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ckret2 · 4 months

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Chapter 53 of human Bill Cipher not properly appreciating the fact that Mabel is his only friend on Earth:

Mabel has read a book about Bill's home dimension and is prepared to interrogate him all about where he comes from.

Bill is willing to do anything to avoid being interrogated.

(Featuring SEVEN illustrations, provided by 🌈 MABEL 💖)

####

Flatworld, from what Mabel had read, was probably literally the worst place to ever exist.

The book was a hundred pages of an old-fashioned formal-sounding super boring guy rambling on about the most egregiously evil society Mabel had ever had the horror of reading about.

Society consisted of a bunch of geometric shapes—which in concept sounded half nerdy and half adorable—but they'd made a brutally oppressive government organized by quantity of sides, with infinite-sided circles at the top and three-sided triangles at the bottom, and one-sided lines—women—oppressed into near silence. Career options, educational opportunities, who you could love, were all determined by your sides. Irregular shapes—quadrilaterals that weren't squares, triangles that weren't equilateral, anyone with a side too long or too short—were presumed from birth to be criminally insane. Each generation had sons with one more side than their father—and they had to, because having higher-ranked sons was the only way families could climb out of poverty. When babies were born with too few or irregular sides, poor families abandoned them—or worse—and rich families put them through oft-fatal bone-snapping surgeries to regularize or increase their sides. Knowledge of the third dimension was considered heretical, and anybody claiming it was real was locked in an insane asylum.

There was a lot of mathy stuff in the book about a square meeting a magical sphere and going on educational adventures to the higher and lower dimensions; but most of it passed by her in a blur. When she'd finished reading last night, Mabel had lay in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about dead baby shapes and fighting the urge to wake Bill up just so she could hug him; until she'd finally drifted off and woken up in her own bed.

At least, thank goodness, the bit about banning colors so lower shapes couldn't contour themselves to look like higher shapes was false. But she was sure that at least part of the story was true. And it had happened to somebody she knew. It was a lot to process.

So she processed it the way she usually did the stories that weighed on her: by creating a self-insert and pulling out her art supplies.

####

"You're drawing fan art of Flatworld?" Bill asked warily.

"I wouldn't call it fan art. I'd say it's more of a... thoughtful artistic critique. I don't think I'm a 'fan' of the second dimension," Mabel said. "No offense."

"Sure."

Mabel had designed a shapesona of herself: a pink heart with a rainbow-colored outline, a big sparkly eye, and skinny black stick limbs like Bill's. If, as Bill had said, colors weren't illegal, she didn't see any reason she couldn't be rainbow. The heart shape was maybe unconventional, but Bill hadn't said she couldn't be a heart yet, so she was sticking with it for now.

She'd honestly expected Bill to come over and interrogate her about her creation long before now. Usually, when she was doing art and he was unoccupied, he was hovering right by her, examining her work and dropping hints—some more subtle than others—that she should draw him next. But she hadn't immediately noticed when he'd silently drifted into the room, and she wasn't sure how long he'd been there before speaking up. He was still leaning on the wall, arms crossed, watching askance from halfway across the living room as Mabel worked with her crayons, as if she were playing with a chemistry set and he was trying to figure out if she was building a bomb.

"Is Flatworld really about your world?" Mabel asked. "Did you tell Edward Bishop Bishop all that stuff? With the circles and all the laws about shapes and stuff?"

Bill mulled over the question, staring into space. Mabel had never seen his face look so inexpressive before—at least, not since his first night as a captive, after he'd gotten all the screaming out and had looked too exhausted to feel. "We talked," he conceded. "I'm surprised you got your hands on it. I suppose Stanford brought it up."

Something in the back of her mind pricked up defensively—what was that supposed to mean, he was surprised she got her hands on it?—but she pushed it back down. "Yeah, he told me and Dipper about it when you guys got home yesterday," Mabel said. "But you brought it up to me first!"

"No I didn't. When?"

"A few weeks ago? You mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop."

"I don't remember that," Bill muttered. "I probably didn't think you'd make sense of it."

"Hey!"

"You didn't make sense of it! Ford had to tell you about it."

"Yeah, but—mean!" She shoved aside her drawing and started on another one, grumbling, "I could've made sense of it if I'd looked it up."

What was up with Bill today? He wasn't usually this much of a jerk. To her. Lately. Plus, she thought they'd really had a moment yesterday! But Bill had had a rough couple days. Maybe he was just tired and cranky.

A wiser person might just leave well enough alone. But a wiser person wasn't exploding in their brain with curiosity about just how bad Bill's life had really been. There was something itching at the back of her head, had been itching since she'd woken up—something about Bill, something important, she was sure of it—but she couldn't quite put together what it was. She just needed to talk to Bill long enough to figure it out.

"So..." She glanced up from filling in a shape yellow, "were lines really executed if they didn't make noises all the time so everyone always knew where they were and they couldn't sneak up and stab anyone?"

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if the very idea was stupid. "It wasn't that extreme. Making a peace cry is like a human saying 'coming through' when they're trying to squeeze past somebody. Lines are just taught to do it in public because it's easier not to see a line, that's all."

"If they didn't, were they executed...?"

"No. They were just rude."

That was a relief. Mabel had been worried for her fellow ladies. She was plenty noisy, but she didn't think she could remember to make constant sound any time she was around other people. She turned back to coloring her newest drawing, but watched Bill out of the corner of her eye. "Is it true that rich people killed almost all of their babies by giving them surgery to break their sides?"

The corner of Bill's mouth curled in a sneer. "Do I look like a pediatric surgeon?"

"Um." Not a welcome question. She tried to backtrack to something softer. "So, in the second dimension, the outside of your body is just your outline and your guts are everything inside the outline, right?"

He gave her a wary look. "Yeah."

"So your bow tie is basically in your stomach."

Bill sucked in a deep breath; but quickly caved in to the need to be the most correct person in the room. "More like around my esophagus, but. Sure."

"So, where did you wear it when you were back in the second dimension? Was it on your side? Did you have to wear two so people could see them from both sides—"

"I didn't need a bow tie then."

Mabel stared at him. "What do you mean, you didn't 'need' it? What do you need it for now?"

Bill ignored the question. "You know, I didn't think Flatworld was an interesting enough book to deserve this much attention! Especially not from you. You like fun stories." It felt oddly like he was criticizing her for having read it.

"Well—yeah, but it's about your home! That makes it fun!"

Bill raised his brows.

"Right? Doesn't it?"

"Kid." Bill laughed condescendingly. "Don't give me that. You read an entire book. In the summer. About math. With a downer ending where the narrator goes insane and gets locked up. That's some people's idea of a fun time, but I know it's not yours."

Maybe "fun" was the wrong word—but it was still important. She was glad she'd read it. She'd cared about it. She'd cared enough to know Bill was describing it wrong. "That's not what happened. The square got locked up because he kept telling everybody the third dimension's real."

"Like I said! He went insane!"

"But he's not insane. Everyone says he is, but he's right about the third dimension! It's everyone else who's stupid!"

"So what," Bill said. "The things he knows mean he'll never be able to see the world the way other shapes do, and no matter what he does he'll never be happy with his home. If that's not insanity, what is?"

Last year, she'd heard Bill agree when Gideon called him insane. She'd always wondered. "Is that why you're insane?"

Bill shot Mabel a furious look. That was the wrong thing to say. "Shooting Star—"

(Oh no, she thought, he's using my full name.)

"—what's with the third degree." Bill crossed the room to lean on the other side of the table. He gave her the guarded glare of a guilty suspect facing down a cop in an interrogation room—and trying to figure out whether he could kill the cop before he was stopped. "What do you think you're trying to dig up?"

"I'm not trying to 'dig up' anything," Mabel said. "I just want to learn more about you!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you do! Who doesn't wanna know all about me! And right after I trusted you yesterday! Do you think you're the first person to start digging into my history? 'Hey, does anyone know what made Bill Cipher so crazy'?" Bill laughed bitterly. " You're not even the first Pines to try it. Not even the second."

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" said Mabel, right before it dawned on her that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

"Right. I'm sure whatever you learn will make a nice two-page spread in Journal 5. Another secret you and Fordsy can add to your Mysteries, huh? Think he'll draw the dead babies?"

She thought back to Portland—to asking Ford what had made Bill so awful. I think if anyone’s ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Mabel shook her head. No. She didn't want to be that. "I'm not Grunkle Ford's spy, I'm your friend. I just—I just want to understand you—"

"Yeah, and the 'friends' who understand you are the most dangerous kind." Bill laughed harshly. "Your uncle and brother couldn't figure me out! And Sixer's been trying for years! So what makes you think YOU can?"

He was calling her stupid. He'd been calling her stupid all day. That was why he was so surprised she'd read the book.

"You—shut up!" She wadded up her latest drawing and flung it in Bill's face. (He snatched out of midair.) "All I did was read a book I thought was important to you, you jerk! I thought you'd like that!"

She hadn't meant for that waver to enter her voice. But she was exhausted from too little sleep and worrying about dead baby shapes and worrying about Bill's fear of death and worrying about what Ford had said about not giving Bill a second chance, and now Bill was being a jerk, and maybe he was just exhausted and upset too, but he was treating her like she was stupid—and there was that pathetic little waver.

But it made Bill pause in his onslaught; for a moment, he averted his gaze. Still, he said, "Maybe if you'd thought to ask—"

"You were asleep! I was being nice! And letting you sleep! In my bed!"

"But—"

"Just go away!" She pointed at the doorway.

Bill's face hardened again. "Fine!" He flung his hands in the air and stomped from the room. "Who wants to hang out with you when you're in such a bad mood, anyway."

Mabel glared at her stupid drawings so she didn't have to watch Bill's stupid back as he left.

Why had she bothered?

When Bill was out of sight, she dropped back onto her chair, pulled her sweater over her face, crossed her arms on the table, and buried her head in them.

####

Bill didn't think to smooth out the paper Mabel had flung at him until he was out of the room.

On one side she'd drawn Bill—properly triangular—with an expression that he thought was supposed to be fear and on the other side several angry-looking shapes, pentagons and hexagons, colored gray and black, being led by a pale figure shaped like a human skull and wielding a scythe; and between them, a bright pink heart, standing in front of Bill protectively, hands on its "hips," glaring down the would-be assailants.

The corners of Bill's mouth sagged down.

####

The bell rang and the shapes began filing out of class, muttering to each other about how they thought they'd done on the test. As the triangle cheerfully left the room, the teacher caught him by the arm again to pull him over. "Just a minute," she said. "I want a word with you."

Oh, he bet she did. Breezily, he said, "Sure thing! What is it?"

"Who was the first triangular president?"

"Wh— Th—" He spluttered indignantly. "There's been like—seven of them."

"Nine. And I'm only asking about the first one."

"How should I know!"

"You knew an hour ago."

He sputtered again. "That was— That was a multiple choice test! And it was an hour closer to when I'd studied! And I can focus better in the classroom! You can't expect me to remember anything in the hallway. You're using intimidation tactics. How could anyone focus under these conditions—"

"I don't know what you're doing," the teacher said, "or how you're doing it. Maybe I never will. But..." She sighed, and the anger seemed to leak out of her, and that only made him more nervous. "But whatever you're doing—you won't be able to do it forever. What will you do when you're out in the real world and you didn't learn anything in school?"

Her pity was worse than being hated had been. At least when he was hated, he knew she only looked down on him because she had something against him. What did he do with pity? With concerned warnings about the "real world"? He'd never heard anybody use the phrase "the real world" as anything but a threat. He hoped he was never out in the real world.

"Who cares! I'll never need any of this!" He should have shut up there. He didn't: "You're just jealous that me and my family make a million times more lying to everyone than you'll ever get trying to teach them the truth!"

His teacher gasped in shock; but before she could say anything, he was halfway down the hall with no intention of slowing down.

The next day, he stayed home, and his mom visited the principal. The day after that, he had a new teacher.

####

He was stupid. He knew that. He didn't know when he'd gotten stupid—if it was because he'd started touring so much and missing classes, or if he'd always been dumb and just didn't notice it before he registered just how often he was using his all-seeing eye to pick up answers that other kids couldn't see. It had crept up on him. But there it was. He was stupid, and he was too stupid to figure out what to do about it.

There was a big difference between being able to see everything, and actually knowing anything. And he might be all-seeing, but an idiot like him would never be all-knowing.

####

A trillion years later, he still didn't remember the name of the first triangular president. And look how far he'd gotten without it.

Lunch was toast and peanut butter. The toaster was the only source of heat he could use without having to ask his captors for access; and peanut butter and bread were the most nutritious foods he could reach without asking his captors to open a cabinet or fridge. He was sick of toast and peanut butter.

He wasn't about to ask Mabel to help him get lunch.

Well. He'd succeeded. He'd known just the right thing to say to get Mabel to lay off and drop the topic. Did he feel accomplished?

He stared out the window as he ate—there were hazy gray clouds on the horizon, beyond the trees, slowly inching closer—and he tried not to look at the picture Mabel had flung at him.

####

Mabel felt dumb about being upset that Bill thought she was dumb.

Because of course he did. Sure, he liked her art and he liked dance music and games without rules; sure, he was a willing student when it came to stuff like making friendship bracelets or artistically mixing sprinkles; sure, he was a weirdo fun guy; but he was also a Smarty McSmartypants, just like Dipper or Ford. And Mabel was the Girl Dipper who brought home C's. And even a weirdo fun Smarty wouldn't want to hang out for long with someone who couldn't keep up with nerd talk. He probably just... put up with her for as long as he could stand pretending he took her seriously, but he'd finally lost his patience...

And shown his true, jerky colors again.

Maybe Ford and Dipper were right about him; maybe he couldn't really change.

Except... there was something he'd said. And right after I trusted you yesterday. When he'd cried in front of her. When he'd told her about his fear of death.

He was being a jerk because he thought she'd betrayed him. But by reading a book?! Why couldn't he ever just explain himself? Did he think whatever was bothering him was obvious, and she was stupid for not figuring it out?

Something she almost but didn't quite remember thudded like a drum inside her brain. Dum-dum-dum. Dum-dum-dome.

From the entryway, Bill called, "Hey, star girl. I—"

He stopped in the doorway. Mabel had taped 28 pieces of paper together, drawn on a door knob, written "DOOR" at the top, and taped it across the doorway into the living room. Irritably, Bill said, "It doesn't work like that. This is obviously paper."

"Bill," Mabel grumbled. "Go away."

"No. I'm gonna say something to you."

He didn't phrase that like he was giving her a choice in the matter; but all the same, she said, "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know that horror story about a bride with a velvet ribbon tied around her neck, and her head falls off and rolls down the stairs when her husband unties it?"

She did. She and Dipper had read a book of scary stories to each other on Halloween a few years ago while waiting for it to be late enough to go trick-or-treating. In spite of herself, he'd piqued her curiosity. She reluctantly turned to look at him. "Yeah? So?"

Bill was leaning in the doorway, head tilted against the doorframe so he could see Mabel around the paper door curtain. "That's why I wear a bow tie."

Mabel blinked. "Wait—if you didn't, your head would fall off? What part of you is your head? How did it come off? Were you decapitated? Did you get decapitated for knowing about the third dimension—?"

"It doesn't keep my head on; it keeps my skin on."

Mabel's nose wrinkled. "Gross! How?"

"Remember how you said my outline is my skin and all my organs are inside the outline," Bill said. "That didn't change when we left the second dimension! We had to get exoskeletons on our top and bottom sides so solids like you can't stick you fingers in our guts. My bow tie keeps it tied in place."

"Whoa." So that was why they hadn't seen Bill's organs before. "Do you ever take it off?"

"Mostly when I'm eating!" He knocked on the doorframe. "So can I come in now?"

Of course. He'd been using information to buy his way back into her good graces. (No—that was what somebody who didn't think Bill deserved a second chance would think. He was making up for earlier by answering one of her questions about him.)

She took a deep breath, turned to face Bill, and said, "You didn't talk to me like a friend earlier."

"I—" Bill grimaced, looked at the ceiling for help, and conceded, "I mean—It's how I talk to my friends, but all right, I know you're not used to that—"

"Nobody should be used to that!" Mabel said. "What would Love Bunny say?"

"Wh—?! I— Th— You—" His voice cracked as it jumped higher, "What do I care what a cartoon rabbit thinks about—"

"What. Would. She. Say."

Bill's face screwed up in agony. He crossed his arms. "Ugh."

"Biiill?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Bill said, "She'd say my breath smells like I've been eating mean beans."

"Aaand?"

"I'm not going to say it. I won't say it."

"And you need to eat your nice rice!"

Bill let out a long, slow sigh.

"Say it!"

"This is my penance," Bill muttered toward his feet. "This is my penance. This is fair." He took a breath. "And... I need to eat my nice rice."

Mabel nodded. He'd confessed his sins.

"I think we're out of nice rice," Bill said, "but I've had the peanut butter of kindness and the toast of remorse. Good enough?"

She considered it. "Yeah. You can come in."

Bill batted aside the paper door curtain and ducked into the room.

He sat across the table from Mabel and set down the paper she'd chucked at him amongst her others. Mabel glanced at the drawing, embarrassed of it now; but Bill didn't say anything about it.

He just propped his cheek against his hand and started looking over her other art.

Mabel sat there with her hands under her legs, watching his spotlight eyes rove over the table, feeling like she was waiting for a teacher to grade a poster she'd made for class. He saw a stop sign red octagon in sunglasses that was labeled "Bill's parole officer" and snorted. She wasn't sure if it was an amused snort or a derogatory snort. His gaze stopped on her attempt to figure out how Flatworlder anatomy worked, and didn't move farther. She'd probably gotten everything wrong, hadn't she?

She couldn't stand waiting for him to pass judgment on her art. "You think they look dumb, don't you."

Bill took a moment to reply. He didn't look up from her drawings. "I don't think you're dumb, Shooting Star."

"You think I'm dumber than Dipper and Grunkle Ford."

Bill winced. "I don't." At her dubious look, Bill amended, "Only Stanford! And that barely counts, all humans are dumber than Stanford. It doesn't mean I think you're dumb-dumb"

"Could've fooled me," Mabel muttered.

"You bet! I'm good at fooling people. All I have to do is say things I don't mean that make people feel the way I want." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "I wanted you to feel like the conversation wasn't worth it. That's all."

She stared at him. "By letting me know you think I'm stupid?!" She chucked a crayon at his face. "You could have just told me you didn't want to talk about Flatworld!" Her voice was getting that stupid waver again. "If I'd known, I would have dropped it! I didn't want to upset you!"

"I wasn't upset, it's just a stupid thing to complain about! It's just a dumb book! It'd—it'd take a real loser to be bothered by talking about a dumb book! I'm not..." He sighed harshly. "I know you weren't trying to get on my nerves, kid. It'd mess up your sticker chart." (Mabel hadn't even realized he knew about her sticker chart.) Almost inaudibly, he added, "M'sorry."

She'd never heard him apologize before.

She let out a slow breath. "Biiill. I don't think you're a loser."

He muttered something she couldn't make out as he flipped his hood on and pulled it down over his burning face. "Forget it. Move on. It's in the past!"

"If you're so embarrassed—"

"Not embarrassed!"

She chucked another crayon at his chest. "Then why are you telling me this now?"

Bill shut his eyes; took a deep breath; and, with a look of solemn dignity, and no small amount of pain, he said, "Because. Teddy Tender says. Our friends can't help us feel better if we don't tell them why we feel bad." He almost, almost managed to say it without sounding sarcastic.

Mabel burst out laughing. Bill pulled his hood lower.

Bill didn't even like Teddy Tender—he thought he was the stick in the mud of the Color Critters—and he certainly wasn't actually trying to follow Teddy's friendship lessons. He was just... saying something he didn't mean to make Mabel feel the way he wanted. And he wanted her to feel better.

No matter what anyone else said, he could change. And he was changing.

"Apology accepted," Mabel said. "Gold star!" She peeled one off a nearby sticker sheet and held it out.

Bill eyed it, like a man so hungry he was too nauseous to eat eyeing a pizza; and then snatched it from her and stuck it in the middle of his hoodie.

Mabel said, "And... I guess I'm sorry for getting all diggy about your home world." Even if she hadn't known it was bothering him, she probably should've guessed, shouldn't she? With how crabby he'd gotten. "I just got all excited and curious and... kinda worried about you after reading that book?" She sighed. "I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. You probably hated your dimension."

"What? He lurched forward with the vehemence of his denial—"Of course I don't hate my dimension!" Mabel leaned away at the sudden rage that had flared up in his eyes; but it died just as quickly and Bill immediately reeled himself back in, sitting back, crossing his arms: "I mean, come on, kid, use your head: you read a book about a culture. We're talking about an entire dimension. Would you hold a grudge against Jupiter if an ant bit you on Earth?"

Even as casually as he played it off, Mabel was sure he hadn't meant anything as calm and measured as claiming it was technically irrational to hate an entire dimension. He meant—emphatically, with his whole heart behind it—that he didn't hate his home dimension, at all.

Then why didn't he want to talk about it? (Then why had he destroyed it? Or was not hating it just another fiction he'd made up because he'd prefer that reality? Or was the destruction itself a lie? He hadn't mentioned it once since they'd started talking about Flatworld. Or did he think she didn't know about that and didn't want her to know? Or...)

Something had been churning in her subconscious since she woke up, and now—watching Bill ball up around himself as he squirmed around the things he didn't want to say—it finally dawned on her. Two words. Another piece of the Axolotl's poem. She tried to hold the words in her head until she could write them down, repeating them over and over—Misses home. Misses home.

Quietly, she asked, "Then... don't you want to remember it?"

His face spasmed, like it was nearly cracking in two—and then smoothed out. His face was blank. He didn't answer for a moment. "The last time I told a human more than two sentences about where I'm from... he gave me the universe's most depressing geometry textbook."

Oh. Maybe Bill was following Teddy Tender's friendship advice. "That's because you were talking to a boring old-timey math teacher, duh."

He laughed wryly. "You may have a point!"

If Bill assumed anybody prying into his history was either looking for the reason something was wrong with him, or publishing a whole book about the super bad parts... No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk to her. "So you didn't dislike Flatworld? You just dislike the book?"

Bill grimaced. "Did you read Eddie's biography?"

"No?"

####

As soon as he'd buckled himself into his seat for the drive to Northwest Manor, Dipper read the summary on the back cover of Flatworld, and then the paragraph-long author biography underneath it:

Edward B. Bishop, born in 1838 in England, was an accomplished mathematician, writer, theologian, and closet occultist, as well as a professor at the esteemed University of Fancyton. He published twelve books, the last of which was Flatworld in 1884. After sentencing his square protagonist to a two-dimensional asylum for preaching of the existence of the third dimension, he himself succumbed to an ironically similar fate: three months after publication, he was committed to an asylum for insisting that two-dimensional alien invaders intended to conquer the Earth and were persecuting him for revealing their existence, a delusion he maintained until his death from sleep deprivation in 1886. His most enduring legacy is inventing the margarita glass, which he claimed came to him in a dream.

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Ouch."

####

"Never mind, don't worry about it," Bill said. "But no. I didn't like the book."

"You poor thing! All this time you've been homesick for the second dimension, but the only things humans talk about is the bad stuff!"

"Don't call me that."

"Do you want to talk about the non-depressy stuff instead? Like..." Mabel wracked her brain for something nice she'd read in the book. She winced. "Uh... I'm sure there's something. You could choose the topic?"

Bill didn't look directly at her. He just looked over all her drawings again. "Tell me why you want to know so badly."

It was basically the same question he'd asked earlier—what's with the third degree—but his tone was different. Mabel swallowed hard and repeated, "Because... I'm your friend. It's crazy that we've been friends for like a month and I barely know a-ny-thing about who you are or how you grew up! By now, I'd usually know about a friend's family, favorite subject, favorite animal, opinion on glitter, and biggest life dream! Plus all the stuff humans have in common—like, 'do you breathe?'"

This time, Bill didn't argue with her answer. (He could have called her a liar. A month ago, she had just been trying to find out what was wrong with him. But this version of the truth she'd made up was better.) "You already know I'm pro-glitter in all contexts and my life's work is to throw an eternal party. What else really matters?"

"Those are the two most important questions," Mabel said seriously. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you have glitter in the second dimension?" He'd already reassured her that they'd had color, but it was hard to imagine glitter in such a bleak world.

"Sure."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

She looked around at the morning's art production, pulled over the first drawing she'd done of her shapesona, and grabbed a bottle of glue to draw a thin line around the heart.

Bill watched as Mabel carefully sprinkled several separate colors of glitter on the line of glue, like a master chef adding a precise amount of spice to a gourmet recipe, to create a glitter rainbow gradient; and then he slowly sat up and leaned toward the table again. "So, who's this freak?"

Mabel gave him an exasperated look. She decided he'd meant "freak" neutrally; but she'd clearly labeled the heart "ME IN FLATWORLD," she thought it was pretty obvious who this freak was.

But Bill cheerfully went on, "He's the most hideously disfigured shape I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

"I'm not joking, it hurts to look at this guy. At least he's symmetrical, but woof."

"She's not a guy! She's supposed to be me in Flatworld," Mabel insisted. "She's a powerful lady and I think she's beautiful." She paused. "Can a heart be a girl?" Lines looked boring, but Flatworld said that girls were all lines and all other shapes were boys. (Or were they? When they'd talked at the mall, Bill had been very clear that he considered himself a triangle instead of male or female, which scuttled the "all polygons are male" concept. Maybe Edward Bishop Bishop had made that part up?)

"She can be anything she wants," Bill said firmly. "I don't see any gender cops around here, do you?"

Good point. "And when there's no cops around, anything's legal."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"Grunkle Stan says it!"

"Wise man." Bill leaned forward further across the table and tapped a finger on the deep cleft at the top of the heart. "Personally, I'm more worried about that agonizing-looking birth defect. I'm surprised she survived past infancy!"

Mabel glared at him, but she supposed she couldn't argue. A heart was a pretty irregular shape. And according to Flatworld, almost all irregular shapes were executed in childhood or else imprisoned in adulthood, since they thought irregular shapes would grow up to be depraved, imbecilic criminals—

"Wait," Mabel said. "Wait. Last year, when I called you an isosceles freak—"

Bill cut in, "It was 'monster,' but go on!"

"Was that, like..." Mabel's voice dropped to a whisper, "a slur on Flatworld?"

Bill fought to keep his face straight as he decided how to respond. He went for the funniest answer. "Yes."

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, "Nooo!"

"It's actually pretty impressive a human managed to come up with it!"

"I'M SORRYYY, augh I didn't know!"

Over her anguished whines, Bill went on, "It's just a good thing you didn't say 'scalene'! I would've had to wash your mouth out with drain cleaner!"

Mabel had pulled the collar of her sweater over her face. From within Sweater Town, she asked, "Was that the first thing I ever said to you?"

Bill choked back a laugh. "Yeah, it was."

She squealed in embarrassment and slid under the table.

"Heck of a first impression, star girl!"

"i'm sorryyy."

Bill reached under the table to pat the top of her head. "Ahhh, it was funny. Get up here."

As she climbed back into her seat, Bill added, "I'm getting back at you now, I'm not done making fun of your medical miracle yet. You know what she'd look like as a human? A headless, neckless body with an eyeball shoved six inches down her esophagus." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually... that sounds kinda cute."

"Eww, Bill."

"It is, it's cute. Like a clumsy puppy with a neurological disorder! I guess that's how the hideous Miss Heart here must look to humans!"

Mabel looked over her art again, wondering if she should change her shapesona, considering Bill's reaction to it.

So, maybe she was creating a freak. She didn't see any shape cops around here. She kept drawing. "I'd be fine," she said. "You like weird freaks! You'd keep me safe."

A stricken look crossed his face. He was momentarily silent as he watched Mabel start another picture. And then, as though he were only considering it for the first time, he said, "Yeah. I guess I would."

His gaze drifted to the wrinkled picture of Mabel's shapesona standing protectively in front of Bill. "Freaks can't afford to tear each other down."

####

(THIS is the chapter that's been giving me hell the last few weeks. Months. Last few months. I'm so glad to finally have it out, and I hope y'all enjoyed!! This chapter probably brings up a lot more questions than it actually answers—and completely different questions based on whether or not you've read Flatland lol—so I can't wait to hear what y'all think.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #mabel pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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rafesaddiction · 11 months

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It's not cheating when he's your stepbrother – Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You lie about your first kiss. Will you lie about your first time too?

You are Rafe's stepsister, just graduated from boarding school and here for the summer holidays before you'll leave for college. You and Rafe used to be close, but that changed, years ago. Now he is distant and mean, and something else happens when you have your first boyfriend. A nice guy, a sweet guy, nothing like Rafe.

Concept: stepsiblings, first time, just the tip

Warnings: mdni! – smut, noncon/dubcon, rough sex, p in v, loss of virginity (virgin!reader), fingering, stepcest, violence, slapping, manhandling, mentions of child abuse (ward physically and emotionally abusing rafe), cheating (reader cheating on boyfriend), name calling (rafe calls reader slut and whore), angst, dark!rafe, mean!rafe, this starts off kinda sweet but gets quite dark.

When reading this, please do so at your own discretion. Keep in mind, this is just a work of fiction.

Word count: 9.0k (holy fuck! how did that happen?)

tagging @ashy-kit since you asked. I hope you'll like this.

“Wait! Was that actually your first kiss? Oh my god! It was!”

Sarah stared at you with large eyes, then covered her mouth, laughing. You just smiled, shrugged, and averted your gaze, feeling heat in your cheeks. It was a bit embarrassing that your younger stepsister had more experience with boys than you did. The reason for that might have been that you had gone to an all-girls boarding school practically your whole life. But truth was, if anything, away from parents, kids had even more opportunities at boarding school to gain sexual experience, be it with other students, local boys, or even teachers. You knew that a lot of your classmates did much more than just kiss when sneaking out at night. But you weren't the type to sneak out at night. You were the type to get your first kiss at 18 after graduating from said boarding school.

“Tell us more,” Wheezie insisted. She sat next to you on the couch, cross-legged, looking at you, eager to hear your story. You smiled at your little stepsister. You two had grown closer over the past years, with Wheezie discovering the internet and thus being able to chat with you even when you were hundreds of miles away at school.

“Denny is quite a good kisser though. You’re lucky, he was your first,” Sarah said, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table in front of her.

You knew that Sarah had hooked up with Denny. So you had, of course, told her when he had asked you out. Sarah was totally okay with it, she even encouraged you to text him back, when he texted you. Denny hadn't been her boyfriend, just one of her hook-ups, ages ago. And as of now, Sarah was too happily in love with her pogue boyfriend to be jealous at all. It was kind of a forbidden romance, Wheezie had told you all about it, but Sarah herself also liked to share, she loved talking about her boyfriend and his pogue friends and their way of living. And you liked to listen to her exciting stories or when she complained about her father or brother. You liked that you were kind of close, even though you only spent the summer and Christmas holidays at Tannyhill.

Your mother had you at a very young age and you were practically raised by your grandma. When your mother married Ward Cameron, you were old enough to be send off to one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country. The school was in another state, but could as well have been on another continent. Your mother didn't want to have you in her new life, she already had three new kids to look after. Ward wouldn’t have minded, he made sure you knew that you were as much a daughter to him as Sarah and Wheezie. He showed his affection by paying for your expensive education. Now that you had graduated from high school, you were supposed to spend the summer before going to an ivy league school with your family in the Outer Banks.

“Did you close your eyes? Did you feel butterflies? Did he do the neck grab?” Wheezie kept shooting one question after the other and you felt your face must have been glowing. You looked away, trying to think of what to answer, when your eyes met a pair of intense blue eyes, staring at you from across the room.

Rafe, your older stepbrother, stood in the hallway, looking at you. And for some reason, you felt that damn heat had reached your ears. You quickly looked away, turning to Sarah, who was telling Wheezie that she shouldn't base her expectations on tiktoks and fanfics.

The kiss happened the night before at a kook party. You had been texting and hanging out with Denny for about two weeks. He was your age, he was charming, smart, the former captain of the football team. He was actually so good that he got a scholarship to play at a college team. Not that he would have needed the scholarship to go to college, his parents were one of the wealthiest kook families on the island. Almost as rich and influential as the Camerons. Of course, you knew Denny before, the island was small and he was one of your stepbrother's friends. But this whole thing with him only started about two weeks ago when you quite literally ran into him at the country club. He insisted on buying you another drink even though you were the one who spilled your drink on him. He texted you later, he got your number from Sarah, and, since Sarah was encouraging you, you texted back and agreed to go on a date with him. You had been on four dates already: dinner, a trip to the beach, another dinner, and a date on his family's yacht, when you went to the party with him the previous night. And then it just happened. He kissed you outside the house where the party was. It was a starry night and the kiss was nice. And after, he took your hand and walked inside with you and you smiled, as you felt the warmth of his hand around yours.

“I'll get us some fresh popcorn, then we can start the movie, okay?” You grabbed the half-empty bowl and got up from the couch, while your stepsisters were in some serious discussion about some actor from a show you had never heard of.

You left the living room and walked past Rafe, who didn't seem to have moved an inch. You didn't look up at him when you spoke to him.

“You wanna join us and watch a movie with us? It's Wheezie's choice tonight, so I guess it's whatever is trending on netflix at the moment,” you said and were about to head for the kitchen, when suddenly his hand wrapped around your arm. You stopped and looked up at him, gasping.

Rafe leaned down to you, and you felt his hand gripping tighter around your arm. You winced and were about to say something, when you met his eyes. Dark blue orbs staring at you, so very close to you.

“Why did you lie?”

You frowned in confusion.

“Why did you lie and say that that was your first kiss?”

You just gazed up at him. And despite the heat in your face, you felt a shiver running down your spine.

You parted your lips, wanting to say something, but he cut you off.

“I hate liars.”

And then he let go off you, turned around and just left, and you felt your heart beating in your chest, so rapidly, so loudly, your stepsisters in the other room must have heard it. You stepped back from the door, your back pressing against the wall, as you tried to compose yourself.

He was right. That kiss wasn't your first kiss.

Your first kiss happened with Rafe when you were 15 and he was 17.

It was right after Christmas. Before New Year's Eve. It was late at night and you decided to have a hot chocolate before going to sleep. You met Rafe in the kitchen, standing at the open fridge, rummaging it for some leftovers from dinner. He was wearing that ridiculous Christmas sweater with the reindeer over his sleeping shorts. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him. He was already tall then, not as tall as he was now, but much taller than you. He was lean, less bulky. He was a boy still and he grinned like one, when he turned to look at you.

“What's so funny? You laughing at me?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you shook your head, grinning, “Sven.”

You squealed and giggled when Rafe launched a tickle-attack on you.

It used to be so easy around him. He was always sweet, sometimes teasing, but always in a sweet way. He was protective and you felt safe with him. You were closer then, and it was just easy to be yourself with him.

You got into a real tickle fight with him, chasing each other around the kitchen, as he finally got you.

“Stop, stop, stop! I surrender!” You said, out of breath. Your cheeks hurting from laughing so hard.

He stopped tickling you, but his hands still rested on your sides, and he stood very close in front of you. Your own hands clutching that ridiculous sweater of his. He looked down at you. His hair disheveled, his cheeks flushed, his chest heaving, his lips parted. He didn't laugh or grin and your own laughing had stopped too. All you heard was your rapid heartbeat and both of you panting.

And his hand touched your cheek. You felt a little spark, but instead of withdrawing, you leaned into his touch. Your lips parted as he leaned closer. His face so close, you could hardly make out his features, so you closed your eyes, and breathed in. And it was his scent that filled your lungs, before you felt his lips on yours. And that contact sent a wave of some yet unknown sensation through your body, and you felt it everywhere, felt it in your fingertips that grabbed the sweater. Felt it in your toes as you stood on them to meet Rafe's lips. Felt it on your skin, where he touched you, felt it under your skin. Felt it coursing through your veins.

A distant sound, and Rafe suddenly broke the kiss. In a state of daze you opened your eyes and moved them to what Rafe was staring at. Or to who.

Ward was standing in the door to the kitchen. His presence towering both of you. You shuddered and jumped away from Rafe.

You slowly walked backwards, your heart racing, sudden fear being the dominant emotion. But when Ward came closer, his attention wasn't focused on you. He hardly seemed to notice that you were even there. He glared at his son, glared at Rafe who just stood there, as if he was paralyzed by fear, unable to move.

You didn't wait for what happened, you chose flight and ran past Ward, ran up to your room, locking the door. You heard no screaming, no yelling, though you had expected as much. When half way up the stairs, you had heard a thud, and then something banging heavily, like a chair falling to the ground.

The next morning, you didn't see Rafe at the breakfast table. You saw your stepfather, who was smiling and being his relaxed self as ever. Only he avoided directly looking at you.

You saw Rafe later in the afternoon. You wanted to talk to him, say something, but you didn't know what. And when you saw the bruise under his eye, you had no words left.

Four days later you left to return to school. And when you came back during spring break, things were different, very different. Rafe no longer smiled at you, never laughed when you were around. When he didn't avoid you, he glared at you. And there was something so dark in his blue eyes that it made you shudder and sob at night.

“But you have to come!” Sarah pushed out her lower lip and looked at you with her big brown eyes, pleadingly, practically begging you to come with you to the party that evening.

“I want to spend time with my favorite older sibling and I want you to meet my friends. Besides, what do you want to do here, huh? Your boyfriend is on a family trip in the Bahamas and you can't seriously want to spend another evening binge-watching The Summer I Turned Pretty with Wheezie. Come on! Pleaaase.” Sarah's pouting went up another level and she made actual puppy eyes.

You didn't mind spending another evening with Wheezie and listening to her endless monologs on why she would always choose Jeremiah over Conrad, over any guy really.

You sighed. “But I don't have anything to –”

“To wear?” Sarah interrupted you and grabbed your hand. “Come on, you can pick whatever you want from my closet.”

You sighed in defeat, but smiled, as you followed your stepsister into her bedroom.

You didn't end up with choosing anything from her closet, but she picked out an outfit for you. And Sarah had great taste and you didn't complain. She selected a light summer dress for you, fitting for a casual party at the beach. You liked how the fabric felt on your skin and how the cut accented your curves without revealing too much. The skirt was a bit shorter than what you'd usually wore, but it was the middle of summer and you were on the island and not in the city.

When looking at the mirror, you smiled at the young woman smiling at you. You touched the golden necklace you were wearing. A gift from Denny. When he gave it to you the other day, you were surprised. Wasn't it a bit early for such costly gifts? But he insisted on you taking it and he was so happy when he put it around your neck. The pendant was a green stone, it was a bit heavy, but it looked nice. You really appreciated the gesture. And you really appreciated how your boyfriend treated you. He was okay with taking things slow. He never pushed you and in these past weeks, you had never done more than holding hands. You hadn't even kissed again. – Something you wouldn't tell your sister, for a reason you didn't quite know yourself.

You enjoyed yourself a lot at the party. Sarah's friends were easy to get along with, especially JJ. You just met him like an hour ago and he had already made you laugh more than you had in the whole past month or even year. But talking with Pope was also nice, he knew a lot and you liked listening to him. You also liked watching how these two boys got into a playfight about something stupid. You didn't mind that Sarah left you with the pogues as she and John B wanted to spend some time alone.

“Now, c'mon. Dance with me, big-city girl,” JJ pointed at you, then bent his finger to indicate that you should follow him. You laughed and shook your head. He then tried to catch you with an imaginary lasso.

“You’d better go, before he does his full-on cowboy impression, and talking in that accent, and believe me, you don't wanna hear that. No one wants to hear that,” Pope told you, leaning closer to you, and then taking your cup, so you could go and join JJ at the bonfire.

You couldn't deny that the cheap beer you had been drinking had made you a bit tipsy and somehow loosened you up a bit. But mainly, you just felt comfortable in the presence of Sarah's friends that had quickly become your friends too. And you weren't the only ones dancing by the fire. Other people also danced to the music coming from someone's speakers.

JJ took your hand and twirled you around, made an effort at imitating some dance moves that looked very elaborated. It was fun, you felt a permanent grin on your cheeks, glowing with the heat from the nearby fire, the booze and the excitement. You felt free, not thinking about anything at all. Not even thinking about the way you moved, but you just did. You felt the music, felt the joy of being young and careless – and you suddenly felt something hard that you bumped into, while twirling around.

“Sorry,” you muttered and looked up, as two hands grabbed your arms.

And you looked into the angry face of your stepbrother.

You froze, just for a moment. Then you tried to get away, but Rafe only held you closer, like pulling you into a tight embrace, and for an instant you thought that he might want to dance with you. But he didn't.

“Hey!” JJ's voice behind you made your head spin around.

“Let her go!” The blond boy stood a couple of feet away, his hands clenched into fists. His whole body seemed tensed up and he glared at Rafe. JJ looked so different from how he had looked a minute ago. All that carelessness, all his smiles gone.

You felt Rafe tense up too, as his hands tightened their grip around your arms, making you wince in pain.

“JJ,” he said his name through clenched teeth as if it was an insult.

The two boys stared at each other, the tension between them was palpable. People had gathered around them, but you didn't actually take notice of them. You looked at JJ, tried to tell him not to do anything stupid, but his eyes were fixed on Rafe. You looked at Rafe. You gave up freeing yourself from his iron grip.

“Please,” you pleaded, unsure what else to say. Your voice too soft, too weak anyway. You felt cold all of a sudden, and very sober.

And then everything happened just so fast.

JJ must have stepped closer, because the next moment, Rafe pushed you behind his own body as he lunged forward to hit JJ. When he moved his arm back, his elbow hit you at your chin and you, no longer held by him, stumbled and fell to the sandy ground. But neither Rafe nor JJ took notice. When you looked up, you saw them throwing fists at each other. Their bodies colliding, this was another kind of dance. You were shocked to see such fierce violence, both of them seemingly fighting with the intend to end the other.

You were shaking and only now noticed that you had started to cry. You cried and yelled and pleaded them to stop.

Fortunately, some guys stepped in, pulling the fighting boys apart.

Rafe angrily shrugged off the guy who was holding him, while two others held JJ, who fiercely, but in vain fought to free himself.

“Rafe!” You screamed his name, and that made him stop, made him turn his head towards you, still sitting on the ground, tears running down your face.

Rafe's eyes were dark and the look on his face was unlike anything you had ever witnessed. You flinched as he came closer, suddenly so afraid of your own stepbrother. He frowned at your reaction, but proceeded. He grabbed your arm, made you cry out in pain, pulled you to your feet. And when you tried to get away, because every cell in your body told you to run, he caught you, wrapping his arms around you from behind, picking you up like you weighed nothing, held you in both his arms. Your feet kicking the air, your fists trying to hit him, you were screaming, but he easily carried you away. And no one stopped him.

Through teary eyes you saw JJ being held by the two guys while a third one punched his face, and yet he fought, tried to get away, looking at you, looking at Rafe, who carried you away, carried you from the beach to his car.

He opened the door and tossed you onto the passenger seat. You let out a groan, as something hit your back. As soon as Rafe let go off you, you tried to get up, get out, but Rafe pushed you back into the seat.

“Let me go! Just let me go!” Your hands tried to shove him out of the way.

He caught one of your wrists, twisted it in his grip, as he reached over you to fasten the seatbelt.

You whined and gave up fighting as you knew he was too strong and you had no chance against him at all.

“Please just let me go. Why are you like this?” You pleaded between sobs.

“Why am I like this?!” Rafe yelled at you and his hand shot forward to grasp your chin, pressing so hard, you feared he would crush your jaw.

“You acting like a goddamn slut messing around with a fucking pogue!”

You flinched at each word he yelled at you, his face closer and closer. His eyes so wild, his whole expression just fuming with rage, directed at you.

“I did not,” you tried to defend yourself.

“You're a fucking LIAR!”

You flinched, and when you closed your eyes, a stream of tears ran down your cheeks.

“No,” you tried again, but he cut you short.

“You think I'm stupid?” He tilted his head, frowning, his eyes small as he glared at you in disbelief. “You think I don't know what's going on? You fucking that pogue. You’re a whore. Just like Sarah. All my sisters are goddamn sluts fucking those filthy pogues. And what does that make me look like, huh? Thought about that? Thought about what it means for your family? Your free-spirited fucking lifestyle? How does that look on dad, huh? Have you ever thought about anyone but yourself? Ever thought about the consequences of what you're doing?”

You gazed at him, taken aback by his accusations, not understanding what had gotten into him.

His eyes moved down from your face to your chest, which rose and fell under your agitated breathing.

His hand slowly let go of your chin, moved down your neck. You held your breath as you felt the pressure on your throat. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. His hand moved down further, his palm pressing hard onto the necklace’s pendant. You winced as you felt the hard stone digging into your skin.

“My own sister. Dressed like a whore. Fucking a pogue.” His voice was now calmer, darker, and it made you shiver.

“But, Rafe,” you sobbed, your hands tentatively reaching for his arm. “I did not do anything, I swear.”

The back of his hand hit your cheek so hard, your head flew to the side and it hit the headrest of the driver's seat.

You stared at him in shock, eyes widened, lips parted, pressing your hand to your throbbing cheek.

You couldn't believe what just happened.

But instead of apologizing or saying anything that would explain what he just did, Rafe just kept looking at you, his eyes on your trembling body. You noticed only now that your dress had slipped up, revealing a bit of your underwear. You quickly reached down to pull the fabric to cover as much of your legs as possible.

You looked up as you heard him scoff.

Shaking his head, moving his lips as if talking, talking to himself, he pushed himself back from the door, slammed it shut and walked around the car to get into the driver's seat.

You shifted as far away from him as you could, pressing your shoulder against the window, but you did not try to get out. You did not try to stop him when he started the engine. You did not yell or scream or rage. You just sat there, quietly sobbing as he drove you back to Tannyhill.

And Rafe didn't say anything, didn't even look at you when he parked the car in the driveway. He didn't look back when he got into the house, just left the front door open after he went inside.

You followed, slowly, your body still shaking with sobs. Your face hurt. The throbbing had become a sharp pain by now.

You got inside the house, it was dark, your parents and your little sister fast asleep.

You waited at the top of the stairs, until you heard the door of Rafe's bedroom shut, then you ran into your own room, locked the door behind you and crawled under the covers of your bed.

You didn't tell anyone what had happened that night with Rafe in the car.

Of course, Sarah knew about the fight between Rafe and JJ, and the day after she asked you, if you were okay. She even asked you if she should come over. But you said, you were okay and she should stay at John B's, you might come over later too. Sarah liked that idea, she was totally excited about it. You were talking over the phone, no video, so you didn't have to fake a smile. But you liked just listening when she talked with you about John B and the pogues. Their treasure hunting, their fishing trips, how she was learning to surf. It was nice to hear that your stepsister was so happy. It made you forget your own situation for a while.

Truth was, you weren't quite sure what that situation was.

The next days you tried your best to avoid your stepbrother, which wasn't too hard. He seemed to be out or asleep most of the time. So you were able to spend some time with Wheezie, preferably outside the house, somewhere you'd know you wouldn't accidentally run into Rafe, like that ice-cream parlor or the waffle house that sold these literally gigantic waffles with pink marshmallows. You even went to the mainland to a funfair with your little stepsister. Wheezie didn't notice the bruises on your face. You did quite a good job covering them up with your make up.

Since your boyfriend was still away with his family, you spent the nights either watching movies with Wheezie, helping her make tiktoks, or just in your room, reading a book.

You closed the book you had been reading for the past hours. Yawning, you looked at your phone. It was almost 3 a.m. You needed to use the bathroom. You sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating. Usually you would go down the corridor to get to the bathroom Sarah and Wheezie were sharing. But it was the middle of the night and you didn't want Wheezie to wake up. Besides, Rafe hadn't come home that night, so he wouldn't hear you.

You left your room and went to the bathroom. Pushing open the unlocked door, you stepped inside and froze. The light was on and you should have taken your time and listened when you had been outside. The water of the rain shower was running. And Rafe was standing under the shower. His back to you. The water raining down on his body, his naked body. The open shower offered you a complete view. His hair was wet, sticking to his head. Drops of water gracing his broad shoulders. Trails of water running down his back, accentuating the contours of his well-defined muscles. Water running down his lower back, over the curves of his butt, down his legs. He shifted slightly, his legs parting just a bit. Your eyes darted up, and you saw how he turned his head, turned it towards you. And looked at you. Water drops caught in his lashes, as he gazed at you. And his body moved and he was about to turn around completely, when you finally woke up from your frozen state and swiftly turned around and left the bathroom as fast as you could.

When you were inside your room, you were shaking. Your back pressed against the back of your door. You were panting, so loudly, it was embarrassing. You covered your mouth with both your hands. Your legs felt weak, like they would give in, but at the same time you felt something else, a very different, very unknown sensation. Something that had started as a tickling sensation and was now a throbbing, between your legs. You pressed them as closely together as you could. But it wouldn't stop. All your previous sleepiness gone, it seemed like all your senses were fully awake and heightened.

You heard a door open and close. You tried to focus and listen, between the sounds of your own rapid heartbeat. You heard footsteps on the corridor. Slow and heavy. They came closer and stopped. In front of your door. Right behind you. You pressed the palm of one of your hands against the wood. And you stopped breathing. Your mind racing. Trying to remember if you had locked your door.

It was still, completely still apart from your own heavy breathing, muffled by your own hand.

Then you heard footsteps again and another door, open and close.

And you still couldn't move.

When you finally made it to your bed, after checking if you indeed had locked your door, you didn't find real sleep for the rest of the night. Again and again you woke up, hearing the dripping sound of water or raspy breathing close to your ear.

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because when you opened your eyes next, the sun was shining right into your face and it was almost noon. You groaned as you turned in your bed. It was unusual for you to get up this late. You got dressed, wearing a sweater and your jeans shorts. It was most probably too hot outside for wearing a sweater, but with the air conditioning working, it was a bit chilly inside.

You went to the kitchen to get some coffee and something to eat to finally start the day. On your way downstairs, you heard Wheezie's and your mother's voice from another room. You figured that at this time of the day, the kitchen would be empty. Except it wasn't.

You stopped in the doorway when you saw Rafe. His back turned towards you, wearing a loose t-shirt and grey sweatpants, Rafe was standing at the coffeemaker.

Involuntarily, you let out a gasp, which he must have heard, because his head turned around. His eyes met yours. Just for a brief moment, then he turned his attention back to the machine in front of him. He didn't say anything, but you could have sworn that you saw a tiny smirk curling up the corners of his lips.

You took a deep breath. Something inside you told you to just go and run upstairs, lock yourself in your room. But your feet started moving and you walked to the fridge. It didn't seem as if Rafe even cared that you were in the same room with him. So you supposed that he had resumed his usual stance of just ignoring you. Besides, you still heard your sister's voice from the living room close by. Even Rafe wouldn't dare to do anything with his family, with his little sister so close by.

You went about grabbing something to eat and making yourself a coffee, while Rafe was doing the same quietly. You didn't look at him, just heard him move about and saw his frame from the corner of your eyes.

Your hands rested on the edge of the counter, fingers curling, your weight shifted to one foot, the other foot rubbed over your calf, feeling the warm woolen fabric of the sock, you were deeply in thought, while waiting for the coffeemaker to finish the program for your cappuccino.

“You're done with the staring?”

That dark voice directly behind you made you flinch and you lost your balance, tipping to the side, you almost fell – if it hadn't been for a strong hand catching you. And even when you were standing securely on both feet again, that hand didn't let go off your waist.

You felt your chest widen with the deep breath you took.

Rafe's body was so close to yours, you could feel the heat radiating from it. You could feel his muscles move as he leaned down to you, his chest pressing against your back.

“So, did you like what you saw? Last night? You left in such a rush. What were you doing in your room? Lying in your bed, thinking about my cock, touching yourself?” His lips grazed your ear as he whispered those words that made you involuntarily shiver, despite the heat you felt under your sweater.

You turned your head to look at him, when you felt something poking at your back.

Your lips parted and you felt them quiver as his face moved closer. His breath caressing your face, his eyes holding yours as his lips hovered over your mouth. Your breathing hitched as you felt his other hand move up to reach for your face.

“Finally you're up!” Wheezie's voice made you gasp. You felt pure heat rushing to your head.

Rafe’s hand – a second ago almost brushing your cheekbone – reached up to the cupboard above your head, taking out a glass. He walked to the fridge to take out the orange juice and pour some into the glass.

You grabbed the mug from under the coffeemaker, turned around and lifted it to your lips even though the contents were still too hot to drink. Your sleeves covered your wrists and you held the mug with both your hands, holding onto it like a lifeline. You nodded at Wheezie and tried to offer her a smile while your whole body was trembling.

Rafe had downed the orange juice and was pouring himself another glass, when Wheezie came over, snatched that newly filled glass from his hands and turned towards you while taking a sip.

“I needed your help with that tiktok,” she said and her accusing tone made you feel guilty, even though you couldn't remember having promised her to help her.

“I'm sorry,” you muttered. “We can do it now?” You offered.

Wheezie exhaled dramatically.

“Now is too late. We're about to leave.” Wheezie looked at you with her dark eyes, pouting. “But you could come and we can make it on the ferry,” she asked sweetly all of a sudden and took another sip from the orange juice.

Rafe, obviously having decided that he was still thirsty, had stepped closer and took out another glass from the kitchen cupboard above your head. His arm brushing your hair as he did so. And you felt goosebumps crawling over your skin, spreading on your neck.

Your eyes darted up and you noticed that Rafe's eyes traveled to your neck, and that look felt more intense than any touch and caused another shiver.

“You cold? Are you sick? Is that why you slept in?” Wheezie sounded seriously concerned now.

That shiver must have been visible. You cursed your own body for reacting so intensely and so weirdly to your stepbrother's presence.

“No, no, don't worry, Wheezie. I'm fine. I just spent the whole night reading.”

You heard a scoff coming from Rafe, but didn't look.

“Oh, that book with the dragons? You need to tell me all about it!”

“I will,” you smiled, and it was a real smile. You loved your little sister's enthusiasm.

“But not today. Denny is coming back from his family trip and we're meeting this afternoon.”

Wheezie's lips formed a disappointed ‘O', but then she nodded and took more sips from her glass.

“You're spending a lot of time with that boy lately,” Ward had entered the kitchen, and he offered you a warm smile. “You should invite him over for dinner, so we can officially meet.”

“Oh, my god, dad. You sound like a total patriarch,” Wheezie rolled her eyes.

“I do? Now the patriarch tells you to get in the car, Wheezie, we're already late,” Ward tilted his head and looked at his youngest daughter with warmth in his eyes.

Wheezie rolled her eyes again, muttered an annoyed “Fine,” put her glass down on the counter next to you, hugged you as if she was about to leave for months. When she let go, she turned towards her brother standing by the fridge.

“Bye, Rafe. Thanks for the juice,” she said, twirled around and literally danced out of the kitchen, as Rafe mumbled his reply.

You noticed how his stance had changed completely, his shoulders were drawn up, he was looking down. He seemed more tense ever since his father had come into the kitchen.

“If you don't find it too patriarchy of me, I’d like to get to know the boy that my daughter spends so much time with.”

“No, of course, that would be nice. I’ll ask him,” you quickly replied and smiled at your stepfather. You couldn't deny it, it always made you feel sort of happy when Ward casually called you his daughter, making no difference between you and his biological daughters.

“Now that's settled then,” he said. “Enjoy your date.”

“Thanks,” you took a sip from your cappuccino, which was now cool enough to drink.

Ward gave you another smile, before turning his attention toward his son.

“I asked you to drop off the crates at the site by 2.”

“I – I will. I'm on it,” Rafe gazed at his father who frowned at him.

“That's what you always say.”

“But I will.”

“It's a simple task, Rafe. If you can't even do that –“

“No, I said I will!” Rafe straightened up, took a step closer to his father, his body tensing up, you noticed.

“Honey? We need to get going,” your mother looked through the kitchen door.

“You have a nice day with Denny, sweetheart,” she addressed you, before just frowning at Rafe and leaving.

Before Ward also left, he smiled at you again – this time, the smile was a bit strained, you noticed.

He shot a less than friendly look at his son.

“For a change, just don't disappoint me again.”

When your parents had left, you remained in the kitchen and there was a strange silence.

You looked at Rafe, he was biting his nails.

“You okay?” Your voice soft, full of real concern.

He turned his face towards you, glared at you.

“Shut up!” You flinched as he yelled at you and then stormed out of the kitchen.

You let out a shaky breath after he had left. You weren't hungry anymore, so you just emptied the remains of your cappuccino into the sink and went upstairs.

Wrapped in a towel after taking a long hot shower in your sisters' bathroom, you returned to your room, only to find Rafe standing at your bed, looking at the clothes you had picked out to wear.

He held up the top you had put on the bed.

“You gonna wear that to your date?” He tilted his head, looking at you, his eyes slightly narrowed.

“Give that back,” you tried to snatch it from his hand, but Rafe's reflexes were better and he held it up, out of reach. Still you tried to get a hold of it, reaching up with one arm, while you held the towel close to your chest with your other hand, feeling it loosen from the quick movement.

Rafe looked down at you, just with his eyes, and there was a glint in them, and the corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk.

You frowned and held both your arms now in front of your chest, clutching the towel.

The tip of his tongue flicked out and wetted his lips. As if it was some reflex, you bit your own lips, and he chuckled in response. You only now realized that his body was so close to yours that you felt that vibration in your own body.

“You want to seduce him? Want him to fuck you?”

“Why are you so –” You looked up at his face and tried to step back when you felt the edge of the bed hitting the back of your legs and stopping your movement.

“So what?” He bowed his head down and his piercing blue eyes stared at you.

“Mean,” you said.

“You like it, don't you?” He tilted his head to the side and that grin on his lips changed.

“No,” you said quickly and as firmly as you managed to.

“No what?” He mocked you.

You looked at him, your brows furrowed. Still holding the towel with both hands, you tried to push at his chest with your elbow to get some distance between you two.

“I like you better when you're not mean,” you said, no longer looking up, but your eyes on his chest that you were trying to push away.

“That so?” His voice was lower than before and you lifted your gaze to see his eyebrows raised. “Like when?”

“Like when you were nice.”

"What is nice, hm?”

You felt a heat crawling under your skin and lowered your gaze.

His fingers under your chin tilted up your head, made you look at him again. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip.

“This nice?” His voice a raspy whisper.

The sudden softness of his touch made you shiver.

Your lips parted and you drew in a sharp breath as he leaned down.

“This?” His voice so low, you could hardly hear it, but feel it so intensely, as his lips moved close to yours. And you could taste his breath, taste the coffee and the orange juice and him.

You held your breath and his lips grazed the corner of your mouth. You closed your eyes. Exhaling through your mouth, you felt that trembling growing. Your legs suddenly unsteady. But you didn't fall. His arm wrapped around you and held you close to his body as he slowly lowered you on the bed.

His lips were so incredibly soft as they covered your face with tender kisses. His body was hovering over yours as you lay on your back. You felt its warmth, but not its weight.

His hand touched your face, his long fingers caressed your neck, brushed over your shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your heated skin. His mouth traveled over your cheekbone to your ear. His breath made you gasp and whimper as the tip of his nose touched that spot you didn't know was so sensitive. Slowly and without any resistance from you, he uncurled your fingers that were wrapped around the towel. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder, and your fingers, like they had their own will, grasped at it, held onto him, as your body arched and a moan escaped your lips when his mouth found the sensitive skin on your neck. His big hand cupped your now exposed breast, kneading it, fumbling it, no longer touching softly. His knee pushed between your legs, parting them. And you felt the pressure at your core as your hips rose to meet him.

Your breathing, slow and loud, was all that could be heard in the room. And then the soft sucking sounds of his lips on your neck, leaving a mark.

Both your hands were on him now. The one hand at his shoulder, grabbing so hard, it was shaking. Your other hand touching his back. The lightest pull from you and he rocked his hips against yours, making you gasp and open your eyes in surprise as you felt his hard length urging against your thigh. Being completely inexperienced, you couldn't quite judge whether it was normal that it was so huge. And your mind was cloudy with all those unknown sensations that you were unable to tell whether this was right when you felt his fingers rub along your folds, when they parted them and pushed inside you.

You tensed up, cried out, as you clenched around the intruding digit. Your hands no longer pulling Rafe closer but trying to push him up, like pushing at an unmovable rock.

You whined as his finger pushed deeper, your face turning to the side, away from him as a tear ran down your cheek. He let out a hissing sound, his mouth close to your neck. His finger remained inside of you but stopped moving further. You already felt so incredibly full. His lips started moving over your skin. He kissed your chin, kissed your cheek, licked at your tears.

“No,” your voice a hoarse whisper, your hand balled into a fist, pressing at his shoulder uselessly, in vain trying to push him off you.

“No,” you said again and that word turned into a moan as you felt something pressing against your most sensitive spot. His thumb rubbed your pearl and your traitorous body reacted by shivering. And your legs parted further. He moved them up, made them bent, giving him room. His finger curled inside you. Your body convulsed. You opened your eyes, but you couldn't see anything clear. You felt your body heating up, sweat covering it. Your hands clutching at Rafe's shirt as you made those noises that didn't sound like coming from you. But they came from you. From something deep inside you. Something Rafe had just started to awake. You bit your lips to make those sounds stop as you felt that throbbing at your core with Rafe's fingers caressing, pushing, rubbing, pinching, curling, thrusting.

His other hand gripped your chin, turned your head and you looked up at him, just for a second, before his lips met yours and he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the one you remembered from all those years ago, that tender kiss. This kiss was hungry and fierce, and intoxicating. Your mouth opened for his tongue. He claimed it. And when it pushed inside you, it felt like it was your own hunger. You felt like you were starving as he was devouring you.

Wide-eyed, your face burning with heat, your body aching with an unknown need, you gazed up at him when he broke the kiss, lifting his body, no longer touching you. But you still felt him, felt him on you, felt him inside of you, tasted him in your mouth. He had let go off you for a moment to take off his shirt and his sweatpants.

He was completely naked when he hovered above you, resting on his hands pressed into mattress on either side of you. The muscles in his arms tense and hard. Everything about him was hard. Solid like a rock. He was kneeling between your legs. Your body shaking, shivering as if you were cold when you felt that sweat covering it and that wetness between your legs. You were so much the opposite of him, in every way. You felt it so much at that moment when he just looked down at you. Something in his eyes so harsh that it made you shudder and close your eyes. You shook your head and stopped when his hand touched your face and held it. You opened your eyes. His face only inches away from yours.

“I'm gonna be gentle, alright? I'm gonna be nice.” His lips brushed yours in a tender kiss and your body arched up, despite your hands being balled up into fists and your arms pressed close to your chest as if you were trying to shield yourself.

You felt a movement, felt the bed tilt. And when you opened your eyes, you saw him kneeling in front of you, touching his hard cock, pumping it.

You gasped at the sight. It was even bigger than you had thought from what you had felt earlier. It was too big.

“Just the tip, alright? I won't push it all in. I know you're too delicate,” he said as if he had read your mind – or just saw the fear in your eyes.

He leaned down to kiss you and whisper at your lips.

“Just the tip, I promise. You will like it.”

As if proving his point, your hips moved up on their own and a hot shiver made you moan as his fingers touched your needy core. A smile appeared on his face, not quite a smirk, but you weren't sure anymore what you saw, what you felt, what you wanted. All reason was clouded and still, you knew that this was wrong.

You closed your eyes as he lifted one of your legs.

“Look at me,” his voice dark and so low, you felt a tingling at the back of your neck.

You obeyed and opened your eyes. Your arms were still pressed against your heaving chest, but it was easy for him to move them and place your hands on his shoulders as he lowered himself onto you.

“Look at me,” he said again and your eyes were fixed on his face, watching his features, seeing that little smile, that glint in his eyes, seeing his mouth open, and his face contort the moment his tip parted your folds. At first it felt slick and smooth and then suddenly so painfully rough. The thick tip was stretching you unbearably wide. Your legs automatically pressed against his body, desperately trying to close and shut out the intruder. He pushed them apart and you screamed, screamed out loud at the top of your lungs as he pushed inside you. Too deep, too hard, too rough, too fast.

Waves and waves of stinging pain rushing threw your body, making it convulse and shake, making you whimper and whine, you felt like you were being torn apart. You pushed at his shoulders, pressed at his chest, but his hips kept moving, rocking hard against you. Urging his hard length into you.

“So good,” he muttered between strained breaths. “So tight,” he panted. “All mine,” he growled.

His movements so rough and relentless, he seemed lost in his own pleasure. His eyes fixed on you, but not really seeing you, he seemed like he had forgotten all about you, your part in this, your existence.

“Rafe!” You screamed his name, screamed it at his face, screamed it so loud, your throat hurt.

His eyes flickered and he looked at you, really looked at you. And something changed in his features. For the briefest of moments, he paused, leaned down to kiss your lips, whispering something you didn't understand. And then you felt his fingertip touching that spot his thumb had teased before. Only now it wasn't teasing any longer. You didn't know how or why he knew exactly what to do, but that touch, that movement with his fingertip was all your body needed, all it craved for that moment. Your mouth opened wide as you moaned, then just gasped. The back of your head pressing into the mattress, your eyes rolling back. Your fingernails digging into Rafe's tense muscles at his back, as you were pulling him closer, ever closer, when that pain all of a sudden turned into pleasure, a painful, hot pleasure that left you in a state of rapture. Your body bending, trembling, shaking, as Rafe fucked you through your first ever orgasm.

You heard him groan, an animalistic sound. You felt your walls tensing up in waves and clenching so hard around him, making his thrusts only more ruthless, more forceful, as he took you, took all of you. And as the rush of your fierce high faded, you felt him so intensely. Felt him pushing inside you, filling you, feeling you, breathing on you, touching you, holding you, kissing you – it was like he was melting into you, when all of a sudden he stopped his movements, gazed down at you with hazy eyes, his features tensing up for a moment, and the next, the absolute opposite: all soft and lovingly, so sweet. He lowered his body onto yours and you felt his heavy panting syncing with yours. He kissed your face, breathless. Kissed your lips and after pushing into you a few more times, he pulled out and rolled his body off yours.

You kept lying on your back, next to him. Your legs still apart, knees bent. And you felt the cool breeze from the air-conditioning on your heated body, covered in a film of sweat, yours and his. And between your legs, you felt another kind of throbbing. And something sticky dripping out of you. You shut your legs and winced, rolling on your side, you turned away from him. It was as if reality hit you hard, and despite the fact that you still hadn't composed your breathing, despite the fact that your body wanted to remain in that blissful state, you felt a sudden wave of shame and guilt and something else that hurt even more, even deeper than the burning pain at your core.

At the touch of his hand, you flinched. You didn't want to, but your body curled up and you moved away from him, when in fact, you wanted nothing more than for him to hold you, to tell you that it was alright. That everything was exactly how it should be. That you were safe. With him.

Instead, you felt the bed tilt and you heard him get up and put on his clothes.

You moved your head so you could look up at him, look at him through teary eyes.

He stood in front of the bed, looking down at you. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, as if he wanted to lie down again. Then his features hardened. A frown appeared on his brow. His hands balled into fists, his jaws clenched.

“Now you can lie about that too. When your boyfriend fucks you tonight, you can lie and say it is you first time.” His voice so cold, so hard, it took the air out of your lungs.

And you only exhaled when he had left your room and the door shut behind him and you cried and sobbed and wept.

a/n: this was kinda intense. Much darker than my recent fics. And so long. But I didn't want to rush it. I needed to write it as it is. I still hope you liked reading it. Reblogs, comments and likes are very much appreciated. btw, it's my birthday today.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #outer banks #drew starkey #obx #smut fic #rafe x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark fic

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professorcalculusstanaccount · 10 months

Photo

People have been asking for a Chang timeline post! Chang not only represents a turning point in the politics of the Tintin series, he also represents a sense of chronology in the otherwise floating timeline of the canon. While Tintin almost never discusses his past, Chang is a key part of his personal story in Tintin in Tibet.

I imagine him and Tintin being around the same age, with Chang being a few months younger.

Child - Chang had a happy early childhood being raised by his father and grandparents. He never mentions his mother when recounting his backstory to Tintin, so my main guesses are she either passed away or his parents separated before Chang was old enough to remember her. His father and grandparents taught him how to cook from an early age, and taught him the importance of solidarity and community, lessons Chang will hold onto the rest of his life.

Early canon - Chang is orphaned. This sudden loss causes him to act out. He turns to picking pockets and causing general mischief until an orphanage takes him in. Chang learns a lot of skills just to survive - he’s stealthy, he’s street smart and pretty decent at climbing. His experiences as a street kid taught him to be wary of authority.

The orphanage provides a brief period of stability until it is swept away in a flood. Until this point, Chang has felt pretty powerless in his life so just goes with the flow, so when Tintin drags him out of a river he doesn’t think twice about going along with him to break up a drug ring in The Blue Lotus. Going on this adventure with Tintin imbues him with a sense of empowerment and purpose he never felt before.

Student - The Wangs adopt him pretty quickly after he busts the drug ring with Tintin. It’s a sudden change he struggles to adapt to, with the Wangs being wealthy academics and Chang coming from a working class background there’s a significant culture clash.

Tintin leaves just as quickly and rarely contacts Chang, even as his journalism career takes off, leaving Chang lonely and heartbroken. Chang tries to send him letters but doesn’t know that Tintin moved out of Labrador Road.

Having missed out on education for a bit Chang struggles with school. He feels unworthy of the opportunities the Wangs try to provide him with and a part of him feels they only adopted him because they were dazzled by him taking down that drug ring, an achievement he increasingly feels he will never live up to again. He struggles with mental health issues, but finds solace in photography, his portfolio getting him a place at university despite his bad grades.

Young adult - In an attempt to try and help Chang’s mental wellbeing the Wangs decide to send Chang off to visit his uncles before he starts university, only for Chang to nearly perish in a plane crash in Tibet. Ironically, it’s this near death experience that shakes him out of it. Chang has a renewed enthusiasm for life, taking to travelling, dance and photography. Didi trains him in some basic martial arts so Chang can fend for himself.

Tintin makes an effort to stay in touch after having nearly lost Chang. The two repair their friendship, and Tintin has him stay at Marlinspike when Chang studies in Belgium for his second year of university. By the time Chang comes around, he’s had a growth spurt and has been working out - Chang is pretty haunted by his skeletal state from his near death experience in Tibet, so has been making an effort to recover.

After helping Tintin with a case, Tintin gets him a job at his paper as his photographer. Being Chinese he faces challenges in the workplace, and he uses his charm to be as personable as possible. Unlike Tintin, he frequents quite a few staff parties, and ends up pretty popular!

A couple of years later, Chang tries to unionise the staff at the paper. He and Tintin are outed as a couple and the two of them are fired.

Middle aged - After fighting fascists with the Marlinspike team during WW2 Chang and Tintin settle down in Belgium, with Chang scraping out some freelance photography work and a part time job at a portraiture studio. War in China causes them to lose contact with his adopted family.

While Tintin grows more cynical, Chang accepts the chaos of the world and mellows out a lot. He tries to be a supportive partner and makes extra effort to stay in touch with his uncles and cousins.

Elderly - Chang uses his skills in photojournalism when he gets involved in political activism. He and Tintin are finally able to reunite with Didi and his children in the 70s.

#fanart #tintin #adventures of tintin #chang #photoset #headcanon #historical fashion #death mention #homophobia mention #racism mention #my favourite design by far is the elderly one lol #look at the bumbag #look at the colourblock jacket #tinchang

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hannieehaee · 7 months

Text

HELLFIRE

18+ / mdi

summary: whenever he was at a crossroads, seokmin always knew he could turn to god. however, with the recent thoughts you've been putting in his head, he's not sure god will show him the answer this time around.

content: virgin!seokmin, catholic!seokmin, religious repression, old fashioned and exaggerated catholic beliefs, very brief mention of homophobia, very conservative beliefs, a lowkey cult-ish view of catolicism oops, seokmin is veryyy socially awkward and not used to socialization outside of religion, his parents are super overbearing, lots of family tensions, seokmin has an estranged brother (jeonghan), conflicting emotions about god, sexual repression, reader is an atheist, afab reader, smut, dry humping, oral (m and f receiving), handjob, penetrative sex, loss of virginity, etc.

wc: 13k

a/n: she's here!! i didnt write an outline for this and i kinda only focused on seokmin's pov for this which makes reader kinda look like she's trying to corrupt him for no reason lol but i promise its still fluffy and cute <3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

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Normalcy for Seokmin had always equated to the church. It was what he'd known since childhood and what he grew up surrounded by up until his current age.

His upbringing had been good by all accounts. Although he had an estranged brother who he didn't get to see too often, he had a father and a mother who cherished him like no one else. His financial means were also to be envied, as he was raised in a wealthy part of town and had always been surrounded by an upper class community – a heavily religious community.

This community was one that Seokmin always respected and cherished. Being brought up going from one private catholic school onto the next as he aged, Seokmin never knew anything other than the constant supervision of nuns and religious figures who would constantly guide him in the right direction (at least according to the bible). While others may think this lifestyle to be restricting, Seokmin knew it to be the proper path for a young man to follow. He never complained about the bi-weekly mass he had to attend with his parents, nor about the separation by gender that was mandated by his school. Seokmin knew all his prayers by heart and was sure of what his role in society must be. In short, Seokmin knew and did all things proper and by the letter.

As a young man (at the ripe age of 20), Seokmin finally found himself in a society that was not of catholic background. After transferring from a two year college in town (one centered around catholic studies, of course), Seokmin was now readying himself to move away from home in order to finalize his education in a fully co-ed institution for the following two years.

It wasn't like Seokmin had never interacted with people outside of the church (or with women in general). He was simply a bit on the shier side when it came to non-religious endeavors and usually only stuck by his religious community, which often abided by old-fashioned rules found in the bible. For instance, Seokmin had been so dedicated to the church that he would usually spend his free time volunteering at the church's food drive or performing with his church group at various family-friendly events around town. This meant that Seokmin's inner circle always consisted of people who had an almost identical ideology as that of his own.

Seokmin felt bad at admitting this (which was why he never vocalized these thoughts), but he could sometimes get a bit tired of the consistency of his life. It was a constant repetition of events surrounded by the same exact people time and time again. He never had any opportunity to be challenged or observe outside opinions, specially not with the constant supervision his community gave youth like him (something about wanting him to follow the right path unlike his older brother). Seokmin knew and trusted his beliefs, so he felt a bit infantilized whenever his own family would become overbearing while ensuring Seokmin didn't go off the rails like his brother had – his brother, who was still a quite a sore subject for him.

And now, Seokmin felt excitement. Knowing he would finally be able to explore the outside world and experience the last couple of years of his college life not under the watchful eye of his church. However, as a strong believer himself, Seokmin had still ensured he would have time to attend mass every week and maybe join a religious club on campus. Although he sometimes felt scrutinized by his family and community, Seokmin had never once faked his belief in God. I mean, it was all he had known thus far and all he felt he could really count on no matter what.

When the day to move into his dorms finally arrived, Seokmin had a difficult time hiding his excitement. His community had thrown him a goodbye party, allowing him to be the main focus of the night as one by one, every adult figure in his life bid their farewells accompanied by thinly veiled warnings to not fall into the bad habits sometimes found in non-religious communities. Seokmin was pure-minded at heart, so he took these warnings with a warm and heartfelt gratitude, knowing that despite his desire to expand his horizons, it was important he kept his beliefs safe.

Thanks to his parents, Seokmin had the fortune of being able to rent a room away from the dorms. His parents had insisted, claiming that dorm life could get quite rowdy and that a roommate who had not been pre-approved by them may give him a bad influence and lead him towards an unholy path. Seokmin, already slightly nervous about heading into the world on his own, agreed in order to give himself a safe space of solitude in case he needed it.

The apartment was pretty close to the dorms themselves, allowing Seokmin a calm commute in his bike every day for his classes. Thus far, he had been in the city for a week, still having a few days before school actually began. He had attended his church club already, meeting all the other members and scouting out who he may be able to befriend in the near future. Everyone seemed pretty much like the preppy rich kids he had grown up with all throughout his years of catholic school. There was a bit more of variety among the people in the club than back home, with the club allowing for co-ed inclusion of members (something which was quite common in church groups, though Seokmin had grown too accustomed by his non co-ed upbringing). They also seemed to come from different backgrounds, but ultimately Seokmin could tell that just like him, they were very likely brought up in a very coddled and comfortable way. This was how your presence in the club first stood out to him.

While everyone seemed very put together and happy to be there, you caught Seokmin's attention right away. Your visible discomfort was the first thing Seokmin noticed. Though you looked as nice and welcoming as anyone else, Seokmin could see that you seemed like a closed book. Your eyes did not light up the same as the rest of the members, nor did you actively participate in the icebreaker activities set up by the club. Seokmin also caught onto the fact that the other members already knew each other (likely from previous years at the college), while they treated you like a black sheep. And of course, Seokmin couldn't help but notice your appearance, which made it difficult for him to look away from you.

Of course, Seokmin had had female friends in the past. It's not like his church separated the pews by gender or anything like that. Seokmin was just slightly reserved. With his constant attendance at institutions that insisted upon gender separation at all times and very overbearing parents, Seokmin never really had the chance to form any type of relationship with any girl throughout his youth. He had teamed up with other female volunteers while working at charities and had even been in charge of showing new girls in the community around the church's premises. However, these were very isolated instances.

As of the past twenty years, Seokmin was yet to ever really think about women liberally. He was always taught that time for those things would come eventually, whatever that meant. It was something that had been repeated to him by both his parents, neighbors, the reverend, and even at some point by his brother (though his brother had said it in a sarcastic tone, which confused Seokmin even further).

And now here he was, sitting quietly across the room from you as he watched you in silence, barely paying attention to whichever new activity the group leaders were discussing for the first charity event they'd hold during the upcoming semester.

You were pretty. Seokmin could tell that much. His mind did not process anything other than your features for almost the entirety of the meeting, being far too occupied by analyzing every inch of your person as he unknowingly held his breath.

His eyes on you did not seem to catch your attention at any point, but they did catch the attention of a fellow member of the group who was sitting near him.

"You know her?", asked the nameless member.

"Oh, uh, what? No, I was just– "

"She's not really a member here, you know. Just kind of an honorary one, I guess."

"What do you mean?", he finally took his eyes off you due to his sudden interest in the conversation.

"Her parents pay for her tuition as long as she can prove she's an active member of the local catholic community. Apparently she just pretends for them, but her parents still somehow bought her way into the club", the guy lowered his voice to a whisper, "I heard she's an atheist, man. We just have to kinda ignore she's there."

Though Seokmin knew that his parents' immediate reaction to such gossip would be shock at the blatant disrespect you were showing towards your parents who clearly just wanted you to not stray away from the path of God, Seokmin was more annoyed at the guy who found it so easy to talk about you behind your back completely unprompted.

While Seokmin couldn't understand why someone would claim themselves atheist when it was so clear to him how life had been created, he still saw it wrong to judge someone for their beliefs. It was oftentimes that churchgoers back home would exhibit malicious intentions such as what he'd just witnessed from his fellow group member. You were clearly not bothering anyone and even looked pretty aware of the alienation the members were putting you through, so Seokmin couldn't help but feel sad for you.

He shyly shrugged off the guy who had made him privy to your information and went back to staring at you as you sat back and seemingly waited for the bi-weekly meeting to end.

Despite catching his curiosity that day, Seokmin did not end up having any contact with you, being way too shy to even hold eye contact with you as the meeting ended.

Days passed and Seokmin finally started school. He had to admit, he felt completely out of his league. Thanks to his parents, he was never properly socialized as a child. While most members of the church would have active social lives outside of their ministry (even going to public schools and participating in non-catholic leisure activities), Seokmin had always been confined into a box that only allowed him to interact with other heavily religious people. This was never a problem to Seokmin, who was happy to dedicate his life to the lord. Except now it was proving troublesome.

Since professors had a tendency to get liberal during discussions at times, he felt scandalized by many of the subjects spoken about during class. He also felt awkward interacting with other people his age, who would share very different beliefs from his own. Seokmin had even attempted to dabble into social media at some point now that he was not under his parent's' watchful eye, but even that had him feeling unseemly.

Overall, Seokmin felt embarrassed at how little life experience he had due to having dedicated his entire life thus far to serving both God and his parents. He was beginning to understand why his brother Jeonghan had left home as soon as he turned of age. He had always judged him for it, but his judgment was beginning to fade away.

Now that he no longer had his parents nor community around (much less his brother), the only comfort he could turn to was that of his nightly prayers.

His struggles continued for the following weeks, with Seokmin becoming a bit of an outcast in most social situations. He was quite outgoing in the church, but this was a completely different environment in which he felt ridiculous every time he tried to interact with people who had had far more social advantages and freedom than he did growing up.

Keeping a low profile had been easy to achieve for Seokmin. He decided after a few very awkward interactions that he would simply become an outcast and stick to himself, only ever interacting with his church club the few times a week they'd meet (though unfortunately never having the courage to interact with you). This seemed to work up until the second week of school, in which Seokmin's women's studies teacher informed the class they'd be doing a partner project for the entirety of the semester.

Seokmin had taken the class against his parents' wishes, feeding them with a white lie that it was part of the necessary curriculum in order to graduate. He argued to himself that this was a subject he would never be exposed to in his community, knowing his community to be slightly ... old-fashioned. This part of his life always made him embarrassed, – not really sharing many of the beliefs his community had tried to drill into him – so he wanted to atone for his lack of knowledge now that he was in a completely independent environment.

Teaming up with someone back home was always easy, as he was quite popular both in church and at school. Here, however, he had already given himself the reputation of awkward and overly dedicated to God – he had stated his devotion to God during the individual introductions they'd done on week 1, leading to low chuckles and uncomfortable looks from his classmates – which was something that the general population did not seem to like. He was avoided by his fellow women's studies classmates since then.

Sure, Seokmin did share a few old-fashioned catholic beliefs such as the necessity devotion to God and the importance of one's purity being kept until marriage, but he did not agree with any other bigoted beliefs shared by many catholic communities. He had genuinely taken this class with the hope to learn and expand his horizons, but most people in it had already decided that he must be a close-minded weirdo.

By some struck of luck, as Seokmin sat back, completely defeated while he watched other people stand up and enthusiastically find a partner, he suddenly heard someone clear their throat to call his attention.

It was you.

He hadn't realized you were taking this class too due to the high mass of students (about 100, give or take). And now he found himself looking up at you from his seat as you gave him what seemed to him like a confident grin.

"Hi, Seokmin," you sat next to him without so much as asking.

Your sitting position was troublesome for Seokmin, as he noticed the way in which your short skirt rid up as you crossed your legs and leaned towards him. You were wearing more revealing clothing today than any other time in which he'd seen you at the bi-weekly meetings. Your attire wasn't provocative by any means, it was just that you were always more covered up at the meetings. Seokmin assumed it might've been due to some scrutiny you may have faced by the members. This made him frown internally.

"Oh ... hi. Y-you know my name?", he sat up from his slouched position and faced his body towards yours, though he was too shy to meet your eyes for too long.

"Of course I do, Seokmin. We're in a church group together, remember?"

You carried a very confident and laid back air to you despite having only spoken to him for the first time just now. You also seemed much livelier than back at the confined room where his fellow church group members gathered. This was likely due to the lack of scrutiny you usually received completely unwarranted while at his church group's meetings.

"Ah, yeah, just, uh, didn't realize you noticed me."

"C'mon, Seokmin. You're the only person in there who doesn't look at me like I killed their dog. Of course I'd notice you."

He wasn't sure how to respond, but that at least answered the question as to whether or not you were aware of the gossip a few of the other members had let him in on.

"I'm sure that's not true ... I– "

"It's fine, really. Anyways, I just wanted to ask you if you'd like to partner up?", you suggested, completely unfazed by the mention of your judgmental group mates.

"O-oh. You want to? I mean, yeah! Of course," he couldn't help but feel relieved at the prospect of not having to meet with the professor after class to let her know he'd need her assistance finding a partner.

"Great. Here, put your number in my phone and I'll let you know when I can stop by your place so we can brainstorm," you handed him your phone as if nothing; as if you weren't suggesting going over alone to his apartment unsupervised.

He hesitated but gave you his number, flinching a bit when your hands accidentally touched.

"Thanks. I was thinking this Friday. Is that okay with you?"

"Oh, y-yeah. Sure," he mustered a toothy smile for you.

You giggled under your breath, "Okay, Seokmin. Looking forward to seeing you," there was a permanent smile in your eyes as you spoke to him, making him a bit giddy.

He bid his goodbyes back and finally let out a puff of air when you parted ways.

The rest of the class period was completely wasted to Seokmin. His mind was too giddy and preoccupied with thoughts of seeing you again, this time in a more intimate setting. The thought made him anxious, though he also felt some weird tingling he wasn't fully sure how to describe.

Did this mean you had noticed him too? Had he stood out to you in this huge hall? The thought made him shudder before regaining control of himself and starting to anxiously doodle on his notebook.

He snuck a glance over at the direction in which you left, now localizing your seat. You were talking to a few friends, which confused Seokmin greatly. This meant that you already had friends in this class, so why would you go out of your way to team up with him? Was his curiosity about you maybe mutual? This question would surely be all Seokmin thought about for the next two days until the two of you finally met up to discuss your project.

Seokmin saw you again the following day at second bi-weekly meeting of the week.

Once more, you sat back and said nothing, only bothering to sign your name on the attendance board at the start of the meeting and taking your usual seat away from everyone else.

Your attire was different from what you had been wearing in your women's studies class just a few hours ago. You had donned a long skirt and a long sleeve too instead of the tiny shorts he had seen you wearing previously. This change in attire made no difference to Seokmin, however, since he already knew what your bare legs looked like and could not prevent himself in picturing them as he stared.

Your presence had yet again proved to be incredibly distracting to Seokmin, who had already been thinking about you ever since you had suggested to meet at his place.

There was no one he could ask for advice about what to wear or what to do. His friends back home would frown at the thought of Seokmin even considering an unchaperoned gathering with a girl – especially an self-declared atheist who was simply pretending to be catholic for her parents.

His parents were also not a good option. Seokmin could just picture the gasp in surprise at the revelation that his women's studies class (one which his parents had called 'useless' and 'made up') had enticed him into bringing a girl home while no one else was around. He cringed at the mere thought of them attempting to intercept the situation by barging in and lecturing both you and him on proper relations between man and woman.

Seokmin knew he was overthinking all of this, but he had an internal conflict. On one side, he knew that this was just a regular meeting between classmates to discuss a project, but this was his first time alone with a girl (one he had a bit of a crush on, at that!) On the other side, Seokmin couldn't help but feel like he was breaking his parents' trust. They had explicitly forbid him from ever engaging in any type of relationship with any girl unless she was pre-approved by them (something which they'd already tried and failed at doing with Jeonghan). And on a secret third side of things, Seokmin felt like now that he was alone and untrained on what life was like in the real world, it'd be easy for him to fall susceptible to desire and betray God's word. He hadn't had any unbecoming feelings thus far, but his crush on you was enough for this fear to be instilled in him.

For now, Seokmin had the rest of his school day to worry about, so he pushed these thoughts aside and tried to draw his eyes away from your figure as he attempted to pay attention to whichever biblical lesson the group's assigned leader read from.

This was yet another biblical lesson Seokmin had heard time and time again. Despite his strong devotion to God, Seokmin always felt a little belittled at the constant repetition of teachings he had been hearing since childhood. Were his personal beliefs and devotion to God not enough? Why did he need other people to give him their own ideas of religion when he himself was an expert at all of God's teachings by now?

He related to your current situation in this aspect. Even if he felt comfortable in his religious stance, he had to join this club in order to prove to his parents that he was an active participant in the local religious community. He had to constantly deal with his parents' paranoia that he may stray away from God in the way his brother had. His constant assurance that his relationship with God was too strong for breaking was not enough for them; they simply couldn't help showing up in every corner of his life even as far away as he currently was.

Seokmin sighed at these thoughts and drew them away as much as he could. His mind was already preoccupied with thoughts of you coming over tomorrow evening.

That night he went home and prayed his anxieties away, turning to the only being he could possibly trust with his grievances.

"Hi", you smiled brightly at Seokmin, hands holding onto the handles of your backpack as you stood in front of his open apartment door.

"H-hey."

He stepped aside to let you in, wincing internally as he noticed the short length of the white dress you were wearing. He could tell by now that your personal style was more revealing than what you chose to wear at religious gatherings. He couldn't blame you, but he wished you'd cover up more for his poor sanity.

"Do you wanna do it here or did you wanna do it in your bedroom?", you broke him out of his train of thought.

"H-huh ? D-do what? Oh, oh! Yeah. I mean, here is fine. Unless you want to do it in my bedroom? I mean, do the work in my bed– yeah!"

He physically winced at his stupid thoughts; the dumb paranoia that this was more than a platonic study date had gotten to him despite having prayed to calm his nerves just minutes before your arrival.

Luckily for him, all you did was giggle under your breath and take a seat on his couch before taking off your backpack and settling your stuff on his table.

Dumbly, he stood there just watching you, catching sight of your dress riding up yet again in the same way it had two days ago in class.

You patted the space on the couch next to you, telling him to come sit, that you 'didn't bite.' The best response he could muster to that was an awkward chuckle and a follow-up on your instruction.

He made sure to leave ample space between the two of you, even making sure to avoid eye contact as he also pulled out a few notes of his own.

Without saying anything, you scoot closer to him, even turning to face him further, though still facing forward for the most part. Your knees were now bumping into his and your scent was near enough to invade his senses.

"Is this okay? Am I too close?", you asked when you noticed him stiffen.

"N-no. I'm sorry. I ... I'm being dumb. You're fine."

"Then how come you won't look this way?", you leaned even further towards him, making sure his eyes couldn't miss yours from his position.

He braved it and turned to face you, though his eyes were trained on your chin rather than your eyes. He now realized there was less distance between you than he thought.

"I'm sorry, I ..."

You interrupted him but grabbing his chin and gesturing him to look into your eyes.

"Do I make you nervous, Seokmin? You can look at me. You know that, right? It's not a sin to look into a girl's eyes", though your words sounded like mockery, your tone was as soft as your eyes.

He gulped and finally allowed himself to look at you. You were far too close now. Things had progressed too quickly, and in ways that Seokmin had thought were ridiculous to assume when he'd been going over the possibilities of your visit today. Yet here he was, eyes nervously staring into yours, trying their hardest to not lower to your lips or cleavage.

"You're exactly as I thought you would be," you started, hand moving from his chin to softly run your thumb on his cheek, "You're not like them. You're sweet ... But you're scared, aren't you?"

He didn't know where this was going, but your tone was soft and your words sweet so he nodded silently.

"It's okay to want things, Seokmin. Doesn't make you a bad person. You wanna please Him, though, don't you? Don't wanna disappoint Him?"

You were seeing right through him. It made him feel both understood but also like he was just as superficial as he thought the judgmental members of your church group to be.

"I just ..."

"It's okay, Seokmin. He'd want you to be happy. I ... I know it's meaningless hearing it from me, but He wouldn't want you to face this turmoil. You can give in. It's okay, I promise", your last words were said in the form of a whisper against his lips.

You were so close he could breathe you in, but his lips were unfortunately still not touching your own. This frustrated Seokmin, though it also relieved him. He felt way too heated to even engage in something as innocent as a kiss.

He knew that his first kiss would only lead to more. He had been so pent up all this years, shaming any desire away from his mind at every opportunity. He had never even pleasured himself, knowing it was frowned upon by God – at least that's the thought that was hammered into him since way too young an age.

He remembered the various conversations in which any thought of a relationship were verbally beaten out of him. He remembered the reaction of his parents when he had let it slip in kindergarten (his last year in a non-catholic institution) that he had a crush on the girl who'd been assigned as his new desk mate. He recalled the way his mom talked down on the four-year old girl, claiming her parents were not catholic and that she would be a bad influence on him. He remembered when his first phone was confiscated from him at fifteen when his father caught him watching the latest Twice music video at the time, claiming such things would lead him to impure thoughts. He remembered the last day he saw his brother two years ago right after a screaming match with his parents who had insulted and demeaned Jeonghan's partner, claiming he would burn in hell for his decisions against the lord's word.

With all these thoughts plaguing his mind, Seokmin let himself become numb to any spiritual consequences that would come from letting himself go. He found himself internally damning anything that wasn't your lips or the feeling of your hand on his cheek and sighed against you when you finally closed the gap.

Seokmin couldn't help himself in whining into your mouth when he felt your tongue tease his mouth open and begin intertwining with his own.

His arms were stiff against his sides and his lips far too shy and sloppy. It worried him that maybe he was not pleasing you in the way you did him, specially when you pulled away and spoke to him.

Your eyes were still on his lips and the distance between you remained small as you spoke up, "Follow my lead, okay Minnie? Let me show you .."

You kissed him again, this time slower and more sensual. It made his eyes roll back.

He took the hint and began moving his tongue in the same way yours did. He also shyly ran his hands up and down your back upon your wordless insistence that his arms wrap around your form. Following your instructions felt natural, though what you did next caught him completely off guard.

Your hands had snuck away from his cheek, with one now pulling at his hair (and making his eyes roll even further back in the process) and your other hand sneaking into his pants, touching him softly through his boxers.

He jumped back and accidentally disconnected your lips, gasping at the sudden intrusion.

"I ... I cant, I don't ..."

"It's okay if you don't want to, Minnie. I should've asked," you drew back a little, making Seokmin jump once again, but this time to make sure you stayed close.

"It's not that, I just ... I don't– "

"It's okay to want me. It's okay if you want this. We can stop if you want to, but ... you can want me ... You won't get in trouble, I promise."

Your lips were still close enough for him to reach, making him hesitantly grace them with his own. Thankfully you took the hint, giving him a wanton kiss that had him feeling dizzy.

He thoughtlessly kissed you back, whining any time you did something he particularly liked. You didn't attempt touching under his pants again, now simply sticking to running your hands up and down his clothed chest while his shyly caressed your back.

The kiss got heated pretty quickly, making him extremely light headed. He didn't know where this was going nor how he would feel afterwards, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

His thoughts were interrupted when your lips left his own and trailed from his cheek to his ear, licking and nibbling at his lobe before whispering in it.

"Is this okay?"

"Y– yes. Please ..."

Your kisses against his neck had him throwing his head back. If he was mindless before, he was fully without a care now. Even if his community ever found out what he was up to during his first month away from home, he didn't care in this moment. His guilt may come later, but for now all he could do was enjoy your kiss.

"Can I play with you, Minnie?", you pulled away and gave him a sweet peck before asking.

"You ... It's wrong, I– He'll ..."

"He won't know, Minnie. It's okay. It'll feel so good."

You hesitantly snuck your hand under his trousers once more, slowly enough to allow him to deny you should he wish to. His sinful desire for you prevented him from moving, so you continued until your hand was wrapped around him.

"A– ah ... Y– you ... I've never ..." he sighed.

"Never touched yourself like this before?"

"'s not allowed, I ... I shouldn't ..."

"It's okay. I'm just taking care of you. Nothing wrong with taking care of your needs, right Minnie?"

He felt mocked by how ridiculous it sounded coming out of your mouth. But he still felt guilt. Guilt at every moan that left his mouth as you slowly rubbed up and down his length. Guilt at the way he wanted your lips back on his. Guilt at how difficult it was for him to drag his gaze away from your soft mounds peaking from your cleavage.

One thing was betraying everything his parents had always warned him about, but betraying God's word made him feel like he'd burn up until the day he faced his punishment.

Except he couldn't bring you to stop. He couldn't prevent himself in mindlessly nodding at you and asking you to please not stop.

Suddenly you grabbed his arm, directing it towards your chest. You must've noticed his heavy eyes eyeing your cleavage and realized what thoughts had been going through his perverted mind.

"Wanna touch them? It's okay, just ... just squeeze, yeah? That's it, fuck ... You're so pretty, Minnie," you sighed oh so prettily as soon as he followed your direction and experimentally squeezed at your clothed breasts.

He moaned and moaned at both your touch on him and his on yours. But he began to panic when he felt himself heating up more and more, feeling like he would soon reach a crescendo that he would never be able to fall back from.

"It's okay, Minnie. Let go. Let go for me, pretty. I'll take care of you," you must've sensed his panic and shut him up with your tongue in his mouth, swallowing his whines of pleasure as his end took over him.

He had never felt such pleasure before. Every touch you gave him was better than the last, making him wonder what other sinful acts with you would end up feeling like. He shuddered at the thought and went back to the blissful state his high was giving him.

You kept whispering soft praises to him, telling him that it was okay and that he could let go. He hadn't realized that he was crying until one of your hands softly wiped the tears from his cheeks and kissed softly at them. He felt more loved by your care than he ever had before. The seed of doubt was then planted into his head; why would such a loving an intimate act ever be seen as anything but holy?

He began to feel corrupted, but also conflicted on his thoughts on the matter. One thing he knew for sure, however; this would not be enough – he would seek you again and again.

After even more caring words from you, the two of you parted ways with no work done. You kissed him goodbye and told him you'd see him again soon. He responded shyly but you accepted it with yet another kiss and finally left his apartment.

That night Seokmin attempted to pray his conflicting thoughts away once more, but even then, Seokmin left mention of you out of his prayers, fearing that acknowledging your sudden and rapid effect on him would be the downfall of his purity and of the already strained relationship with his parents.

The following Monday, Seokmin saw you again at the first of the two bi-weekly meetings of your church group. As per usual, you sat alone on a corner while the rest of the club engaged in conversation with one another.

Seokmin chose to sit back once again, deciding to watch you from afar rather than participate in the conversation like he usually did, except this time you began to occasionally look back at him with a sweet smile. Your eye contact would cause him to look down with a blush, but after enough instances of catching your eye, he decided to shyly smile back at you. This proved to be fruitful, as you suddenly stood up and quietly walked your way over to him. Due to the conversation being led by the other group members, your new seat next to Seokmin went unnoticed, causing Seokmin's nerves to not flare up too much.

It was wordless but soft, the way in which you shared a seat with him and offered him yet another sweet smile. He felt giddy at having your attention in such a way. He was aware that he barely knew you, but having you become part of his life (in any way you may have wanted) made him feel a sense of pride he had never felt before.

The two of you spent the rest of the meeting giving each other shy smiles and playing tick tack toe on his notebook. When it was time to part ways, you finally spoke up and told Seokmin you needed to head back first, as your next class was far away. Seokmin wanted to offer to walk you, but was interrupted by another member of the group who called his attention – the same guy who had previously warned him about you. Due to the standoffish manner in which other group members behaved around you, you left awkwardly while Seokmin frowned and stayed back.

Slightly frustrated at not being able to bid you a proper goodbye (or walk with you as he had wished to offer), Seokmin's demeanor to his group mate was less polite than usual.

"What, are you two friends?", asked the member in a somewhat accusatory tone.

"I ... Yeah, maybe. Why?"

"I wouldn't advise that, Seokmin. She's a bad influence. I mean, you haven't been participating as much as when you first got here. It starts when you least expect it. Just don't want you to fall down a bad path."

"What bad path?"

"She was part of our faith at some point. Until she got corrupted, and now she just infiltrates our spaces like a nuance. She'll corrupt you in the same way if you're not careful. Take the advice, brother. Just don't get too close," and with that, he gave Seokmin a condescending nod and made his way out.

Since leaving home, Seokmin had forgotten how many churchgoers would cross boundaries without much care. How they would use the excuse of being 'sons and daughters' of God to be judgmental.

He saw no issue with your behavior. Maybe you had kissed Seokmin and maybe you had ... done other stuff to him. But you weren't a bad person for that. It wasn't like Seokmin stopped you (or even wanted to stop you). He wasn't sure why he felt so defensive over his groupmate's advice, but he couldn't help but be peeved off by this interaction for the rest of the day.

His mood stayed so sour towards his groupmate's harsh judgment of you that he had forgotten to do his nightly prayer before going to sleep, even forgetting to send a message with his blessings to his parents like he usually did.

The next morning he awoke to some overbearing messages from his parents inquiring why he had not messaged them the night prior. Seokmin was surprised at himself when his first reaction to their myriad of messages was to roll his eyes and lock his phone back up. He loved his parents, but his separation from them had quickly showed him how controlling they tended to be. But Seokmin realized it wasn't only them; it was the entirety of the puritanical and judgmental community he had grown up with.

Despite having only hung out with you once, you were already a breath of fresh air to Seokmin. You didn't judge him over his shy and socially awkward demeanor. He had a hunch that since you two belonged to the same church group and had likely had similar upbringings, you probably understood why he was the way that he was. Unlike everyone else he had met at this school so far (other than the other members of the church group), you weren't mean to him nor did you ever ignore him. You had seeked him out! The thought still gave him butterflies.

The two of you continued to casually hang out like this over the next week or so, though it usually tended to be only while on meetings with your church group or during your women's studies class.

Contrasting with your previous meeting, any time the two of you would hang out now mostly consisted of working on your project or getting to know each other. He had come to find out that you were here on a scholarship and that, as the nosy guy in your church group had stated, you were only attending the church group to appease your parents' belief that you should maintain some type of connection to God regardless of your beliefs in catholicism. You didn't get too much into it, but you also informed Seokmin that despite what the group members believed, you did not have a bad relationship with your parents due to your contrasting beliefs. This made Seokmin envious, pondering about how his parents would react should he ever find himself changing his faith.

Through the few times you saw each other in class, Seokmin grew to like you more and more. He knew now that he felt something for you that he had never before. He had a crush, for arguably one of the first times in his life. There were also more sinister feelings dwelling in his mind, however. Sometimes he would think back to that day alone in his apartment, when you took his innocence (though only partially). He wanted more, but he felt like he was simultaneously sinning and disrespecting you by even thinking about it. He still felt conflicted about last time, thinking himself a sinner and a bad son for disobeying both God and his parents, but he couldn't help himself in wanting more.

A few days later, Seokmin saw you yet again at your shared women's studies class.

Seokmin was completely unable to pay any attention to class today. Unfortunately for his sanity, you had recently begun to sit next to him every time the two of you shared this class. Seokmin had grown accustomed to sitting alone at the very back row of the auditorium in which your women's class was given. The first day he had sat next to a few people, but after mentioning his devotion to God during his personal introduction, he found people not only avoiding his eye and snickering at him but even going out of their way to sit away from him. You had been the sole exception, deciding to sit with him a few days after your meeting at his apartment, now smiling at him as you sat side by side.

Today, you have him more trouble than usual. You sent him flirtatious smiles during the entirety of class, even occasionally gracing your hand slowly on his leg. This had him shuddering and completely distracted, but he couldn't bring himself to stop you. You gave him a thrill he had never experienced before. While his mind before meeting you had always been dedicated to thinking of God and his duties as a member of the church, his mind was now fully occupied by you. As silly as it sounded, he had never felt the thrill of a crush before (specially not one that was reciprocated like this), and now he didn't know how to act.

"Hey, Minnie," you whispered to him as your professor lectured in the background.

"Y- yeah?"

"Wanna meet at my apartment after class today to study?", you now whispered right against his ear, finger drawing figures on his thigh.

"Oh, I– Of course," he coughed out.

You only giggled quietly in response and went back to paying attention to class (though still occasionally doodling cute hearts in Seokmin's notebook).

After class, the two of you walked together. Only a few minutes into your walk through campus, you slipped your hand into his. He was surprised by this, but allowed himself to squeeze yours back. His heart soared when you started swinging your intertwined hands back and forth.

Was this what romance felt like? The thought alone made Seokmin feel giddier than he had ever before. He relished in the simple act of holding your hand and felt pride any time you'd stop for a few seconds to say hi to some friends, never once letting go of his hand and even giving a quick introduction of his name.

You were quite literally heaven on Earth to Seokmin. He couldn't wait to get to know you even further.

Walking to your place took about half an hour, but it was worth it the moment the two of you stepped in and you immediately pushed Seokmin against the wall, stealing a kiss from him.

"Minnie ... Been thinking about you since last time ..." you kissed at his neck, pulling his collared neckline out of the way.

"Me too ..."

"Yeah? What'd you think about?", you paused to pull back and look at him, "You don't regret it, do you? Was I too much?", your tone was genuine, more genuine than he had ever heard anyone direct themselves to him.

"N-no, of course not. I've, uh, I wanted more ... Just .. was too shy to ask."

"Aw, Minnie. You don't have to be shy with me. We can do anything you're comfortable with," you shared a sweet smile with him before pulling him back in for a heated kiss.

This was only Seokmin's second instance in kissing you, – last time having been only over a week back – but he now found it easier to match your rhythm and play with your tongue in ways that had you humming against his lips. He wanted to give you pleasure in the way you'd given it to him. So far he felt like he'd been doing well with the kissing. You somehow walked him over to your bedroom without disconnecting your lips, making his heart speed up at the thought of what was coming up next.

He yelped against your lips when you pushed and straddled him on the bed, hands too shy to know where to touch. Fortunately, you didn't leave him hanging for long and positioned them on your waist for him.

"Minnie ... I don't wanna pressure you. So we're gonna do something similar to last time, yeah?"

He was of course in agreement, but ...

"I ... I wanna make you feel good too ... Please?", he almost winced at how pathetic he sounded. He also had absolutely no idea of how to please you. He had never even considered watching porn (being told he'd go to hell for even entertaining such thoughts), nor had he ever received any type of sexual education. As lame as it sounded, Seokmin was completely clueless as to what women did for pleasure. He had been clueless as to how male pleasure worked up until you had shown him.

"Do you want me to teach you how, Minnie?", you asked while unbuttoning his shirt.

"Please ..."

You kissed him again in response, wordlessly taking off both his and your clothes. When you finished, Seokmin couldn't help but feel exposed. However, the thought of his own nudity (sans his boxers) left his mind as soon as he realized you were also down to just your underwear.

With his mouth agape and his arms not knowing where to go, Seokmin simply sat under you and sweat bullets as he attempted not to stare anywhere below your chin.

Noticing his nervous demeanor, you giggled at him and put your hand on his cheek while the other remained on his shoulder.

"Oh, Minnie ... So pretty. Do you even know how pretty you are?", you ran your hands up and down his chest in a sweet manner, "And I'm the only one who gets to see it, hmm? All mine?",

"Y-your .... yes ... for you."

"Fuck. I'm gonna have so much fun with you. Gonna teach you everything."

Despite your words' effect on him, his main focus right now was your almost bare body and its proximity to him. He could feel the heat of your skin against his. His mind kept thinking about what you must look like beneath your underwear, with his eyes heavy and glued to your covered breasts.

"Want me to take off my bra, Minnie? You just have to ask. I'll go as far as you want to go," you pecked his lips yet again, still running your hands up and down his chest.

"Y-yeah. Wanna see you. Is that ... is that okay? Just wanna make you feel as- as good as you did me ..."

Your breath hitched, "Oh, angel ... So sweet and selfless. I'll show you. Fuck, I'll show you everything."

You separated yourself from him a bit in order to give him a full view. Then, in slow and sensual movements, you threw off your bra, proceeding to caress your own breasts as you gave Seokmin a sultry look.

Fuck.

What type of teachings were preventing him from seeing you in your barest of forms? You were nothing lesser than art itself. You were so warm and beautiful; so soft and perfect – both inside and out. Seokmin couldn't believe he had ever considered such things to be scandalous (which admittedly, he still kind of believed). At the same time, he was kind of glad he had never engaged in such acts before, because it allowed for you to be the first (and hopefully last) woman he would ever see in such an intimate setting.

Those thoughts aside, Seokmin was short-circuiting. He was so distracted he didn't even notice you removing your panties and settling back on his lap until you verbally called his attention again.

"Minnie? Wanna feel them? Hmm?", your hands were already on his, leading them directly to your soft mounds.

"F-fuck," he couldn't help but groan upon feeling the weight of them on his hands, "you're so beautiful ... Y-you're, oh fuck-"

Words could not express the unimaginable beauty he was witnessing, nor the arousal he felt at having you so bare and willing in front of him. He didn't know what to do or how he was supposed to react. He felt kind of bad at his wordless state, but he couldn't help being speechless at feeling such pleasure from merely seeing you.

"Like this, Minnie. Just- fuck ... yeah, like that ..." you instructed for his thumbs to play with your nipples, even making him pinch at them. Your sighs and the way you arched your back were enough for Seokmin to want to leave everything behind and dedicate his life to your pleasure.

"K- kiss them? Please, Minnie ..."

He took your order immediately, leaning down to kiss around your nipples, glasses fogging from the close proximity to your skin.

Your sighs intensified and your hand moved to angle his head so that his lips would land on your nipple. Taking the hint, he enveloped your pert nipple in between his lips and sucked, licking and nibbling at it as he saw fit. Eventually he lost himself a bit, allowing his hands to fondle your breasts desperately as he whined into your breast. Your whines for more made him lose his mind, leading to his mind fogging up even more.

This progressed for a while until you finally moved his head away from your tits and stole a wet kiss from his lips.

"You're so good, Minnie. So obedient ... Such a good boy for me," you breathed against his lips, wiping his foggy glasses before slipping them back on.

He physically keened at your praise, not at all used to being praised for such filthy behavior but still extremely pleased he was making you feel good.

"Now ... now I'm gonna show you how to make me feel good, yeah? Still wanna try that, angel?"

He nodded too enthusiastically, glasses coming out of place due to his enthusiasm.

"Okay, baby," you giggled, "Need you to kneel on the floor for me, okay? Right between my legs ..."

Oh. You wanted him to-

He had never explored his sexual desires in any way, so he was fully unaware where exactly this was going, but the thought of looking up at you while he made you feel good between your legs sounded like the holiest act known to human.

He followed your direction, groaning when he saw the hidden space between your legs glisten.

"Oh, God ..."

"Shh, don't use the lord's name in vain, Minnie", you were just teasing, but somehow the reminder of his lord made Seokmin feel a small pang of guilt at the thought of the sin he had been actively committing with you thus far. He decided to push it aside and continue on his path. Nothing mattered to him more right now than your utmost pleasure.

"Lick it?" you used your fingers to open up your folds, letting out even more honey for Seokmin to gawk at.

Wordlessly he got closer and closer, up until his tongue was able to flick at the length of your folds. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding at the taste of your essence, becoming instantly obsessed with its warmth. What he was even more obsessed with, however, was the whine you let out at such a simple touch.

Was it possible for him – an inexperienced and sheltered boy – to make someone like you – a gorgeous and clearly knowledgeable girl – feel this good? He needed to test the theory so he kept licking to his heart's contentment, following the directions your hand gave him as you guided his head against you.

He licked shyly at first, only sucking every now and then as he did his best to act accordingly to the sounds you were making. It didn't help that his mind was plagued by your taste, smell, and the warmth between your legs – not to mention your mewls of pleasure.

"My clit, baby ... Your tongue, angle it here- oh ... fuck, right there, Minnie ..." you angled him so that he could flick his tongue at a tiny little pearl found between your legs.

With all the newfound knowledge he had on how to deliver your pleasure, Seokmin did the best he could to repeat the movements you seemed to really enjoy (at least based on how prettily you'd cry his name after). Despite his mind being completely clouded by the entirety of your person, Seokmin continued to moan and cry against your cunt as he silently begged for more of your cunt against his face.

"M-minnie! Oh ... Fuck. Such a g-good boy ... All mine, shit ... Your tongue, oh ... just like that, angel ... Y-your nose, Minnie, please! Your nose, just- oh! Fuck", you cried for him, at some point taking full control and just grinding against his face as his nose and tongue poked into your most sensitive spots.

Seokmin felt incredibly proud at your mindless state, knowing it was him who had achieved that. Nothing mattered more in that moment than your pleasure; pleasure which only Seokmin could give you.

"Gonna cum for you, angel. Lick it all for me? Be a good boy and take it for me, yeah? Shit!", you practically vibrated against him as your high took over you.

Seokmin kept his face between your legs as you came, doing his best to lick at every single drop of essence and moaning at the taste of you. He allowed you to use his face as you saw fit, reveling in the knowledge that he had given you such other-worldly pleasure.

He didn't know it was possible for him to feel such pleasure from just watching you, but now he understood. If anyone asked, this was what heaven was supposed to look like – a beautiful girl losing herself to Seokmin's touch as he himself tried not to lose his own mind.

Throughout the entirety of your orgasm, Seokmin couldn't control his hips as they ground against the bed with a complete lack of rhythm, simply humping animalistically at you taking over every single one of his senses.

After a few moments of aftershock, you suddenly pulled Seokmin up and attacked him with a filthy kiss; filthier than any you'd shared before.

Your kiss alone had Seokmin struggling to keep himself from cumming in his boxers. You had been testing his self-control from the moment you teased him in class earlier today and he just wasn't sure how much longer he could take until pleasure took over him once again.

"Want me to try it on you, Minnie?", you asked once you pulled away from the kiss.

"That? O-on me?"

"Mhmm. My mouth on you? Is that okay?", you pecked his lips again, seemingly unable to disconnect from him for too long (which Seokmin thoroughly related to).

"Yes", he deadpanned, still out of breath from being suffocated by your thighs and then your lips just moments ago.

You wasted no time in removing his boxers. Seokmin felt slightly shy at this, having never let anyone ever see him nude before. Even last time he had been with you, you had pleasured him through his clothes and not seen past his shirtless state thus far.

But you praised him as soon as he was fully nude, kissing up and down his thighs as you told him how beautiful he was, how pretty and deserving of praise you believed him to be. His whole body heat up at your soft words, with goosebumps forming at your soft kisses that led up closer and closer to where he was aching the most.

He gasped when you finally took a hold of his member, bringing your face close enough to give the weeping tip a kiss.

"O-oh ..." he threw his head back at the sweet yet filthy gesture.

You giggled under your breath and began kitten licking at his tip, sucking lightly every so often. He felt like he had finally arrived to heaven. All those stories about what awaited his good behavior while on earth must've been lies, because he found the greatest reward of all in the form of your mouth wrapped around him.

Getting braver by the second, you put almost the entirety of him in your mouth, doing things with your tongue and lips that his poor brain couldn't even process. He whined and cried at your movements, not able to understand how easily you could bring him to tears.

As he quickly neared his high, his mind turned into mush, not allowing him to register what was going on with his body. All he knew was that his cries got louder by the second, his cheeks now damp with the tears that wouldn't stop falling from his eyes. His hips were uncontrollable, having to be restrained by your hands as he chased for his high with the utmost desperation.

"P-please! I need ... Fuck, please ..." he begged for nothing in particular as his high completely took over.

He felt dirty and disrespectful as he did it, but he came inside your mouth, wincing at the way your moans vibrated while he was still in your mouth. He couldn't help himself; his thoughts had been completely overtaken by the pleasure.

His cries had not stopped as of yet, even rendering him emotional as the high of his orgasm wore down. Now was the moment of regret, knowing he had broken his unspoken oath of celibacy yet again.

This was something all people in his community swore to. It was rarely ever spoken about, but Seokmin knew that he was supposed to save himself for marriage – in every sense. Despite already having quite strong feelings towards you and the things you did to him, Seokmin still felt like he had somehow disrespected you by engaging in such acts with you. But more than anything, he felt like he had disappointed God.

So he cried. He cried into his hands despite how embarrassed he felt at doing such thing in front of you, specially after having shared such intimacy.

"Oh, Minnie ..." you coo'd at him, getting up to hold his large frame in your arms.

You allowed him to exhaust his cries as he quietly asked for forgiveness. He didn't have to explain himself, as you understood. You made your understanding evident by reassuring him that he had done nothing wrong, and that he was still such a good man.

He believed your words and thanked you, eventually calming down enough to stop crying and speak coherently.

"Do you ... do you think He'd be disappointed in me?", he knew it was a stupid question to ask considering your lack of religion. The two of you had never thoroughly discussed religion with one another, but he knew you at least understood where he was coming from.

You pouted at him, cooing at him as you responded, "Of course not, Minnie. He loves you. You're such a good boy; treat everyone so kindly even when they don't deserve it. Treat me so kindly ... No matter what anyone ever tells you, what we just did is no sin", you explained.

"B- but the bible-"

"Shhh. Your faith is your own. No one can take that away from you, Minnie. Even if I don't share those beliefs anymore, I know an amazing person when I see one. You've done nothing wrong, okay?", you caressed his cheek and pecked his lips to drive your point home.

He nodded as he tried not to tear up at your kindness.

Him even questioning his actions' consequences on his faith would've provided him with a scolding from his parents or a look in disapproval from his reverend. But in turn you gave him acceptance and love. There was no way in his mind to believe that being with you – feeling good with you – was anything other than the holiest act he could engage in.

"Do you regret it?", you interrupted his thoughts.

"N-no, of course not ... It's just ..."

"I'd never want to make you do something you don't wanna do. I ... I know we haven't known each other for long, but I like you, Seokmin. I don't want you to think I'm just trying to ... corrupt you."

"You're not!," in a change of pace, he grabbed onto your hands and looked directly into your eyes as he spoke, "Everything you've taught me, I've wanted it too. I ... I like you too."

You smiled at this, squeezing his hands affectionately, "Yeah? Does that mean you wanna keep hanging out?"

"Yeah, I'd love that."

Unfortunately, time for Seokmin to go home eventually came and he bid his goodbyes to you.

The two of you spent a few hours after your heart to heart actually working on your project and later watching a few episodes of a show you said you'd been watching on Hulu. It was a nice time for Seokmin to get to know you outside of school, and it only reinstated how much he liked you already.

It was about 10PM by the time he got home, which was usually around the time he went to sleep due to the early hours of his classes the following day. Almost as soon as he finished his nightly skincare and prepared himself to go to sleep, he suddenly got a call.

It was odd for him to get calls in general, but this time around he knew who it'd be before even checking his phone.

It was his parents.

Seokmin had seen this coming. He had gotten too into his head this past week; too into you. Not only had he neglected contacting his parents as frequently as they had agreed (re: every night in order to 'keep a close eye on him'), but he had also been neglecting his religious duties. He had not kept contact with any of his religious friends from back home nor had he even attended church as of late. And surprisingly ... Seokmin had not minded these recent developments. He felt freer than ever. For the first time in his life, he was not under constant surveillance, receiving judgment for any instance in which his parents believed him to step out of line in his religious lifestyle.

Back home, a single absence from bi-weekly mass would be met with passive aggressive disapproval. Any instance in which Seokmin expressed interest in anything outside of the church (such as non catholic music and dance – both of which his parents had immediately shut down), he felt as if he was breaking a law at the way in which his parents would scold him for ever even considering such 'perverted' hobbies.

Upon moving away, Seokmin had begun to realize that his upbringing hadn't been as perfect as he had thought it to be, that his parents didn't love him as unconditionally as he first thought. He thought back to his brother's estrangement from his family and felt regret at not standing up for him, knowing that his parents would turn on him just as fast as they did Jeonghan.

With a sigh, he picked up the call, mustering as much interest as he could. He made some excuse as to why he had been unable to keep in contact and promised to be better moving forward. He faked a smile in his voice and forced his way through a peaceful call (sans the few passive aggressive comments his parents threw his way) and called it a night.

For the first time in his life, he put religion and his parents aside to give himself a restful sleep, only looking forward to seeing you the next morning and going to sleep with the remembrance of what the two of you did fresh in his mind.

"Oh ... I- please ..."

"Just like that, Minnie, fuck ... Don't move, angel. Just let me do all the work, yeah?", you ground against him even faster, angling your hips so that his member would grace against your clothed folds.

It seemed like the dam had broken for you at the same time as it had for Seokmin, because you had jumped him the very next time he made his way through the threshold of your apartment.

The two of you kissed until exhausting yourselves, leading Seokmin to beg you to undress both you and him (with pleading eyes rather than verbally, as he was still too shy to beg for such things with words).

It was only one day after you had given Seokmin oral (a concept which you had introduced him to), which somehow made Seokmin even more desperate to have you. Even after his parents' call ruining his mood, you had managed to bring it back up immediately after when you messaged him late at night suggesting the two of you meet up today. After spending the entire day together, Seokmin walked you home yet again, only to be jumped by you (once again) upon entering your apartment.

One thing led to another and Seokmin found himself fully unclothed under you as you ground against him through the thin layer of your panties. Seokmin was completely weightless under you, becoming a shell of his old self as he desperately guided your hips to grind against him. He wasn't sure where this would lead, but he felt the usual conflict that always arose when the two of you were alone like this. Even through all your reassurance, Seokmin felt as if he was betraying an oath by engaging with his sexual desires for you. However, these thoughts were immediately pushed aside when you leaned back down to kiss him again.

The kiss was nasty, for lack of a better word. Seokmin didn't fully realize it, but his desperation for your touch would sometimes render him into a sloppy kisser, but you seemed to not mind it as you moaned and licked into his mouth any time his kisses got a bit messy. Your grinding got more and more intense by the second, throwing your head back at the way Seokmin senselessly canted his hips against your own.

"M-minnie ... Want more ... Is that okay? Just need to feel you so bad ... Please ..."

"M-more?"

"Do you want it too, Minnie? Wanna know what it feels like?"

"Show me? Wh- Oh ..."

"You want it too, don't you? Hmm? You're so hard against me, angel. Don't you wanna feel me?"

"I just ..."

Before he could formulate a response through the lust that was clouding his mind, you suddenly brought one of his hands between your bodies, going behind the forbidden threshold of your underwear. Anxious but also incredibly turned on, Seokmin fell limp and allowed you to do whatever you wanted. You grabbed his middle and pointer fingers, angling them so that they could seamlessly slip between your folds. Though Seokmin had already felt the wetness between your legs the day prior, he had not properly felt just how warm and tight you could be.

"Oh, it's so ... Fuck," he moaned when you began guiding his hand so his fingers could go in and out.

"Shit, Minnie ... So good ... Wanna feel it now, angel? Will you give it to me?", you slipped his fingers out after proving your point, now going back to caressing his cheek with your own hand.

"B-but ... It's a sin ..." he let out before even realizing. Even with your constant reassurance up to this point, Seokmin still felt ties to his faith that made him second-guess himself.

He knew that he had already gone past certain point with you, and that having sex with you wouldn't make much difference in his morality, but he still thought of all the teachings of celibacy and all the censorship his community had forced onto him. Was this the right choice? His body was screaming at him to let himself go and seek his high from you. His mind was telling him similar things, though there was also emphasis on the fact that doing this with you, of all people, would be the best choice he could ever make.

"Angel ... It's okay to want it. You don't have to be scared ... I'll take care of you. Just wanna be close to you, Minnie. Don't you want that too? Hmm? Just like you so much, angel," you kisses softly at his chest as you said this, breaking his resolve.

And you were right. He wanted this so badly. He wanted to be as close to you as possible, to give himself to you in the most intimate way he could.

"Y-yes. Want you so much ..." he was shy as he said it, but he meant it to the fullest extent.

You proceeded to sensually remove your underwear, sitting back down above Seokmin's dick as you made a show of grinding your nude pelvises against one another, making Seokmin cry out in desperation.

Any doubts he had left him as soon as you allowed his tip to slip in, throwing his head back as he finally felt your warmth envelop him. You let out a variety of expletives at the feelings, all while clawing at Seokmin's chest, something that had his back arching in unexpected pleasure.

"Oh, Minnie ... So full, f-fuck ..." you moaned out, taking on a slow yet deep pace that made Seokmin shut his eyes and scrunch his nose.

Seokmin couldn't describe the pleasure you were giving him. He was practically frozen in place, the only part of his body still conscious were his hands, which were likely bruising your hips from how hard he was digging his fingers onto them. He needed to keep himself grounded, but he truly felt like today was judgment day, and he had gone to heaven.

"Open your eyes, angel. Wanna see you," your hand reached over to his cheek, angling his head so he could look your way rather than keep his head in its thrown back state.

He opened his eyes to find you smiling down at him with the light hanging on your ceiling providing the best view of you possible. You looked like an angel gazing down at him, like you came down to give him the greatest ruin and drag him back up with you. You had corrupted him in the best way possible.

"Oh, Minnie ... So beautiful. My prettiest boy ... Does it feel good, angel?", he nodded and let out a whine at your soft inquiries, "Yeah? How's it feel when I do this?", you squeezed around him, now bouncing rather than grinding against him, making him close his eyes back up and cry out your name.

"I- Please! I need ...", his nails clawed at your hips and back, begging for something unknown to him. He needed more, but he wasn't sure of what.

"I know, pretty. Gonna give it to you, just- fuck ... Just need you to be good for me, yeah?," you hiccuped, leaning down to kiss him again.

He cried against your lips, eyes rolling back when your tongue began dancing with his own, your hands reaching down to toy with his nipples. You were giving him too many things at once, making the overstimulation take over his already hazy brain. He didn't care about any moral repercussions to what you were doing together. Every time you touched him further solidified how right being with you felt.

Only a few moments of your ministrations were enough for Seokmin to feel that familiar coil begin to tighten. He knew his end was near, causing him to grow restless as he planted his legs on the bed and humped against you. Despite his lack of proper technique and the sloppiness of his movements, you matched his own and wailed his name.

Your hands came down to bring his up and pin them above his head, grinding deeper and deeper against him as the two of you crazily chased your highs. The bed shook against the wall at the intensity of your actions, with nothing but nasty sounds of your muffled moans and your arousal filling up the silence. Eventually you disconnected your lips, eyeing the string of spit that connected you before burying your head in the crook of his neck.

"I- I like you so much," he groaned out, high-pitched and breathless.

"Like you so fucking m-much! You have no idea ..." you reciprocated his words as you clamped down around him and let yourself be taken by your high. Your high was more than enough to trigger his own, leaving him in a practically astral state for a few moments as his hands ran frantically up and down your body, squeezing and scratching every so often.

When your highs finally wore down, you laid yourself beside him, cuddling him near you so you could wrap your legs around him and bring him as close as possible. You faced each other as you caught your breaths, running your hands along the length of his back as his own rubbed at your hips. The moment was pure bliss.

"Do you regret it?"

"No. I could never regret anything we've done. I- I'm sorry if I made you feel that way," he looked away from your eyes.

You nudged him to look at you once more, "Don't apologize, Minnie. I understand. I'm happy I was your first. Maybe one day I'll teach you even more fun things," you flirted through a giggle.

"Oh, I- Hah, yeah", he was caught off guard by your flirting, but still laughed along.

Yeah, he wouldn't mind that.

Over the following weeks, Seokmin did a better job of keeping up with his parents. He kept a safe distance while still giving them the belief that he was still fully engaged in the religious spaces they had envisioned for him. However, he could not help but lie when it came to what occupied his day to day life – you. He didn't bring you up, which you agreed upon after a tearful conversation in which Seokmin detailed his upbringing, leading you to spend the night up with him as you comforted him. He was also yet to attend mass again, and he even occasionally skipped the bi-weekly meetings of his church group – though only when you skipped also. These were a few of the things he kept secret from his family – advice from his brother Jeonghan, who he had recently gotten in contact with again.

Seokmin's faith was still standing; his relationship with God was slightly injured by his internal conflict about your sexual relationship, though he was now sure that he felt no regrets at anything the two of you had engaged in. To him, being with you felt like the biggest reward he could have ever hoped for. Seokmin realized quickly that his issue really laid with the catholic community in which he had been brought up, rather than his relationship with God itself. He disagreed with the judgmental and overbearing way in which certain catholics circles ran, something which he distanced himself from upon meeting you.

You had even introduced him to a few of your friends, some which were even catholic like him. Your buddy Joshua was one of the chillest guys he had ever met, yet his faith was pretty intact. This made Seokmin feel less guilt, though his balance between what was right and wrong in the eyes of God was still a bit of a mess. Luckily he had you help him navigate his way through that.

Along with all these developments, Seokmin had also begun speaking to his brother Jeonghan again (behind his parents' backs, of course). It made him happy to know that despite his brother straying away from his community, he had ended up happy with his life, leading a steady relationship and being happy away from his parents' constant religious persecution.

And you ... You had become official in these past few weeks, making Seokmin constantly have to pinch himself to confirm whether or not he was imagining all this. He was still a very shy and awkward individual, usually opting to hang out alone with you in either of your apartments. He appreciated how patient you were with him, never judging him for being a bit different and even teaching him the pleasures he had been missing out on during his very restricted upbringing. You had become a piece of heaven on earth to Seokmin, corrupting him, but only in the best of ways.

a/n: i left so many things unresolved here oops but all i cared about was seokmin's character development and we got there in the end so! anyways hope u guys enjoyed!!

To read short 2k word continuation u can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content:

wc: 587 (teaser); 2080 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

Seokmin was, yet again, at a crossroads. Though this time it wasn't anything too serious, or maybe it was.

By current time, it had now been four months since the two of you had begun dating. 'I love you's' were shared and multiple sleep overs were had. Your relationship had been everything anyone could hope for a first relationship, and Seokmin now felt way more at ease whenever the two of you did anything sexual.

Admittedly, Seokmin was still slightly awkward about it, still never allowing himself to start sexual interactions and simply following your lead. Which was the crux of his current predicament.

He was unsure if he had done something wrong, if he had maybe insulted you or maybe there was some other unknown reason behind, but it had been over a week since the two of you had slept together. Over the past four months, the two of you spent most of your nights together, taking on a very domestic routine within the first two months of your relationship. Though you obviously didn't get down to sexual activities every day, it was common for it to happen a few times a week (at the least).

It usually began with you cornering Seokmin against the wall after a tiring day of college, or sometimes it began during a movie night in which you couldn't keep your hands to yourself. Whatever it was, you were always giving Seokmin an opening to entertain his sexual desires with you whenever he pleased. Even though he was always too shy to ask, it was almost as if you were able to read his mind and always incite him when he needed it most.

His sexual desires for you had grown quite a lot, making Seokmin worry at times. Was it normal how badly he wanted you at all times? Was this a consequence of having never before received pleasure until meeting you? He felt like a degenerate sometimes, from how badly he wanted you. Which was the main reason as to why he grew antsy so quickly after not having sex with you for the past week or so.

In contrast to these past months, this past week and a half (nine days to be exact; not that Seokmin was keeping count or anything), you had not given Seokmin anything further than a sweet peck on the lips whenever the two of you fell asleep next to each other. You didn't act any differently past that, still showering him with love and spending as much time as you could with him.

It wasn't that Seokmin expected sex from you or anything, but ever since you had taught him how pleasurable it could be to have a romantic partner, he could not see himself ever going back to his old, puritan lifestyle. Seokmin had become, for lack of a better word, an addict. He couldn't help himself in desiring you every time he caught an inch of your bare legs or the soft skin of your breasts through your cleavage. He had deprived himself of sex for far too long and now he could no longer live without it.

He didn't want to seem desperate, or as if he only valued you for sex, but he needed to get to the bottom of this and find a way to get you to touch him again. He was far too shy to ever ask you directly, but he would work his hardest to entice you into letting him have you again

...

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canthelpit0 · 5 months

Text

Jealous girl

Pairing: Chris x jealous!Reader

Wordcount: 5.1k +

Summary: where a girl from school, that you don’t like, somehow knows Chris. Your school life and private life collide, as you decide to make rash moves to get back at her, and teach her a lesson.

Warnings: smut, jealousy, rich kid!Reader, use of y/n, they’re seniors in HS, marking, possessive!Reader (if u squint), pet names, p in v, filming, creampie, unprotected

(A/N: ik I’ve been doing a lot of rich kid reader, but it’s just sm easier 😭 I'm sorry for any grammar errors, English is not my fist language. also, the song has like barely anything to do with the plot.)

I’ve been friends with the triplets for most of my life. We just click.

I’ve always had a slight crush on Chris, he’s the first one I met.

I was scribbling a drawing in kindergarden, sitting at a table all by myself, when Chris came up to me. He started to talk to me and rant about something, until he declared us friends.

We grew up together, went to the same elementary and middle school. But being a rich kid, my parents wanted me to go to a private high school for better education.

So now I go to a private high school in Boston, while the triplets go to Somerville high school.

At first I really didn’t want to go, since it was a private school with uniforms and all. But my parents weren’t letting up, and even threatened to send me to a boarding school in Switzerland.

So I reluctantly agreed.

There was this girl, Eva. Your basic blonde girl with green eyes.

Now, I never liked Eva’s friend, but that was years ago, and I don’t think they’re even friends anymore.

Anyway, me and Eva share the same AP European history class.

We don’t talk a lot though.

★ ★ ★

I walk down the hallway making my way towards the door. Today was a draining day and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep.

But I have homework and-

My thoughts are cut off as I stop in my track raising an eyebrow. There was chris, standing in front of the main entrance of the school.

“Y/n?” He asks excitedly. It’s like my brain pauses for a moment.

“Chris?” I ask back.

At this point I hadn’t seen Chris or his brothers in a month or so. I was too busy studying and they were busy with lacrosse.

I live in Boston at the border to Somerville. And Chris lives in Somerville. But my school is 40 minutes away from his by car.

He opens his arms and I gladly hug him. I sigh as we embrace, my eyes closing briefly.

“Why are you here?” I ask. After all, Chris, to my knowledge didn’t have a drivers license and no reason to be here.

“Well, you know Eva? Well I gave her my jacket a week ago and I came to pick it up since she goes to your school-“ He rants, his words come out fast and jumbled by how excited he is to see me.

“How do you know Eva?” The words come out sassy. And honestly if i wasn’t hyper aware of the fact that we’re on school grounds I’d slip in a swear word.

“Well a week ago I was out in Boston shopping with Matt and Nick and this girl came up to me asking for my jacket since she was cold. Just out of nowhere” he starts to rant again, but I don’t even have half the mind to interrupt him.

After all, this felt like two of my separate worlds were colliding. And I didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t seem to dislike her like I did, wich only made me despise her more.

“And you gave it to her? A stranger?” I raise an eyebrow a huff leaving my lips.

I sound more sassy than I intend to, but I can’t help it.

Students walk past us slowly. Being in a private school most people loved it here. They weren’t pushing to leave.

We stand at the side of the main entry, still inside.

“Yeah. She asked for it” he sasses back, matching my attitude. Yet his smile stays big on his face and I could tell he wasn’t serious.

“What if she stole it?” I roll my eyes looking back up at Chris who had a few inches on me.

“That’s what I said too.” He agrees dramatically. “So she offered to give me her snap and told me she’d give it back to me next opportunity she got.”

That seems a bit dumb to me. She’s rich, she could just buy a new jacket if she’s outside and cold.

“You’ve been talking?” I question. I cringe slightly at the jealous tone lacing my words but Chris doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

“Yeah” he chirps back happily.

Oh so now they were snapping too?

He sticks out like a sore thumb. The way he carries himself, the way he smiles and acts, is just a dead giveaway that he does not go to a private school. Let alone, the fact that he’d not wearing a uniform like everyone else walking out right now.

Some people give us weird looks, but most don’t even care.

I purse my lips, if my day hadn’t been bad already, it was definitely ruined now.

The problem wasn’t that he had friends, other than me. But the fact that I knew her and knew how much of a Bitch she is, and how he can’t realize that.

The fact that he knew that she goes to my school, and that i probably know her, But didn’t even bother to mention it to me.

“You know what class she has right now?” He asks me. He actually has the nerve to.

“No.” I roll my eyes. Honestly I couldn’t care less. I only share that one class with her.

I turn on my heel to walk away, but before I can he grabs my elbow pulling me back slightly.

“Please don’t leave?” He asks sweetly.

I huff yanking my arm out of his grasp. Sure it could be awkward standing in front of the main door, obviously not going to this school looking like a lost puppy. But it’s Chris, he’ll survive.

“Chris, I have shit to do”

that’s a lie. I don’t have anything planned today. I just wanted to go home and sleep.

“Pretty please??” I huff turning back around. I stand next to him, my arms crossed as I scan the people leaving the building.

“Cute uniform you got there.” He says licking his lips slightly as he looks over my body.

I was wearing the green plaid skirt. And a basic white, collared button down. Along with the schools signature green cardigan and the tie.

I had so many layers on it was crazy. Since it was a more chilly day in Boston I had my tights on, but under the tights I had Thermo leggings on to keep me warm.

Honestly if people at public schools think the dress code is strict they should go to a private school for a day.

Once three buttons from the top of my collared shirt were unbuttoned and I was dress coded for it.

Atleast the skirt wasn’t horrendously long.

It could still be considered a mini skirt if you squint.

“You say that every time you see me in it” I scoff. I can’t help the fact I’m being sassy, I’m just in a horrible mood.

“I mean it.” He answers.

But before i can respond I hear an annoying voice from in front of me. “Hey Chris.” I turn my head to look at Eva.

The bitch is smiling wide. She was wearing the khaki skirt and the navy blazer with the black tights.

I purse my lips. God I wish I could dress however I want to for school.

“Hi Eva.” Chris greets her with a hug.

I physically try to hold back a scowl. They talk about something and I drown Out Eva’s pitched, bitchy tone.

Of corse Chris wouldn’t pick up on the flirting. But I see the way she smiles at him. The way her eyes trail over his face and linger at his lips for too long.

And I don’t know why I’m getting all territorial, but I guess I’m scared that Chris won’t have time to hang out anymore if he starts dating.

Either that or I just know how much of a bitch she is and I could treat him better than she ever could.

“Y/n this is Eva, Eva this is y/n” Chris makes us shake hands. He introduces us like we don’t know each other.

She chuckles at the silly gesture. She doesn’t hate me and I don’t hate her either. I just don’t like her, and the way she acts.

I’m rich, sure. And I’m more wealthy then her, but atleast I don’t act like a brat.

We start to walk, with them chatting, and me just trailing behind them.

We get to Eva’s car, she’d said something about driving him home or something. Does this girl know he lives like more than 40 minutes away?

My skin crawls at the thought of them being together in her car for that long. All alone.

“Chris come here” I wave him over for a second. Eva doesn’t question it instead going on her phone.

He walks over to me. I grab him by the shoulder to pull him down as I whisper in his ear. “You always pick the worst people to befriend.”

I let go of him. He groans rolling his eyes. His past two friendships with girls he befriended had ended horribly. But it was so predictable.

“Y/n/n. Come on” he scoffs. I turn to walk away to my own car to drive home.

Until he grabs my arm again pulling me back. “Can we talk.” He mumbles his arms wrapping a round my torso his chest pressed against my back.

“Not now.” I huff pushing myself off of him slightly. He wasn’t holding me tightly so I get out of his grip fairly easily.

“Y/n” he huffs.

“Don’t start.” I sass at him. I clench my jaw. I feel disappointed but not surprised. Eva wasn’t the type to show guys she’s interested in just how bitchy she really is.

“I gotta go, have fun.” I smile at him sarcastically. I let my smile drop as fast as it had appeared finally walking away from them.

But when I glance over my shoulder he’s already standing next to her smiling down at her.

★ ★ ★

The whole week after she found out I knew him, she’d constantly call him, and be around me and tell me stuff about him as if I didn’t know.

She’d sho me pictures of them together, she’d tell me jokes that I’ve heard before.

It was just the same old recycled bullshit.

He’d told her that we’ve known each other for basically forever. Why the hell was she talking to me like I didn’t know him?

That weekend I went over to the triplets house like I usually do, ready to sleepover.

I was in nicks bedroom talking to him.

“God, Chris always has terrible friends. And he needs to stop talking to everyone he sees.” Nick says with an eye roll.

This was our weekly complaining session.

“I know right, he befriended some girl from my school-“ I’m cut off by Nick.

“Eva?” I nod.

“I met her a few days ago and she’s so annoying.” He agrees slapping my arm a few times as he gets worked up.

“Right.” I scoff agreeing with him.

“And she totally has a thing for Chris.” He rolls his eyes hard.

I purse my lips. Good to know that I’m not delusional and that someone else sees it too.

After that the conversation topic shifts until Nick is ranting about some random TikTok song, and about how it’s obviously written to go TikTok viral and whatnot.

★ ★ ★

“Where are you gonna sleep tonight?” Nick asks, lying flat on his back, on his bed.

I slept over almost every weekend. And usually I’d rotate between whose bed space I’ll take up.

It is Friday, I always come over Friday after school. And then I stay until Sunday. And Sunday afternoon I go back home.

I always stay over on the weekends unless I have like an upcoming exam or something.

“Uhm.” I pause. I should sleep in Matt’s room tonight. But I want to talk with Chris more.

“Chris” I state. Nick doesn’t even question it.

The last time I’d slept over was over a month ago. and while sure, we did hang out in the past month, I spent all my weekends studying.

Nick had no mind to question me. He couldn’t care less. I could tell he’d missed me, and knowing I was sleeping over was comforting no matter where I slept.

We talk for a bit more until I stand up and pick up my overnight bag. I hug Nick and tell him I’m gonna head to Chris’ room.

We really need to talk about making good friends, and who to not befriend.

Because it keeps happening that Chris will pick out the shittiest people to befriend. And god it’s so irritating having to listen to him complain after they ‘betray’ him.

I walk upstairs to Chris’ room and unceremoniously swing the door open.

Once the door opens I’m immediately greeted with the sight of the pale pink LED’s on. There he was laying on his bed laying ON his side his phone up to his face.

“Oh hi y/n” he smiles at me briefly before going back to staring at his phone.

Chris usually called me any nickname under the sun before calling me my actual name.

Eva’s piercing voice echos out of the phone speakers making my expression sour immediately.

“Hi y/n” she says loudly. I can’t help the eye roll.

“Chris.” I hiss under my breath my eyes narrowed in a glare. He glances back at me his lips pursing in mild annoyance.

He tells her he’s got to go and that he’ll call her back. Chris then hangs up, slightly sitting up, his back pressed against his head bored.

I walk in fully, now closing the door behind me.

I put my overnight bag on his desk.

“I think she likes you.” I say simply my lips tugged into a straight line.

He huffs a laugh as if he thinks I’m joking.

I look over my shoulder, observing the grey sweatpants and white wife beater combo.

He crossed his arms staring back at me.

“I’m dead serious.” I say flatly. “Ever since she found out that I know you, she’s been coming to me in breaks and talking about you like I give a fuck.”

He poked his tongue into his cheek his expression falling flat “you’re serious?” He asks his voice painfully monotone.

“Of corse you didn’t realize” I roll my eyes turning back to look at my backpack.

“Whatever” I roll my eyes. I grab my make up bag that I always had in his room and I walk out the room to the bathroom to take off my make up.

After a few minutes I come back to see him on his phone again.

“Shit you’re right.”

Chris breathes out not even looking at me just saying that. He was going through previous messages only now seeing the underlying flirtation in her choice of words.

I raise my eyebrow at him before it registers what he is saying.

“I know” I say simply.

“How do I let her down slowly?” He asks his eyes finally going up to meet mine. His blue eyes only seem more exaggerated under the pink LED lights.

Before walking away from the door I lock it, he sends me a questioning glance but ultimately doesn’t say anything.

“You know, like how do I tell her I’m not interested, without saying that?” He adds still looking at me.

I walk up to the side of his bed.

I then roll my eyes getting on the bed. I sit next to him my back against the headboard as well.

We’re both quiet, the air in the room thickening. I can practically feel my skin burning up.

“How about you make a bold statement?” I break the silence after a moment.

Before he can respond I turn and get on his lap. My eyes are dark as I Simply sit on his thighs.

His hands go to my waist out of instinct. My arms wrapping around his neck.

He huffs out a breath his cheeks tinted a slight red. “What? you wanna make a sex tape or something?” He rolls his eyes.

I roll my eyes back at him. “That would be bold, but I don’t want her to see your dick.”

“Ooh possessive?” He teases. Chris unconsciously squeezes my side making me whine under my breath.

He chuckles at the sound, but before he can comment on it I’m speaking again. “I was thinking hickey , but if you want to fuck so bad then-“ I cut myself off.

“We can do both” he assures.

I lick my lips. And before I know it I move his face with my hand tilting his head to the side. My lips touch his jawline. I kiss down his jawline to his neck before I start to suck harshly.

He lets out a harsh breath his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“Easy ma, you got all the time In The world.”

Ma. I genuinely don’t know where he heard that, but at some point he just started calling me ma or mama.

Like I said, he used every pet name under the sun, before saying my actual name.

I pull away for a second my eyes scanning the small purple bruise on his neck.

“No.” I breathe out harshly before starting to peck his neck again. Until I bite down, relatively low on his neck close to the other hickey.

I bite hard, making sure my teeth print would be there while also sucking another hickey into his skin.

He hisses at the harsh feeling, his hands clenching and unclenching on my waist. He doesn’t stop me tho. Quite contrary, I hear a few whines leave his mouth. His sounds sounding borderline like moans.

I pull away admiring his neck.

I move the strap of his wife beater to the side, kissing down his collarbone. I suck more marks into his skin, until I deem it enough.

“You wanna tap this, handsome?” I tease , my eyes meeting his pale blue ones.

His eyes are half lidded and his pupils blown out in pleasure.

It’s really late by now. It’s dark outside. And the light pink LED lights make his blue eyes look even bluer.

“Please?” He asks sweetly his tone feigning innocence.

I can feel the hardness press up against my clothed core. I grin back at him, my eyes dark in lust and half lidded like his.

I cross my arms and tug off my t shirt. I throw it to the ground, letting Chris Bask in the sight of my bra covered chest.

The lust radiating off of him only seems to double.

“So pretty.” He coos. And before I know it he’s leaning forward and kissing my chest.

He glances up at me through his lashes and mumbles against my skin. “Can I leave hickeys too?”

I chuckle at the question. It really didn’t matter for me. My schools dress code is strict and I would have to cover them up anyway.

“Under the neckline” I nod simply. And before I realize it he’s sucking on the tender skin of one of my boobs.

He licks and sucks at the skin, half my boob covered in his saliva now.

I tug in his top. He groans against me, obviously not wanting to pull away. But he eventually does, I pull the wife beater over his head and throw it to the floor.

His hand goes up to cup my other boob while he kisses down from my collarbone to my chest and then sucks another hickey at the top of it.

I card my hand through his hair while I don’t bother pulling him off. He lets me stroke his hair moaning into my skin.

He pulls away, his eyes even darker than before. his hair now messy as well.

I get off of him. He groans at the loss of contact. I can see he’s about to complain. But before he can, I start to undo my pajama pants and slide them down.

My black lacy thong and my black lacy bra match.

Chris had made fun of me for wearing such ‘slutty’ underwear before. After all whenever I showered here I left some of my clothes, namely my underwear, here.

I had my own little section in Chris’ closet filled with my panties and bras.

“Fuck.” He breaths out closing his eyes briefly and then opening them again as if checking if he was seeing things.

He starts to shift and tug down his own sweatpants. He eagerly tugs them off along with his boxers letting his cock spring free.

My mouth quite literally waters at the sight of his hard dick lying flat against his stomach.

He lays down flat on his back looking to his side to look me in the eyes.

“Please ride me ma.”

He says in such a pleading and whiny tone, how could I say no to that.

I walk past his bed to his desk and pick up my phone from where I’d put it.

I walk back tugging the thong off swiftly. I get on top of him straddling his torso. I grind myself against his dick, feeling it glide between my wet folds.

I tug on my bra trying to get it off. And when I finally do, it’s also discarded quickly.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous mama.” He sighs looking at my boobs, both of them having small hickeys on them.

He puts his two hands on my waist lifting me slightly. He trails one hand down to my folds examining my pussy.

I feel him push his middle finger into my cunt abruptly to wich I moan.

He hums as if he was thinking. “So tight baby.” He coos his second hand on my waist caressing my skin gently.

“Gotta stretch this pussy out. We don’t want it to tear do we?” Chris asks sarcastically, obviously joking.

I lick my lips and let out a dry chuckle. His girth really did look painfully big. Atleast for what I was used to.

It wasn’t like he was that big, but it was definitely well above average.

I hand him my phone so he can start recording and that’s just what he does. He uses his hand from my waist to film this.

The camera pointing right at my pussy. He pushes a second finger in, briefly finger fucking me and scissoring his fingers to stretch me more.

“So fucking soaked.” He groans under this breath.

Chris takes his fingers out of me grabbing his hard dick and jerking it for a second. I lift myself and he positions it at my cunt, while also making sure to keep the camera at the right angle.

I push myself down letting out a breathy moan.

His hand, that’s not holding my phone, goes to my waist to steady me.

I suddenly push myself down on him completely. I whine loudly, my body jerking forward at the impact. He groans at the feeling of being balls deep in me.

“You okay?” He asks rubbing my waist gently in comfort.

“Yea” I breathe out my eyes closing as I try to get used to the feeling.

My legs are already numb and I’m already questioning why I’m on top.

I start to slowly bounce myself on him. He watches through my phone, his eyes glued to where we connect, seemingly fascinated by the sight.

“So tight for me.” He breaths out harshly trying to hold back loud groans. He was painfully aware of the fact that his siblings and parents were home.

I start to bounce on him more listening to him shower me in praises and compliments.

“Fuck.” His eyes stay trained on the phone screen, but he occasionally glances up to look at me.

I start to ride him harder the compliments and praise only making me wetter.

“God, come on, get yourself off on my dick like the slut you are.” He huffs. His free hand lightly on my waist to help me steady my movements.

He tries not to be too loud, both for the camera and because everyone is home.

I lean forward slightly and take my phone from his grasp.

I film his face and his reactions now.

His hands go to my waist slightly squeezing my skin as I start to rock my hips harder.

“Good boy, be quiet yeah.”

I feel the knot in my stomach tighten threatening to snap. The constant hit to my sweet spot is so overwhelming, and before I know it I’m releasing on his dick.

my hands are shaky but my phone is still angled at him, catching his mouth dropping in pleasure.

I clench around him letting out soft whines and moans, while Chris uses his hands to make me grind on him.

After a second when I calm down he grins. Chris holds his hand out for the phone that I give to him. He lifts me slightly to show the Camera the white circle my cum created around his length.

He makes no move to switch our positions so I just grind into him.

Chris turns the recording off and puts my phone on the nightstand. His hands find their way to my hips holding me tightly.

But before he can switch our positions like he was lplanning to, his phone starts ringing.

I glance ova seeing Eva as the caller ID. I roll my eyes. I feel pretty over stimulated already, but I want her to know.

“Pick up.” I demand under my breath. Our eyes meet for a moment but he eventually complies.

He leans over and takes his phone, picking up the call with a frown.

As soon as I hear her annoying voice i start to ride him again, making sure that the slapping sounds are loud enough.

He tries not to groan at the movements, trying to keep himself together.

“Eva, uh” he pauses his eyes locking with mine once more. He can’t help it when his free hand on my waist urges me to go harder.

“I’m kind of busy right now”

But she doesn’t get the hint and questions him. “Too busy to talk to me?”

Fucking pick me.

“Yeah well” he lets out a soft groan, pulling the phone away so she doesn’t hear it too well.

She starts to yap about some unimportant shit. Chris puts the phone on the side of the bed sitting up.

I stop moving due to Chris harsh grip. He pulls me off and flips us around.

I grab the pillow re- adjusting it so the side of my face is buried in it, my ass up for him.

He grins a soft slap echoing through the room. He kneeds my ass trying to smooth the pain of the slap.

He spreads my cheeks and pushes himself back in. He immediately starts up a harsh and fast pace fucking me into the pillow.

“Are you having sex right now?” Eva questions sounding like a brat who was just denied a toy

He leans over for a second picking up his phone. “No I’m not, why would you think that” he scoffs continuing his relentless attack to my sweet spot.

My core throbs around him, clenching to try and suck him back in.

“Oh my god you are-“ before she can rant about god knows what, Chris hangs up the phone.

He scoffs his grip in my waist tightens as he continues to forcefully pull me back on him.

He goes to the camera app on his phone starting to film once again.

He admires the way his entire length disappears into my tight cunt, and the way he has a white ring around the base of his cock from my previous release.

He picks up pace even more, if that was even humanly possible, until I feel like im going to cum again.

I turn my face and burry it in the pillow trying to muffle my noises. Because honestly I’d be surprised if the whole house didn’t already know what we’re doing.

“Close” I whine out between incoherent moans.

“Me too ma. Hold it for a bit, yeah?” He says sweetly his harsh actions not so sweet.

“Where do you want it?” He keeps glancing between the camera and me, sometimes angling the camera to show my back and the back of my head too.

“Inside” I whine. And that mildly catches Chris off guard.

He only picks up pace tho, his palm meets my butt again, in a harsh slap. I moan at the feeling. “Come on come for me” he demands.

And before I know it the knot in my stomach snaps once more my thighs shaking and my cunt clenching a round him.

The Camera is focused on my cunt. His thrusts get more sloppy and messy until he gives me one last harsh thrust.

Chris releases into me, filling me up to the brim and stuffing me.

We both stay like that for a moment to catch our breathes.

He stops the recording and throws the phone next to me, onto the bed.

He trails his hand over my ass and lower back, before gently grabbing my hips and pulling out.

He lets out a breath seeing his length covered in our combined juices, and me leaking.

He pushes me on my side slightly, so I’m laying down fully. I sigh turning my face into the pillow my arm under it.

“You okay?” He asks softly. Chris kisses my shoulder softly.

I just realized that we hadn’t kissed once. This entire time, his lips hadn’t been on mine not once. And I don’t know if he did that on purpose or not.

“ m’ good” I sigh closing my eyes briefly.

I nuzzle my face into the pillow, breathing out. I blink my eyes open again sighing.

I feel his eyes burn into the side of my face.

“Were you jealous?”

My eyes shoot open and I turn my head slightly to look at him. “About what?” I say simply playing dumb.

“Why do you not like her.” He asks again.

“I never liked her.”

“Right, and you don’t like that she likes me.” He states simply.

I scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself” I huff and nuzzle my face into the pillow.

“You literally have my cum inside of you right now, ma.” He huffs in response.

I purse my lips burring my face harder into the pillow.

“I like that.” He says again making me look back at him. Chris is looking down at me with a sweet smile

“What?” I ask and look at him from the corner of my eyes.

“That you’re jealous.” Chris replies, his smirk ever so cocky.

“Why would I be jealous?” I huff, replying sarcastically.

“Don’t deny it ma. I think it’s cute.” Chris chuckles. He grins down at me victoriously. He lays down next to me staring into my eyes.

Masterlist

A/N: this was so fun to write lmao. sorry for not posting in the past few days, I was just busy with school and didn't have the motivation to write. Feel free to to send me stuff my req and asks are open <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf

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rubydubydoo122 · 10 months

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I've seen a lot of discourse about who the angry Robin was, but like... why do we have to define the Robins in terms of that?

Dick's Robin embodied Light. He was the Foil to Batman's Darkness. His story is meant to parallel Bruce's and it's because of the reason he became Robin in the first place. He became Robin, not to avenge his parents- he didn't want to kill Tony Zucco. He became Robin in a very similar way that Jason became the Red Hood; To make sure it doesn't happen to anyone again.

Jason's Robin embodied Hope. He was a character who was given opportunities and he made the best of them. He was given a home, and a family, and education and he loved it all because at some point he could only hope to have those things. It gave him the outlook of 'If things could get better for me, than things can get better for other people, if I do what I can help them.' To Jason, Robin meant giving people hope, and that's why Jason was deeply affected by Gloria Stanson's death. She had lost hope.

Tim's Robin embodied Determination. No matter how many times he was rejected by Bruce, he still stood by his side. No matter how many of his family and friends died, he still kept fighting. No matter how hard he was beat, he still got up.

Stephanie's Robin didn't have a long run, and I sadly don't really know how to quantify her Robin. Maybe spite, I feel like. Because she became Spoiler to stop her dad, and be like 'haha, L' and also because she became Robin after her and Tim broke up. Idk, if any of you have a better idea pls tell me

Damian's Robin embodied redemption. You can tell from the beginning of his run, to current comics how much he has grown and changed. When he was younger, he didn't really understand how the LOA morals were wrong, but then he learned, and he's constantly trying to move away from that and lead with more compassion in his own Damian way.

Duke's Robin embodied the people. He was what they needed at the time. I don't really know much about his Robin either, so pls lmk if it's not that.

#dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #damian wayne #duke thomas #robin #nightwing #red hood #red robin #spoiler dc #batgirl #signal #batfam #what it means to be robin

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meangirls-imagines · 6 months

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Hi bubby! hey, could i get a smut fic/imagine with top! regina teaching an inexperienced y/n sex stuff? y/n is all like "she is jst teaching me" but regina definitely has a crush on y/n and is taking the opportunity to make a move on reader?? lots of praise, size difference, thigh riding? pls? ^^ thanks

Sex Education

Description: Reader and Regina are partnered for a project in health class. Regina learns that reader hasn't had ✨spicy✨ time before and offers a helping hand to her crush.

WARNINGS: top!regina, bottom!reader, praise kink, size kink (regina is 5'10 and reader is 5'3), thigh riding (reader receiving), oral (regina and reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), regina has a mommy kink hehe, aftercare, regina is a warning herself.

18+!!!!!! Get your holy water. Amen

Regina George always got what she wanted.

New car? Her dad had it for her within hours.

New shoes? Same-day shipping.

New flavor of the month? She had a line of North Shore students to choose from.

The only flavor Regina wanted, was one she had never even thought of tasting until recently.

Y/N Y/L/N.

The girl was a nobody to everyone at North Shore, but as of lately, she was everything to Regina. The blonde had noticed Y/N one day in health, trying to keep up with Coach Carr's weird lesson plans.

The girl had been nibbling on the end of her pen, listening to the droning sound of the man's voice as he tried to explain condoms to the class. Regina's eyes stay glued to the girl's mouth the whole class, the blonde imagining the filthiest things.

She had told Gretchen to get as much information on the girl as she could for her, which thankfully for Regina, didn't take long. She learned that Y/N had moved to North Shore halfway through their freshman year, played softball, and was gay.

Regina could already taste the victory.

For the next few weeks, the blonde was obsessed with Y/N. Going as far as to stay after school and watch the girl workout with her teammates. Y/N was noticing the attention she was getting from Regina, as did her friends, but she shook it off as Regina just playing with her mind.

It all came to a head a week later, as Coach Carr read out Y/N and Regina's names to be partnered up. The blonde smiled smugly at Y/N, making her blush deeply. As the man explained their "project" (he told them to go watch porn and write a paper about it), Regina moved over to sit next to Y/N.

"So. I know you workout after school, but how about you come over so we can do this project and...get to know each other more?" Y/N couldn't do anything but nod. The girl had no idea what she had just signed up for.

Hours later, the girls were in Regina's room, the blonde scrolling through PornHub, trying to find a semi interesting video. Y/N was trying to figure out how to write an essay about porn when Regina spoke up.

"So, what's your preferred category of porn, baby?" Y/N blushed deeply. "O-oh. I don't watch it." Regina looked at the girl curiously. "Really? That's adorable, baby. I'm honored to take your porn virginity."

Y/N's blush got even deeper. Regina instantly noticed. "What's wrong baby? Are you embarrassed? Don't be. It's just porn." Y/N shook her head and tried to go back to her outline but Regina gently grabbed her chin to stop her.

"Are you embarrassed about something else, sweetie? You can tell me. We're friends now, this is what friends do." Y/N didn't think that was true but she knew Regina was right somehow. Y/N sighed and whispered.

"I've never had sex with a girl before."

Regina felt like she hit the lottery. Oh, she was going to ruin this girl. "That's okay baby. You don't have to be embarrassed. If you don't mind me asking, who did you lose your virginity to?" Y/N looked down at her lap. "It was Jack on the football team." Regina smiled softly at the girl. "Oh, you sweet thing. I bet he didn't even make you finish, did he?"

Y/N shook her head. "It was more of an enjoyable experience for him." Regina nodded and rubbed Y/N's arm, pretending to ignore the goosebumps that formed. "Well, I have experience in making girls feel good. How about I help you out? Make you experience how you first time should've gone."

Y/N hesitantly nodded and the blonde smashed their lips together. The kiss started out soft and sweet but Regina turned it into a fiery, passionate make out. She pulled the shorter girl onto her lap, hands automatically going to her ass.

Y/N moaned at the contact, giving Regina the chance to begin marking up her neck. "Fuck. You're gonna look so pretty with my marks all over you baby." Y/N whimpered and began to softly grind against Regina's thigh. The blonde smirked and grabbed Y/N's hips, guiding her.

"Oh, my sweet girl, you just need some relief don't you? Don't worry, Mommy will take care of you." Y/N felt heat shoot straight to her core as she tried to grind faster, but the blonde kept her pace. "No, no baby. I wanna enjoy this. I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else. You're only gonna want me. Understand?"

Y/N nodded. "Yes, Mommy." Regina groaned. "And such good manners. I'm keeping you forever baby. And since you've been so good, use Mommy's thigh to get yourself off and you'll get a reward."

Y/N began to grind faster, desperate to please the blonde beneath her. Regina watched as the girl rode her thigh like a mad woman. She smiled at the desperation in Y/N's movements. She put her hands up Y/N's shirt, grabbing at her breasts as the girl moaned loudly.

"Cum whenever you need baby. You're doing so good." That was the breaking point for Y/N as she stiffened, her orgasm washing over her as Regina whispered praises to her. Y/N slumped against the blonde, Regina kissing her temple.

"Take your time baby, we have all the time in the world."

Y/N was now on her back, fully naked, watching Regina strip. "Since you've been so good, I told you that you would get a reward." Y/N nodded excitedly as Regina slowly crawled up the bed, kissing her way up Y/N's body.

Y/N was curious to know what her reward was when Regina crawled all the way up to Y/N's face, her pussy on full display for the girl beneath her. "Mommy is going to let you eat her pussy baby. We're gonna do something fun."

Regina turned and straddled Y/N's face, still hovering. "While you eat Mommy's pussy, Mommy is going to eat your pussy baby. Sound fun?" Y/N nodded and pulled Regina's pussy closer to her face and began to eat her like she was her last meal.

Regina was caught off guard but moaned at the feeling. "Oh fuck. Such a good girl aren't you baby?" Y/N moaned and Regina leaned down and gently sucked Y/N's clit into her mouth, causing the girl's hips to buck.

Regina smirked and began licking and sucking harder. Y/N was moaning into her pussy and the vibrations sent shivers down her spine. They began to bring each other to a shared high. Regina wanted Y/N to cum before her, since she had been so good and expertly slid two fingers into Y/N's core.

The girl moaned loudly as the blonde began to pump her fingers. Y/N kept eating Regina's pussy as she desperately wanted the blonde to feel good. Regina could tell Y/N was getting close, as was she. The blonde spoke up. "You can cum whenever, angel. Mommy wants to make you feel good. You've been such a good girl."

Y/N felt the pleasure bubble burst as Regina's words took her over the edge, the girl cumming all over Regina's fingers. Y/N cumming so pretty for her set her off as she came hard in Y/N's mouth. They helped each other ride out their highs as Regina adjusted and laid next to Y/N.

She looked at the girl, who had her cum covering the lower half of her face. She looked blissfully fucked out as Regina smirked at her work. She leaned over and kissed Y/N, also licking her cum off her face, moaning at the taste of herself.

The blonde got up, smiling at the whine Y/N let out. "Hang on baby. I gotta get you cleaned up." Y/N unwillingly let Regina go to the bathroom to grab a damp towel.

The blonde gently took the towel and wiped between Y/N's thighs, cleaning the mess as Y/N twitched. "Shhh...baby. I'm almost done. My good, sweet girl. So perfect." Y/N melted into the mattress at the praise.

The blonde finished her job and cleaned herself quickly before grabbing clothes for her any Y/N. After gently wrestling Y/N into the clothes, the blonde walked to the mini fridge she had in her room and grabbed a water, a gatorade, and a banana and gently coaxed Y/N to take the snacks.

Y/N drank all the gatorade, three quarters of the water and ate the banana and Regina pulled the girl into her arms. "You did so good for me baby. My sweet angel. All mine, huh baby?" Y/N nodded sleepily. "All yours, Mommy."

The next day in school, dressed in a pink hoodie a size too big, and covered in a fresh set of hickies, Y/N walked with her new girlfriend to Health class. No one said a word when Regina pulled Y/N into her lap, whispering what their classmates assumed the dirtiest things in her ear, the two girls fully ignoring Coach Carr.

No one said anything about the new couple, knowing better than to ask questions.

#regina george x reader #regina george imagine #mean girls imagines #mean girls 2024 #top!regina #regina george smut

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wndaswife · 1 year

Text

meant to be yours | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Nearly eight years after your breakup with her, you meet Wanda again when she enrols her children at the preschool you work at, evoking a multitude of old feelings and regrets.

Word count: 14 245

Tags: angst, fluff, pining that is a lot more mutual than it seems to either of you, mentions of marital issues, sorority!wanda & milf!wanda (best of both worlds), doctor doom makes his grand entrance

For the last few years, all Wanda has known how to do is compromise. It was a method of survival, a way to make sure she made something of herself as she aged.

The life she had made for herself wasn’t what she’d envisioned; ever since high school, Wanda dreamed of being a journalist for a fashion line. She loved writing and fashion design although the last time she ever had any large projects with either of those passions was in college.

Somewhere along the way, Wanda became convinced that the only thing she could ever be good at was planting down exactly where she’d always been — not taking leaps of faith lest she tumble and have nothing to fall back on.

That was why she settled for a life married to her college boyfriend, staying at home most of the time caring for her two four-year-olds, Tommy and Billy. They were raised to be good, sweet boys, and though Wanda had heaps of regrets, her sons were always her greatest joys.

Victor Doom was an aerospace engineer who focused on robotics and developing other technological advancements for the company at which he worked — the household’s breadwinner.

In college he was especially well-known for being one of if not the only campus frat boy with a working brain, who in his final year helped paton tech with his astrophysics professor, subsequently earning himself a position as an engineer at a renowned corporation where he’s since been employed.

All she’d been doing since college was compromise — where to relocate, when to have children, whether or not she pursued a career. Some days she was somehow comforted by the fact that she didn’t need to do any more than live in the providing shadow of her husband, for it meant that she never had to reach for anything above, and that meant she never had to risk failing.

But other days, when she was selfish, Wanda wished she had more. She wished she had more friends, she wished she had a better marriage and a fulfilling job. Then she’d make dinner for her husband and settle around the table with him and Tommy and Billy at the end of the day and realise that she couldn’t have what she sometimes felt she wanted.

How could she?

At thirty years old with no opportunity for anywhere but forward along the path she’d always been afraid to step off of, there was nothing more for her but this.

In the morning an argument took place in the kitchen, hushed and whispered so as to keep it muffled from the twins who were sleeping upstairs. Victor and Wanda had been discussing putting the twins into the summer preschool program for some time, as the private school they were planning on enrolling them in the fall semester had an optional preschool program.

He was on board up until this morning when Wanda brought up the idea that she use the free time to get a part-time job at a local newspaper company that was looking for journalists.

Upset at her suggestion, he called her selfish and accused her of intentionally suggesting bringing the twins to preschool so she could waste time on her own self-absorbed endeavours. She tried to tell him that she felt she had to do more with herself, and that she didn’t only want to be a stay-at-home mother, especially when she had the education to pursue a career like he did.

Rationally he couldn’t understand her wanting to find a job when he provided everything and more for their family, but it was her comparison of their likeness that set Victor off and he became furious and had trouble keeping his voice down, forcing Wanda to quickly abandon the idea of applying to the part-time job to keep him placated.

He left in a frustrated state though he ended up getting what he wanted, and Wanda woke the boys up for their first day of preschool.

The two young boys had moved to cuddle up beside each other through the night, with Tommy having switched beds to sleep next to his brother.

Wanda woke the both of them, running her hands over their tiny heads and soft hair, and she watched as their little noses scrunched up and their short little arms unwrapped from each other's warm pyjama-clad bodies.

As she watched them arise, she thought to herself how lovely it would be to care for her sweet sons like this for a very long time, and she realised how not-so-terrible living a life without pursuing her other dreams would be.

“G’Morning, mama,” Billy mumbled and his mother leaned down to kiss his scrunched up little nose.

Oh, it wouldn’t be terrible at all.

In the car after breakfast, Wanda explained to the twins what preschool was and how much fun it would be to meet new friends and play games a few days a week. The boys were thrilled and their mother was relieved, for Wanda didn’t wish to abandon the plan she and her husband had made by letting Tommy and Billy skip their first day, and she knew that if she let them stay home because of their whining, they’d whine all day until their father returned home in the evening.

But fortunately for her, the twins were ecstatic.

She didn’t know until her arrival that the first day was also when the parents were allowed a sit-in to allow the children to acclimate while also giving them a first-hand perspective of their child’s first day.

From the preschool calendar, she knew the potluck was on Friday but not that the first day was practically an orientation. If she knew, she would’ve insisted for Victor to take at least the morning off to join her in it.

The forty-minute long sit-in orientation where Wanda sat on a short plastic chair along the edge of the learning carpet along with all the other parents allowed for them to see for themselves that their children would get the most out of their preschool experiences, and that they could be relied on to care for their children.

As she gathered her things that were asked to be placed atop the class desks along with all the other parents’ belongings in the back, Wanda watched as the parents around her seemed to make fast friends. She wondered if they had all somehow known each other before the first day.

In any case, she felt lonely without her husband, especially as she watched her sons socialise joyfully with the other children of the class, watching the precious sight of their children take place without her husband with her.

She carefully slipped away along the walls from the groups of quietly chatting parents as they also gathered their things until a familiar voice made Wanda’s perk up as if she was suddenly summoned by dog whistle.

Darting her eyes around the busy room, Wanda walked forward slowly as her eyes raked through the classroom behind the heap of parents between her and the voice that seemed to come from the back of the classroom, to the right, and…

Wanda’s chest tightened painfully and her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of you. It was you with your hair but longer now, your height the same as it had been, your voice that was a few slight tweaks worth’s difference from the one that had been echoing in Wanda’s mind, albeit fainter these days, ever since the last she heard it in person.

Her hand reached back and she pressed the pad of her finger into a sharp edge of the cubbies behind her, sending a sharp pain up the nerves of her finger and forcing sound through its muffled barrier and finally freeing her locked joints.

She tore her eyes away from you and stopped just before the doorframe of the classroom.

Carefully, when she had confidence in her breathing, Wanda raised her head and took another look at you.

All the different ways she’d start a conversation with you ran through her mind and she soon began thinking of all the things she’d like to say, all the things she’d like to ask you and all the things she wanted to know about how you were living your life now.

But her fingers tightened around the doorknob and she looked over to it, seeing the gold of her wedding ring reflect the classroom lights. Then she suddenly felt unbecoming and terrible about herself, so she looked back and saw her boys enjoying themselves under the watch of the preschool teachers before she quietly slid out of the class.

When Victor came home early and agreed to go pick up the boys to make up for his absence at the sit-in, Wanda quickly looked through her closet and searched for the letters she received from you the summer she was with you during which she had a three-week long trip to Saint Petersburg with her family.

As the tips of her fingers felt the base of a small rectangular box, Wanda began slowly running the pads of her fingers along the bottom until they caught onto the slim edge of an old sheet of paper.

Slowly as to not rip it, Wanda slid the paper out along the open space between the edge of the box and the other stacked mementos she’d kept since college.

Since you.

Before she opened the letter, she questioned why she’d even gotten the urge to look for it and what she was initially intending for when she began searching for it. She looked down and saw the familiar loops and lines of your handwriting and she abandoned the train of thought, slowly unfolding the sheet and raising it up so she could read it.

For some reason she felt guilty for how long it’d been since she last read from it, and the part of her from her younger years scolded her for stopping the way she used to run her eyes over every inch of your penmanship since the last time she was with you.

Anyways, Wanda read through the letter and felt an addictive pulse resounding within her chest, a lightness and a sort of prickly sharp wave that seized her throat and travelled down into her lungs.

As she let the recollection of having ever been worthy enough for this kind of love, reading the way you described how much you missed her while she was gone and how much you loved her, Wanda felt an odd sense of despair knowing such a thing could only ever exist for her through memory.

She couldn’t quite ask herself whether she was mourning the kind of love that was written on the paper or just who she received it from.

Still as she tucked away the letter and ran the tips of her fingers over the other stashed-away mementos in the box, Wanda still couldn’t figure out why she wanted to look for them in the first place, why seeing you today made her want to open the box hidden along the top back corner of her closet.

But she still sorted through it, seeing a flyer for one of your college plays in there and a music CD you put together for her, and more small trinkets all with meaning and all safely-kept through the years to keep the memory of you stored.

Downstairs, the front door opened and along came the excited footsteps of Tommy and Billy, and Wanda tucked everything back into the box and placed it back into the top shelf of her side of the walk-in closet.

Friday came around, and this time Victor did take a day off to go with Wanda to the potluck; parents and children alike from both the elementary and preschool were being invited to have lunch together for a traditional welcoming event for the start of the summer.

Since Tommy and Billy had already made a handful of friends and were by then already quite attached to the idea of playing with their friends outside the classroom, they were dressed in their very best for the sunny day.

Wanda made a conscious effort to look her best too, for she knew that today she was finally going to come up with the confidence to start a conversation with you. She tried to approach it from a professional point of view, to see it as practical if anything to make connections with the preschool’s instructors.

But she couldn’t deny the way she kept adjusting and readjusting her hair in the side mirror of the car as Victor drove them to lunch, and that wasn’t really required of her to be practical.

Tommy and Billy tugged at their father’s hands and pulled them towards the preschool, excited to show him what he’d been missing while he was at work.

There were a bit more people than Wanda anticipated though the expansive playing field of the preschool was certainly enough for the size of both the preschoolers and the kindergarteners from the private school. So she carefully slipped through the crowds and towards the potluck’s tables to set down the dish she made at home.

She saw you there too amongst a line of other parents along the edge of the table filling their plates.

You were one of the teachers’ assistants from what Tommy and Billy had told her during their many excited retellings of their days when they got back home.

Wanda inhaled sharply and kept the casserole dish in her hands as she subtly waited for the line of parents to clear so she could inch her way closer to you. She spotted a clearing on the table that was close to you and carefully set it down.

She pressed the pads of her fingers into the scalding ceramic to give herself some confidence and she looked up from the table of food, finally laying her eyes on your face within a metre from you for the first time in nearly eight years.

To seem as if she’d approached you naturally, Wanda cleared her throat a little and turned her body to face you. She tucked her hair behind her ear and parted her lips.

It all seemed like she was moving too slowly — mechanically — while the beating of her heart made her feel like she was moving too quickly — messily.

“Hi,” she said, stupidly. She got your attention at least and you lifted your head and looked at her.

It was then that Wanda felt she’d bitten off far more than she could chew as she felt herself seized by the sight of you.

Your hair was longer, like she’d seen on Monday. You looked older now, but the years had been very kind to you. She felt herself ache. You looked so beautiful, and she felt she would be trapped in this moment forever, unable to look away from you, feeling that if she had, you might suddenly disappear for another eight years.

The slight stutter in your greeting might’ve indicated to anyone else that you did recognise her and that her presence in front of you had stunned you momentarily, but Wanda, caught up and otherwise distracted by the sight of you, didn’t notice and so she introduced herself.

“I don’t know if you remember me from college, but–”

You nodded and interrupted her, “Wanda.”

Wanda hoped you didn’t notice how her eyes fell to your lips as you said her name, listening with her interest piqued the most beautiful medley of sound as it came from the way your lips wrapped around each syllable of her name.

It felt like an eternity had passed before your eyes garnered her attention again and she replied with a smile that looked relieved, perhaps because of the fact that you’d remembered her. “How have you been doing? It’s been a long time.”

“I’ve been okay,” you answered simply, almost hesitant to share your present life with a figure of your past.

You looked over to the other side of the sunny field where the twins were being carried on Victor’s shoulders. “They’re yours, right?” you asked, gesturing over to them. “Billy and Tommy.”

Wanda nodded proudly, looking over at her playing children before back over to you. “How did you know? Did they mention me?”

“Anyone who went to college with us still remembers the last name of the all-famous Victor Doom,” you said with a chuckle that might’ve seemed resentful to Wanda if she still wasn’t so taken by the sight of you.

“But, how are you?” you asked more seriously, straightening and looking at her. “You look great. What have you, uh, been doing? The last few years.”

She flushed when she watched you look down at her outfit and her hair and she fidgeted with her fingers, absently rubbing her thumb against tablecloth. “Not very much,” she answered. “I got married — to Victor, as you saw — then had Tommy and Billy.”

“That… sounds like a lot,” you said with a lighthearted laugh.

Wanda felt her heart beating against her ribs in a way that made her take in a breath to relieve the tension she felt in her chest as she listened to the way you laughed. She felt like a stupid flaky college sorority girl again.

“A lot, but not what I imagined for myself,” she confessed.

With an understanding nod, you then said, “You seem to be doing great for yourself, though.”

A cool wave of validation came over her and she beamed. “Thank you,” she responded.

“A-And, you? Are you seeing any–”

Before Wanda could finish her question, one of the other instructors, one whose name Wanda did not know, called you over. You excused yourself and Wanda completely understood, allowing you to head over to where you were needed.

Although she had chances to approach you again throughout the afternoon, Wanda instead kept looking over at you from afar between conversations with her husband or other friends she miraculously made with other mothers.

She didn’t want to press, and she was worried that the thrill of seeing you inflated her sense of reality, and she didn’t want to overstep or misread anything.

After all, the last you’d spoken wasn’t on very good terms and although the years may have done away with the wounds from what had happened, no amount of time could change a future friendship that might simply cease to exist because of the past.

So Wanda had to settle with having only a single brief conversation with the person whose letters she’d kept since college, and she left the potluck early with her husband so the boys could bring one of their friends home for a playdate.

To celebrate the start of the summer and the successful lunch, Wanda and Victor stopped at a farmer’s market that they passed in the car for ice cream with the twins and the friend they were bringing home.

As they waited in line, Wanda began to wander and eventually found herself in front of a handmade jewellery booth. She was initially looking in a solely appreciative way, not planning on buying anything but in awe of the shop owner’s talent until she laid her eyes on a pair of earrings.

She reached for them and brought them up into the light of the sun and out of her shadow so she could more clearly look at the tiny silver dolphins hanging from them. They were perhaps half an inch in size and really adorable and subtle.

The rest of her family caught up to her with ice cream in the young boys’ hands while Wanda had just purchased the dolphin earrings. She showed them to Tommy when he questioned what she’d bought.

“It’s so pretty,” Billy mused.

Wanda agreed, “It is really pretty.”

“Is it a gift, mama?” asked his twin.

“A little bit of one, maybe,” she answered with a contemplative hum then took his hand as the five of them headed back to the car together.

She’d wear it eventually.

Dolphins were your favourite animal.

That evening after the boys had gone to bed, Wanda straddled her husband’s hips in their bedroom, knees hugging either side of his lap as he guided her forward with his hands on her hips. He thrusted up into her while Wanda leaned forward with her hand flat beside his head to keep herself up.

She was too much in her head to enjoy herself — not that Victor cared whether she was involved during sex, and she couldn’t stop thinking of the letter she reread earlier that week and the dolphin earrings she bought and how pretty you looked at the potluck.

With a final grunt and a particularly harsh thrust into her that made Wanda wince beyond the mess of her hair, Victor released into her and soon untensed. He lifted her from his hips and ran his hand down the side of her bare thigh, perhaps meant to be some act of affection, before turning onto his side with a satisfied exhale.

Wanda cleaned herself up in the washroom and once she finished washing her face before heading to bed, she looked at herself in the mirror and felt something curious and desolate, so she stepped forward to get a better look at herself.

She wasn’t under any form of illusion; she was well-aware of how she’d aged over the years, from occasional periodic observations like how her skin looked a tad different in certain places.

But under the burning scrutiny of the washroom lighting, all Wanda could see were smile lines and signs of ageing and reminders upon reminders about how differently she looked from the last time she was with you in college.

Ever since she saw you for the first time in eight years on Monday, you were her landmark in time for nearly everything. She made dozens of comparisons a day, seeing how much things had changed and when the last time she thought of something was — minuscule things that seemed significant when she wondered about how you saw things from your perspective.

Tonight, she wondered how you might think of how she looked now.

She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for, but Wanda knew she’d been hoping for something because the very sight of how she looked in the mirror made her feel let-down, almost hopeless.

And you looked so pretty at the potluck.

There were things about herself that she was glad had changed since college, but she wasn’t in any way thrilled about how much she seemed to have aged.

Victor had brought it up a handful of times before, but it was only under the light of the washroom with the thought of you in mind that Wanda realised how right he was.

Wanda wasn’t sure how exactly she was feeling by the time she shut the washroom light off and went to bed, but she knew that she was certainly glad to finally pull her attention away from the mirror and to think of only you when she closed her eyes instead of her reflection.

Over the next week or so, Wanda tried her best to be impartial with how she approached driving the boys to and from preschool while also ensuring that she only behaved as any other mother would around you.

She allowed Victor to drop the twins off and pick them up without insisting she go along just to see you, and if she did catch sight of you, she’d try her best to wave only when it seemed necessary — when anyone else would’ve done it.

The feelings that buried themselves deep within Wanda’s chest ever since she first saw you nearly three weeks ago had begun to overcome her in a way that she could only rely on convention to ensure she was behaving as she should.

But after a while she began to miss interacting with you and after an amount of time she started to feel picky about how to approach you again.

Fortunately, Tommy and Billy’s birthdays were approaching and they were adamant about having you there; it gave her an excuse to start a conversation with you.

So while Wanda went to pick the boys up from school, she approached you while you were with the kids, waiting for them to get picked up by the rest of the parents as they played outside.

“Hi, Y/N,” she greeted with a smile, elated at the feeling of saying your name out loud.

She was standing on the outside of the picket fence while you were on the other side, turning to face her.

“Oh, hey!” you said and smiled too in a way that made Wanda feel like she wasn’t being too awkward. “Let me get the twins for you.”

Before you could leave, Wanda quickly interjected, “Actually, I was wondering if I’d be able to ask you something.”

You seemed the slightest bit wary and that brought about a twinge of sadness within Wanda, but she pressed on anyway; she could understand why you’d be doubtful of her intentions, even after all the years that’s passed.

“This is... a little embarrassing to ask,” she began hesitantly, “but the twins begged for me to invite you to their birthday party this Sunday, so I was wondering if you’d like to come. They talk about you a lot and I think they’d just like for their favourite person to attend.”

She probably talked too much.

“Favourite person, huh?” you repeated with an amused smile.

Wanda was reassured by your lighthearted response. “Their words,” she said.

“And their mother and father?”

“Forgotten — completely.”

You both laughed, though Wanda a moment after you as she was initially taken by the sight of sheer joy on your face, caused all because of her.

After taking a moment to seriously consider the offer, you said, “Sunday? I can’t do that day, sorry. Would I be able to drop off a gift instead on Saturday?”

“Oh, that’s fine!” Wanda reassured with a wave of her hand. “Actually, we’re having dinner with just the four of us on Saturday, so you’re welcome to join us then instead.”

You had a feeling that Wanda was sort of trying her best to have you attend something for the twins, but a part of you also felt she was trying hard just to have you there.

Though you knew you were completely free on Saturday, you took a moment before answering to look a bit less rushed in responding to Wanda’s offer.

“Saturday should work,” you confirmed with a nod.

Wanda perked up and smiled, thrilled at succeeding in inviting you over for dinner. “Alright. That sounds good.”

She watched as you pulled your phone out from your pocket and she swallowed, forcing herself not to hope too much from what you were about to do, as you easily could’ve been checking the time.

But then you asked, “Would you mind if I got your number? So you can text me the address and all.”

Wanda hoped her fingers weren’t trembling as much as she felt they were as she reached forward and took your phone with an attempt at a professional nod.

“Of course,” she managed to say, repressing the onset of an excited smile.

You caught sight of her flushed cheeks and the forming dimples as she held back a smile, but you weren’t entirely sure what it meant.

Years ago you would’ve pinned it as a flattered blush, hints of a heart tenderly-touched and a sensitive soul. But the Wanda you eventually came to know… was disingenuous.

Most things with her were.

You tried not to be bitter and childish about what had happened years ago though you were almost certain that people like her didn’t change; you had to look away.

On Saturday evening, Wanda had finished getting dressed in something casual for a dinner at home but formal enough for having a guest over, and she was standing in front of her vanity surveying the dolphin earrings in the palm of her hand.

She hadn’t worn them yet; she was saving them for a special occasion, for when she really wanted to make a gesture.

But the silver of the dolphins were too reflective and the shape of the animal would’ve been clear from even two metres away, and that wasn’t subtle enough for the steadily-budding rekindling between her and you.

So she opened her jewellery box and tucked the earrings away safely for a different time — a time she hoped would eventually come.

And most importantly, Wanda didn’t want to drive you away.

Wanda was in the kitchen putting together some drinks when you knocked at the front door, gift in-arm. She looked over at the door, feeling a fury of anxious butterflies burst in her stomach as the reality set in that she was going to have dinner with you.

Victor announced that he’d get the door and descended from upstairs where he’d been helping the boys get dressed for their very special guest.

From the kitchen, Wanda could hear you greet her husband at the door and she began to steady her breathing. She focused instead on carefully placing mint into the cocktail glasses.

“Is she… here?” she asked Victor over her shoulder in the most inconspicuous way she could when he stepped into the kitchen to check on the food.

“She’s waiting in the den,” he answered. “I told her you’d come around with drinks.”

Wanda told him it’d only be a few minutes until the rice and stir-fry would be ready, so he went back up to help finish getting the twins dressed before dinner was served.

On top of the fireplace in the den was a framed picture of Wanda’s college sorority, and leaning close to take a better look at it felt like peering into a sort of time machine. It felt like a completely different life, yet you could almost just recall things like when exactly the photo was taken as if it’d happened only months ago.

The photo was of the entire sorority coming together to take a picture before campus closed for a week for the holidays. It was during a sorority event at the city’s ice rink, and you recalled being dragged over to it by Wanda, who was your girlfriend at the time.

You were posed together near the corner of the group of other girls, Wanda’s arms squeezed around your shoulders while she stood on a pair of ice skates.

“I made this for you,” a voice approached from behind, and you turned to see Wanda walking into the den with a drink in both hands. “A mojito. But for yours, without any alcohol because I know you’ll be driving home.”

She was wearing a red turtleneck and slacks. She had an expensive-looking watch on and pearl earrings, and for the first time you considered how rich she must be now that she was married to Victor Doom.

Wanda saw the drink in the cocktail glass tremble slightly before you finally took it from her with a ‘thank you’ and she rubbed her palm down her hip nervously.

The warmth from the fireplace made her cheeks feel so warm, and the shade of the fire made your skin look so pretty and soft with the way the gentle orange flickered against your face.

“So you have this picture here,” you noted and took a sip of the mojito as you gestured to the framed picture. “Framed and up on the mantle.”

Wanda tapped her fingernail against the side of the glass as she looked at the photo over your shoulder.

Damn.

She forgot to take it down before you came, and now she looked obsessive and childish and overbearing. She would understand if you saw it that way, for there was really only one reason she’d ever have that photo up in her house, and she looked at it every single time she passed it since she moved in.

“Y-Yes,” Wanda stuttered and straightened, feeling the condensation from the glass trickle down her fingers. She smiled a little, because she was a bit proud of the picture.

She couldn’t read your expression, not when your back was turned, until you looked back at her and said in a lighthearted tone, “You must’ve not changed very much since college, huh?”

It wasn’t accusing or rude, and Wanda felt that it would’ve hurt less if you had said it as an insult; you said it as if you’d never expected her to be different.

Even if it were true that Wanda hadn’t changed since college, the realisation wouldn’t have even disappointed you.

You would’ve expected it, and that made something behind Wanda’s ribcage ache.

Her lips parted to say something, perhaps to protest, but she couldn’t figure out what she wanted to say before the shrill cheers of Tommy and Billy ran into the room at the sight of you.

Wanda stepped back and allowed them to tackle you excitedly before you set the mojito on the coffee table so you could lean down and hug them, wishing them both an early happy birthday.

She listened, partially-absent, as you told the boys you’d give them their gifts after dinner. She watched you mostly, and how little you’d changed in the way you laughed and teased.

Did it always feel like this, eight years ago?

Had she been so cruel with you that you truly couldn’t believe she was one to change after so long?

Was this the first time, out of all the inevitable others, that she realised the hurt she made you feel?

Victor called from the kitchen announcing that the dinner was ready and Wanda blinked out of her stupor to kiss the foreheads of her children and let you walk ahead first as the twins led you forward.

You looked so pretty wearing a knit pullover that made everything about you look so soft and smelling of sweet sparkling champagne.

The mojito made her a little tipsy and she felt her face’s warmth as she kept looking up from her plate and over at you across the table where you were discussing all sorts of things with Tommy and Billy, who were still practically buzzing with joy at having you over for dinner.

She watched your lips as they moved, imagined you reciting the words from the letter you wrote her years ago — imagined you meaning them like you did back then too.

Since she reread the letter for the first time in a while just three weeks ago, she could recall every word of it again like she used to be able to when she was much younger.

She felt ashamed of herself and looked away from you to spare her dignity, though it would not be the last time she did.

For most of the dinner, Wanda was silent; Victor was always more of the talker between the two of them, she liked getting to watch you without the fear of sounding obsessive, and she very much enjoyed listening to you interact with the twins without interrupting.

It was only during the gift-opening after dinner that Wanda blurted out in the middle of a conversation.

They were opening up a wrapped book to see a picture book guide of dolphins, and Wanda was only halfway into feeling shocked about the coincidence before Billy giggled and said, “You really like dolphins as much as mama said.”

“What?” Wanda all but coughed out.

Billy excitedly flipped through the book and insisted, “Mama, you said.”

“I…” She cleared her throat and her eyes flickered over to your face, half-expecting you to be furious for some reason. “I-I said what, Billy?”

“That Y/N likes dolphins,” Tommy answered and looked up from the book, now confused by his mother’s confusion.

Wanda shook her head insistently. “I don’t think I…” She trailed off and brought the rim of her mojito up to her lips to shut herself up.

Her avoidance of your eyes made her miss how you looked across the dinner table at her and her flushed cheeks.

Victor made a joke about how forgetful his wife was and although it was a tad too degrading for dinner with their children, Wanda was thankful for it anyways for it cancelled out any impending awkward silences caused by her inability to behave properly around you.

Just how much had she been thinking of you to the point of completely tuning out when she spoke about you in front of her children?

“We’ve been talking a lot about dolphins at school,” you said and wiggled your eyebrows at them. “We’re learning about our favourite animals.”

You reached into the bag and pulled out two adorable stuffed animals, a horse and a red cardinal — the twins’ favourites.

As they cheered and stood from their seats to round the table and hug you tightly, Wanda felt a mix of emotion whirling within her, a sense of shame and humiliation, but also so much adoration for you.

To the boys’ dismay, their bedtime came quicker than it felt it had and Wanda had to put them to bed. They both whined although having been given an extra hour to stay up for their birthday dinner with Y/N, but like the sweet boys they were, eventually listened to their mother’s delicate discipline.

Her greatest, greatest prides.

They were good boys.

Wanda had the twins say goodnight to you and thank you for coming, then excused herself for a moment to put them to bed. She’d come back down to see you out, but until then you promised to help clean up after dinner with Victor.

“You know, I remember a lot about you from college,” Victor told you as he handed you a glass to dry.

You placed the dry glass onto the rack beside the sink then replied, “I remember a lot about you too. Though, uh, we didn’t really talk, I think.”

“Yeah, but I talked a lot with Wanda,” he said. “And she’d blabber about you, like, every other day sometimes. So it feels like I know you well.”

Something about that made you bristle; you didn’t want to be known by Victor Doom.

When you were finished with the dishes, Victor dried his hands and leaned against the sink, scrutinising you in an odd way.

“You look good,” he then complimented.

The flicker in his eyes suddenly became perceptible, and you quickly picked up on what he was trying to inch closer to.

You eyed the front foyer then looked back over to him to continue seeing civil. “Thank you,” you answered simply.

He was tall.

Imposing.

“Are you with anyone I’d know from college?” he asked, moving the dish cloth between his fingers.

“No.”

He scoffed in teasing disbelief. “I’m not under any illusion that…” He trailed off with a chuckle, leaving the rest of his words to imagination. “Especially when time’s done you so well.”

You felt like tearing your hair out and you felt a dozen weights being lifted from your shoulders when you heard Wanda begin to descend the staircase.

“Give me your number,” Victor then asked in a hushed, hurried tone. “We’ll set something up.”

Wanda reaching the bottom of the staircase allowed you to quickly slip out of the constricting corner of the kitchen and you grabbed your things from the sofa in the den before following you out to the front porch.

Victor Doom was still a huge dick, and you were beginning to have a terrible perspective on the couple. They didn’t change at all, and you weren’t sure what you came to the dinner anticipating, but knowing that Victor was still the kind of man Wanda was comfortable being married to planted an indescribable bitterness in you.

“Thank you for coming,” Wanda said quietly as the warm silence of the summer evening soon enveloped the two of you alone on the porch when she closed the front door.

“The boys really, really enjoyed having you over. I’m sure they’ll be talking about it for weeks,” she added with a laugh.

You nodded and turned to look at her. “Yeah. It’s no problem, I really enjoyed celebrating with them. They’re lovely,” you answered.

Being in front of you now, Wanda wanted to say a lot and wanted to ask you about everything you’d been up to over the last eight years.

There was no one to interrupt now, and it would be alright and objectively appropriate to start some small talk about your life while also being able to hide her buzzing curiosity behind convention.

But all she could find herself telling you was one thing — all that she could get past her lips.

“I really… I really have changed since college, Y/N,” she uttered quietly, pressing her nail into the pad of her thumb in front of her stomach.

It was important to her that you knew that for some reason.

You regarded her for a moment then nodded, and Wanda seemed relieved at what seemed to her as trust established.

The moment you stepped onto the porch, you told yourself how irritated you were at both Wanda and Victor, how unimpressed and upset you’d felt because of how little she’d changed since college.

Yet all you could think about on the way home was her.

It felt that something was gnawing at you from the inside, pricking at your skin each time it fought its way closer to realisation, but still you couldn’t figure out why you felt the way you did with Wanda.

For years the feeling had been asleep within you, unwoken and put to bed the day of college graduation when you caught sight of Wanda trying to approach you before you left the graduation ceremony.

That was the last you ever saw of her before earlier this month.

It was painful to recall the time you used to spend with her, but freeing, in a way.

You remembered how idiotically in love you were with her at the time, how naive and new everything felt. It was torturous to recall how it all ended up, but… thinking about how she used to make you feel made you feel exhilarated and you wondered if what you were doing was some sort of sick form of masochism.

All the music CDs burned for her to play when she was away from you, the letters to her written with a careful hand — all so childish that it was worthy of some form of envy.

You questioned if you were envious of the childish-like view of the world that you had when you were in love with Wanda or if it was the love itself.

Either way, it was an unreachable thing of the past.

You grew up, and Wanda…. was Wanda. She always would be.

Weeks before the actual breakup, things had begun to dwindle between you and your girlfriend. She took frequent rain checks on your plans together to be able to tend to the sorority as the end of the year was approaching and the group traditionally began recruiting for the next year before the summer.

But at the same time, your theatre was finally putting on the show they’d spent all year putting together, months of hard work spent on funding and prop and costume design — everything from the casting to the lighting crew was created from scratch since the start of September.

You understood, time and time again, that Wanda had her own priorities with her own friends and hobbies. She helped with some things where she could, and you loved when she did.

Some late nights were spent designing costumes together because Wanda had always been interested in fashion, and oftentimes she helped with those designs while you worked on putting together props.

She wasn’t a college student or a sorority girl when you spent those late evenings together — she was just Wanda. But sometimes you felt like even Wanda didn’t know who she was during those years, and that was hard to keep up with.

In spite of missing your practices and flaking on days where she promised to read over your scripts or touch up on the costumes, Wanda vowed to make it for your play’s showing.

The only issue was that on the same day there was an initiation for the new recruits, and Wanda was required to attend as an upcoming alumni.

It would end before your showing and although there’d be an afterparty to celebrate, she also promised that she’d go right to the theatre to watch once the initiation ended.

Anxiously, you stood by the edge of the stage behind the curtains with a clear view of the front doors as you waited for Wanda to arrive. She had a seat in the front row where you could see her from anywhere to the right of the stage behind the curtains so you could watch her reactions to her performers wearing her designs.

Then a few anxious minutes turned into half an hour, and she still hadn’t come.

By then you knew that the initiation was over because Wanda gave you a definite time it would be finished by, which was well before the start of the play.

You sent her a few texts, but by the second to last act, you knew she wasn’t coming and you stopped messaging.

Maybe it was unfair to place her attendance on the kind of pedestal you did, because it wasn’t any sort of objective truth how important it was that she came.

It was a play you helped write while thinking of her, props you made sitting with her in the living room — just the two of you, hours upon hours painting and writing and designing all while trying to see the set through her eyes.

You imagined you knew her well enough to see from her shoes, anyways.

A whole year’s effort for her.

It wasn’t like you told her any of that; not even you knew how important Wanda had been to every single thing you did until you were broken up.

When Wanda finally arrived, she burst through the theatre doors, heels in hand. She looked like she’d been running, as she was out of breath and a bit dazed as she looked around at the empty theatre.

And the soft flush of her cheeks and the mess of her hair.

She was drunk too.

You were packing up the last of the props into boxes on your own when Wanda stepped up to the stage and looked for someone.

“Is… Did I miss it?” she asked, slowly catching her breath.

“Guess,” was all you could manage to force out from the bitter feeling that squeezed the air out of your lungs.

She caught sight of the props you were putting away; some of them were things she could recall making with you. She remembered helping you hot glue some of them together and pick out the paint and cut up the little details.

She felt terrible.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” she apologised. “I lost track of time. Really, I did. I didn’t mean to miss your play. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t mean to, but you should’ve cared about it enough that coming to see something important to me wasn’t an extra effort to you.”

You closed the stage curtains and stepped down from the staircase leading out to the side where the door to the theatre was, and Wanda followed behind you.

You placed the prop box down by the foot of the staircase.

“I know you were busy, but I just thought you’d prioritise your own girlfriend over some stupid sorority,” you muttered.

The anger was well-founded, yet the way you insulted Wanda’s interests wasn’t. But you were so upset and jealous and you felt so belittled.

Maybe she felt the same way too, because Wanda quickly countered, “You don’t have to make me feel bad about it. I just apologised. And besides, it’s not like you had anything that important going on here.”

Your face contorted and you turned to look at her.

“What?” you asked.

Although seemingly hesitant for a moment, the drinks Wanda had earlier catapulted her emotions forward and in the moment, she’d say anything to get a reaction from you just to make herself feel better about what she did.

“You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have something important happen to you, Y/N, because you always give me shit for pursuing the things I care about,” she argued.

With a disbelieving scoff, you replied, “I ‘give you shit’ sometimes because I want you here with me. I wanted you here! And I’ve always understood when you had other things to do.”

“You would want that, because you have nothing going on without me anyways.”

Sensing criticism in her tone, you questioned, “What does that mean?”

“It means that you could never understand having real things matter to you, because all you have is this idiotic nerdy theatre shit and nothing else important, so you leech off of me to make yourself feel better for at least having someone who’s actually doing something with their lives close to you.”

Wanda didn’t know why she said that, and even in the moment she hated the taste of her words as she spat them out. But she said them, still.

She loved how nerdy and creative and hardworking you were. She adored you so much — looked up to you.

Hours she’d spent listening to you talk about how much you loved theatre and watching performances with you online. She loved the part of you that loved theatre and film and art; she thought it was endearing and adorable, and it made you the most creative and sensitive person she knew.

The argument pressed on, both of you fueled by the insecurity of not being prioritised by the person you loved. Perhaps all either of you needed was to confess that you really did care about the other, for in your own ways, it felt to both of you that it had become lost somewhere along the line.

Wanda felt criticised and betrayed that you would look down on her, that you saw yourself as so different from her. The entire sorority paled in comparison to you, but the feeling that you thought you were truly that different from her, that someone else would be better for you instead, made Wanda say just about anything to get some sort of emotion out of you.

In a way you felt the same, constantly feeling that Wanda prioritised things more than she did you. You were patient and understanding with her and your love for her remained in the face of her distance, but where did that get you if she didn’t care about you anyway?

In the heat of the moment, someone accidentally nudged the prop box and made everything in it drop and clatter to the ground.

The loud noise of broken props you and Wanda had spent countless nights working on together put an abrupt stop to the argument.

There was a particular prop that tumbled out of the box and broke, a small chalice that took hours to design to make it as historically accurate as possible for the play, put together by an actual blacksmith that Wanda knew, and intricately decorated by the both of you afterwards over Indian takeout and the span of two movies.

Wanda felt so terrible looking at it, and how its base was bent and its handle broken off.

“I think I’m done,” you said suddenly and started getting your things from a small closet beside the exit. “I think we’re done.”

It took a few moments for Wanda to process your words, blinking in the face of watching you begin to pack up and leave her. Then she managed to utter, “What?”

“We should break up before the school year ends. Let’s stop pretending this is gonna work out, okay? Just focus on our own stuff while we can.”

Wanda scoffed out a nervous laugh and she approached you, stepping over the broken props. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not breaking up because of… of this. Y/N. Come on.”

“Why not?” you asked and zipped your jacket up. “Be honest with yourself and try to tell me that you see this working out any better than it already has been.”

If Wanda were more sober and less overwhelmed, she would’ve told you just that, because she loved you and she knew she could give you what you needed — what you deserved.

She would gladly apologise for what she did and how she’d been treating you, and she’d be honest about how she’d been feeling too.

And if you were thinking properly, not acting rashly, not too emotionally, you would’ve taken a step back and realised how much Wanda did love you.

Maybe you still would’ve wanted more of her — more of her attention, more of her affection — but you would’ve told her that too, and Wanda would’ve felt like the most important person in the world for being wanted so much by you.

But none of that happened.

Instead, Wanda began pleading, “Please don’t leave me. Y/N… No one really likes me but you. You know that. No one knows me, really. You’re all I have.”

“You have your sorority,” you muttered and pulled your hat on.

Wanda started to cry then, almost immediately brought to tears by the suggestion that her sorority could mean anything to her like you do.

Was she so terrible that she'd led you to believe that was even possible?

“I don’t care about them like that, and they don’t even really like me. They don’t like anyone,” Wanda insisted tearily. “But you like me. I know you do.”

She wrapped her fingers around your hand and tried to hold it.

“Please don’t leave,” she begged.

Recalling it now made you feel like the worst person in the world — truly.

In spite of the situation and what happened, Wanda really had been trying. She was crying in front of you and begging you to see that your relationship was stronger than you thought it was, and that she cared about you more than you realised.

And all you could do was be bitter and cold and look away from her, pull your hand away when she held it and turn your back to her weeping.

What were you protecting back then?

Your ego?

Back then you wondered if it was a worthy trade-off, and today while you drove back home from Wanda’s house, you wondered the same.

In the morning you continued to think about Wanda, and for an inexplicable reason, even checked your phone for a message from her.

It’d been a while since you did that.

But you didn’t hear from Wanda until Monday when she picked the boys up from school, and by then you’d been thinking a lot about change and the breakup and if it was possible to be normal with each other again.

“I wanted to… to apologise. For dinner on Saturday,” Wanda said to you the moment she stepped down from her car, walking up to you waiting by the front door of the school. She was bold about it, didn’t hesitate before apologising for something you weren’t sure needed apologising for.

“What are you apologising for?” you asked curiously, looking between her and the children being picked up by their parents.

You doubted that Wanda knew her husband tried to get your number, but you were almost sure that she at least knew about the infidelity.

Had she really settled for someone like that?

Victor was who Wanda started going out with after you broke up, and it bewildered you that she was still with him.

Didn’t she at least once think that she could do better?

She indeed knew about the infidelity — she’d known since college. But what was she meant to do about it? She’d begged him for normalcy and to upkeep appearances for Billy and Tommy, but she couldn’t beg for him to love her like a husband did his wife.

Nor could he.

Wanda spun her wedding ring around her finger anxiously. “I just felt that things might’ve been uncomfortable for you, and I would never want to make you feel that way. That wasn’t my intention at all.”

It felt like she was talking a lot faster than you could catch up with.

“I-I can get ahead of myself sometimes, and if I said anything to make you feel… uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

The sight reminded you all too well of that evening in the theatre — Wanda’s nervous fidgeting and her apologetic tone, and most of all, the pleading to keep you close.

It was different now, of course, because it was in a different context. But it was the same, really.

It was always Wanda begging you to stay with her.

“It’s… alright. You’ve done nothing to make me uncomfortable,” you reassured, and Wanda smiled.

Then you scratched at the back of your neck and looked away awkwardly before saying, “Listen, it’s kind of stupid, but I have, um…”

You hesitated to say it because of the subject matter, but Wanda was patient and so understanding as she regarded you with such kind eyes as she waited for you to continue.

For the first time you noticed how a part of Wanda had aged — changed, even. She looked older in the way she looked at you, the innocent levity ever present but now wrapped in the years that have passed and the maturity that came with it.

Wanda reached out a little and brushed the pad of her thumb across your knuckles softly, reminding you that it was okay to say to her what you wanted.

She did change — but not all of her.

Though you’d been so adamant about wanting her to be different from college, you found that you really enjoyed knowing some parts of her were exactly the same.

The parts you loved.

And the parts of her that were different you wanted to get to know too.

You’ve seen how hard she was trying with you, and you were finally determined to do the same for her.

“I have some play going on this weekend. I helped put it together with a few theatre friends from college,” you said finally. “So, if you wanna come, I can get some tickets for you and Victor.”

Wanda’s interest was immediately piqued and she straightened, her eyebrows raising as her lips parted to accept the offer.

But you added hurriedly, “But you really don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I know it’s not really your thing.”

“N-No! I’d really love to go,” Wanda insisted with a reassuring nod. “Would it be alright if I just went on my own?”

Imagining Wanda going alone to one of your plays made the offer a lot more intimate than you initially planned it to be, and the ease at which she suggested it made your breath catch in your throat.

Wanda took it as she was being too forward and she immediately began explaining, “It’s just that Victor gets impatient with those sorts of things and I wouldn’t want to have you waste a ticket.”

“Yeah, I get it. Totally,” you replied and cleared your throat. “Yeah, sure. Just you. I’ll text you an entry ticket and they’ll just scan the barcode on it before you go in.”

“Okay,” she said with a reaffirming nod and a wide smile. “So, this weekend? When, Saturday?”

You corrected, “Sunday. At eight.”

“I’ll save the date,” Wanda said, practically beaming. She couldn’t believe how lucky she’d gotten.

Maybe she hadn’t been as unfortunate with her attempts as she felt she’d been.

Was it apologising for dinner that got her an invite to your play? Or did the twins win all your affection for her?

Or maybe you just blurted out the invitation without really thinking it through, and you regretted it the moment it came out of your mouth.

If that was the truth, Wanda would try her hardest to make sure you’d end up enjoying having invited her. She’d be what you deserved eight years ago, and she’d show you that she still could be what you deserved now.

After that, she wasn’t sure what would happen; expecting anything more than your forgiveness would be selfish.

Almost every day until Sunday came, Wanda sorted through her closet and her jewellery box to put together an outfit for you. She’d be wearing it and it was ultimately up to her whether she wore it, but it was for you.

As she picked out a cream knit sweater and a floor-length black skirt, she thought about how you’d like her outfit and also wondered what you might think of the perfume she chose too.

When it was the evening of the play, Wanda put her hair back into a French twist — this she did with the intention of not seeming too much like how she looked in college, as never she wore her hair up in something so formal back then.

Wanda laid the dolphin earrings in her palm and surveyed it as she wondered whether it would be okay to wear it tonight. She worried about making too big of a gesture where it wasn’t appropriate, but there was a chance you wouldn’t notice she was wearing them at all.

After several moments of deep consideration, she took off her pearl earrings and put on the ones with the small silver dolphins hanging from them.

You swore you hadn’t been this nervous leading up to the play’s first performance until tonight. You’d worked on plenty since college and it wasn’t like this was anything like your first project since graduation.

Why were you so nervous?

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you took it out to silence your notifications until you read the text message.

It was Wanda, and she messaged: I got a spot in the front row! I’m excited!

When you stepped out from backstage and stood beside the edge of the curtains to be able to get a little glimpse into the crowd, you looked for her, eyes sorting through the front row of the audience.

In the midst of the soft buzzing from the crowd’s chatter and an audience of nearly three-hundred people, you saw Wanda sitting in the front where she said she was. She wasn’t with Victor or the twins; she came alone like she said she would, even though you ended up sending her three extra tickets in case she changed her mind.

The very sight of her made you ache, a thrumming longing beating at your sternum as you watched her look around at the theatre and adjust her skirt.

Quickly, before the performance started, you messaged back, I see you. You look great.

You wished so badly to have been able to see her face when she read the text, but you were pulled over to help with the lighting last minute.

When the curtains finally opened, you checked your phone one more time and saw Wanda’s message: Thank you. :)

The theatre lights dimmed and lights from the stage turned on and your position at the far-left of the curtains allowed you to see her much clearer — like you’d wanted to do years ago.

You paid little attention to what was going on during the performance, though you miraculously kept enough focus to be able to do things like help keep the performers on time with their costume changes. But mostly you were watching Wanda.

In a theatre full of hundreds of people, she was your only audience.

During pauses in the script where the theatre was full of only silence, you could hear the pulsing of your heart and for a moment forgot it’d ever done anything but beat only while you watched how pretty Wanda looked in the pale light of the theatre’s stage.

When the play came to a finish and the curtains closed, the crew and performers gave their thanks to the audience before the theatre lights were turned back on and some of the crew and performers lined up by the door to thank people as they filed out of the theatre.

The line shorted gradually and the crowd of people made it so that you couldn’t spot Wanda, and though you’d completely understand if she already left — after all, she didn’t need to stay to do anything else — a part of you hoped she stuck around a little.

But not for any particular reason, for you didn’t even know what you’d say to her if she did; you just wanted to see her wait for you.

“Hi,” a soft voice greeted, and you turned your head away from the theatre doors to the woman in front of you.

Wanda.

The sight of her made you rather nervous, and you realised you’d been worrying a lot about whether she’d enjoy the play.

Your only audience.

It was her opinion you cared about the most.

With a smile that made her own widen at the sight, you replied, “Hi.”

“I really liked it,” she told you. “The performers were incredible.”

“I’m… I’m really happy you liked it,” you said, internally feeling pretty relieved. “Yeah, they’re super talented. We had to move around a few dates, actually, so they’d be able to perform for us.”

“And the script…” Wanda said, something brief and unsaid exchanged between the two of you as you looked at each other. But the question that was implied wasn’t answered when she added, “The script was wonderful too.”

Someone approached from behind and waited around Wanda to be able to talk with you, so she uttered, “I should leave. Thank you for inviting me. I really loved being able to watch.”

You nodded once and smiled cordially at her, but the sight of her turning and heading for the theatre doors reminded you all too well of something similar from years ago and you reached out suddenly and took her hand. She stopped and looked down at your hand wrapped around hers.

Her fingers twitched before she looked up at you.

“Stay,” you said and took a breath. “Until I’m done here.”

An unusual feeling began to grow within her as she ran her eyes over your face, seeing the hesitancy that seemed to make the corner of your mouth twitch as you anticipated her response and the look in your eyes that meant something she couldn’t interpret.

Her throat tightened and Wanda had to swallow to ease the tension there so she could reply to you.

“Okay,” she replied, hoping you didn’t hear the way her breath caught in her throat when your fingers tightened around her hand. “I’ll wait in the hall.”

Was she stuttering when she answered? She couldn’t tell.

She focused only on keeping her legs steady as she moved one foot in front of the other, her thumb rubbing at the heel of her hand as the feeling of your fingers running down her palm when you let go of her hand lingered even when the doors closed behind her.

Minutes felt like seconds in that hallway where Wanda waited for you. It felt like time simply ceased to exist there when her mind ran rampant with what it might’ve meant that you invited her to see your play and asked her to wait for you.

She wondered if things would’ve gone just like this if she had come to your play like she promised eight years ago.

The theatre lights turned off and you stepped into the hallway once the doors opened, exchanging a smile with Wanda who straightened from the adjacent wall and stepped towards you.

“Thanks for waiting,” you said gratefully. “Sorry for taking so long. There was a problem with the lighting again.”

“It’s totally okay. I didn’t wait long at all,” Wanda reassured. Then she said, “You’ve always been such a talented scriptwriter. I’m glad I got a front row seat to your play.”

Her words made you flush and the way she looked at you with such innocent and sincere optimism in her eyes that presently glistened with the dim light of the hallway made you stutter until you were finally able to thank her.

You cleared your throat and said, “You really do look great tonight, by the way. I mean, a lot better now because I can see you more clearly. Compared to before, like, behind a curtain.”

That made Wanda laugh and she nodded. “I get it. Thank you,” she replied. She was glad that you liked how she looked. She wore it all for you, after all.

Really, neither of you knew what you were expecting when you made time for each other alone. You didn’t know what you had wanted when you asked Wanda to stay, and she didn’t know what she’d been hoping to get out trying her hardest to be friendly with you again.

“Did you drive yourself here?” asked Wanda.

“No, I got a ride from one of my friends. He had to drop something off at his place, so he’ll come back to get me. His car couldn’t fit me in there with the set stuff.”

Immediately, Wanda offered, “I can drive you home. You don’t have to wait for your friend.”

“Really? You don’t have to. I don’t wanna bother you.”

“It’s not a bother at all. Tommy and Billy are out of town visiting Victor’s parents, so I don’t have to be home early to make them dinner or anything.”

Things seemed to be going well — really well. But you still weren’t sure what you wanted from all this.

Maybe there wasn’t anything to want.

Maybe you and Wanda would just end up being casual friends who went out for lunch sometimes when she was free or went with her to her pilates classes when she could bring a friend.

That was kind of amusing; you couldn’t ever imagine someone like her being a casual anything in your life.

Knowing Wanda would never be something casual.

“Would you mind if we stopped at my place before I drop you off? I have something I’d like to give you,” Wanda told you as she buckled her seatbelt then started the car.

With a piqued interest, you asked, “What kinda thing?”

“A surprise,” she teased and grinned at you.

That made you feel all warm. It reminded you a lot of how you remembered her when you used to go out. She was such a tease back then.

Seeing her behave in some ways like how you remembered her but now dressed in expensive jewellery and clothes with shorter hair and a more mature face made her teasing even more endearing.

She talked a little about the twins and how their birthday party went, all the while you were watching how the streetlights casted on her face. Her face had become less round over the years and the pale lights from the street she drove down made the angle of her cheekbones cast a particularly sharp shadow along her face, making her face look sculpted, but by hand, like a Grecian statue.

Her nose was the same.

Her eyes crinkled at the sides when she smiled over at you after perhaps noticing you watching her. That was different from when you were together — the way she smiled — and you liked that a lot. So you didn’t care that she caught you.

If you had looked away, you wouldn’t have seen how she looked when she smiled at you.

“Come in and wait in the den,” she told you when you arrived before leading you into the house. She set her purse down beside your things on the couch then started the fireplace. “I’ll just be a second. I have to get it for you upstairs.”

Somehow the room looked different now knowing it was only Wanda at home.

You looked at the picture you had been staring at the last time you were here, and even that looked different too. You’d noticed how Wanda was hugging you when you last saw the picture, but now you couldn’t stop looking away from her.

And how happy she looked with you.

Wanda came down from upstairs and you could see her holding something for the fireplace reflected off of what looked like metal.

When she stepped into the den, you could see she was holding some kind of prop.

It was the chalice the two of you worked on years ago that broke.

“Oh my god. You still have this?” you mused and carefully took it with both hands when she handed it to you.

Wanda’s cheeks flushed and she played with her wedding ring. “It’s all fixed up now,” she said. “I was really careful with it. You should take it.”

“No,” you immediately contested. “It isn’t right for me to take it from you after you’ve taken such good care of it.”

“It’s still yours. It was for your play. Please take it.”

You looked down at it, turning it carefully in your hands and reading in all the details of the prop the late nights you spent with Wanda making it as if the very metal and its details had words written on them. You wondered what she must’ve thought every time she saw it over the last eight years.

It belonged to the both of you if anything.

When you set the chalice down by your things, Wanda quietly asked, “Y/N… Was tonight the play you wrote for me in college?”

You blinked and were taken by surprise. You started writing a script for Wanda so you could have it finished by the middle of February, but you ended up breaking up before her birthday, and you never had the chance to give it to her.

Initially when you first met Wanda again last month, you thought it was by complete coincidence that you had also just found the drafted script from years ago and had just decided to finally make it into a show.

But maybe you truly had been thinking of her a lot more over the years than you originally thought you did.

“How did you know that?” you asked.

She confessed, “I read a few pages of it back then.”

“When I…”

“When you told me not to,” she confirmed. “But I was curious, and… Well, that was the play, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

“You wrote a play for me,” she said, teasing you.

Without taking your eyes away from her for a second, you smiled and repeated, “I wrote a play for you.”

At first your sincerity made Wanda swoon and her teasing demeanour melted into a warm flattered mess before guilt overtook her at the sight of how you looked at her.

You looked at her with so much admiration.

Wanda swallowed and quietly said, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“You apologise a lot.”

“I know, but–” She cut herself off and seemed to be recollecting things internally before she began again. She struggled with maintaining eye contact but she tried anyway, and you wondered what was so important that she had to try this hard to communicate it.

She said, “I should’ve gone to your play in college.”

You tried to interrupt her before she could apologise for something that happened so long ago, but she wouldn’t let you interject.

“It was important to you and I should’ve gone like I promised I would. I prioritised other stupid, meaningless things over you, and I’m sorry. I should’ve…”

She finally broke eye contact and looked down at the floor, pressing her fingers against her palm anxiously.

You weren’t sure if you should try interrupting her again until the light from the fireplace reflected against the silver of her earrings.

You reached out and laid the earring against the pad of your index finger so you could get a better look at it and Wanda looked up from the floor and ran her eyes over your face.

“Dolphins,” you said.

It was then that Wanda realised the feeling that had been planted deep within her the second you took her hand in the theatre, then blossomed rapidly until this very moment.

She was falling in love with you again.

Her eyes moved over your shoulder to the photo of the two of you from years ago, framed and showcased right on the mantle where she could see it.

She recalled how her eyes always found their way over to the photo whenever she passed the fireplace, even when she hadn’t any idea if she’d ever see you again.

The box stored in her closet of all the things that reminded her of you from when the two of you were dating years ago came to mind too.

She wasn’t falling in love with you again — no.

Wanda had always been in love with you.

“I bought them to wear for you,” she confessed, stepping closer to you so your knuckle accidentally ghosted against her cheek.

Your eyes left the earrings to meet hers. “They’re pretty,” you said.

“If only I’d have kept my promise,” Wanda whispered, “things would’ve been different.”

You ached as you realised how much guilt must’ve been on her shoulders the last eight years, how quick and easy it was for her to blame herself for what happened.

“Wanda, our breakup wasn’t your fault,” you told her. “I made mistakes too.”

She immediately shook her head and looked away from you.

“No, you didn’t.”

You insisted, “Yes.”

“It was my fault that–”

You had to cup Wanda’s cheek with your hand to make her look at you again and stop talking. She shut her mouth and looked at you, and that was when you sternly said, “It was my fault too.”

She began to tear up and you carefully swiped the tears from her eyes with your thumbs.

“I don’t care how things would’ve been,” you said. “All I care about is what it is now — what we are now.”

Wanda took in a shaky breath and quietly asked, “What are we now…?”

Your eyes fell to her lips and Wanda was too distracted by how you looked and how good you smelled and how warm your hand was on your cheek to notice you were leaning in for a kiss until your lips were pressed against hers.

She’d forgotten how good those could feel.

But she never forgot how yours felt.

Her arms raised and she wrapped them around your neck so you couldn’t back up from her too far when you parted from the kiss.

“I could… I could do right by you this time,” Wanda found herself promising the moment you pulled away enough so she could look into your eyes.

What was she saying?

“I could treat you right this time around too,” you vowed.

What on earth were either of you saying?

“Is that okay?” you whispered.

Wanda didn’t wait a moment before replying, “That’s okay. That’s… really, really okay.”

She leaned in and kissed you again, feeling you smiling against her own grinning lips.

──────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ────────

Until she filed for divorce from her husband, all Wanda Maximoff has known how to do is compromise, because until then, she never imagined a future wherein she could be any more than someone who lived in her husband’s shadows and never pursued the things she loved.

That night of your play changed so much for her.

It was painful to have to say goodnight to you and eventually have to drive you back home for her husband would eventually come back later that evening, but all Wanda could think about when she was in bed was how much things could change.

She thought about the kinds of futures she could have with you and the twins, the kinds of lives you could lead and the things she could do with herself.

But there was one thing she had to do before she could have any of that, and she wasn’t willing to wait and sit still anymore; when she turned to look at Victor sleeping beside her, Wanda knew she had to file for divorce.

It wasn’t that the filing was so uncalled for at all, and it was easy to build a case against him.

The infidelity on Victor’s part and arguments that they sometimes failed to keep quiet from Tommy and Billy and dozens of other issues had built up to the point where Wanda’s lawyer confessed to her upfront that she was surprised she hadn’t filed for divorce much earlier.

They were trying to keep it as delicate as possible for the twins were still young, and in spite of their differences, neither their mother nor their father wanted to subject them to the complications that parents went through during a divorce.

Wanda rented her own apartment large and comfortable enough for both her and the twins, and you when you stayed over.

You slept in Wanda’s bedroom, naturally. Though it still made you giddy recalling the mornings and nights you spent together in the same bed, in the same apartment.

Despite the relatively smooth move, Victor was still a very rich and power-hungry man, and he hadn’t been making the divorce process easy for Wanda. Oftentimes she was tired and drained, but also so impassioned.

It’d been a long time since she stood up for herself and what she wanted, and really, it was also first time she’d ever stood up to him.

“He wants to have them five days a week, each week,” Wanda told you presently, scoffing.

You leaned against the table and watched her as she worked.

“What’s his lawyer saying?”

“I don’t care what that asshole is saying. I’m not compromising, Y/N,” she said sternly. “I’m not settling for two fucking days a week with my children.”

Rounding the table, you wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her against you. “That’s my girl. That’s good,” you praised and shook her around a little, making her stifle a laugh as she looked up and smiled at you.

You kissed her temple and told her, “It’ll work out, Wands. Be strong.”

“Is everyone ready for the picture?” a voice called from the front of the stage.

It was the start of a new season at the theatre and it was tradition for your company to take a photo of all of the crew during the very early days of production development.

“Oh, hurry, hurry!” you hissed and took the pencil out of your girlfriend's hand.

Wanda tried to protest, “Y/N–”

“Finish the costume design later. Come on. Come on, come on, let’s go!”

You took her hand and pulled her to the stage where the rest of the crew was getting together for the photo, the camerawoman standing by the edge with her camera ready.

Your arm wrapped around Wanda’s hips and she wrapped both of hers around your shoulders, squeezing each other tight and smiling widely together as the photo of the entire production crew was taken.

You asked, “Wanna see it?”

“Very much,” she replied.

You rounded the camera together and Darcy approached Wanda.

“Wanda. Hey,” she greeted.

“Hi,” replied Wanda with a smile and she turned to face the young woman.

“When you write the article for the newsletter, could you mention that we’re looking for backup dancers?” she asked. “There’s, like, several big musical numbers in this one and we were pretty understaffed for the last show.”

You frowned and looked over at her. “Okay, not ‘pretty understaffed,’” you corrected. “Moderately understaffed.”

While ignoring your lighthearted offence because you’d been the primary one in charge of performer recruitment for the last play, Wanda answered with a reassuring smile, “I’ll add it.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said with a relieved exhale.

When you turned around to look at the camera for the photo, Darcy mouthed at Wanda before leaving for backstage again, ‘Very understaffed.’

“Wanda, this is gonna look really great on the mantle,” you told her, turning the camera around so she could see the picture.

“Framed and right under the television in the living room,” she affirmed.

Wanda still had the picture of the two of you with her sorority, though now it was stored away in the box with all her other keepsakes from you.

It was always a symbol of the past, a reminder to her of a love she couldn’t ever get back. But now that things were different, Wanda didn’t need to think about anything but her future wherein you and the twins were always in it, no matter how many different lives she imagined for herself.

So there was a new framed picture put up where everyone in her apartment living room could see it — a photo of the theatre crew and you and Wanda right in the middle in the front row, smiling widely in each other’s arms with her cheek pressed against yours.

#gif credit to kcthrynns on twitter tho they are a deleted account now #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #elizabeth olsen

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