first, leaving just enough space between you. the sound of crickets filled the silence.
“you and sophia seem really close,” she said finally, glancing sideways at you.
“yeah,” you replied, smiling softly. “she’s been my best friend since grade school. i basically grew up in this house.”
megan nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “she talks about you a lot, you know.”
“she does?”
“all the time,” she said, leaning back a little. “i kind of feel like i already know you.”
you laughed, looking down at your hands. “depends what she told you. i might need to defend myself.”
megan chuckled with a low tone in her voice. “nothing bad,” she said. “just… that you make her feel like home.”
you blinked, caught off guard by how quietly sincere that sounded. for a moment, neither of you said anything. the air between you felt still—peaceful, but charged with something new, something unspoken that you couldn’t put your finger into it.
she looked down again, fidgeting with the ring on her thumb, then said softly, “sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt your call.”
“you didn’t,” you said, shaking your head. “how long are you guys going to stay here?”
“well, our manager told us to only stay for a week,” she said, adjusting her cap a little lower on her head. “but sophia wants to stay a little longer. we all decided, you know… maybe we should too.”
she glanced at you then, smiling in that quiet, easy way she did. “i mean, i wanna experience the full-on manila girl vibe—if you know what i mean.”
you laughed, the sound slipping out before you could stop it. “manila girl vibe, huh? you say that like it’s a whole lifestyle.”
“it kind of is, right?” she said, grinning. “pia’s been telling us all these stories—street food, jeepneys, karaoke at like… midnight? i don’t even know if i’m ready for that.”
“you’re definitely not,” you said, smiling. “but you’ll love it. it’s chaotic in the best way.”
she laughed softly, looking down at her shoes. “yeah, i kinda figured. i like chaotic sometimes.” she paused, then added, “it must be nice.”
you tilted your head, watching her for a moment. there was something so unfiltered about her, the way she spoke without trying to sound cool or put-together. she just… was a normal person.
she started fidgeting with the cap again, tugging at the brim as she looked around the garden. “honestly, it’s nice here. i don’t really get that a lot anymore.”
you nodded. “yeah. sophia’s house has that effect. it’s like—no matter how loud the world gets, it’s still calm here.”
“yeah,” she murmured, half-smiling. “i could stay here all night.”
you smiled to yourself, trying to play it cool, even though your thoughts were starting to spiral. she’s funny, you thought. and kind. and maybe just a little too cute for my own good.
you caught yourself wondering—half-jokingly, half-curious—if she had a boyfriend.
…or a girlfriend.
but you pushed the thought away just as quickly, pretending to focus on the flowers instead. because if there was one thing you were sure of, it’s that megan skiendiel had a way of making the quiet moments feel like something more.
“so, you study?” she asked, her tone light but careful, like she was testing the waters of small talk. she was leaning back a little, elbows resting on her knees, the bill of her cap still shading her eyes. but there was something in the way she said it—almost too casual, like she wanted to sound chill but couldn’t quite hide the curiosity behind it.
you laughed softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “yup. i just got home from school, actually.”
“oh yeah?” she tilted her head slightly, glancing at you. “until what time do you study?”
“depends,” you said, smiling. “sometimes i get lucky and finish early, so i hang out at my friend’s apartment—or go home and pretend to be productive. but if i have org meetings, i end up staying until evening.”
“org?” she echoed, her lips quirking into a small smile as she turned toward you. “that seems fun.”
you nodded. “it is, most of the time. except when it’s not,” you said jokingly, and she laughed—a low, genuine sound that made something flutter inside your chest.
it was easy talking to her. too easy, maybe. there was a calmness about her, a kind of unintentional charm in how she listened—how her eyes met yours and lingered for just a beat too long before darting away again. she kept fidgeting with her ring, twisting it around her thumb, every now and then glancing at you like she had another question but couldn’t decide if she should ask it.
“you’re still in psych, right?” she asked after a short pause.
you blinked, surprised she remembered. “yeah… sophia told you that?”
“mm,” she said with a tiny nod, smiling faintly. “she said you like reading people. kinda intimidating, to be honest.”
you laughed. “trust me, i’m not analyzing you right now.”
“sure,” she said, grinning. “i’ll believe that.”
the two of you shared a quiet laugh, and for a second, it felt like the garden around you disappeared. the air had that soft, golden calm of late afternoon—the kind that makes everything look slower. she looked relaxed now, one leg stretched out, the other bent slightly as she leaned her arm over her knee. you caught yourself watching her, wondering if she even knew how effortlessly magnetic she was.
then, from the patio, sophia’s voice echoed through the garden. “bhie, dinner’s ready! get your ass over here before lara finishes the lumpia!”
you both burst out laughing.
“guess that’s our cue,” you said, standing up.
“guess so,” megan replied, pushing herself up, brushing off her jeans. she hesitated for a second, then smiled at you—smaller this time, but softer, almost like a secret. “it was nice talking to you.”
“yeah,” you said quietly. “you too.”
she gave a little wave before heading back first, her hands back in her pockets, cap still low over her face. you watched her walk away, the back of your neck warm for no good reason.
when you finally made your way back to the house, sophia was waiting by the doorway with her arms crossed and a knowing look on her face.
“what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.
she smirked. “was megan flirting with you?”
“what—no!” you said a little too fast.
“uh-huh.” sophia grinned, nudging your shoulder. “you were out there for a while. you think i didn’t see the looks?”
you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile creeping up your lips. “we were just talking.”
“yeah, sure,” she said, sing-song. “just talking—with heart eyes.”
you tried to scoff, but ended up laughing instead. “you’re unbelievable.”
“and you’re blushing,” she said, grinning wider.
you opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, lara shouted from inside, “sophia! y/n! stop flirting and come eat!”
“see?” sophia said with a wink. “even they can tell.”
you groaned, shoving her playfully as she led you back inside. still, you couldn’t help the smile that lingered—the kind that stayed even when you didn’t mean for it to.
it was almost midnight when your phone started buzzing again. your mom’s name flashed across the screen for the fifth time that night, followed by a text that simply said: come home. now.
you groaned quietly and tucked the phone against your leg. sophia was sprawled on the couch, half-asleep and half-cuddled with dani, both of them laughing at something that probably stopped being funny an hour ago.
you stood up, brushing crumbs off your jeans and grabbing your bag.
“where you going?” sophia asked, lifting her head just enough to squint at you. next to her, megan—who had been scrolling through her phone—looked up immediately.
“mom’s been calling me,” you said, waving your phone. “i think she’s about to send a search party.”
“tita won’t mind,” sophia said, pouting. “tell her you’re saving her daughter’s social life.”
“she’ll mind when i miss my first class tomorrow.”
sophia groaned. “ugh, fine. at least let some of the girls drop you off. it’s late.”
“they don’t even know their way around here,” you pointed out, glancing toward manon and yoonchae, who were currently arguing about whether halo-halo counted as soup.
and then, quietly but clearly, megan spoke up. “i can drop you off.”
you blinked, you were caught off guard. “you?”
she nodded, already standing, slipping on her gray hoodie. “i mean—we have a driver. i won’t get lost,” she looked at you for a beat too long before adding, “if that’s okay?”
something skipped in your chest—did you have a crush on her? possibly so.
“you sure? it’s manila. traffic, turns, tricycles—it’s chaos out there.”
she smiled warmly and stood beside you. “as long as my location’s on so sophia can stalk me, i think i’ll survive.”
that earned a laugh from the group. manon leaned over and whispered loudly to yoonchae, “she’s so flirting with her.”
megan groaned. “shut up,” she muttered, tugging her hood over her head before looking back at you. “let’s go?”
you tried not to smile too much. “sure.”
outside, the air was thick and warm, the kind that sticks to your skin. the streetlights buzzed faintly as the two of you walked toward the black van parked by the curb. megan opened the door for you before sliding in beside you, the engine already humming.
the city outside was half-asleep—occasional headlights, a few people still wandering the sidewalks, the sound of distant motorcycles fading in and out. inside the car, it was quiet. you bit your inner cheek and held yourself tight, while megan sat close to you with her head by the window.
you fiddled with your phone while she looked out the window, cap pulled low, hoodie sleeves covering her hands. every now and then, she’d glance at you, like she wanted to say something but didn’t want to break the calm.
“you always stay out this late?” she asked finally, voice low enough that it barely rose over the hum of the car.
you smiled. “not really. my mom’s pretty strict. she thinks midnight means i’m out committing crimes.”
megan chuckled softly. “same, honestly. if my mom knew half the places i’ve been, she’d probably fly here herself.”
you laughed, and she turned slightly toward you at the sound. there was a small smile playing on her lips, and it did that thing to your chest again—the one you were starting to recognize.
the driver slowed as the van turned into your street and you pointed ahead. “that’s me, the white gate.”
“got it,” megan said, then hesitated for a second. “thanks for letting me tag along. i kinda needed the drive.”
you pushed the van door open and stepped out, the cool air brushing against your skin. turning back, you were about to say goodnight—just something casual, simple—when the door on the other side slid open again.
megan hopped out, tugging at her hoodie as if she’d done it a hundred times before.
your eyes went wide. “y—you—” you stammered, words catching in your throat, completely thrown off.
“i want to drop you off, right?” she said, stating the obvious. “at least let me walk you to your door.”
you wanted to say yes—but something made you hesitate. maybe it was the silence, or the way the streetlights flickered against her face. she might not like these streets, you thought. the narrow sidewalks, the uneven stones, the old gate that creaked when you pushed it open. maybe it was too traditional, too ordinary for someone like her.
but then again, she’d offered. she’d come all the way here, still jet-lagged, and your heart could not stop beating at all—your stomach was churning too.
so why were you hesitating?
you nodded, almost awkwardly. “uh—come inside? it’s still early anyway.”
her face lit up, and she said, without missing a beat, “yeah. sure.”
you unlocked the gate, and the familiar bark of your dog echoed from inside.
“don’t worry,” you said, laughing a little. “he just sounds scary.”
“he?” she asked, stepping in beside you. “does he bite?”
“only if you break my heart.”
she laughed—a little caught off guard. “guess i’ll be careful then.”
the house was quiet when you both slipped inside. your mom had already gone to bed, the hallway lights dimmed to a warm glow. megan followed you, her steps light, her eyes scanning the family photos on the walls. “this is nice,” she murmured. “feels… homey.”
“thanks,” you said, leading her to your room. “you can hang out here if you want. i’ll just—uh—turn on the lamp.”
your room smelled faintly of coffee and old books. she sat on the edge of your bed, still wearing her hoodie, fingers tapping lightly against her knee. you tried to act casual, sitting across from her on the bean bag, but your heart was doing cartwheels.
“so, this is where the magic happens?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.
“if by ‘magic’ you mean endless all-nighters and mental breakdowns, then yes,” you said.
she grinned. “relatable.”
the conversation wandered the way late-night talks always do—no real direction, just soft trails that kept looping back to laughter. it started with music. she asked what you listened to when you studied, and you said something pretentious like “it depends on my mood,” which made her snort.
“so basically… taylor swift when you’re sad and nirvana when you’re mad?” she teased.
“close enough,” you said, grinning. “what about you?”
“mostly whatever’s on repeat in the van,” she admitted. “but lately it’s been… clairo. she’s got that it’s midnight and i’m thinking about life kind of energy.”
“oh my god, yes,” you said, leaning forward a little too eagerly. “bags is my coping mechanism.”
she laughed at that, head tilting back, eyes softening in a way that made your chest ache a bit.
from there, it drifted—college life, the chaos of group projects, your professor who still used an overhead projector, and how she once tried to cook rice in a frying pan. sometimes you’d talk at the same time, voices overlapping until you were both laughing too hard to continue. and then there were the pauses—those slow, unhurried silences that didn’t demand to be filled.
she’d look at you during those moments, fingers absentmindedly tugging at the drawstrings of her hoodie, and it felt like she was memorizing the quiet.
you couldn’t tell if it was the hour, the stillness, or her—but for once, the silence didn’t feel like an ending. it felt like something beginning.
somewhere between her talking about the jet lag and you explaining your thesis, she looked at you a little too long. her eyes lingered, and her voice trailed off.
“what?” you asked, smiling nervously.
“nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “you just… talk with your hands a lot.”
you looked down, realizing she was right, and laughed. “yeah, i do that when i get excited.”
“it’s cute,” she said, almost under her breath.
and before you could think of something to say, she leaned in—hesitant, gentle, as if testing the space between you.
you froze for a heartbeat, then smiled, because somehow, it just felt right.
she kissed you—quick, soft, like she thought the universe might yank her away but she had to try anyway. when she pulled back, silence dropped between you. both of you blinking. both of you internally screaming. your heart was doing backflips and you were pretty sure hers just rage-quit her body.
you made a tiny, traitorous noise against her mouth when she tugged you closer, her hands slipping under the back of your shirt like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“mmph—” you squeaked when she caught your bottom lip, sucking gently. her breathing was uneven—like she’d been dying to do that and finally snapped. was this actually happening? was megan kissing you? megan, who barely even knew you… kissing you like she’d been rehearsing it in her damn head?
“megan—”
“i’m… sorry,” she blurted, pulling back with a soft pop, biting her lip like she just realized she had impulse control issues. “i just— i think you’re really pretty.”
“pretty?”
“yeah,” she nodded, dazed, eyes dipping right back to your lips. “was that… too fast?”
yes. way too fucking fast. but holy shit, you like it.
megan’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, gentle but determined, pulling you closer like she couldn’t stand the space between you. she went right back in for your mouth, and suddenly you were kissing again—messy, breathless, tongues clumsily figuring each other out. she shrugged off her hoodie mid-kiss, and that’s when you noticed—she was actually sweating through her loose white shirt.
you pulled back for a second, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to breathe like a normal human being. then you looked down.
oh fuck.
she was hard.
“h-have you… done this before?” you stammered.
she shook her head. shit. she was a virgin, just like you.
“i haven’t… had sex,” she mumbled, right as your dog started barking downstairs like it knew chaos was happening. “h-have you?”
“no,” you breathed, swallowing hard. “do you… did you bring… anything?”
megan reached into her back pocket, pulled out her wallet, and casually revealed a condom wrapped in gold wrapper. you let out a tiny laugh, because what else were you supposed to do?
“why the hell did you bring that?”
“some people say it’s for good luck?” she said, like she was talking about a charm instead of a damn condom. you shook your head and kissed her again, your lips sliding against hers in a soft, desperate pull. she groaned into your mouth as she fumbled with her belt, tugging it so hard it flew across the room and hit something with a thud.
both of you froze, eyes wide.
“quiet,” you hissed. “my mom’s asleep.”
“s-sorry,” she whispered, cheeks flushed as her trembling hands slid up to your chest, awkwardly cupping you through your shirt. “oh my—”
“wait,” you murmured, getting off her lap. you unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down slowly, aware of how she stared like she’d never seen skin before.
you looked up and laughed softly. “what?”
“you’re so… sexy,” she breathed, like she wasn’t even sure she’d meant to say it out loud. heat pooled in your stomach at the way her eyes lingered on you. “can you… lie down?”
you nodded, heart pounding, and lay back against the sheets. the room felt suddenly too small. megan moved over you, straddling your hips—her breathing loud in the room. her fingers shook as she reached for the waistband of her pants, tugging them down in frantic little movements. she got them halfway before struggling, cursing under her breath.
“shit—wait—” she muttered, yanking harder until they slid down to her ankles, bunching helplessly around her socks. she hovered above you, flushed, breathless, pants stuck and eyes wild with panic.
you bit back a laugh. “smooth.”
“shut up,” she whispered, though she was smiling—nervous and pink-cheeked—as she leaned in and pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, then down to your shoulder. her hips rolled clumsily against yours, and both of you moaned at the sudden friction—her still in her boxers, you already melting beneath her.
“fuck—pull down your—”
you didn’t need her to finish. you pushed your panties down in a rush, kicking them off the bed. megan froze, staring at your bare pussy—letting out this soft, breathy moan, almost like she didn’t mean to make a sound at all, and brought her thumb to your clit. she moved it in messy, uncertain circles. it wasn’t perfect, but it made you squealed quietly.
you whimpered, back arching. god, she didn’t know what she was doing. neither did you.
“m-megan,” you trembled as she kissed up your jaw, her mouth warm and unsteady on your skin. “d-don’t give me a hickey—”
“m’sorry,” she whispered, voice shaky as she pulled away. her fingers hooked under the waistband of her boxers, hesitating for a split second—like even she wasn’t sure she was ready to be seen this way. then she pushed them down to her mid-thighs, breath caught in her chest.
your eyes widened.
her cock was big, flushed, and twitching. you thought that it was big, bigger than you had ever let yourself picture. your mouth went dry—not from fear, but from disbelief. it was one thing to imagine it, to joke about it, to blush at the idea… but seeing her like that, bare and heavy with want, sent a whole new kind of heat rushing through you.
she shifted, unsure, as if she didn’t know what to do with her own body.
her thighs tensed, skin damp with nervous sweat. you could see how hard she was—pulsing slightly, as though her heartbeat had moved there. she wasn’t bragging or confident or cocky about it. if anything, she looked… almost embarrassed.
“i-it’s… a lot, right?” she muttered under her breath, not meeting your eyes.
and all you could do was stare, breath trembling, thoughts racing through nothing but holy shit and she’s really going to be inside me.
“it is,” you managed, breath stuttering as she clumsily wrapped her fist around herself, pumping in a hurry pace. “you’re my first.”
megan’s eyes softened. she leaned down, kissing you shyly, her voice a whisper against your lips. “you’re my first too.”
and then—with her hands slightly shaking—she reached for the gold wrapper beside you, tearing it open the wrong way first, cursing under her breath before trying again. she rolled the condom on slowly, carefully, like she was afraid to break it… or you.
she carefully rolled the condom down her length, leaving that tiny pocket at the tip just like she must’ve read somewhere. her hands were shaking, but she still reached for your chest, squeezing through the fabric like she needed the courage. then, gently, she guided your thighs apart. one hand stayed wrapped around herself as she lined up, the blunt heat of her tip pressing teasingly against you.
“you’re so fucking wet,” she whispered—half stunned, half proud.
you bit your lip, a small, needy sound escaping you as you lifted your hips just enough for her to brush your clit. “d-do you… like it?”
“y-yeah,” megan breathed, nodding too fast. she pressed your hips back down to the mattress, trying to be gentle despite her nerves. the head of her cock nudged your entrance, hesitating. “just… just tell me if i should stop, okay?”
but before you could even form a reply, she started to push inside again, her eyes focusing on the way her cock was just slipping inside of you.
white-hot pressure bloomed through you, and you nearly cried out. your arms flew around her neck, eyes squeezing shut as that burning stretch took over. every thought in your head was replaced with one desperate prayer: please, god, let my parents stay asleep. megan braced one hand beside your head, her breath ragged.
“holy fuck—oh god, it’s so tight—”
“quiet,” you hissed, though it came out as a breathy plea. you whimpered beneath her, feeling her try to sink deeper like she knew what she was doing—but she didn’t. neither of you knew if this was right. if this was how it was supposed to feel.
“m-megan?”
“yeah?”
“is it… all the way in?”
she looked down between your bodies, swallowed hard, and shook her head. “a-almost.”
you felt her tremble above you, breath catching as she tried to ease further in. her hips gave a shaky push, and you both gasped—her in shock, you in burning fullness. she wasn’t smooth. she wasn’t practiced. she was trying.
“fuck—” megan breathed, forehead resting against yours, her hand curling into the sheets beside your head. “does it… hurt?”
“n-no,” you whispered, voice thin. “just—slow…”
but slow didn’t last.
when she finally bottomed out, a choked sound escaped her throat, and she froze—as if any movement might shatter her. then, cautiously, she pulled back an inch… and pushed again. her rhythm was uneven, which you did notice, and her thrusts were somehow rough.
before you could even moan, the bed gave a soft squeak.
she panicked.
“shit—sorry, sorry,” she muttered, pressing her weight down to steady the frame, her hips grinding instead of thrusting. you clung to her, biting into her shoulder to smother the sounds climbing your throat.
“megan—” you whimpered against her skin, your breath hot on her neck.
“i’m trying—” she panted, her voice cracking with frustration. “i don’t—fuck, i don’t know what i’m doing—”
“it’s okay,” you breathed, your nails digging gently into her back. “j-just… keep going.”
she nodded, hair falling over her eyes as she lifted her hips again—this time slower, rutting into you slowly. the bed still groaned beneath you, but she caught herself against it, using her arms to hold most of her weight. she was shaking, biting her lip as she stared at your eyes hazily.
you buried your face into the crook of her neck, muffling your moans, your lips brushing her pulse. her scent filled your lungs, and it turned you on even more.
“holy shit—” she whispered, almost a laugh, almost a sob. “this feels so good…”
you wrapped your arm around her neck as you kissed her in a hurry manner, while she tries to keep up with you. both of you tried to stay quiet, but you two couldn’t help it. you thought that sex was something it would scare you, because according to your classes back in school, it would make you bleed. but with the her hips snapped against yours, the tip of her cock bumping on your spot, this was the most sacred thing a human could ever do.
“holy shit—” megan breathed, her voice splintering as she tried to keep her rhythm steady. “you feel… i don’t even… fuck—”
she squeezed her eyes shut like it was all too much, her forehead pressing to your temple. every time she moved, even slightly, you clung tighter—your face tucked into her neck, lips dragging against her skin to swallow every sound threatening to escape.
“megan—” you whispered, voice cracking.
“y-your pussy’s so wet,” she gasped, looking down as she sees your wetness all over her condom. her hand sliding to grip your waist, trying to steady both of you. “you like this, b-baby?”
“mhm,” you whined. you brought your hands on both of her upper arms, holding her tight. “j-just like that, please.”
her thrusts were messy now, with no rhythm at all—like her body had taken over, like everything she’d held back was spilling through every shaky push of her hips.
"i had no fucking clue—" megan rasped, her hot, desperate breaths ghosting over your ear. "i never knew it could feel this mind-blowing. i thought i just... had a little crush on you."
"y-you like me?" you whispered, eyes locking with hers. megan held your gaze, nodding frantically as she slammed her hips against you, making your full tits jiggle. "o-or is it my dripping pussy you're really after?"
"i need both," she growled, sucking passionate kisses along the curve of your chest. "i—fuck, i crave your tight, soaked little cunt and all of you."
she let out a broken moan, pounding impossibly deeper, your back arching up to meet her thrust for thrust. the bed frame creaked and groaned obscenely, and she froze again, eyes flying wide with delicious panic.
"fuck—please," she whimpered, begging anyone who would listen. "your mom—she'll hear us—"
"then you better not even think about stopping," you purred hotly against her sweat-damp throat, your swollen lips brushing her racing pulse point. "just... keep me close."
an exquisite sound, raw and unrestrained, tore from her chest, caught somewhere between intense pleasure and the sweetest ache as you wrapped your legs high around her waist.
"i've fantasized about this moment for so fucking long," she blurted out, the dirty confession seeming to wrench itself free against her will. "i never planned for it to happen, i swear on my life, but—fuck, i craved every inch of you so badly i couldn't see straight."
her voice trembled, scared of her own brutal honesty.
you cradled her flushed face in your palms, forcing her to meet your dark, lust-blown gaze, even as her hips continued their relentless rhythm, a slave to instinct and desperate, aching want. "megan…"
later, as the delicious aftershocks of her first climax twitched through her, megan hid her face in the curve of your neck, gulping down air and slick with sweat. "i... i need to confess something," she mumbled, vulnerability etched into every gorgeous line of her face. "sophia showed me those pictures of you... i couldn't help myself. i jerked off and came so hard, imagining it was your hands on me."
"mei—" you started, but she cut you off with a searing kiss, thrusts picking up speed as she forced your thighs back towards your chest, opening you up to her completely.
"i wanted you so much it hurt," she confessed breathlessly, punctuating each word with a brutal snap of her hips. "i thought about you every night, t-the thought of your cunt just w-wrapped around me, wishing i could just take you. i've dreamed of this moment for so goddamn long—"
her feverish confession lit you up from the inside out, electric pleasure building and building until it crested with devastating force. you came hard around her perfect cock, your velvet heat rippling and fluttering as you arched your back and cried out, fingernails digging into her sweat-slick shoulders. wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, stealing your breath and leaving you dizzy and trembling in her arms.
megan thrust her hips once, twice, then on the third time, she stilled, buried to the hilt inside your pulsing sheath. her expression crumpled into one of pure, undiluted bliss as she spilled her cum into the condom with a shudder, hips jerking helplessly.
"oh–" she gasped against your lips, all fiery demands and throaty moans. "fuck—that's it, baby. milk my fucking cock—it feels so fucking good."
you held onto her warm, damp skin as the two of you shuddered and trembled through the last lingering waves of pleasure. megan slowly slipped out of you, her eyes locked on the way your sensitive body reacted, missing her touch immediately. she took care of the condom quickly and cleanly, wrapping it up and tossing it in the trash.
her pants were still down around her ankles, but she didn't seem to care, flopping onto the bed beside you, her cock resting against her thigh. the two of you just laid there for a moment, catching your breath and staring up at the ceiling, lost in your own thoughts. you couldn't quite believe this was real, already worrying about how you were going to explain this to sophia.
finally, megan turned her head, her voice soft and tentative as she asked, "y-you okay?"
"yeah," you said quietly, reaching down between your legs and scooping up a bit of the sticky evidence of what just happened, showing it to her. "you did this."
she smiled back at you, but there was something tentative and uncertain in her eyes, like she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "i-i wasn't too rough, was i?" she asked nervously.
"you were perfect," you assured her warmly.
she relaxed a little at that, reaching over to clean you up with gentle touches that were almost reverent. she kissed your forehead, the two of you just breathing together for a moment before she finally got up.
megan sat up slowly, fixing her hoodie and brushing her hair out of her face, then tugging her cap back into place. for a second, she just stood there, looking around your room like she was trying to memorize it—the books stacked by your desk, the half-open window, the way the curtains moved in the air-con’s hum.
“i should probably go,” she said finally, but her voice didn’t sound convinced.
“yeah,” you said, smiling faintly. “your group’s probably wondering where you are.”
she nodded but didn’t move. instead, she sat back down on the edge of your bed, her knee brushing yours. “that was… nice,” she murmured, almost shyly. “thank you for letting me take your virginity, and mine as well.”
you laughed softly. “i’m… honored? and no, you were great.”
“great?” she teased, turning toward you. “that’s your compliment? no, megan you’re so funny, and all that?”
“okay, fine,” you said, grinning. “you’re also funny. and kind. and—”
“and what?”
“and you make my brain malfunction sometimes.”
she laughed quietly, like she was trying not to wake the house. “good to know i have that effect.”
after a beat, she stood again, straightening her hoodie. “i really have to go. sophia’s gonna freak out if she wakes up and i’m not there.”
you followed her outside, walking together to where the van was parked at the corner of your street. the night air felt cooler now, calmer, the city quieter than usual. the driver was waiting, half-asleep, the headlights casting long shadows across the road.
megan turned to you, shoving her hands into her pockets. “hey,” she said softly, “thanks for tonight.”
“you keep saying that,” you teased. “you’ll make me think you actually liked hanging out with me.”
“i did,” she said, a little too quickly, then laughed. “i mean—i do. i really did.”
you smiled, feeling something warm settle in your chest. “good. me too.”
she hesitated for a second, rocking on her heels. “um… would you maybe want to hang out tomorrow? if you’re free?”
you blinked, surprised. “tomorrow?”
“yeah,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “i know it’s last-minute, but… i wanna see more of the city. maybe you could show me around? you know, the local stuff sophia keeps talking about.”
you couldn’t help but smile. “you mean like isaw, jeepneys, and karaoke?”
“exactly,” she said, grinning now. “and you. i wanna see you again.”
you felt your heart stumble over itself, but you managed a nod. “yeah. i’d like that.”
she looked at you for a moment longer, eyes soft under the streetlight, before slipping into the van. the door slid shut, and as it drove away, you stood there with your arms crossed and a ridiculous smile you couldn’t quite hide.
hii cuteness! i thought of a request i wanted to ask you for! something with g!p boxer! megan.
okay so like megan and the reader have been dating for a while, and readers been a little out of it, nauseas and moody. and megan’s been at fights a lot. however, right before a big fight for megan, reader finds out she’s pregnant… megan comes home to talk about the upcoming fight, and reader surprises her and asks if megan would take a break from fight to be with her.
something sweet like that, some soft smut (if you’re comfy!!) with a soft and sweet breeding kink… whatever you’d like, i would love to read something like this from you whenever you’re available!
hi! i am so glad you requested, this is an interesting plot and i’ll do it! just give me a day or less 😫
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