#and others that you may have missed before :3

[yojeongin]

It’s my desire to give myself to you | p.js

→childhood friend!jisung x f!reader

genre: smut, romance, 80s au, childhood friends au, lost communication, open ended

synopsis: being the youngest in all friend groups has always proven to be beneficial for jisung but he’s no longer that little boy you met years ago. so why won’t you look at him for what he truly is: a man. he’ll have to prove it to you then.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! obsessive and whiney jisung, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk jisung, vaginal fingering, implied age gap although it’s not significant, public indecency, unprotected sex, bratty jisung, praise kink, bulge kink, begging, creampie, virginity loss (virgin jisung), alcohol consumption, infantilization mentions, overbearing mother.

wc: 11.6k+ || soundtrack || ao3

© 2024 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

an: happy end of the year fic, I’d consider this an accomplishment (writing 3 fics in one year lol)

Summers began to be the best thing for Jisung starting at the age of nine. He might have gone to summer camp reluctantly at first, not wanting to join his older brother. He had enough of seeing him all the time at school and home so why did his parents think it was fine to take away his precious summers of pretending to be an only child? It was a rough start, that’s for sure; but being taken under the wing of older kids served to be more fun.

Up until the age of sixteen he lived in bliss waiting for the day summer break to begin and be back where he felt free from the watchful eyes of his parents, only seeing them twice a month for visitations. As for his brother? He had his own life to run and the two barely bumped into each other which was a blessing in disguise for him. His bags were always packed weeks prior to the departing date and when his mother started to ask if he truly wanted to go –for she has been missing him terribly due to their increasing mommy-son dates– Jisung didn’t hesitate on turning her down. Summer camp is all he looked forward to, the only thing he put effort into school for.

Nowadays the only yearly highlight comes in Winter for the holidays in the form of season greetings cards. He’s learnt to conform. “You get what you get and you don’t complain.” Is what he told himself often and that’s all the fight he has left in him the faster the years pass by.

“No mail for me?” Jisung asks with that same pleading whine laced onto his voice upon entering his parent’s home. Leaning down to kiss his mother’s cheek while she shuffles through the mail. She hums, elongating her words while flipping through the envelopes of bills and season greetings. Hoping her hesitance would cement the feeling of disappointment onto her son once more. “Well, it doesn't seem so… Oh! No. Here you go.” His mom utters with a slight smile, cruel as it is. “Took them longer to send this year. Thought the Y/l/n girl was going to fully desert you this year.” She quips balefully. Jisung gives her a quick glance before looking at the picture.

This is the most he sees and hears from you nowadays and it has become unsatisfactory. He wonders where things went wrong more often than he wants to. When he wakes up he thinks about it. When he brushes his teeth and showers he thinks about it. He’s burnt his hand thinking about why your letters minimize little by little every year and it so happens to be that this year he only received a happy birthday letter leaving him in the dark for the following ten months until today. If you can call it that, all the card says is: “May the beauty of the Holidays bless your home with happiness.” Signed off in golden glitter: The Y/l/n Family. No hand written note on your part, no acknowledgement at all. He’s sure your mother only sent it as his address hasn’t been erased from their address book. Otherwise, he’s not sure if his –hopefully– mother-in-law knows or remembers who he is.

“She’s been busy.” Jisung defends in a murmur, turning on his heel to walk upstairs to his room. “She told you that?” His mother yells back sardonically once he turns the corner. He ignores her but the glimmer of her pearly whites blind him through his peripheral view. A reminder that he can try to ignore reality but his mother will always be there to remind him. She wouldn’t understand it. She won’t understand when all she sees is that little nine year old coming back from camp excitedly telling her about the friends he made and the pretty girl he wouldn’t stop talking about.

Or the ten year old that was so ecstatic to come back and ask her for her pretty paper to write a letter to that same pretty girl that finally hugged him and gave him her address to write letters to. She took his too and put it in her ‘important things’ box. Jisung saw you do it.

But Jisung is twenty-two now and lives off of the crumbs he gets to devour whenever he rereads every single letter you’ve sent him. His favorite ones are the birthday letters when you send him pictures of yourself with cakes you’ve baked for him even if he couldn’t eat them. He’s content knowing you cared for him that much. He clings to hope more when this year the cake looked even prettier but not as pretty as you in the multiple pictures sent.

He doesn’t entirely care if you only sent one this year or that you did not reply to his own birthday letter for you. He’s glad that you still cared enough to bake him his cake and let him see how much prettier you’ve gotten. One of those pictures is in his wallet at the moment.

It’s insane, no? To fall so head over heels for someone that has never been his. Jisung has known you for over ten years but nothing has progressed past embraces, friendly hand holding, and constant cheek pinches because you found him awfully cute. He still feels your touches linger despite lastly seeing you in person at sixteen.

Longing is the word he’s looking for. Longing and yearning is all he’s done since that last time he saw you and it becomes worse through the years with little to no communication. He wonders if you’re truly that busy to not spare him a few minutes to write back. Or if you’ve found someone that has prohibited you from contacting him further.

He foolishly expected a letter for his college graduation the way you sent him one for his high school graduation but it never came. He’s kept in contact with his other summer camp friends but they’re no good with information regarding you. Most but one left in the dark about your whereabouts. The last he heard from Jaemin, you had gotten a job and as vague as it is, that’s all he told Jisung.

Useless but also valuable. He envies Jaemin sometimes. He was the only one able to get far more closer to you and he doesn’t fully know how to feel about it. While you spent treating Jisung like a child, like a younger brother, things were always complicated between you and Jaemin. Vague as he is, to be specific.

All he can do now is lay on his bed with a cassette he bought precisely because you recommended it. He doesn’t like it but he does like you so he will endure. Endure like he’s done with anything regarding his yearning for you.

With your deliciously perfumed letters, fountain ink stains all over the pages, and images of you scattered across his bed with the music full blast on his walkman— Jisung revels in the pleasure of your indirect touch. Your fingerprints embedded on the paper and their oils seeping into his own skin the way they did years ago with every single one of your touches. He wished those touches were far more than playful and cuteness aggression. That the times your fingers lingered were because you wanted him as near as he wanted you. But once again, he will conform.

Conform, conform, conform.

In his state, Jisung doesn’t hear his mother’s covert steps when he twirls on the bed with images of you laying on his face. And he surely doesn’t hear her when she cracks the door open to spot his hands lingering on his thighs, memories of the time Hyuck and Chenle snuck alcohol on the grounds and all of you had a ball with it. He remembers your hands vividly on his short-clad thighs, giving them gentle squeezes as you chewed his ear off. He remembers the names Ralph Machio and James Spader spewing from your lips here and there. He wanted to shut them up with his, consumed by jealousy but also wonder how they’d feel against his.

Of course he didn’t, the alcohol made things seem funnier than they were and he wouldn’t overstep. Not when he knew his role in the group was to be cute and be taken care of. That’s how you liked him most, he noticed.

And when he twists again to fight off the temptation of letting his fingers crawl to the hem of his pants, a face he’s known all his life is looking at him directly. Startling more when frustrated. “Park Jisung!” leaves her lips, sending his body into a shocking jolt and his walkman flying across the room. His body crushed the photographs he was admiring, much to her delight.

“Mom!” Jisung whines, holding onto his dangerously fast palpating heart. He huffs and pants, attempting to relax himself before dropping another word. “What?” He aims to say calmly but she’s far from that. Her hands on her hips and a stern look around his bed transmits her disappointment, disgust, and anger.

“I read your grandmother’s letter and it turns out she will be spending the remainder of the month with us after all.” Silent scoff, as if this was the most absurd thing. “Take a run to the mall and get her a gift. I didn’t count on her even contacting us.” Well, that explains her foul mood. It’s made worse when all he musters is a nod but doesn’t make an effort to stand up. God, how she would love to pull him by those raven locks or his ear. Whatever gets the message through.

“Well hurry!” That’s all she can muster.

So Jisung does, collecting everything he can and shoving it into a locked box while his mom turns to walk out the door. Embarrassed is all he feels besides shaken up from the scare he gained.

“Don’t forget your gloves and scarf. Don’t want you to catch another cold.” She mutters while mixing whatever she was cooking. It smelled fine but he knew her food became dangerous when cooking upset. It had a life of its own. He hums as a reply, wanting to leave it at that. “Jisung.” She calls again, calmly this time, turning halfway to look at him.

“Forgetting something?”

He shakes his head, bundled up under all warm clothing.

“Sure?”

He nods and she huffs, walking towards him. She kisses his cheeks and the tip of his nose, cupping his face. That reminds him, manifested in a sigh and a smile that he leans down to kiss his mother’s cheek.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

His bid farewell always leaves him upset. He’s twenty-two, why does she still treat him like he was three? Just yesterday his brother couldn’t stop pinching his cheek after buying him a crepe. Continuing to compare him to a cute little hamster despite Jisung having surpassed him in height.

Three weeks ago when he met with Jaemin to talk about you, the words ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’ would not stop spewing from his lips the way bile does. With the exception that Jaemin welcomed these in comparison. Mark, similarly enough, always clutches his face with restraint from crushing his skull and then engulfs him with a bone crushing hug that leaves him aching for minutes to pass.

He thinks Jeno is the only one with sense that treats him his age, yet he’s caught him other times babying him at the arcade. Especially when a stranger playing against Jisung wants to get quippy and there he becomes that eleven year old that Jeno and Hyuck had to defend from some idiots that had just watched Star Wars and felt inclined to the dark side.

Jisung decided to take the car, it was getting colder and he felt the remnants of snowflakes begin to fall even if they could only be seen under a microscope but he was sure of it. He contemplated walking in hopes of ailing himself to disturb his mother’s sanity but proved futile knowing she’d hover over him 24/7 until betterment. Therefore, his sanity would be the one disturbed.

For such a busy season, the streets looked empty and the mall itself wasn’t entirely full besides the movie theatre parking lot. Their billboard lights blinding him the longer he stares to see which movie seemed fun. He should at least get some enjoyment out of this. He can decide later. RIght now he has to pick up something he thinks a geriatric angry woman would like.

Let’s see… She likes disgustingly small yappy dogs like chihuahuas— as angry as her. She likes cats as sick as her… some yarn and new patterns should be a good gift. She doesn’t like those.

Decidedly, Jisung will take a stroll towards the end of the mall. Taking his sweet time to enjoy the scenery of the water fountain. He truly does like the mosaic. The flamingo pink tiles crawl up into a gradient of green tiles that surround the mouth where water spurts out. In better times, it shines under the sun. Right now, not so much.

He doesn’t leave before throwing in five pennies. Five for his birthday and five for safe measure that his wishes are secured. He always wishes for the same two things. Three to hear from you and two to beat Jeno’s centipede high score.

Jisung smiles and nods to himself, walking past the fountain, some water spraying on him. He doesn’t mind, he’ll take it as a sign that one of the two is to be granted soon.

Halfway through a cinnamon sugar pretzel after nearly choking from its dryness, Jisung decides to touch his heart and not gift his grandmother something she doesn’t like despite her being such a vile woman. Instead he should give her something that she won’t ever be able to lift and only admire which leads him to Sur la Table on the east wing of the mall. He grumbles and huffs annoyedly at the walk but he knows it’ll be worth it. Hell, maybe he’ll steal it for himself when she goes senile.

The only thing that he appreciates about this wing is the warm yellow lights from French and Italian wannabe restaurants that aim to attract hungry consumers and cooks. He enjoys the set up at Sur la Table, mainly because he gets to play with their faux kitchen setups and the shock on people’s faces when they overpay for these cookware items. Fooled into consumption from their fabricated experience.

He plays with some of the display pots and pans, twisting knobs and reading tags to see how pretentious he’ll feel after learning about Swedish enamel. He doesn’t know how much that matters —if it's a cash grab— but it sounds fancy. Before him, he prepares some plates. A nice hearty bowl of Caldo de Gallego. Jisung doesn’t know nor understands what it is but he remembers hearing it while flipping through the channels when his father got cable. A monumental moment for him.

“No dessert?”

And just like when his mother scared him shitless back in the privacy of his own room. A familiar voice snapped him out of his public exposition daze.

He goes through the same motions he went through back home. Clutching his harshly palpitating heart, panting and huffing to regain his composure, and feeling embarrassment. If he went through this once more today, he’ll definitely faint for good.

It’s far more embarrassing this time around. He took advantage that the store was nearly empty and no one came to this side of the store but he was proven wrong. Worse yet, the person that scared him was waiting for an answer.

Jisung still feels and hears his heart blaring in his ears but he tries to act cool. Only to fail when his knees buck once he registers the face that’s been accompanying him for the past ten months in his wallet. Albeit something was different. The length and color of your hair that’s for sure.

“Don’t be a stranger, come on.” Your voice is as sweet as he recalls.

Fuck, how he missed it…

Your arms extend to him, pleading for his embrace. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to give you what you want— as always. Swaddling you with his long limbs and making sure you can’t let go until he is done savoring this moment. He’s truly craved this for as long as he can remember.

A soft giggle works to ease his grip, letting you go with a nervous chuckle of his own. “Sorry.” He speaks, shyly covering his mouth with a sleeve covered hand. The apology not only yours to receive but himself as well for reacting like the little boy he was when you met; for the miniscule regression. He takes in your light head shake but tender smile. It’s a different scene from when he last saw you. There’s an obvious distance that he does not like.

“How have you been? You’ve grown so much!” Instinctively, your hands reach for his face, cradling it while attempting to restrain yourself from pinching his cheeks. You’ve already overstepped by touching him. Instead you give him an awkward giggle and the following words. “What happened to my little Jisungie? You’re even taller than last time.” Jisung can sense your desire to grab him and handle him like you used to but for some reason you’re holding back.

‘Please, please don’t deny me this. Touch me, hug me, pinch me… Just please touch me…’ Jisung wants to blurt out. He’s been starving for years and he finally has you before him, so why won’t you feed him? Don’t be so gluttonous, please…

Jisung won’t voice any of it, he opts to nod with that same gummy smile that you love. “Growth spurt, stuff like that.” He attempts to sound nonchalant but he’s so giddy that he can’t contain himself. You read him like a book.

“So, uh… What are you doing here? I never thought I’d see you in my town.” He questions, scratching his head. You’ve always been a good eight hours away from him, meeting him halfway for camp. Six if you count Chenle’s birthday party in ‘81 in which his parents paid for everyone’s transportation.

Your hesitance doesn’t go unnoticed by him but he wont prod. He’s content with having you near, he thinks so. He’ll be sure to start throwing quarters into the fountain for granting him this wish at least.

“Work actually,” You hum, body swaying while you nod. “Oh, right! Jaemin mentioned you got a job, congrats!” He celebrated with genuine happiness but the inkling of curiosity never left him.

‘Please talk to me. Please say more, I crave your voice. Please, I’m too malnourished, can’t you see?

“Did he?”

“That was about it. You know how vague he can be.”

You hum and nod again. This awkward cycle frustrating and hurting him.

Jisung has not spent the past six years missing you for this encounter to be short lived. He’s aware six years was a long time ago and he’s definitely lost contact with other friends but they’ve never mattered the way you do and there’s no way he’s going to waste this opportunity.

“Hey, why don’t we catch up, yeah?” He clutches his arm, swinging a bit and lips puckering before pressing them tightly amongst each other. Your immediate reluctance is easily spotted and it only makes him ache more. He’s not sure what has elicited this behavior but whatever it is, he’ll kick himself over it when you’re not around.

“I don’t know, Ji… I have a report to work on.” You avoid his gaze, knowing that the second you see his pleading eyes you’ll cave in. He knows that too and he knows that if he makes his voice a tad bit squeaky, you’ll begin to crack. You always do.

“Y/n-ie, please…” He tilts his head, crouching to meet your gaze. His big round eyes glistening either from the lights, his own natural charm, or the tears that will spill if you pay him no mind. He doesn’t mean to pout but when his lower lip involuntarily juts out you let out a defeated noise through your teeth followed by grabbing his cheeks and stroking them softly, uttering a “Fine, fine!” to satiate his nerves and your own craving of touching his face like you once did.

His grandma can wait, it’s not like she’ll even use the cookware set any time soon.

“What were you even doing back there?” You break the silence, both walking towards the exit. Without you looking, he tosses a quarter out of gratitude into the fountain when passing by. He swears he can see the tiles gleam and let out satisfied clinks. They’re just as thankful.

With a hand to the back of his neck, he laughs softly. Head turning to you with excuses in mind yet he opts to tell the truth. “I like to pretend it’s my own kitchen whenever I go in there.” He laughs embarrassedly to which he is received with a silent ‘cute’ and observing look.

He’s glad he distracted you but it also feels like a backhanded compliment. Adorable. RIght, that’s what you still think of him.

“By the way. Do you mind grabbing a drink instead? Not a huge fan of coffee… Unless you want to of course.” Jisung suggests, putting his gloves on once both reach outside. He notices your lack of scarf and undoes his while you contemplate an answer. Halting your train of thought when he wraps it around you which ends up making you blurt out a “Sounds good!” in return.

It’s no surprise that the car ride was full of silence but at least the radio muffled your thoughts and hopefully his own if he had any regarding the atmosphere. There was a part of him that grew resentful and hurt with the lack of conversation but the greater part was ecstatic to have you so near. This is what he’s dreamt and wished for for years and he finally has it. He does not plan on wasting any millisecond of both your times.

Jisung wasn’t an avid drinker and did not know much about alcohol besides what his friends have shown him. His parents didn’t drink and his grandmother would shove a can of miller high life onto his hand if he ever spoke more than his usual five sentences. The way parents shove a bottle into a crying baby’s mouth to put it to rest. Why did he request a drink instead, though? Simply to gain some courage. Lord knows he’ll need it if things keep going the way they’ve been.

The place he took you to wasn’t that different from the ones you’ve been to during your college days. With ugly stained yellow walls, dart boards and old decorations hanging on them. Wooden columns covered in thick layers of resin as were the counters and tables. Grumpy beer-bellied bar tenders arguing over the football game playing on screen right now with already drunk customers. Yeah, not ideal for a first date but the only bar he knew. The only piece worth being valuable a signed poster of James Hunt.

What the hell was James Hunt doing in this fuck ass town?

He let you go in first upon finding a booth hidden in the back of the bar. Far more darker and cozier at this end. Perhaps due to the lack of distance he kept between you two when he himself slid in, his arm instinctively resting on the backrest of the booth around your head. The need to simply wrap it around your shoulders killing him.

“Pretty cold out there, right?” Jisung began, removing his gloves and jacket, shoving ghe former in the pockets. You didn’t turn to him, responding with a hum as you remove the scarf. He frowns at this, slumping against the backrest, watching you look through the standee with all drink names.

“What are you ordering, Jisung?” He hadn’t thought about it, more immersed in hearing your voice. Either Way he didn’t know a single brand of alcohol, ‘Lite’ the only word in relevance to alcohol that he knew. “You choose, I’m fine with whatever.” He diverts, leaning closer to you to read the alcohol options.

Though, as if you could read minds, you turn to look at him. A soft smile with narrowed eyes focusing on him. “Are you sure you want to drink? We can get something else, I don’t mind.” You suggest, expression relaxing now seeing how easily he reacted.

“Yes! I mean no! No, I would really like a drink, unless you want something else.” Jisung tumbled through his words. The bashful look on his face raises your lack of restraint in grabbing and handling him the way you’ve done so many years ago. Oh how truly adorable he remains. Although, he’s gotten quite handsome. Too handsome for his own good.

“Okay,” You nod, fingers ghosting over his cheek to reassure him– never touching, just yet.

Raising your hand to call a bartender over, one of the two begrudgingly stroll to your table. Tossing a worn out and smelly towel over his shoulder, he gives both of you a look as if to hurry up and order. With reluctance and indignance, you scoff. “Two blackberry smashes. Whiskey in both.”

“We ain’t got that stuff here.” His mannerisms were comical and absurd. As if he was angry that a request was made but also so nonchalant, so careless for your presence. More interested in going back to his game.

“Fine, two pints of your house beers, tap and two shots of your cheapest tequila. ” Jisung thinks your voice now matches the arrogance and annoyance of the bartender. He sort of likes it, it reminds him of the times you yourself had defended him against snobs at camp.

The balding bartender grunts as a response, sounding like an okay before leaving. “Swear, it’s like he's being held at gunpoint to work here, Jesus.” You shake your head, attitude dropping when you notice his reddened cheeks. Curse him and his presentable fondness. “Oh I’m sorry, Ji. Was I being mean?” Your body turns to him, hand clutching his out of habit. Jisung smiles at the contact, looking at it briefly before looking at you. “No, you were perfect.” He utters, reveling in your touch.

You smile at him, embarrassed. Something that he takes with pride. “You never told me what you were cooking up in that kitchen, you know.” You aim to divert the focus. He chuckles at it, “Caldo de Callo. I heard it on TV, I think the host said it was a Spanish dish. Never had Spanish food.” He sounded so proud yet clueless at the same time. Though, you tilt your head, lips parting and closing the further your eyebrows furrow. He hears you hum and finally ask, “Do you mean Caldo Gallego?”

Jisung can see you stifle a laugh when his face begins to feel insanely hot, scorching even. Embarrassment written all over his face that he has to bury them in his sleeve-covered hands, groaning into them about how stupid he sounded. If only he knew that what he originally said translated to ‘callous soup’.

Endearing is the word you’d call it though. Endearing he is with his crescent shaped eyes and shamed pout. Endearing are the whines and groans he lets out when you can’t seize your giggles. He thinks about telling you to stop but doesn’t, your noises far more prettier and enjoyable even if at the expense of his misery.

“It’s okay, Jisungie.” You elongate his name, “It sounds similar, don’t fret too much!” You giggle, petting his hair as one does a child trying to comfort them. He enjoys your touch but doesn’t enjoy the slight patronizing tone to your voice. He’s not sure if he can call it patronizing because he’s aware there’s no malice intent behind your words but it did sound condescending in the way those speak to their juniors and he was tired of you treating him like one the longer the night progressed.

Jisung huffs, sighing when his head touches the table. He turns to look at you momentarily, distracted when your drinks arrive. He hears a few forced thank you’s and sarcastic my pleasures. Your feud with the bartender is amusing but not for this time. Right now he wants to focus on this sentiment brewing in his chest.

He gives you one last glance before reaching for the shot glasses. “To seeing each other again?” Such a simple question that made you hum pensively. You don’t deny it, clinkling your glasses together before dowing the burning liquor. With the taste of battery acid buring your throat, Jisung on the other hand clutches his throat, spitting it out onto a bundle of napkins.

You find him so agonizingly cute that your hands begin to ache to touch him and squeeze the life out of him. How adorable can someone be?! “Oh Jisungie… Tequila isn’t for everyone.” You tut, shaking your head. “Perhaps I should order you some apple juice to soothe that, yeah?”

Your giggle makes his ears ring, that same gnawing feeling that you're mocking him consuming him. He knows you’re not doing it on purpose. That you truly care for his wellbeing but is he truly that easy to perceive as naive and childish that you won’t see him as more? Sure, he didn’t like the tequila but so what? It was their cheapest one. If it had been a bit more expensive, then he’s sure he would have drank it as easy as you. He’s not a kid, why won’t you see that?

Jisung doesn’t voice it though, sighing while redirecting the conversation. “Were you doing some last minute shopping back at the mall?” He questions, obvious discontent and melancholy in his voice. You let it be, nodding as a response before shaking your head when you register the question. Too enthralled with how pretty he looks like this. Face flushed from the alcohol and embarrassment. So cute, so adorable, so perfect. Your Jisungie.

“No, no, actually I went with intentions to watch a movie but the cinema won’t play the movie I wanted to watch so I was on my way out when I saw you through the window doing your little thing.” Your giggle sends him into orbit. He feels lightheaded. Your words weren’t laced with judgment but fondness, he’s thankful for it this time.

“What movie?” Jisung attempts to act as if you didn’t affect him.

“Uh…” Your hesitance piques his interest. “Sex, Lies, and Videotape.” Well it seems that it’s you who is embarrassed now. He takes it, smiling to himself. “Gee, I wonder why they wouldn’t screen this at a regular movie theater.” He giggles, wiping the corner of his mouth when he feels some leftover alcohol residing there.

“Okay now, I had just gotten out of a meeting. My brain was not fully cooperating.” He giggles some more, his teeth now clutching his sleeve. “Honestly, why would a movie like that interest you?” You smile at him, the rim of your beer glass pressing against your lips. “James Spader.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, a scoff leaving his lips while he himself takes a sip of his beer. It’s unrefined and messy. The way the lager alcohol slips down the corner of his mouth and slicks his lips when he places it down. You watch it all through the window of your own, taking slow sips to admire his silent tantrum. He’s never been fond of James Spader. Or any other man you’ve mentioned.

“He’s not all that, you know.” Jisung mutters with a pout, leaning against the backrest. You don’t laugh like you intended. You simply acknowledge him through the handkerchief you pull out of your pocket to softly wipe the residue of beer before it becomes sticky on his skin. He can taste the flavor of your black cherry lip gloss when you swipe it over his lips.

Such an intimate moment prompts him to take a grasp of your free hand, playing with your fingers like he’s done before. “Oh please. He’s the perfect blend of sensible and… manly.” Jisung can only guess you’re thinking of James Spader with the way you bite your lower lip and narrow your eyes. A lustful sigh escapes your nostrils which serves as confirmation to his inquiry.

Seemed like a bunch of bullshit, if you were to ask Jisung what he thought. If you wanted those qualities then why didn’t you realize how perfect Jisung was? Maybe he’s being a little self absorbed or malleable to your desires but so what? He’ll do anything to make you look at him.

Furrowing his eyebrows, dropping your hand and pointing at his chest, Jisung spoke. “I’m sensible and manly!” It sounded more whiny than he expected which would prove to throw off whatever result he wished for. Of course it would, your laugh seems to provide an answer to such.

“I don’t know about the latter…” Your hum upsets him more.

“I am!”

“I don’t know. Just look at how cute you look pouting like that…”

Jisung huffs, upset at your continuous dismissiveness. Must you always remind him of his inferiority? What must he do if you won’t see that he’s a grown man now?

“I am, I’ll prove it to you.” His tone must have sounded significantly bratty that you receive it with patronization. Sarcastically telling him to prove it then if he was so manly.

So he did. He did in the way his large hands cradled your face, warming up your cheeks although that might be from the immediate heat his actions spurred. He proves it through his stealthy moves, bringing his face closer to yours in which he allows his lips to ghost over yours for milliseconds before finally connecting them.

Shocked is what you would describe this feeling clinging onto your chest. Never in a million years would you have thought about kissing Jisung. Sure, you’ve kissed his cheeks and forehead in the past, but that’s what friends do with someone they find adorable and innately drawn to. Jisung has always been hard to avoid, even if you wanted to, one look in those glistening round eyes and you’d submit to his every wish. Everyone does.

His lips moved with inexperience, soft and slow but uncoordinated with no idea where to go from there. His internal debates made obvious when he would part his lips for a second before going back to what seemed like peppered pecks. The way dolphins kiss. You wonder if this is his first kiss or how he kisses overall. If so, you’re only sorry that it’s so miserable.

Jisung eventually determines that he should stop. Either from shame at how uneventful it was or, well, simply because it was uneventful. Rather you two stare at each other for what felt like ages. His confidence is dying down along with your shock. By now both reverting back to your usual personas which meant that he shyly tried to look around without breaking eye contact and you, sternly looking at him without blinking much in order to gain answers.

He sighs knowing this was a lost cause. Rubbing the back of his neck, his body shifts to face you more than before. “Why haven’t you sent me any letters? Why are you ignoring me, Y/n?...” Jisung hates how easy it is for him to transmit his emotions onto his voice. While he hates to sound whiny, he would prefer that over the hurt that enveloped every single syllable he’s spewed out. What he hates more is that he’s not able to shut his mouth. “You have my home number, you have my address. Why haven’t you replied to my letters?”

“Jisung…”

“No! Please tell me.” God, how he hates how dismissive you can be, “I’ve been waiting for you for years. Please give me something, anything.”

Jisung’s face contorts the longer he begs, his lips reddening and puffing more than normal. His cheeks are ravished by that harsh crimson that warms them, borderline scorching. His voice, now a mixture of hurt but whiney that makes you shift at how uncomfortable you are that it spurred something in your chest, now traveling down to your abdomen. You really want to slap yourself for this.

Your Jisungie. Your sweet Jisungie, you idiot!

“I’m sorry, Ji. I was busy with my discretion and didn’t have time for anything. Then I graduated and it was a bloodbath to even get a job right out of college. I mean, I almost threw myself to the sharks and contemplated going to a convent. Can you imagine? All my hard work wasted. Then this year…”

Almost like a child that should have not spoken, Jisung raises an eyebrow when you reach for your beer glass, using it as a shield to make you stop talking. He grew increasingly irritated by your silence. “This year what, Y/n?!”

He’s never spoken to you like this which raises concerns with how you don’t mind it. In fact, you surprisingly invite it, although in minimal quantities. Seeing as there was no way out of it, you sigh, shoulders slumping. “Then this year I saw your mom at the film store around Easter. We were both picking up pictures and we talked for a bit until I asked about you and she said that you had a girlfriend. That I should probably be conscious that not all girls are comfortable with their boyfriend being so close to other girls. That she wouldn’t take kindly to seeing me send you letters so often, let alone pictures…”

Jisung has never been angry at his mother. Sure, irritated and hurt. But never angry, which seems to be a feeling he never thought he’d harbor for the woman that has given him life and all the love a child deserves. He knew his mom wasn’t too keen on his infatuation on you, he’s not sure if it’s for the difference in age or weary of someone she hasn’t fully met besides a few encounters on drop-off and pick-up day at camp.

He always imagined that she would come around once she truly met you, so why was she trying to sabotage him on something he’s been begging every single deity for?!

“So, if you have a girlfriend, why the hell did you just do that, Jisung?” The disgust and confusion in your voice made him feel far more awful than he already was. Appalled would probably be a greater feeling, though. He’s made sure to let you know that with the harsh ‘what?!’ that spews out of his lips like a hymn.

“What the fuck? I’ve never had a girlfriend. Jesus fucking Christ, why would she say that?” He questions the latter to himself, unaware that he’s confessed his inexperience to you (as if it wasn’t noticeable); shifting his attention to you shortly after. “Why would you believe her in the first place? I’ve never looked at anyone but you! Why won’t you see that?”

It’s not his grasp on your shoulders that startles you but rather the sincerity in his confession. Never in a million years did you think you’d be hearing these words from Jisung. The fuzziness in your chest adds to that shock which confuses you and at the same time disgusts you.

Jisung is far more perceptive than you had thought, “Please… It’s been you since the summer we met…” He goes back to pleading, his grasp softening. Kneading your arms as to beg for contact on your end. You hate how much this is luring you into whatever he wants. You’ve never been able to say no to him, yet again these found feelings are clashing with those you’ve fostered since you met him.

It’s vile and conflicting to see him in such a sweet light. As your junior who’d you do anything for, to… this incessant needy and lovestruck man that keeps begging for an ounce of affection in any form possible. If it was for Jisung he’d be on his knees kissing the sole of your shoe as long as you get to tell him you love him the way he loves you.

You sigh, contemplating on what to do or what to feel. “I don’t know, Jisung.” You huff conflicted. You’ve always been like a little br–” His hand covers your mouth before you can even finish your sentence. His eyes tremble and you realize that he’s much closer than he had been. “Don’t finish that. Please don’t ever say that again…” He begs and begs. Either it be his words, the way his eyes look at you, or his body language.

“I’m twenty-two, I’m taller than my own older brother or any of the friends we made in camp. I can drink and smoke if I want. I’m a man now, Y/n. Not that scrawny squeaky voiced kid you met long ago. I don’t need you to see me like that. So please… erase that from your brain and see me as I am now.”

You don’t know if you hate him or yourself at the moment. You’ve never been one to reject change, in fact you welcome it but it’s different when it comes to the image of people you like. Fuck it, you’re even upset at how deep you’re thinking about this when within a few minutes you might think this is stupid and unserious.

“If age is the problem, don’t let it get to you. We don’t even have a disgusting gap. For goodness sake, we were in the same group classifications every year at camp and Mark had already hit the group limit. That should be enough to get you out of whatever hellhole you’re digging yourself into.”

See? Eventually things could turn so unserious and with the sound of his voice, rather bratty and accusatory. “Do you not like me, is that it? Do you not find me desirable?” He questions, head nodding to incentivize an answer from you. He almost makes it seem natural and you wonder how many times he’s done this before. Push people’s buttons until he gets an answer. You suppose he truly has grown.

The Jisung you last knew would never whine for something like this. All he had to do was say please with a pout and he’d get what he wanted. Far more innocent and civilized. This was crude, erotic, and mocking. You expect him to give you a cheshire smile when he gets what he wants in comparison to his gummy one full of appreciation.

Yes, he’s no longer a boy. He’s now a sweetly cunning man.

“It’s not that.” You blurt out, cursing yourself at the admittance that he has more of a chance than either of you could’ve thought. Expectedly, that cheshire smile presents itself slowly. Sultrily, he speaks. “Then what is it?” He whispers, lips to your ear as his hands create a path down your upper body.

The words hang heavy on your tongue, distracted by his touch. Finding his large hands more pleasurable than you could’ve thought. “I actually don’t know…” You confess sincerely, eyelids fluttering when they land on your knee, fingers padding over the clothed flesh. Contemplating on whether to stay where they are at or slide up.

Ecstatic by your bodily response, he smiles sweetly. Whispering in your ear, “Let me prove it to you… Let me erase that image of me you have, please…” He begs, lips trailing to your cheek, a blazing trail branding your skin. When they reached your lips, you couldn’t deny him the wonders of being kissed in return.

You both sigh into the kiss the second they perfectly slot into each other. It’s slick and wet, albeit, much more pleasurable than his first one. This one you’re able to enjoy the delicacy of those plump red lips that envelope yours and leave a delicious sting that makes you crave for more.

Your hands paw at his sweater, drawing him closer to feel his warmth. He takes this opportunity to let his hands roam up your thighs, massaging the insides until he decides that he won’t wait and lets his hand crawl to the hem of your skirt. His hands –scorching– against your skin when he manages to pull down your tights. Bunching them around your knees and covering your legs with his jacket.

He smiles into the kiss when he feels you react to his feather touches. Taunting the idea of touching you further. He’s not too cruel though, not when this is what he’s wanted for so long. Therefore, he decides to reward both of you by letting his fingers go under your panties, the cotton feeling like heaven against his knuckles. He revels in the feeling of your wetness clinging to the fabric. Cooling against his skin while he lets his fingers waltz up and down your folds. Contemplating what their next move will be, unpreoccupied since you seem to enjoy whatever he is currently giving you. He can see it with the way your eyelids flutter and the kiss grows hungrier, needier. This is all he truly wanted.

Jisung decides to not taunt you any longer. He’s never wanted to upset you. Allowing his fingers to softly part your lips, twisting his ring clad middle finger and inserting the long digit into you. They felt so cold within your walls, forcing a gasp to leave your lips. He took that opportunity to muffle it with his tongue the second it intruded the cavity of your mouth.

The muscle, surprisingly strong as it dances along with yours, savoring the delicacy of your taste. This is overshadowed by the spasm of your legs the slower he pumped his finger into you. Molding your walls to the ribs of his nimble and spindly digits. Your pleasure is exerted through sighs and hungry kisses which he consumes all you give him. He thinks this is enough incentive to insert a second finger. This time his ring finger, quickly adapting it to the movement of the other one. It’s nice to feel the contrast between his warm acclimated finger to the cold shorter one.

His fingers move slowly, picking up the pace when he decrees that you deserve more pleasure than he currently grants you. He’s driven by the way you cling to him, hands going under his sweater and clutch his sides, fingernails softly taking the warm flesh. Jisung finds it delicious how you cling to him the way your walls grip to his fingers. Sucking him in and keeping them in place whenever he thinks of even taking them out without making you come first.

Neither speak but the silent mewls that leave your lips is enough to let him know he’s doing something good. He’s proven right when you softly nip at his swollen lips, sucking on the lower one, resulting in him releasing a shaking breath.

You will be the death of him.

Jisung found that he loved how you look when you writhe in pleasure in his arms. He thinks you look otherworldly with the way your lips part to release those sweet chants he has recorded in his brain. Enticing when your tongue sticks out to cling to his and his lips just to know he’s still there making you feel better than you’ve felt in a while. He knows you're ready when you gnaw at his lips and jaw, holding to the back of his neck as your lips trail as hungrily as his, prior. Leaving a trail of rouge that he wishes to seep into his skin like a tattoo.

When he feels your teeth cling to his jugular, he can’t help but let out a guttural moan, thankful at how secluded this booth was. His fingers reward that feeling by moving faster, his thumb rubbing delicate yet quick circles on your clit. At some point he felt scared that your cunt would swallow his rings with every clench around his fingers. You were so close and all he felt was pride and gratification that it was him that was making you feel this way.

Fuck, he could explode in his pants right now.

“Jisungie…I can’t hold back anymore.” You pant, leaving open mouthed kisses along his Adam's apple. Tongue roaming and savoring the saltiness of his skin taut on his clavicles.

He’s no one to make you suffer and not get what you want. Instinctively, his fingers pick up the pace, pushing them as far as he can. Curling them and covering your mouth when the volume of your prayers increase. Swallowing them whole when he connects his mouth with yours, luxuriating in the sybaritism of your orgasm through your kiss and spasming legs.

It takes you a minute to calm down, panting softly. Jisung looks down at you with a pleased smile, his fingers still in you, pruning by the second but he doesn’t mind. He sighs constantly, kissing you softly this time. It’s sweet and tender, similar to the first one he gave you with the difference that your cooperation makes it run smoothly.

When he parts, his fingers slowly ease out, causing you to shudder. You feel so empty and cold at the lack of his touch. Rewared only by the mere fact that he prods your lips with his ring finger, slowly entering your mouth. You savor yourself on him, tongue running along the underside, lingering on his finger pad.

No one has ever done this for you. Look at and treat you like you’re their whole world despite the lewd scenery.

His finger slips far more slick from your lips than it had entered your mouth. He takes them up to his own, running them along like a brush on the most pristine parchment. Letting its ink sink into the grooves and cement itself for eternity.

Biting your lower lip, you examine the way he takes both fingers into his mouth. Pupils blown out once he’s fully swallowing the taste of you in all forms. He knew you were perfect but this is beyond that. This is an exquisiteness he’s never savored before. He will never be satisfied again.

Jisung leans down making you think he was to kiss you again. The reality was that your essence was more inebriating than the shot of tequila and the pint of beer sitting on the table before him that he had to have a taste of the fruit directly.

In swift motions, he moves his jacket from your legs, shoving your skirt up and letting it fall over his head. Despite the awkward angle, Jisung managed to swipe the tip of his tongue against your slick cunt. The muscle parting your lips and forcing a gasp out of you.

It’s a mixture of shock and pleasure. He was shameless and that made it so hot and intoxicating, yet fear was consuming you. Forcing you to take a grasp at the back of his neck and pull him up with as much delicate force as you could muster. Like a starving kitten, parted from its mother’s tit, Jisung fetches your lips.

He looks so pretty and so stupid. So drunk and starved for you. The feeling so obvious in his hazy eyes and wet lips from your come that he has yet to lick or press against your own. You give him the latter, kissing him to satiate his need for just a bit. Biting his lower lip to calm him down.

“Don’t be so greedy, Jisung.” You scold against his lips, removing your mangled and wet tights and shoving them into your pocket. He cries like a kicked puppy but nods, getting out of the booth and helping you out knowing you’ll look like a newborn deer after his filthy handling.

Neither of you pay any mind to the cashier that takes in the payment. Weary eyes scanning you both and scoffing without questions. It’s not his first rodeo.

Drunk in a daze, Jisung doesn’t question when you give him directions. He expected it to be a hotel, one you should be staying at for work. It dawns upon him that it’s your apartment when he sees you punch in the entry code.

You’ve been so close all this time and he doesn’t knows how to take it. It’s evident in the look he gives you when you both enter the apartment and he looks around. His lips parting to question it but being shushed by your lips and hands tugging at the hem of his sweater to pull it off his body. Leaving him bare and goosebump filled before you.

“Not now…” you whisper against his chest, kissing his torso and pecks, nipping his nipple. You can talk about reality once you’re finished.

Jisung sighs but welcomes the feel of your lips and touch all over him. His own fingers unbutton your coat and cardigan, pushing them off simultaneously to make his fingers crawl to your back and unclasping your bra.

He withers and hunches over when your hands push down his pants, grasping his hard and leaking cock through his briefs. The wet spot ironically forming a heart. His Lip part, erotically to let out breathy gasps and pants. For this, you kiss him like he once did. Invading his mouth with your own tongue, holding his face in your hands, making sure he makes no effort in separating until both you feel the air escaping your bodies.

In the process, both of you manage a waltz in ridding of the remaining clothes. Kicking off any shoes and underwear, leaving each other bare in the middle of your living room. If he was given the time to admire it more, he’d tell you that it was truly what he expected of you— positively.

Instead he’s eating you alive, carnivorously gnawing at your lips in hopes to draw blood. An act that you embrace and let him do as he pleases. Simply because you’ll return the favor with as much fervor that you both will let the crimson paint itself on your lips the way your rogue has marked his skin.

When air finally did what you expected it to do, Jisung connects his forehead against yours. Both panting and drawing your bodies flush against each others. He grins seeing the little number he did against your lips, the cracks of them full like a dried up river during dry seasons. If only he knew he looked the same.

“Eat me… take your time in consuming me…” you implore, the words playing over and over in his brain as he pushes you down on the couch. Dropping to his knees without a care of what your neighbor on the bottom floor will say or if his palid knees will bruise instantly. For you, he’ll writhe in pain.

Jisung wastes no time, he separates your legs and throws them over his shoulders. His head delves in between the pretty image of your cunt and clings his lips around it fully. His lips suctioning while his tongue teases your entrance. His grasp on your inner thighs is a bit harsh but pleasurable enough that you’ll enjoy seeing the marks he’ll leave on them tomorrow.

He’s fueled more by your sweet words and the tugs at his raven hair by your fingers that curl on the locks. It feels much better when your nails scratch his scalp and for that he sucks on your clit. Incentive or reward, they’re interchangeable.

“Ah!… take your time…” you moan, head thrown back and giving him a pretty image of the expanse of your neck and the way your nipples perk. You look so heavenly that he knows it’s blasphemous. The way the overhead light shines behind your head, creating a glowing halo and he’s glad that it’s Sunday for this is his mass and holy communion. His mother should not dislike you after this.

Jisung lets his tongue roam around your cunt, savoring every crevice, picking up every single drop that spills from you. Be it that no one has ever paid such devotion to your mound, your legs begin to shake around his head. Your hands cling to his hair and pull him closer and closer to the point his nose manages to create a pleasurable pressure against your clit.

This is no problem for him. He lavishes himself in your taste and smell, moaning against you to create further sensitivity which is appreciated and you reward him by coming almost immediately when he lays his tongue flat on you to lick down and enter deep into you.

A slew of moans leave your lips but his name is the one you scream out. “Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.” Oh how well has conforming paid him off. For this he leans back on his feet, hands rubbing his thighs and teasing his own sensitive cock as he watches you writhe on the soiled couch. A lake of your come seeping into the faux leather, shimmering as its reflection on his lips, nose, and chin. How beautiful you both look.

Animalistically and greedily so, Jisung dives back in. This time pulling your body further down the couch. Leaving you limp and folded while he raises your hips and clings to them. He’s more messy and filthy about it this time around. He allows his lips to suck harshly and lick as consolation just to softly bite your clit and make you cry out masochistically.

Hypersensitivity, a force that travels in the form of your loud moans and cries. That’s what fuels him and it feels so sadistic but he indulges himself at least this once. He’s hopeful it won’t be the only time but for now he will enjoy it as it is.

He can hear you begging to please let you finish. That you don’t have it in you to last long anymore but he doesn’t relent just yet. Not when his hips buck forward and shudder with every grace of his cock against the leather of your couch. It’s so cold and harsh that it hurts but it also feels so good that he can’t help but be excited at how your soft and warm walls will soothe his dick like ointment to a wound.

That seems more exciting, yes.

All right, Jisung will please you once more. He kisses your cunt softly, long and languid velvet like kitten licks to push you further. His own rutting is much slower which proves to be a painful decision for he can’t control himself when his abdomen cramps up and painfully moans against your chest as he stands up to release all over your swollen and irritated cunt.

The feeling of his come feels like boiling water spilt on an open wound. It makes you come for the third time this night, the feeling increasing when he hums hungrily as he rubs his come in a sheer layer, ointment to your ache. The remaining that stuck to his hand, on his cock, rubbing up and down to suffer that same overstimulation at his own hands. This is his solidarity for what he’s caused you.

Tired and panting, Jisung takes a seat beside you. Caressing your face while trying to regain some stamina. You’re so spent that you lean into his touch, kissing his soiled hand and licking the saltiness off of it to savor him the way he has you.

Fuck… that’s making his dick twitch.

“Pure nectar from the forbidden fruit.” Jisung leans into your ear, kissing your cheek softly as he helps you onto his lap. You whine but ultimately allow him for there’s one more thing he can offer you and you need it.

His fingers are soft when they touch your entrance. It’s so soft and so warm, he can only imagine how sensitive you are. The image makes him moan softly against your ear. Your head resting on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his torso. Limp yet so needy against his body. The body heat between both creates a layer of perspiration that travels from that connection onto your entire body.

Jisung rubs your back in soothing circles, leaving peppered kisses onto your hair and inhaling the scent of your shampoo. He inhales and exhales like his life depended on it, kiss after kiss after kiss.

“You’ve always been so good to me, Y/n. Do you like how I’m thanking you?” He hums, lifting your face with a finger on your chin. “Yes…” you sincerely confess in a breath, returning the favor with a slow kiss that allows your tongues to finally explore and examine each other the way you both are doing. By any form, you two will always find a way to please each other.

“And, I think I should keep going so you can fully understand how much I like you and have liked you…” he mutters in between kisses, his tongue shoving the words down your throat so you’ll digest them immediately.

You can only nod, feverishly and with a shiver down your spine when he holds your lower back, helping you up while the tip of his cock rubs slowly against your folds. You can tell it’s helping him get hard. His flaccid cock rapidly hardens with every stroke, his breathing increases and comes out shaky against your ear. It doesn’t help that you’re kissing his throat like you were back at the bar with the exception that they’re less hungry and far more passionate.

“Can I fuck you, Y/n?” He begs, eyes droopy in a plea. If it wasn’t because of how he’s holding you, you’d be sure his hands would be together in a prayer. You hum, pretending to contemplate when your answer had been decided long ago.

“I don’t know…” you tease. God only knew his abhorrence of those stupid three words. He’ll make sure to knock them out of your vocabulary if you say yes. For now, like the brat he is, he shakes and writhes, tantrum-like while his words come out in elongated whines.

“Please, Y/n…” he cries out, his grasp on you tightening slightly. You hum again but you don’t speak, basking in the pretty sounds he makes when he doesn’t get what he wants.

“You can’t feed me and then starve me… I’ll go crazy if I don’t taste you again.” He pleads, lower lip jutting out and letting his face get closer to yours. He’s so pretty like this that you can’t help but concede.

With a giggle you nod, “Very well then.” You tell him, kissing his cheek. The sweet act is gone when he lowers you down on his hard cock. You had seen it moments prior but hadn’t registered that the stretch would sting like this. It’s not bad, matter of fact it feels so fucking good… and it doesn’t help that he’s long enough that you feel him in your stomach.

“Ji…” You moan out in parts, eyelids fluttering as he bottoms out. Jisung sucks in air through his teeth when he feels your ass on his balls, squishing them and begging them to please you. That is something that he will hear out anytime.

Your voice sends him a whirlwind, “Give me your hand.” You request from him. If it wasn’t for the sheer fact that you wanted him to see and feel what he was doing to you, you’d spend more time admiring his large hands. Seeing them this way, you can understand how he made you come perfectly.

Leaning back causes you to squish his testicles further. A moan leaves his lips hungrily as he admires you through hooded lids, his head thrown over the backrest. When he feels where you placed his hand, he snaps it up, admiring the prominent budge on your stomach and how warm it felt to be in you.

“See?” You ask in the sweetest tone, smiling at him. He returns it with a nod, caressing what he’s caused. Instinctively, he bucks his hips upward, a moan erupting from both your lips due to the friction and the image. It’s like a live painting being made before him.

“So pretty…” he coos, his fingers dancing around the imprint. His thrusts increase in pace, your head rolling back in pleasure. It’s not fair that he has to do all the work; holding onto your thighs, you begin moving up and down on his shaft.

His moans get louder and his hands roam your body like undiscovered land. Landing on your breast and squeezing them. Your own hands leave your thighs to help him in kneading, yelping when his fingers take a hold of your nipples to squeeze them. “You’re doing so good, Jisungie.” You praise, each word received with a hard thrust from him and a whine, thanking you.

“My Jisungie is so big now…” you moan, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, he holds your hips while increasing his pace. “Such big hands,” reaching for one, you kiss his palm before letting it fall to its initial spot.

“Such big pretty lips…” Your teeth nip his lower lip, reopening the cut from your earlier‘s cannibalistic game. “The most beautiful big eyes.” And with a drop of his blood on your lip, you kiss his eyelid. Eyelashes flutter upon feeling your warm moist flesh.

You attempt to sound just as tempting and sultry, but his thrusts along your hips hopping on his dick— your words leave out in broken moans and cries.

“And such a fucking big dick that will make my guts yearn for it again.”

Jisung’s eyes blow out, lips parting and licking off the blood from them. He allows himself to be vocal now. There’s no holding back when his hands grasp your ass and hold you in place. His hips move up rapidly, reaching deeper than he had previously. Your lower body stings from his handling, it doesn’t help that his testicles are slapping against you that creates an echo to play all over your living room.

You’re being fucked stupid that no coherent words attempt to leave you anymore. Anything that does are moans and cries which he swallows entirely when he grasps your jaw harshly to kiss you as messy and wettly as he did at the bar. There’s some teeth and so much tongue but neither care when the feeling of your walls molding around his cock, that they’ll forget how good his fingers initially made you feel.

He’s so swollen, you feel it with every thrust the same way he feels you grip him with no intention of letting go until you both get what you want. It’s such a perfect fit that makes his abdomen ache. He’s so ready and so are you.

“Finish… please, finish.” He begs, hips move messily and mindlessly. He’s so ready to be done but he needs you to come first. It’s not until he shifts and brings you closer that his mouth wraps around your tit. Hungrily kissing it like a starved animal. His teeth take no mercy in biting the skin around and your nipple, leaving indentations of his pretty teeth. At least you’ll have his smile engraved on you.

He continues on the second one, your nipples so hard that they ache from his sucking and biting. And when he feels the needs to insert two fingers in you while he fucks desperately with squelches imploring you both to finish, you can’t help but clamp around him with a loud moan erupting from your lips and coming around him. Fingers and cock.

Your cries don’t seize, they only increase when he himself spills within you. It’s so warm, almost hot and there’s so much that you can feel it run down the sides as he remains in you. Poor Jisung, he had been holding it for so long. Your poor little, Jisungie.

You squirm on top of him, shaking from the great orgasm. Something you hadn’t had since that one time you masturbated at nineteen. Thank you Jisung for being such a great sport.

“You know,” Jisung is the first to talk, swallowing. He was parched. “I’m so glad I waited for this.” He smiles tiredly, you giggle with a sigh but ultimately nod. “I’m sure other girls were satisfying enough.” You say, to which he shakes his head.

“No, I meant sex.” He confesses confidently until he coils in when he realizes what he’s said. Your surprised look only makes the feeling grow. “No way.”

He nods

“No way! There’s no way you fucked me this good with it being your first time!” You attempt to lean back to look at him but your body aches and it also decrees that it wants to cling to Jisung’s as much as it can so the most you muster is looking up at him.

It’s such a pretty image when you notice the bashful look on his face, crimson blush consuming his entire body. How he, out of custom, smiles and throws his head back with his index finger extended under his nose to cover his mouth. There’s your sweet Jisung.

You laugh quietly, hand going up to caress his hair. “So cute… you’ll always be my cute Jisungie.” The statement is received with a groan but ultimately, Jisung relents. Kissing you once more, refined and sweetly. He understand what you mean and he also understands that you mean it differently now. Therefore, he won’t dwell on it. Sure, you’ll always look at him in such a sweet image but now with the addition that he has proven to you how much he’s grown… as a man.

[cassiewritessalot]

thinkin’ bout you ༉‧₊˚.

jj maybank x fem!reader

୨ৎ summary: reader moved away from obx when they were 15 as her dad got offered a better job, in michigan. jj and reader have always had a crush on one another, but what will jj think when he sees her back in obx after 4 years?

୨ৎ warnings: none? lmk if i missed anything!

୨ৎ cassie’s notes: hii!! as requested, here is ‘thinkin’ bout you’, hope u love this one, more coming soon i pinky promise! with love always, cassieeee <3.

7 years old..

y/n walks down the hallway with her sofia the first backup on her back and her hair in two pigtails, trying not bump into any of the older kids. as she approaches her class, she sees her teacher talking to a boy she’s never seen at her school before.

“Don’t worry jj, everyone will want to be your friend, it’s okay.” y/n overhears the teacher whispering to jj before deciding to put her stuff down in class and take her seat.

the bell rings, indicating it’s time for their lessons to start, and y/n’s teacher walks in holding the new boys hand.

“Everyone, i’d like you all to meet jj, let’s all help him feel welcomed!” the teacher exclaimed excitedly and jj had a nervous look on his face, y/n unknowingly had a smile on her face as she observed the boys looks.

“Jj, you may take a seat next to y/n.” the teacher points to y/n’s desk as she raises her hand to help jj locate her better. he walks over and takes a seat next to the girl, feeling his nerves ease up a little.

“hi! i’m y/n l/n,” the girl turns her body slightly to face jj and puts out her hand, waiting for him to shake it.

“i’m jj, jj maybank.” the blond boy greets back and grasps the girls hand, smiling for the first time that day.

11 years old..

“jj slow down!” y/n shouts excitedly as she and jj rush down to the beach, surf boards in their hand. jj decided that today would be the day he teaches y/n how to surf, as he is the best surfer y/n knows.

“hurry up! the waves are just the right size to surf!” the boy exclaims with a wide grin on his face, the two shortly arrive near the shoreline and swim out past the shallow water and jj helps the girl swiftly get onto her board.

“okay, see you got it, now just watch me.” he mumbles, and began to swim out deeper, leaving the girl alone shortly as he catches a wave. he balances effortlessly on his board with his arms wide out, his face glowing with concentration and excitement. the girl clapping her hands together and cheering for the boy, matching his look of excitement.

he then swims back to y/n on his board.

“that was amazing jay!” the girl continues to clap her hands together and praise him.

“thank you y/n/n.” the boy smiled at his best friend.

the rest of the afternoon was filled with laughter, cheers and stolen glances. the two stayed in the water until the sun began to say goodbye and their parents forced them to come home. the two youngsters falling asleep with smiles on their faces.

15 years old..

“jj! c’mon don’t do this!” y/n exclaims with tears coating her eyes. she thought bringing jj to the beach, their favourite place, to break the news would help but unfortunately it didn’t.

“you don’t do this! y/n you’ve been my best friend for 9 freaking years, bro! how do you expect me to be okay with this?” the blond boy raises his voice at her, making her look away from him while shaking her head and rather towards the waves crashing against one another.

“it’s not like we’re never gonna see each other ever again jj! it’s just 4 years.” y/n begins to try and reason with the boy.

“yeah because 4 years isn’t a long time at all,” the boy rolls his blue eyes as he looks at the girl.

“do you really you think i want to leave you jj? because i don’t! but what am i supposed to do?” y/n attempts to reason with jj for the second time.

“y’know what? forget it y/n, you should probably go finish packing your bags.” jj says in a stern voice and then gets up, leaving the girl his heart yearned for.

“jj get back here, don’t walk away from me!” the girl stands up and runs towards where jj is and grabs his wrist, stopping him from walking away.

“please, just wait for me.” the girl pleads with tears slowly running down her face, the blond boy gently wipes the tears away with his thumb but does not say anything. instead, he walks away, leaving her behind, in the sand with more tears threatening to make their escape from her eyes.

she watches jj’s figure disappear, once he’s completely out of her sight, she turns her body to face the ocean, watching the waves hit one another as more tears roll down her face.

the day y/n leaves..

she places the last bag of her items into the car and close the trunk. she had already received farewells from most of her friends like kiara, pope, and john b, even sarah cameron. the kook princess. as she walks away from the car she thinks about jj and their last encounter which was just a few nights ago.

she contemplated with herself multiple times since that evening, asking herself if she wants to see the boy one last time before she leaves, but then again remembering how upset he was. she decided that seeing him in person wouldn’t be the best choice, so as her father shouts at her to get into the car, she pulls out her phone and sends the boy a text.

jayj

jay

wait for me, please.

seen

after seeing the boy left her on seen, she got into the car. she didn’t look back, she refused to look back, but little did she know, jj was sprinting towards her house after seeing the message. he felt bad about the way the conversation went a few nights ago and wanted to make up for it. unfortunately, just as he arrived at her house, he saw the car leaving. he didn’t try to stop it, he knew he’d always wait for her.

4 years later- 19 years old..

y/n kept in touch with almost everyone she was friends with back in obx, everyone except for her jj. she would have weekly video calls with the pogues, finding out all the drama through the grapevine. whenever she asked about jj, it would be the same answer.

“he isn’t here.”

jj knew about the weekly video calls and refused to be in the same room where the call was happening. he couldn’t bare to listen to her voice and know she wouldn’t be in that same room.

he missed her terribly. he missed surfing together on the beach, and watching the stars after. he missed having her in his arms. he missed going on boat rides with her on the HMS pogue. he missed her smile, the way her eyes lit up whenever she saw him. he missed his girl.

she missed her boy. she missed the way his blond hair would flow in the wind as they raced down towards the beach together. she missed how his eyes lit up as he gazed at the ocean. she missed his presence, and the way his arms felt around her.

the week before y/n came back to obx, she only told kiara, sarah and cleo, cleo being the newest addition to the group and y/n couldn’t wait to meet her.

the four girls decided that sarah would make up an excuse, leave the chatue and pick y/n at the airport and then bring her back to the chatue and surprise the group. they all knew it would be risky because of jj, but they were all excited none the less.

the day y/n landed in obx, it was late in the afternoon, she waited patiently for sarah at the airport, sarah’s excuse being that she’s going to go buy some more beer. as sarah arrived at the airport, she alerted y/n. once the two girls found each other, they found themselves in a bone crushing hug. tears coated both of the girls eyes before they made their way back into the vehicle and caught up with one another.

once they arrived back at the chatue, the sun was beginning to set, casting an orange-pink hue in the sky. the pogues were gathered in the backyard, in the hot tub or just lounging around. sarah and y/n quietly walked into the backyard, excitement filling both their bodies.

jj and john b’s back was facing y/n and sarah as the two boys sat in the hot tub, cleo and kiara were standing outside the hot tub as they waited for the other 2 girls arrival and pope was facing jj and john b.

pope was the first to notice that y/n was back, he suddenly got quiet and had a shocked look on his face. jj didn’t notice as he reached to get another beer, however john b and turned around and saw the girl aswell.

they both immediately got out of the hot tub and ran towards the girl who beamed with a smile on her face as she ran towards them aswell, throwing herself into their open arms.

jj noticed the absence of his best friends and turned around to look for where they are. he stopped in his tracks as he saw john b and pope pulling away from the girl he hadn’t seen in 4 years, his eyes going wide. kiara and cleo then pulling her into another bone crushing hug, excitement seething through all of them.

jj slowly stood up from his spot and got out of the hot tub and made his way over towards the group, a look of shock still planted onto his face. as the two girls pulled away from y/n, she locks eyes with jj. the rest of the pogues worried about how the next few minutes will go.

y/n slowly takes a step forward. “hey jayj,” she spoke, her voice barely just above a whisper. jj didn’t say anything, instead, the boy pulled her into a hug. a hug they both needed but never knew they did.

as his arms go around her waist and hers around his neck, tears rolled down the girls face as she was finally in her favourite boy’s arms again. the two hugged in silence as the surrounding pogues watched them with a smile on their faces, happy to see two like how they used to be.

“i missed you.. so damn much y/n/n.” jj mumbles lowly against her ear.

“i missed you more jay, you have no idea..” the girl said, her face burrowed in the blond boy’s chest.

jj finally realised that his girl was back, she was back in his arms, just where was made to be. he then pulls away from the hug with a smile plastered to his face, making the girl smile almost identically to his.

“you’re back.” he said as he swipes his thumb against her cheek, her hand going up to grab it.

“yeah i am..” she says with a smile, her face glowing. the two finally got a good look at each other and realise just how much more attractive they’d become over the 4 years of not seeing each other.

“you guys know we’re still here right?” john b asks making the group burst into laughter.

the rest of the night was filled with lots, and lots of catching up, laughter and beers. the group spent the entire night outside, talking about anything and everything. as time went by, the night went by, most of the pogues went inside the chatue to get some sleep. however, jj and y/n decided to take a walk alone, to their favourite place.

by the time the two got to the beach the sun was slowly beginning to rise, casting a light blue sky as they sat down in the sand together. the two didn’t say anything for a while, they just watched the horizon, until jj spoke softly.

“i waited, by the way, 4 years.” he doesn’t look at the girl, but she turns her head to look at him.

“i know you did, thank you.” the girl spoke, matching the softness he spoke with.

the boy finally turns his head to look at the girl his heart yearned for. when their eyes met, they both start leaning in. as their lips brush against one another, y/n’s arms find themselves around jj’s neck once again and his place themselves on her waist, keeping her in place.

after several minutes of kissing, they both pull away for air.

“i’ve wanted to do that with you since we were 13 y/n.” jj says with his eyes closed as his forehead rests against y/n’s, whose eyes are also closed.

“well now you can’t do it anytime jay.” the girl says as she removes an arm from jj’s neck and finds his hand, interlacing their fingers together.

they pull away from each other, a look of love in both of their eyes, before bursting into giggles. their laughter soon dies down as they gaze at the ocean, the waves are calm, soothing almost.

“i love you.” the girl says after a moment of silence, jj looks down at the sand then back up at her, a gentle smile on his face.

“i love you more, mama.” jj says as he leans forward and places a kiss on her forehead. the girl then rests her head upon his shoulder as they watch the sunrise and waves.

the end..

[multiisketch]

SPOILERS FOR SONIC 3 END CREDITS BELOW!

Okay, so... I may have a potential plot for the fourth movie... There's likely some holes in the idea but it's been running through my head since watching the 3rd film's end credits, so... you know enjoy!

It's CD and Heroes inspired.

Imagine, if you will with me, that Amy and Metal Sonic come from a BAD FUTURE.

In the original timeline, sometime after the 3rd film, Sonic meets Amy and they go on an adventure to save her home, Little Planet, from corruption. Only, while there, Sonic gets captured/lost/tragically injured leaving Amy alone. Metal Sonic is created by the evil powers that be on Little Planet (not Eggman; some original entity that wants to turn everything living into machinery) in mock of the hero. Having lost Sonic, Amy gathers up special gems that exist on Little Planet, the time stones, and travels back in time to find Sonic before their adventure, hoping to stop all this before it can begin. Metal Sonic follows her.

Cut to the end credit scene in 3. Amy tells Sonic she has come to help him stop Metal Sonic from conquering his world and her home if not the rest of the galaxy. She's very familiar with him, but doesn't explain why, leaving Sonic uncomfortable and untrusting. This references back to her clinginess in her original depiction, while it being more about the fact that she knew and lost him than a lovesick obsession. Sonic's awkwardness isn't because he finds her annoying. There's something she's not telling him.

The movie follows Amy and Team Sonic attempting to stop this army of Metal Sonic's from conquering the planet by finding their leader. Here, we do a fake-out. It's Eggman! He's somehow back from the dead! Again! He was working with the entity on Little Planet who found him after he was launched into space! Only, no. He's not. This is NEO Metal Sonic, the original Metal Amy encounter and leader of the others whom he created himself. Just like in Heroes he wants Sonic and Shadow's bio-data so he can become Metal Overlord and take over. Shadow would rejoin everyone else through NEO Metal Sonic finding and targeting him just as he did with Sonic. For some reason, NEO seems to have an affinity for Amy. Sonic's suspicions are raised further.

Sometime in the Third Act, Neo Metal Sonic taunts Sonic by asking him if Amy has told him his bleak future. This prompts Sonic to begin drilling Amy about what happened. This is when she explains herself in full. Only there is an element they are both missing. Amy thought Sonic was killed, kidnapped, or worse...

In actuality the evil on Little Planet MADE him into Metal Sonic, corrupting him like it did the planet. NEO Metal is her original Sonic. He's angry for being abandoned, angry at being replaced. Angry that he'll never get to be with his family again. His mind is twisted by the machinery he is made of now, but he is still the REAL SONIC.

The final battle would be against Metal Overlord. They'd beat him bad. He wouldn't be dead and gone at the end. Sonic would want to redeem him. After all, Metal Sonic is a version of him. Back in his base form, the original Metal Sonic would run off. Or, maybe, Tails would power him off and keep him in their tool shed. Maybe hope there would be a way to restore him back to normal, but the chance is slim.

The last step would be to head to Little Planet. Sonic, Amy, and co. would go to the planet's past using the time stones to put the kibosh on the takeover before it can really begin (just like in CD!)

Just when they return to the present, thinking time is fixed, a certain time traveler shows up to tell them it's not!

[melancholy-of-nadia]

heart on the window #2 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: Your life takes a wild turn after discovering what you believe is Seokjin's risqué secret, only for the following nights to leave you doubting your own reality. Was it loneliness and a shattered heart that conjured this delusion? As you try to move on, leaving your assumptions behind, you and Seokjin grow closer—until a late-night slip-up unravels everything... literally. note: it took me almost a month to update i have been busy at work.; i've edited this but there still may be some grammatical errors so apologies in advanced. warnings: roommate!Seokjin being such a green flag, adult content live streaming (camwork), explicit solo masturbation (from jin and also reader POV), voyeurism, descriptive use of toys, dirty talk, reader's emotional turmoil, Seokjin being perceptive and teasing, confrontation, sexual frustration, sexual tension. mild language, some implied sexual fantasizing, jin POV in the last quarter of the chapter drop date: December 20th, 2024, 12:00pm pst word count: 9.6k chapter 1 | chapter 3 crossposted on ao3 here

–

That good sleep that you were anticipating?

Gone.

Were you able to get some sleep last night?

Absolutely not.

Every time you’d close your eyes, all you would see is THAT: Seokjin Kim, sitting in his chair, stroking his cock with slow, deliberate motions, his face caught somewhere between bliss and control while a virtual audience eagerly watched.

Oh god, what the fuck did you get yourself into? 

You can’t just continue living here like you didn’t see that.

Absolutely no way–

“Did you get a good sleep last night?”

The sound of Seokjin’s voice slices through the chaotic mind-fuck cluster of your thoughts, dragging you back to the present. You blink, startled, your mind scrambling for something—anything—to say.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was…nice,” you reply, though your tone is as flat as week-old opened grapefruit Spin Drift you’ve left out on the counter countless times in the past.

Seokjin chuckles, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, giving you a knowing look. “That doesn’t sound very convincing,” he remarks before turning back toward the kitchen. You watch him as he grabs a carton of eggs, a frying pan, and other utensils with easy confidence, as though nothing is out of the ordinary.

Meanwhile, your head is spinning.

Does he have any idea what you saw? No, of course not. How could he? You clutch your mug of coffee tighter, willing yourself to keep calm and act normal, even though “normal” feels like a foreign concept right now.

Seokjin cracks an egg against the side of the pan with one hand, a skill that feels unnecessarily showy, and tosses the shell in the trash without missing a beat. “So, what’s your plan for today?”

“My plan?” 

“Yeah, you know. Moving in, settling down. Unpacking those boxes.” He gestures with the spatula toward the pile of boxes you had left in the living room yesterday. “Or are you just going to live out of them for the next few months?”

You force out a weak laugh, trying to mask your unease. “I’ll get to them soon. Or well, eventually.”

Seokjin glances at you over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, you sure you’re okay? You seem… distracted.”

Distracted? That’s putting it lightly. You practically choked on your own thoughts all night, trying to process what you’d stumbled upon. Now here he is, looking every bit as composed and charming as ever, completely unaware of how he’s upended your mental state.

“Just a lot on my mind from the shit I’ve been going through,” you say vaguely, hoping he’ll just think about what you’ve previously told him and won’t press further.

“Fair enough,” he replies, flipping the eggs in the pan with a practiced flick of his wrist. “By the way, if you need anything for your room, feel free to let me know. I’ve got some spare furniture in storage if you need extra shelves or whatever.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, staring at your coffee as if it holds the answers to your predicament.

You spend the rest of breakfast in tense silence, with Seokjin humming softly to himself as he cooks. Every so often, you catch yourself stealing a glance at him—his broad shoulders, the black t-shirt that loosely fits his body, his easy movements, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead. And every time, your mind cruelly throws you back to that image from last night.

You barely touch your toast, and when Seokjin finally sets his plate in the sink and announces he’s heading out to work in the office since he has some meetings later this afternoon, you feel a wave of relief so strong it’s almost embarrassing.

As the front door clicks shut behind him, you slump against the counter, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

What are you going to do? How are you supposed to face him every day without your mind going there?

If there’s anything that helps clear your mind, it’s organizing. The chaos of your thoughts seems to calm when you’re sorting, categorizing, and arranging. And thank god you have a lot of that to do right now with all the boxes cluttering your room and spilling into the living room.

Determined to regain some sense of control, you dive into it. First, the essentials—clothing, toiletries, and the work necessities you hope to use again someday. You find a rhythm: open, sort, fold, stack, repeat. The act becomes a form of meditation, letting you focus on the task rather than… other things.

After about two hours, just as you’re folding a stack of sweaters, your phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call. Your dear best friend Yunjin’s photo flashes across the screen.

You swipe to answer, her bright, cheerful face filling the screen instantly.

“Hey girl!!” she chirps, holding her phone up at an angle that shows a bustling street lined with shops and people.

“Hey, Yunjin!” you say, unable to hide your grin. “Haven’t seen your beautiful face in awhile. What are you up to?”

“I’m out shopping in Japantown,” she says, spinning her phone around to give you a quick view of colorful storefronts and an adorable bakery. “And I saw this cute Moomin plush keychain. It reminded me of you, so I’m gonna gift it you!”

A Gift?! 

Your eyes widen. “N-No! It’s fine!”

Yunjin’s smile doesn’t falter. “Oh, stop it. I want to. Plus, it’ll give me an excuse to go visit you.” Yunjin lives a couple of hours away from you, so you don’t get to see her as often as you used to during college.

Despite her kindness, you feel a pang of guilt. Being unemployed has left you hyperaware of money, and the idea of your friend spending her hard-earned cash on you—without expecting anything in return—feels unbearable. But that’s just how she is. That’s just…Yunny.

“Really, you don’t have to,” you say, even as a part of you knows arguing with her is pointless.

“Too late!” she sing-songs, flipping the camera around to show the tiny Moomin plush with its sweet little face and scarf. “Tell me this isn’t so you.”

It is. It absolutely is.

You sigh, shaking your head but unable to keep from smiling. “Okay, fine. But at least let me treat you to a coffee.”

“Deal,” Yunjin says with a wink before turning the camera back to her. “So, how’s it going with your new place? Settling in okay?”

Your mind flashes to Seokjin, to the events of last night, and you swallow hard. “Uh, yeah. It’s… nice. Just getting things sorted.”

Yunjin squints at the screen, her expression turning suspicious. “You sound weird. What’s going on?”

Should you tell her? Absolutely not. She’d think the whole situation was bizarre—and worse, she’d probably call you weird for sticking around to watch him do that. You quickly decide to change the topic.

“Yunny, is there really no way I can stay with you for a bit of time?” you groan, leaning against the pile of clothes you’d been folding.

Yunjin’s brow furrows. “Oh, why? You don’t like your new place?”

“It’s… fine,” you hedge, glancing toward your door as if Jin might somehow overhear. “I just… I don’t know. It’d be nice to have you around again like old times.”

The truth is, you don’t want to leave this city. It’s the only place where the kind of opportunities you’re looking for exist. And besides, you love it here—the energy, the atmosphere, the food scene. Nothing else in or out of state even comes close.

But if moving meant getting away from the strange situation you’ve landed yourself in, maybe you’d consider it.

“Uh, well, sadly, no,” Yunjin says with a slight pout. “I thought one of my housemates was moving out to live with her boyfriend, but it looks like that was all talk. She’s staying put for now. They probably wouldn’t be okay with temporary couch surfing either.”

That makes sense.

“Oh,” you reply, deflated. “Okay.”

“Hmm.” Yunjin narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but thankfully, she doesn’t press further. “Well, I can’t wait to see your new place. We’ll do a housewarming soon, okay?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you say, nodding along, though the thought of hosting a gathering here makes your stomach twist. How exactly would you explain Seokjin’s... side hustle to anyone if they happened to find out?

“Alright, I’ve gotta go,” Yunjin says, the bustling noise behind her growing louder. “I’m supposed to get lunch with Hanni and Stephen. Love you!”

“Love you too,” you reply, waving at the screen before the call ends.

You set your phone down, a mix of warmth and guilt settling over you. It’s comforting to know Yunjin has your back, but it also serves as a painful reminder of how far you’ve fallen. No job, no stability, and now living with a guy who… well.

You shake your head, refusing to let yourself spiral. There’s too much to do, too many boxes to unpack. For now, you focus on the small wins—folding clothes, sorting books, reclaiming a sense of order.

One step at a time.

You throw yourself into unpacking and organizing, letting the steady rhythm of your tasks distract you from your swirling thoughts. The hours slip by as you arrange books on shelves, hang up clothes, and shuffle boxes around to make the room feel less like a storage unit and more like a home.

By the time the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, you’ve made solid progress. Your room is starting to look presentable—cozy, even. The hum of activity keeps your mind occupied, though every now and then, stray thoughts about last night sneak in.

The sound of the front door unlocking jolts you out of your reverie. A moment later, Seokjin walks in, dressed in business attire, his tie slightly loosened and his hair tousled in that effortlessly charming way that makes it clear why his stream fans are obsessed with him.

“Hey,” he says, offering a small smile as he sets his bag on the counter. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” you reply, wiping your dust-covered hands on your jeans. “Got most of my stuff sorted out.”

He glances toward your room and nods approvingly. “Nice. Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I figured I’d get it all done before it starts to feel like a chore.”

Seokjin chuckles as he loosens his tie completely and drapes it over a chair. “Smart move. I should probably take a page out of your book. My closet’s a disaster zone right now.”

“Really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as the messy type.”

He shrugs, pulling open the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “It’s organized chaos. I know where everything is… mostly.”

You laugh softly, some of the tension you’d been holding onto easing as the conversation flows naturally. For the first time since last night, you don’t feel quite so on edge around him.

“Anyway,” he says, taking a sip of water and leaning against the counter, “I’m gonna change out of this and make something for dinner. You hungry?”

“Starving,” you admit, realizing you hadn’t eaten much while caught up in organizing.

“Cool. Give me like ten minutes,” he says with a grin, already heading toward his room.

As he disappears down the hallway, you let out another breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s going to take some time to feel normal here, but for now, small moments like this help.

Back to one step at a time.

Yes… one step at a time.

Jin reappears in casual clothes—sweatpants and a loose tee that somehow still manages to look good on him—and heads straight to the kitchen. You sit on the couch, doomscrolling on social media to consume random content to keep you busy in the meantime.

The comforting sound of clattering pots and pans fills the apartment, accompanied by the savory aroma of something delicious in the making.

When he calls out, “Hope you like pasta carbonara,” you can’t help but feel grateful he’s even making you food. 

He doesn’t have to do this, but it’s nice that he is.

He sets the steaming pan on top of a hot pad on the table, followed by two plates, forks, and a sprinkle of grated cheese in a small dish. “Voilà. Gourmet dining at its finest.”

This actually looks like high quality italian restaurant quality presentation.

You take a seat, eyeing the dish appreciatively. “Woah? Fancy. Do you cook like this all the time?”

He grins as he spoons a generous serving onto your plate. “Not always. I have a rotation: this, ramen, steak, kimchi jjigae, and… takeout. Lots of takeout.”

You laugh, grabbing your fork. “Sounds somewhat balanced.”

“I try to keep it balanced but,” he agrees, twirling pasta onto his fork. “I also work out a bit too.”

“Nice,” 

In your mind, you’re thinking “yeah, you’ve seen him workout alright”

This is really going to eat at you at this rate.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence for a while, the rich, creamy flavors of the pasta doing wonders for your mood. It feels surreal to be sitting here, sharing a meal with someone who, just days ago, you were convinced would be a terrible roommate.

The meal is delicious, better than you’d expected. For a while, you let yourself get lost in the comforting simplicity of eating—pasta twirling on your fork, the sauce aroma wafting up, the occasional clink of silverware against plates.

It feels… normal. Nice, even. But still, at the back of your mind, there’s a quiet storm brewing.

The night before keeps replaying in your head, uninvited and intrusive, like a broken record you can’t turn off. You glance at Seokjin as he eats, his features relaxed, his posture casual. How can he seem so normal when you know what he was doing less than 24 hours ago?

The mental tug-of-war begins: Should you just ignore it? Pretend it never happened? Or—

“So,” you blurt, interrupting your own thoughts, “what exactly do you do for work?”

Jin looks up, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. “I work in marketing,” he says, reaching for his water.

You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Marketing for…?”

He grins, sensing your peaked interest. “Riot Games. You know, the League of Legends company?”

Your eyes widen. “No way! What! That’s so cool.”

That’s actually a pretty awesome career.

And so Seokjin of him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fun. A lot of campaigns and community engagement stuff. It keeps me busy, but I like it. Games have always been my thing.”

That part doesn’t surprise you. Growing up, Jin was always glued to his Game Boy, computer or chattering about his latest high scores. This career seems like a natural fit for him.

“Of course, I remember that well,” you say, smiling. “Also explains the gaming setup.”

“The gaming setup?” Jin freezes for a fraction of a second, his fork hovering mid-air. His expression shifts from casual to guarded so quickly you almost miss it.

Shit.

You scramble to backtrack. “Uh, I just mean… you seem like the type to have a cool gaming setup, you know? Dual monitors, fancy keyboard, maybe some LED lights?”

His shoulders relax slightly, though his eyes remain sharp, watching you closely. “Haven’t shown you my room yet. How’d you know?”

“I didn’t,” you reply quickly, forcing a laugh. “It’s just a guess. I mean, come on, you work at Riot Games. Wouldn’t you have the gear to match?”

Jin tilts his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips before he leans back in his chair. “Actually,” he says, his tone shifting slightly, “I’ve been a bit shy to mention this, but… I’m also a Twitch streamer.”

You already knew this from prior snooping, so you gotta act surprised.

Your fork pauses mid-air. “Woah? You are?”

He nods, a little sheepish now, which is a rare look for him. “Yeah. My old roommate actually got me into it awhile back. It started as a way to unwind after work, but then it kinda… took off. Nothing crazy, but it’s been fun.”

You don’t think that 200,000 followers is something to not be impressed about. That is a decently big audience for someone who hasn’t been doing it for too long.

That sparks your curiosity. “Really? What do you stream?”

“Well, gaming mainly as you saw,” he says, shrugging. “Some League, Valorant… a bit of variety stuff when I feel like it. My audience isn’t huge, but it’s a solid little community to talk with.”

Audience, right.

Your mind flashes back to last night—the setup, the webcam, the comments streaming on the screen—and your stomach tightens. He wanted to hide this from you but still has more to uncover, but he’s so good at hiding it. Well, at least until you caught him yesterday.

You try to keep your expression neutral as you ask, “Isn’t it hard to balance with your job?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Not really. Most of my streams are at night, after work. I mean, I’m already up, so I might as well do something productive, right?”

Productive, you think, the word ricocheting in your head. If only he knew…

“That’s… really cool,” you manage, keeping your tone even. “Do you think you’ll ever go full-time with it?”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Nah. I like streaming, but I don’t think I’d give up my day job for it. It’s more of a side hustle, you know? Keeps me busy and entertained.”

“Right,” you say, nodding. “That makes sense.”

“I’ll have to show it to you some time. Maybe even let you try the setup if you’re into games.”

Oh?

“Sure,” you say, nodding too eagerly. “That sounds fun. Though I’ve always been a Nintendo girl,”

“I do recall, and that’s fine by me. We could play Mario Kart!”

“That sounds like a lot of fun, Jin—”

The word slips out naturally, before you even realize it. You freeze mid-sentence, your lips parting as the familiar nickname hangs awkwardly in the air. You haven’t called him “Jin” since elementary school. It used to roll off your tongue back when you were kids, when he was just a goofy classmate you exchanged Pokémon cards with and competed against in dodgeball. But ever since reconnecting as adults, you’ve made a conscious effort to just refer to him by his full name, Seokjin. It felt more appropriate. More… grown-up.

And it created a boundary, which now feels undone by you calling him more casually. Curse you getting more comfortable with this man! His eyes widen slightly at the sound of it, his smile faltering for only a split second before softening into something warmer. “Jin, huh?” he muses, raising an eyebrow. “Haven’t heard you call me that in years.”

You swallow, cheeks warming as you try to play it off casually. “Oh. Uh, sorry— I just—”

“You just what?” he teases gently, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

You groan, covering your face for a brief moment. “It just slipped out, okay? Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Hmm.” His voice hums with amusement, and when you peek at him through your fingers, he’s looking at you with a fond expression that makes your stomach flip. “I don’t mind it, you know. Kinda like it, actually.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah,” he says simply, shrugging. “It’s nostalgic.”

There’s a pause as the two of you exchange a quiet glance, something unspoken settling in the air between you. For a moment, you swear his gaze lingers on you just a little too long.

“Well,” you mutter, trying to brush off the sudden tension. “If you don’t mind it, I guess I’ll start calling you Jin again.”

His smile widens into something bright and genuine, then chuckles. “Good! Doesn’t feel too weird anyways since my Twitch chat calls me Jin as well.”

And you were flustered over this for nothing.

The conversation moves on, but every time you say “Jin”, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something you can’t quite place. You ignore it though, as his dirty secret continues to gnaw at your mind more than whatever he must be thinking.

Glancing at him as he finishes his pasta, a soft hum escaping him as he collects the plates.

You retreat to your room, bidding Jin a casual goodnight as he mentions his plans for the evening. “Gonna play some Elden Ring with my friends, and then stream a Pokémon randomized Nuzlocke at nine,” he says, grinning. “If you hear me yelling at any ungodly hour, just know it’s the RNG gods being cruel.”

“Good to know,” you reply with a small laugh before closing your door behind you.

Settling onto your bed, you decide to distract yourself with something immersive—Bakemonogatari. It’s been on your list for a long time, and felt like now would be a good time to watch it. The anime’s intricate dialogue and surreal visuals immediately pull you in, though it’s hard to focus completely with lingering thoughts of Jin playing games only a few walls away.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus on the screen. As the narrative deepens and the subtitles demand your full attention, your eyelids grow heavier. Soon, the soft glow of the laptop screen and the soothing cadence of the voice acting lull you into a deep sleep.

A good sleep.

The kind of sleep you’ve been craving after a long day of cleaning, unpacking, and organizing—a chance to reset and settle fully into this new chapter of your life.

Until a familiar sensation stirs you awake.

You blink blearily at the clock on your nightstand.

2:35 a.m.

Déjà vu hits you like a freight train. The thirst pulls you out of bed, an undeniable urge. With a groggy sigh, you shuffle out of your room and make your way to the kitchen.

The dim light from the hallway guides you as you grab a water bottle from under the sink. The cool plastic feels grounding in your hand as you twist the cap open and take a long, satisfying sip.

Refreshed, you glance around. It’s quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the soft whir of your thoughts.

And then your gaze instinctively drifts toward Jin’s room again.

Not for the wrong reasons! you tell yourself defensively. It’s just… you’re checking on him. Making sure he’s okay!

Right?

Your bare feet make the softest pats against the floor as you tiptoe a little closer to the hallway leading to Jin’s room. Sure enough, a familiar sliver of light leaks from the partially ajar door.

But something’s different this time.

You squint, leaning just enough to peek in.

There he is.

Seokjin sits cross-legged at his desk, headphones on, illuminated by the glow of his monitors. But instead of his usual casual attire or the polished look he had earlier, he’s wearing a pajama set. A blue pajama set covered in cartoon characters. The sight of him in something so unexpectedly cute throws you for a loop.

On the screen, the familiar pixelated world of Pokémon sprawls before him.

“Okay guys, I should end the live here,” he says cheerfully, his voice carrying through the quiet apartment. “But I’m almost at the Elite Four! This team I have right now is pretty solid, even if we lost Moon the Lunatone. I’ll get through the rival battle and stop there.”

Your jaw slackens.

Wait, what?

Where’s the camwork? The NSFW content? The explicit… everything you’d stumbled upon last night?

Confusion swirls in your chest as you scurry back to your room, shutting the door as quietly as possible. You lean against it, clutching the water bottle in both hands as your mind races.

What is going on here?

Had you… imagined it? No, that couldn’t be right. The vivid image of last night flashes through your mind unbidden, heat creeping up your neck as you recall every mortifying detail.

But now? He’s just streaming a Pokémon Nuzlocke like a completely normal, wholesome gamer.

Maybe you dreamed it…?

You sit on the edge of your bed, clutching the water bottle as if it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

Maybe you were just seeing things last night.

The thought plants itself firmly in your mind, and as much as you try to swat it away, it lingers. You were exhausted yesterday. Between moving, unpacking, and the emotional whirlwind of losing your job and your relationship, maybe your mind just… played tricks on you.

Yeah, that must be it.

There’s no way you actually saw Jin doing that.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god, I’m losing it,” you mutter under your breath.

Still, the memory feels so vivid. The faint glow of his screen, his movements, the soft noises—ugh, stop it! You shake your head, desperate to push the images out of your mind.

But the scene you just witnessed tonight couldn’t be more different. Jin was just… Jin. Cute pajama set, gaming setup, and an audience of what you assume were adoring fans cheering him on as he streamed his Pokémon playthrough.

Totally innocent.

Totally normal.

You flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Your chest tightens as you try to rationalize it all. Maybe the stress and lack of sleep made your brain concoct some wild scenario. After all, you’re in a new place with a guy you haven’t seen since childhood. Maybe it’s just your subconscious working overtime as you’re lacking physical touch.

That has to be it, you convince yourself, pulling the blanket over your face.

And that’s exactly what you’ve convinced yourself to think.

Over two weeks have passed, and from the few times you’ve stumbled out of bed late at night, you haven’t encountered anything remotely similar to what you thought you saw on your first night here.

It became easier and easier to believe you hallucinated the whole thing.

Stress does crazy things to people, you told yourself. You just need to focus on your life.

Still, the faint embarrassment lingers every now and then, but it’s manageable. After all, you’ve been busy with moving-in activities, refining your resume, and applying to jobs. Productivity has been your savior, keeping your mind occupied and away from thoughts of intimacy—something that feels uncomfortable ever since your last relationship ended in betrayal.

Order seems to have been restored.

Conversations with Seokjin (who you now refer to as Jin) have become more natural, the initial awkwardness dissipating as you become more comfortable with one another and you’ve settled into a rhythm. You respect each other’s spaces, and despite the occasional childish banter, the dynamic is easy, like good old friends reconnecting.

You’ve gone shopping together for groceries, evening outings to eat at a sit-in restaurant or even just go for a drive or walk to destress, which usually ends in getting ice cream or bubble tea.

It’s oddly casual, but you don’t mind that. This is how things should be now that you’re both adults.

It’s a Thursday at noon when you hear the doorbell and find a large package waiting for Jin. 

[You: Hey, there's a big package addressed to you at the door? Where should I put it?]

After texting him to ask where to leave it, he eventually responds:

[Jin: Ah, thanks for letting me know. I was waiting on that to come in. Jin:Just put it in my room if you don’t mind!]

[You: Okay!]

And with that, you pick up the box and head toward his room.

It occurs to you as you step inside that this is your first time actually entering his space.

Jin’s room is, unsurprisingly, immaculate—spacious, well-organized, and undeniably him. The decor is a cute mix of his personality: shelves filled with gaming figures, an impressive collection of games, and stuffed animals of his favorite creatures scattered across the bed. There’s even a small shrine to Mario and Kirby in the corner that makes you grin.

You place the package on his bed as instructed and turn to leave, but something catches your eye.

His monitor.

The screen is still on, displaying a cluttered web browser with more tabs open than anyone should realistically have. You almost laugh at the chaos of it—thirty, maybe forty tabs?

But then your gaze lands on one in particular.

A small icon. A name.

Chaturbate.

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh. My. God.

It’s like the carefully constructed world of denial you’ve built over the past week shatters in an instant.

No way. No, no, no, this can’t be?!

Your feet feel glued to the floor as your mind races. This can’t be real. Why would Jin have that open? Wasn’t it just a mistake that night? A fluke? A hallucination?!

And yet, here it is. Right in front of you.

Your stomach flips as hell’s gates open again, memories from that night rushing back in vivid detail.

Curiosity claws at you, relentless and insistent. You know you shouldn’t, but the urge to know is overwhelming. If it really is what you think it is… then maybe, just maybe, you can confirm it and put this strange, lingering mystery to rest.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you step closer to the desk. The glow of the screen feels accusatory, like a spotlight shining on your guilt. This is so wrong, you think, but your hand still moves.

You nudge the mouse, waking the monitor from its idle dimness.

The browser window expands to full brightness, revealing the countless tabs more clearly now. You spot the one labeled Chaturbate. Your fingers hover over the mouse, trembling slightly, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you click.

The page loads immediately.

And there it is.

The profile is still open, though it’s not broadcasting live. A banner at the top reads: "Offline – Streams Scheduled 3x a month. Next stream: Tonight at 1:30AM."

The alias catches your eye immediately, bold and unmistakable at the top of the page: "BigTunaManXOXO"

Big Tuna Man?

You have to chuckle, though the sound feels unnatural in the stillness of the room. Well, he did mention he likes tuna when you two had sushi two days ago. You shake your head in disbelief at how absurd the situation is.

Scrolling a little more, your heart races as the tags and content descriptions appear on the screen. Tags like casual play, NSFW, punishment, and even interactive fill the list, confirming everything you feared—and hoped—was true.

What did you expect? you think, eyes scanning the content. His previous streams, unlocked for paid viewers, show glimpses of what you had seen—shirtless moments, fan interactions, and those subtle teases. Some comments from regular viewers flash on the screen: "You’re so cute, Big Tuna. Gonna get your next stream tonight?"

A pit forms in your stomach as you scroll further, seeing the balance of gaming content mixed with something... different. There are a few VODs, some marked with glowing red icons and some tagged with things like solo play, toys, edging and private sessions. Your breath catches in your throat as you click on one of the unlocked streams. It starts to load, and before you can stop yourself, you’re staring at a past broadcast.

Seokjin.

In a black Alo Yoga hoodie and 5” inseam black shorts. The camera angle is different now, the lighting softer, more intimate. His voice comes through clearly, playful, teasing. You watch as he interacts with the chat, joking around with his viewers, and then... he moves the camera just enough that you can see the lower half of his face for a moment—barely anything though, but enough to confirm it’s him to you, who has been seeing him every day since you moved in with him.

His usual smile is replaced by something softer, more relaxed, more... flirty.

And then, there it is.

The content, the movement—just like you saw that first night. The subtle, slow gestures that make everything come rushing back, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

You harshly click the tab shut, returning to the previous tab it once was. Quickly, you leave Jin’s room, making sure not to disturb anything else. The echo of the laptop snapping shut still rings in your ears, and your hands are trembling slightly as you step back into the hallway.

You hope it doesn’t look like you lingered too long. The last thing you need is for him to know you were snooping around, even accidentally. You slip back into your own room, shutting the door behind you, and lean against it, exhaling shakily.

This is too much.

You now have undeniable proof. Solid, irrefutable evidence that the man you’re living with, sharing meals with, and chatting about Pokémon and pasta with... is a cam boy. A cam boy doing porn and who’s managed to keep this side hustle hidden under layers of casual charm and everyday normalcy.

It’s not the fact that he does that kind of work that bothers you, not at all. If anything, it’s more… personal than that… The memory of what you saw—his expressions, his movements—lingers in your mind like an unshakable phantom, making your body feel uncomfortably warm and restless. You sink onto your bed, burying your face in your hands as if that will somehow erase the imagery burned into your brain.

Get it together, you tell yourself.

But curiosity—it’s a relentless beast. The harder you try to shove it down, the more insistent it becomes. Questions start to pile up, each one more intrusive than the last.

Does anyone recognize him? Do his fans know?

You grab your phone, desperate for answers, and open Reddit. If there’s one place on the internet where secrets can’t stay buried, it’s here. Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you type: Gamer Jin and BigTunaManXOXO Reddit.

The search yields only two results. Two. A drop in the ocean of online gossip and speculation, yet still enough to send your heart into overdrive.

You tap the first thread: “Jin and BigTunaManXOXO: Double Life?”

The original poster’s comment pulls you in instantly:

“Okay, is it just me, or doesn’t he sound like this cam boy BigTunaManXOXO? Literally has the same voice, same mannerisms... someone tell me I’m not crazy.”

The replies are a mix of disbelief, humor, and outright denial. Some users dismiss the theory as absurd, calling it disrespectful to Jin. Others joke about the sheer randomness of the comparison, adding memes and GIFs for good measure.

But a small minority entertains the possibility.

“I mean… I’ve seen his streams. The way he laughs does sound kinda similar…”

“I don’t think it’s him, but if it were, that would be WILD.”

One reply makes your stomach churn:

“Not saying it’s him, but I subscribed to BigTunaManXOXO just to fantasize about him being Jin. No regrets.”

You stare at the screen, your mind spinning. The majority of commenters don’t believe the theory, dismissing it as pure coincidence. But they have no idea how close they are to the truth.

And now, neither can you unsee it.

Seokjin arrived home that evening with a bright smile and the unmistakable aroma of takeout wafting through the apartment. The bags he carried crinkled as he shifted them in his arms, his voice ringing out cheerfully, “Guess what I got? Bao buns! And a few other things, but mostly the bao buns—because I remembered you mentioned them earlier this week.”

You hear a knock at your door a moment later, and you pause, nerves prickling under your skin. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before opening it. Seokjin stands there, still dressed in his work clothes but with his usual easygoing grin.

“Dinner’s here. Come eat,” he says, gesturing toward the living room with the bags.

You nod, smiling back, though it feels a little forced. “Thanks, Jin. That’s really thoughtful of you.”

His sharp eyes linger on you for a beat too long, and you know he’s caught the slight edge in your tone, the nervous way you’re holding the door. He doesn’t say anything, but his expression shifts—subtle, curious. He doesn’t push, though; that’s not his style.

Instead, he leans back casually and adds, “I figured we could eat and watch something. Maybe an old favorite of yours?” He raises a brow, the corners of his lips tugging upward knowingly. “Bleach? I noticed you have some merch on your bookshelf.”

Your heart skips a beat, both from the thoughtful gesture and the fact that Seokjin’s perceptiveness always seems to catch you off guard. Does he see right through me? Does he know what I found?

“Bleach sounds good,” you say quickly, hoping to steady yourself. “Let me just grab something, and I’ll meet you in the living room.”

“Cool,” he says, his voice calm but tinged with something else—maybe a touch of inquisition. He walks off toward the kitchen, leaving you alone for a moment.

You close the door softly, leaning your head against it. Why does he have to be so…—you search for the right word—attentive? It’s like he has a radar for when something’s wrong. And now, dinner and your childhood favorite anime feel like a test of your ability to act normal.

A few minutes later, you join him in the living room. The coffee table is already set with the takeout containers: bao buns, lo mein, orange chicken, and fried rice. Jin is on the couch, flipping through streaming options until he lands on Bleach. He looks up and pats the cushion next to him.

“Sit. I already started the episode where Ichigo reunites with Rukia and the other Gotei 13 soul reapers. Start of my favorite arcs.”

You sit, the warm scent of the food making your stomach growl despite the anxious knot twisting inside you. Seokjin slides a plate toward you, and the two of you settle into a rhythm—eating, watching, occasionally commenting on the nostalgia of the show.

But the tension lingers.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him glancing at you between bites, as if trying to figure out what’s on your mind. And you wonder just how long it will take before his curiosity outweighs his patience.

As you both finish up the episode of Bleach, Seokjin turns to you, his gaze warm yet inquisitive. “So, how was your day?”

You pause for a second, collecting your thoughts. 

What to say? What did you do today before your world got flipped upside down… Oh right… the job interview. “Busy,” you say with a small laugh. “I had a second interview earlier for a job.”

His eyebrows lift, impressed. “Oh? What’s the role?”

“It’s for a coordinator position at a small fashion house,” you explain. “It went… great, actually. But I don’t think I’ll get it though.”

Jin frowns, leaning slightly closer. “Why not? You just said it went great.”

You shrug, letting out a sigh. “I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling, I guess. Fashion’s cutthroat, you know? The people in that industry are quick to judge if you don’t fit the vibe they’re looking for. You can have all the skills, a good background, everything—but it’s still not enough sometimes. I don’t think I got what they want.”

He watches you for a moment, then sets down his plate and reaches across the table. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice steady. “You are good enough. I know it’s hard not to overthink, but you have to believe that you bring something special to the table.”

Your chest tightens at his words, the sincerity in his tone. His thumb brushes your knuckles gently, and that nervous feeling blooms again, tugging at the edges of your thoughts. There’s something so familiar about this—like nostalgia wrapped in uncertainty. It’s comforting, but it scares you all the same.

You blink, pulling your hand back as casually as you can without it seeming abrupt. “Thanks, Jin,” you say, your voice tight. “I… I should probably get ready for this international networking seminar I have. It’s later tonight so I’ll be up for awhile.”

He tilts his head slightly, concern flickering in his expression, but he doesn’t press. “Right. Well, good luck with it. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Right back ‘atcha,” you reply quickly, standing up. You gather the disposable utensils and plates in a hurry, tossing them into the trash before he can say anything else.

Seokjin stays seated on the couch, his gaze lingering on you as you retreat to your room. The moment you close the door behind you, you exhale sharply, pressing your back against it.

Why does he have to be like this? So supportive, so perceptive, so… kind?

This is not the Seokjin you imagined when you decided to move in here!

You shake your head, trying to refocus your thoughts. You have work to do. The seminar is important, and you need to be prepared. But even as you sit down at your desk and open your laptop, you can’t shake the image of Jin’s hand on yours or the soft encouragement in his voice.

It’s almost enough to make you forget what you saw earlier today. Almost.

Would it do you any good to force yourself to forget? Pretend that the tab you saw was just a fleeting mistake, an inconsequential moment in time?

Or would it be better to confront this unsettling curiosity head-on? Maybe, if you understood more about his “side hobby,” you could find a way to desensitize yourself. Make it less of a big deal. Normalize it in your head.

The thought gnaws at you until you’re lying in bed at 1:28 a.m., the glow of your laptop casting a dim light across your room. You’re wearing your old blue track shorts and a faded YMCA T-shirt, the kind of comfort wear you don’t expect anyone to see you in. You thought the seminar would last longer, but with some guest speaker changes, it ended right at 1am.

So now you’re doing this.

The chat on the pending livestream is already alive—rows of messages racing up the screen, eager fans buzzing in anticipation of “BigTunaMan’s” arrival.

You can’t believe you’re actually doing this.

You glance at the clock again. One minute to go.

Then, he appears.

The camera flicks on, revealing Seokjin—or BigTunaMan, as his audience knows him—seated in his chair, the warm glow of soft lighting the only facially visible part of him: his lower half of his face and the subtle curve of his smirk. He’s wearing a loose tank top, the kind that clings just enough to hint at the lines of his shoulders and chest, paired with pajama bottoms that ride low on his hips. His demeanor is relaxed, confident, and undeniably captivating.

“Hey there, my army of lovers,” he greets, his voice lower, smoother, each word deliberately stretched out as if he’s tasting them. The chat floods instantly with messages, adoration pouring in from every corner of his audience.

“BigTunaMan, looking gorgeous as always!”

“Omg, talk slower, I can’t handle it.”

“Take all my money, please.”

Jin leans forward, resting his chin in his hand, his lips curling into an indulgent smile as he reads through the comments. “You’ve all been so patient tonight,” he purrs. “So how about I spoil you a little?”

He picks up a small bowl of strawberries from beside him, holding it up for the camera. The way his fingers brush over the fruit feels intentional, sensual, as though he’s fully aware of the effect he has on the people watching.

“Let’s start simple,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering to the chat, teasing. “A little ASMR snack to set the mood. And of course, I’ll be saying your names—if you’ve earned it.”

The screen lights up with donations almost instantly, usernames accompanied by desperate messages and heart emojis.

He picks a strawberry from the bowl, holding it delicately between his fingers, and bites into it slowly. The sound is soft but amplified, deliberate, and his eyes never leave the camera. He chews thoughtfully, his tongue darting out briefly to catch a stray bit of juice.

“Thank you, PurpleHeart94,” he whispers, his voice silky and intimate. “You’re so generous tonight, baby.” He takes another bite, his gaze steady and smoldering. “And you, HentaiPrincess420—what a sweet name. Thank you for spoiling me when I should be doing that to you.”

Shit… He’s so smooth.

The chat goes wild, messages pouring in faster than you can keep track of them.

He takes his time, naming off more donors, each one met with a sultry thank-you, his tone dripping with playful affection. By the time the strawberries are gone, the tension in the air feels palpable, even through the screen.

Jin leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he speaks. “Now that we’re warmed up,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “how about we move on to something… a little more sexy?”

Your breath catches.

“The touching session,” he says simply, his hand trailing down his chest slowly, almost lazily. The camera angle shifts slightly, framing him in a way that feels more intimate, inviting, as if he’s closing the distance between himself and his audience.

You’re not sure whether you should close the laptop or keep watching, but your fingers remain frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

The chat explodes:

“YES, PLEASE!”

“Touch me instead!”

“PICK ME CHOOSE ME BigTunaMan!”

Jin chuckles, the sound low and resonant. “Patience,” he chides softly. “We’ve got all night, haven’t we?”

The camera zooms in slightly, drawing your focus to the deliberate, almost hypnotic movements of Jin’s hands as they trail over his skin. His voice, smooth and sultry, seeps into your ears like honey, wrapping around your thoughts and making it impossible to concentrate on anything else.

“Do you like this?” he murmurs, his tone so intimate it feels like he’s speaking directly to you. “Tell me how much you want it.”

The chat erupts in eager replies, but they’re a distant hum compared to the pounding of your heart. You can’t look away.

Though he keeps his face just out of view, it’s his voice that captures you, that low, velvety timbre punctuated by soft, breathy moans. They’re unintentional, almost reluctant, but they strike something deep within you.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, as your eyes remain glued to the screen. The way his hands move—slow, teasing, purposeful—sends heat coursing through your body. Every movement is a study in precision, a dance of tension and release that makes your breath hitch.

You feel your body responding in ways you didn’t expect. Warmth pools low in your belly, and your thighs press together instinctively. Your fingers hover near the trackpad, ready to click away but unable to follow through.

“This feels good, doesn’t it?” he continues, his voice breaking into a soft groan that sends a shiver down your spine. Why is this actually feeling…good. You can’t stop yourself from imagining those hands on you, guiding you, making you forget everything—your ex, the breakup, the shitty job market, the confusion of the past weeks.

For a moment, you close your eyes and let the sound of his voice wash over you. Your fingers inch lower, hesitating, as you let yourself get lost in the moment. You’re not thinking about the consequences, about what this means. You’re thinking about him—his hands, his voice, the heat building inside you.

The guilt simmers beneath the surface, but it’s drowned out by the relentless pull of desire. The screen lights up your room, but it’s his voice and movements that light you up inside. You barely notice the chat anymore; it’s just you and him in this moment, an unspoken connection through the glow of the laptop.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as your hand moves on its own accord, slipping under the waistband of your shorts. You close your eyes again, imagining his hands instead of your own, his voice murmuring your name instead of the ones flooding the chat. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, you let yourself feel without holding back.

In this moment, nothing else matters. Fuck the breakup you had with Mingi. Fuck the stress of job searching. Fuck the awkwardness of living with him. And most importantly, fuck the consequences of watching this. It’s just him, the way he makes you feel, and the heat that consumes you completely.

Your breath hitches as your hands wander further, slipping under your shirt to tease at your nipples, fingers rolling and pinching lightly. Each touch sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, but it’s not enough—not compared to what you’re watching on the screen.

Not like Jin’s movements at all.

Jin’s hands move with expert precision against his dick, his body shifting slightly as he leans into the motions. His moans, soft yet intentional, echo in your ears, spurring your own need higher. You slide your shorts down your hips, the cool air kissing your skin as they drop to the floor.

Your fingers dip lower, grazing over the slick heat pooling between your thighs. It’s good, but not nearly enough. You want more. You need more.

With a frustrated sigh, you pull yourself away from the bed, heart pounding as you open the drawer of your nightstand. Your fingers quickly locate the toy nestled among your folded underwear. It’s a guilty secret you’ve kept for moments like this, though none of those moments have ever felt as charged as this one.

You crawl back onto the bed, the glow of the screen casting shadows over your skin. Jin’s voice fills the room, low and enticing, as he murmurs, “You want me to keep going? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Your thighs clench involuntarily at his words, your hand trembling slightly as you press the toy against yourself. The first vibration jolts through you, a gasp escaping your lips as your body arches into the sensation.

On the screen, Jin leans back slightly, his voice dipping even lower. “Just relax,” he says, as though he knows exactly what you’re doing. “Let me make you feel good.”

You follow his lead, letting the toy work against you as your free hand resumes teasing your chest. The pleasure builds steadily, your movements syncing with his as if he’s guiding you through the screen.

Every sound he makes, every deliberate motion, heightens the sensation coursing through you. You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, but a soft moan slips out despite your efforts. The rhythm of the toy against you matches the cadence of his voice, and it feels as though he’s right there, coaxing you to the edge. You feel yourself almost reaching your orgasm.

But then…

The darkness in the room is lit by the various colored lights and monitor screens as Jin’s chest rises and falls. He begins to slows his movements on his cock, his fingers curling reflexively against his skin. For a brief, unguarded moment, his mind conjures your image—your laughter from earlier at dinner, the way you nervously tugged at the hem of your shirt when he reached out to reassure you.

Woah, what.

Why am I thinking about her right now?

The thought crashes into him like a freight train, shattering his carefully constructed cam-boy persona. His rhythm falters, and as he shifts back abruptly, his elbow knocks into the small Mario figure perched on the edge of his desk.

The figure wobbles, teeters, and then tumbles, the plastic base snapping cleanly off as it hits the hardwood floor.

“Shit!” Jin hisses, his hands flying up to stop the disaster that’s already occurred.

He quickly reaches for the webcam, clicking off the feed and muttering a quick excuse to his audience. “Hey guys, I’ll be right back. Technical issue. Don’t go anywhere.”

The chat floods with reactions—some disappointed, others supportive—but Jin pays them no mind. He gets himself covered up, with his focus no on the broken Mario figure in his hands.

He turns it over, the damage glaringly obvious. It’s just a silly little figurine to anyone else, but to Jin, it’s so much more. You’d given it to him during a Secret Santa exchange in elementary school. It was back when you were both just kids, long before life got complicated and your paths diverged.

He’d kept it all these years, quietly treasuring the memory of that moment, even if you probably didn’t remember.

“Damn it…” he mutters under his breath. He needs super glue—immediately.

The thought strikes him like lightning: you bought super glue just the other day to fix a keychain. You even mentioned it offhand while you were unloading groceries together.

You must have it in your room.

Without hesitation, Jin stands, his mind racing with urgency. You’d said you’d be up late for some seminar, so you’re probably awake. There’s no time to text or knock; he can just explain in person. You’re a few steps away anyway.

He pushes your door open, stepping inside in a rush, only for the world to come screeching to a halt.

His eyes widen as they land on you—sprawled on your bed, your shirt rucked up to expose bare breasts and heat, your shorts kicked off and forgotten. The unmistakable hum of a vibrator fills the air, the glow of your laptop illuminating your flushed face.

Holy shit, he just caught his new roommate and childhood rival… friend? masterbating.

Your hand freezes mid-motion as you look at him, your expression a mixture of shock and mortification.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

“I—” Jin stammers, his voice catching in his throat. His gaze darts away, his face heating up so fast it feels like it might combust. “I—oh my god—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—”

Your own voice fails you, a strangled moaning sound escaping your lips as you scramble to pull the blanket over yourself, fumbling in a panic.

“W-What the hell, Jin!” you manage to croak, your voice high-pitched and shaky.

“I needed super glue!” he blurts out, clutching the broken Mario figure in his hands like it’s the most important thing in the world. “For this! It’s broken, and I—”

“This couldn’t wait?!” you snap, the mortification only growing as his words fully sink in.

Jin takes a step back, clearly flustered. “I didn’t think—! I mean, I thought you were—”

He freezes mid-sentence, his eyes darting to your laptop screen. His breath catches as the realization washes over him.

That’s my stream.

For a moment, the room is suffocatingly silent, his wide-eyed gaze flicking between you and the unmistakable paused screen of his cam boy persona on your laptop. You're watching me? The thought echoes in his mind, equal parts flattered and horrified.

Jin had sensed something was off earlier in the evening, even before all of this unfolded. After dinner, when he’d returned to his room, he’d noticed the Chaturbate tab—closed.

That was odd.

He distinctly remembered leaving it open before leaving for work this morning. He’d scheduled some exclusive content for his next stream and had moved the tab to a less conspicuous window. He figured maybe he’d closed it in a rush and forgotten.

But now, as he stood here, watching your flushed face buried in your hands, it started clicking into place.

Your awkward behavior during dinner—the way you fumbled through your answers, the slight tension in your laugh. He’d assumed you were just jittery from nerves after your job interview, but this? This was something else entirely.

How long have you known?

The realization settled in his chest like a slow-building weight, pushing him further toward clarity. His gaze softened, not with pity, but with a blend of intrigue and confusion.

“Y/N, you’re watching my camming stream?” he finally says, his voice low, incredulous.

You groan, your hands flying up to cover your burning face. “Oh my god. I can explain—no, wait, I can’t explain. Just—” You trail off, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole. Your voice is muffled through your palms as you mutter, “This isn’t what it looks like at all!”

You're kind of cute, all flustered like this, he thinks to himself.

Jin crosses his arms, leaning against your doorframe, and his lips quirk up into a lopsided smile. There’s amusement in his eyes, but also something more—interest, maybe? He tilts his head slightly, watching you squirm.

Maybe he should tease her a little, like old times.

“Wow,” he finally says, his voice low and teasing. “Have you been that lonely?”

Your head snaps up, your face somehow growing hotter. “What? No! I mean…” You falter, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue, and you look away, unable to meet his gaze. “Okay, maybe a little. The breakup was actually that bad and um…but this—this isn’t about that.”

He takes a step closer, his smirk softening into something gentler. “You could’ve told me.”

“Told you what?” you ask weakly, your heart pounding as he stands just a few feet away now.

“That you’ve been feeling like this. That you needed…” His voice dips, and his dark eyes flicker over you, lingering just a little too long. “Some help...”

Your breath catches, and you swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Seokjin, I don’t—”

“I could help,” he interrupts, his tone soft but unmistakably suggestive.

The weight of his words settles over you like a warm blanket, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your mind racing. Is he serious? Does he mean what you think he means?

No, like why would he? What does he gain from this? Even he himself wonders.

“You could help?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud would shatter whatever fragile tension exists between you.

His eyes lock onto yours, and the look he gives you is steady, confident, and almost daring. “Yeah,” he says. “If you’d let me.”

He doesn’t think you’ll actually accept it, if anything, this is probably time for you to officially kick him out–

“Then help me, already.”

–

–

–

a/n: this is really long chapter because i really wanted to add some psychological warfare going on in reader's head + some character development as these two "childhood rivals" start to befriend each other now in their adult lives. i hope you enjoy this chapter. happy holidays!! thank you all for the support and for reading!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[darksigns-exe]

a prayer to venus - noah sebastian x ofc

warnings: panic attacks, questioning of gender, dysphoria, swearing, handjobs (m receiving), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected intercourse

word count: 21k

note: hi! this is a big boy so i'll keep things brief. special thanks to @deathblacksmoke, @circle-with-me, @sitkowski and @baddestomens <3 thank you for your help with this one.

as this is a very long fic there is a chance that i may have missed a warning. if you do find something that you think should be added please let me know <3

masterlist | taglist sign-up

Watching Maya get ready even though they have nowhere to go quickly becomes Noah’s favourite pastime. She’s humming along to the song playing in the background, not really paying attention to him. He knows that she likes the routine of it. Having a little bit of structure would probably do him good too. Noah’s had so much time to think that he’s starting to get sick of the inside of his own head. 

And it’s only been two weeks with no end in sight. 

The one good thing about this is that he gets to spend as much time with his girlfriend as he wants. Although, he’s sure that Maya will eventually get a little tired of him hanging around like this all the time. Sure, he’s doing his own things. But this will be the most time they’ll have together without a break since they’ve gotten together about two years ago, and he really doesn’t want her to get tired of him. 

He’s been so distracted that he hasn't noticed that Maya had long finished getting ready. 

“We have a problem.” she says, sounding so very displeased. 

Noah snaps out of his thoughts then, “What’s up?”

“Does the internet work on your phone?” 

He checks and – nothing. 

“Again?” 

Noah tries not to sound as frustrated as he feels. This is maybe the fourth time this week that their internet connection just stopped working. According to the provider, there’s nothing they can do about it. A lot of people online or something like that. 

“Let me just text Ellie that I can’t make it to the meeting today, and then we can see what we’ll do.”

Noah watches intently as she types the message into her phone.

As much as this all is going to suck, he’ll get to wake up to her every morning and that makes it a little bit better. 

The day drags by so tortuously slowly. They’ve watched two movies, had lunch and watched another three episodes of a show when the boredom really sets in. 

Maya lies with her head in his lap. The show playing in the background is long forgotten as they both do their own little things. 

“You should let me put make-up on you some time.” It sounds like a desperate attempt to keep herself busy. 

Noah has historically been rather bad at saying no to her, so it’s no surprise that he finds himself sat in front of her little vanity just a little while later. He’s happy to entertain Maya, and the upside of this is that he gets to be so very close to her. Having this time together will be good for them. Not that they’ve been struggling before, but actually getting to be a real couple for a little bit without having to deal with the distance will be nice. 

Maya tilts his chin up just a little. 

“Close your eyes for a moment.”

He has no idea what she’s doing. No amount of watching her do this will make him understand what the individual products she uses are. Whatever she’s doing feels nice, though. 

Maya’s fingers brush across the tops of his cheeks, before he feels the tickling of a brush follow in their path. 

“If you’re not careful, I’m going to force you to wear sunscreen.” Maya says then, and he knows that she’s smiling. 

“Is that a promise?” 

She smacks his shoulder playfully, “It’s a threat.” 

He loves what they have. 

They’d met at a friends’ show, literally bumping into each other at the bar. Noah had been hooked from that first moment. Maya had been the reluctant one. But he’d persevered. Noah had “played” best friend for a year before she’d eventually asked him if he’d like to be her date to her brother's wedding. Maya had caught the bouquet that day. He doesn’t remember how the kiss happened, they’d both had plenty to drink at that point. All Noah remembers is that after that day, everything had changed between them. Sure, he’d slept over at her place before and sure, he’d slept in her bed. But when Noah had woken up that morning, it had all felt so different. They’d never really cuddled, but then he’d woken up to Maya curled against his front, arm slung across his body. They’d sort of stumbled into this relationship, and it had taken Noah a whole month to build up the courage to ask her if they were a thing now. He’ll never forget how Maya had smiled at him then. How she’d asked him if he kisses all of his friends like he kisses her. It hadn’t been long until he’d moved into her place to maximise the time they’d have between tours. 

Two years later, Noah still feels all warm inside when she looks at him like that. 

“Alright.” Maya says finally, “All done. Have to admit, I think I’ve outdone myself.” 

What he sees in the mirror doesn’t immediately reach his brain. 

Noah has always been somewhat sure about himself, albeit a little insecure and unsatisfied when it comes to his height and weight. So really, he can’t explain the feeling that barrels through his brain like a freight train at that moment. He can’t tear his eyes away. Narcissus has nothing on him.

It’s almost as if he’s had a minor problem with his vision and has tried on glasses for the first time. It had never seemed off, but now that something has changed – 

He shoves the thought to the back of his mind. 

Nothing has changed. 

Maya put a little bit of stuff on his face and he can admit that it’s aesthetically pleasing. Nothing more. 

Nothing has changed. 

Noah can pick up on the similarities to how Maya does her own make up. And it feels a little like recognising her handwriting between countless others. Not that he knows a lot about this, but he’s watched her do it for long enough now to have at least a little bit of an idea. 

He finds Maya’s eyes in the mirror. 

She’s plotting something. 

“Can I take a couple of pictures, for reference?” she asks a moment later. 

Noah tries to give an indifferent shrug, “Sure.” 

He’s never worried about that before, and he won’t start now. Maya takes plenty of pictures of him for reference. 

He trots after her into the room she uses as a studio. Noah knows this routine by now. He stands in front of the white backdrop waiting for Maya to get her camera out and ready. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t deny the little pit that still sits in his chest. There’s a tightness there that he hadn’t felt an hour ago. 

Half an hour later, Noah finds himself under the burning hot stream of their shower. Maybe blasting himself with scalding water will make this go away. Surely, anyone would have a brief moment of questioning for lack of a better word if they saw themselves like that. He reasons it’s a normal thing. If you see yourself looking entirely different for the first time, it has to do something to your brain. But it doesn’t have to mean anything. 

When he steps out of the shower some twenty minutes later, he’s managed to quiet his mind somewhat. Noah’s sure that this was just a combination of the make-up and the absolute havoc this lockdown has already caused in his brain. 

It’s a little jarring. 

It’s been a little over a week, and he's still thinking about this. 

Noah shakes the thought from his brain — or tries to at least. The thing is that it’s very persistent. A nagging little thing at the stem of his brain that refuses to leave him alone. 

And worst of all, he can’t even really name it. He can’t pinpoint what it exactly is, and maybe that makes it so much worse. Can’t fight a thing you can’t name and all that. Then again, he doesn’t even know if this is a thing he can fight. 

Noah shakes the mouse to wake his pc up again. He scrolls past countless of unread messages until he finds Nick's contact. 

Are you busy?

His message doesn’t stay unanswered for long, and before long, Nick’s reply pops up on his screen. 

Looking to get your ass beat again? Give me five minutes need to feed the cats

The familiarity of Nick will take his mind off this. It isn’t that Maya didn’t, but every time he looks at her, his chest feels tight with this fucking feeling. Noah feels terrible about it. He hates that this thing has tinged the way he looks at his girlfriend. 

It’s seven when Maya knocks at the door of his little studio space. 

“Dinner?” she asks, poking her head through the crack in the door. 

A quick goodbye to Nick later, they’re seated in the living room, with a spread of styrofoam containers on the coffee table in front of them. 

He’s sure that Maya has ordered about every possible option on the menu of their go-to Filipino place. They’ll have enough leftovers for the next few days. 

Noah ends up with his head in her lap. He loves the attention she showers him with. The manicured tips of her fingers scratch against his scalp, just the way he likes it. He’s long stopped paying attention to the documentary they’re watching. The mix of her touch and the warmth of her body lulls him into a comfortable pre-sleep state. And in this drowsy state, he feels a little bit of peace for the first time in a week. Maybe tearing himself away from Maya like this was the wrong way to go about it after all. 

Noah walks down the hallway. This feels familiar – he knows this venue. They’ve played this venue before. His feet lead him into the last restroom before the stage. The lights are still on. Right, he just saw Folio exit the door. His eyes find the mirror – the softer features, the painted skin. Sometimes it still slips her mind. Maya had helped her again, her hands got too shaky to do her make-up on her own.  This is their first show back.  New album, new everything.  It doesn’t feel as scary as it probably should.  She rights her shirt, tugs on the belt until the buckle is properly centred. Noah hears them outside. She’s sure that she can hear Matt and Nick talking about something in front of the door. Something about the last few shows of the tour selling out too.  They huddle up. Jolly says something about how they’ll be better than ever tonight. She feels Nick squeezing her shoulder. Folio’s excitement bubbles over into her. 

Noah feels incredibly disoriented when he wakes up. He doesn’t usually remember his dreams, and this one was especially odd. He tries to shake it off, tries to remember what had happened before he fell asleep. 

Maya should be here. 

He doesn’t immediately see or hear her. The take out containers are gone too. Noah pulls the blanket she had draped over him up a little higher. He tries to listen for her in the silence of their home. 

Nothing. 

Noah turns over onto his back. 

He stares up at the ceiling for a long while. 

It’s a dream, he tells himself, Nothing more.

Eventually, Noah pushes himself off the sofa. 

His body feels so awfully heavy. The clock on his phone reveals that it’s only been forty-five minutes. He could have sworn that he slept through the night. Although he knows that Maya would never let him sleep on the couch like that. 

Noah decides to go looking for her. She can’t have gone far, not this late in the day. There’s no sign of her in the kitchen or their bedroom. He briefly checks the bathroom too, only to find it empty as well. Which leaves him with one more option. 

The door to her studio is ajar, and he suddenly feels a little foolish for having missed it when he passed by it just a few minutes ago. 

Just for a moment, he allows himself to watch her. The pink of her hair is starting to fade again, and he wonders what colour she’ll dye it next. Since he’s known her, her hair has been about every colour of the rainbow. The pink has been the most permanent colour so far. He likes it on her, it suits her. Noah’s sure that she could show up in the most plain and unexciting thing possible and would still have all eyes on her. Maya has a draw to her – one that he’d experienced first hand. 

Noah slips into the room. Maya doesn’t immediately notice him and continues to do whatever she’s been doing. As he comes closer, Noah sees that she’s looking through a stack of photos. He wraps himself around her, and Maya jumps a little in surprise. 

He rests his chin on her shoulder to see exactly what she’s looking at. 

“I got the last film back.” she explains. 

She pauses on a picture of the Nicks. Folio’s grimace makes both of them laugh. Maya continues to cycle through the photos. She slows when she reaches the ones she took of him the week prior. Almost instantly, Noah’s chest tightens. 

Getting a visual refresher of that day brings that unsettling feeling back. He’d tried to push it so far back into his mind, but now that he’s faced with himself again, it slowly crawls back up his spine. 

“Noah?” Maya’s voice seeps into his brain, “Noah – you’re squeezing me.” 

The edge of panic in her voice snaps him out of it. He hadn’t even realised how tight his hold on her had become. 

“I’m sorry – I completely zoned out.” Noah sputters out quickly. 

“Everything okay, baby?” Maya wriggles out of his hold, turning around so that she can look at him, “You know you can tell me everything, right? If something’s up, please don’t lock me out again.” 

He wishes that he could. But how can he talk about this when he doesn’t even know what to call the thing that is bothering him? Noah knows that Maya won’t dig for an answer, they both know that it’ll only make him close up more. And he knows what she’s trying to do with this, he knows that she’s trying to get him to open up a little further, but it feels so awfully impossible. 

When they go to bed that night, Noah lies awake for what feels like hours. When he checks the clock on his phone again, he once more finds out that it’s barely been over an hour. His mind is racing at a thousand miles an hour, unable to settle on anything for long. Eventually, Noah drags himself out of bed. Phone clutched in his hand, he tip-toes to the living room again. If he can’t fall asleep, he might as well keep himself occupied. 

He sinks onto the sofa, the blanket still draped over the arm where he’d left it just a little bit earlier. For a while, he scrolls mindlessly through different feeds. Noah lets himself be dragged into the endless stream – whatever will take his mind away from this. Noah really doesn’t know where this is going to take him. He’s been sleeping so poorly recently, and maybe it’s good that this is happening now that he’s at home and doesn’t have to stick to a strict schedule. Noah doesn’t want to think about how awful this would be if they were on tour. 

Maybe it’s morbid curiosity that leads him to type his somewhat clumsy question into Google. The first searches don’t really give any suitable answers. Noah can objectively say that he looked good with what Maya put on his face, that isn’t his issue, and he isn’t afraid to admit that either. 

The issue lies deeper. 

Appearance doesn’t match what I have in mind

His hands tremble an awful lot for a thing like this.

Noah taps on the first result.

Most of the answers talk about a thing called Body Dysmorphic Disorder. And while it ticks some of his boxes, he doesn’t think it’s the right thing yet. He doesn’t feel detached from himself either, so those options fly out of the window too. 

Surely, not – 

Noah taps out of the browser on his phone as soon as he reads the word gender. Whatever is wreaking havoc on his mind is not that. He digs his fingers into his thighs. 

The silence of the room is deafening. It rings in his ears. 

Noah knows what a panic attack feels like, and this one is barrelling towards him at full speed. 

His lungs haven’t felt this tight in years. 

It all circles back to this one image – one singular what if. 

The doubt creeps over him like sludge, sticky and viscous. 

Noah staggers into the kitchen, barely feeling stable enough to make the trek. He feels dizzy, disoriented. His vision is narrowed to a small pinpoint, and he knows that he’s bumping into all sorts of things on the way to the sink. He blindly pats around the counter until his fingers curl around the edge of the sink.

The cold water shocks him out of the state of blind panic he’s been in. His hands still shake uncontrollably, but at least he doesn’t feel as if he’s about to empty his stomach out in the next few moments. 

Noah slumps down in front of the counter. 

It can’t be that. 

He’s never questioned himself like that before. 

The light in the hallway flickers on, pulling his attention towards it. 

“Noah?” her voice rings through dimly lit space and finds its way into the centre of his chest. 

He can’t bring himself to reply. The words won’t come. 

He hears Maya’s bare feet on the wooden floors. 

She eventually finds him cowering in the middle of their kitchen. Maya comes to kneel in front of him, hands immediately finding the sides of his face. 

Her words rush right past his ears. Noah lets her wrap him up in her arms. He doesn’t know for how long they sit like this, but eventually, his mind returns to him. 

“Noah, honey.” she speaks softly, fingers still combing through his hair, “What’s going on?”

He swallows the lump in his throat. 

“It’s just a lot.” he says instead of the thousand other things he could say. 

It’s not really a lie, but he still feels impossibly bad. 

For the next five weeks, Noah finds himself spiralling further down this seemingly endless tunnel. For the most part, he sequesters himself to the second bedroom he uses as a studio. All under the guise of feeling so productive. In reality, he sits staring at the monitor for hours and maybe gets a fraction of the work he had planned done. 

There’s no rush to finish the album anyway. 

Who knows when or if they’ll be able to tour again. 

Everything feels as if it's collapsing around him. Every time he thinks that he’s ready to tell Maya that he’s digging himself deeper and deeper into this crisis, Noah feels himself shrinking back into his shell. 

And so he sits in silence, listening to the tormenting thoughts that course through his mind. It’s almost as if they’re taunting him. 

Noah hasn’t dared to look further into the possibilities of what this could be. That one shock of reading  gender and dysphoria had been enough for him. It’s not that he doesn’t agree with that, people can and should do whatever they want with their bodies. 

But he? 

Noah has never questioned his identity like that, he’s never looked at himself and thought what if? And now it’s all he can think about. 

What if he isn’t what he thought he was?

Sure, he’s had moments of insecurity. 

One or the other high school bully had thrown the odd you dress like a girl at him, but that had never really worried him. Before that day, Noah had never looked at himself and felt this disconnect. 

In a desperate attempt to end this day of self-flagellation, Noah finds his way into the bathroom. Maya had once told him that a bath could fix most of her problems, and at this point he’s willing to try everything. 

Running himself a bath like this in the middle of the day does feel a little odd, but he’s done stranger things in recent weeks. 

The hot water does help to ease the ache from his bones. If this does nothing else, he’ll at least feel a little less tense. 

Noah lets himself sink into the water and suds. 

His world is crumbling around him, and he doesn’t know how to stop it. Then again, Noah doesn’t even know if he can or should stop this. 

It’s an odd thing. 

Because when he lets himself glimpse past the denial, something about this feels right. When he lets himself consider it clearly and without judgement, he knows that what he saw in the mirror, the made up feminine face, looked so deeply familiar. 

A long-lost friend.  

In the sanctity and security of this space, Noah lets himself consider this. He lets himself sink under the water. 

What’s the worst that could come of this?

There are the consequences this would have for himself. If he lets himself explore this, he’ll have to deal with a plethora of questions that he doesn’t even know about yet. Deep down, he knows that Maya will be with him no matter what. She won’t judge him for this questioning, they’ve talked plenty about her explorations with sexuality. 

The band is a different thing entirely. He’s sure that none of them will treat him differently, but the fear is still there. There’s no real knowing. 

He doesn’t even want to think about their audience. That’s a bridge he won’t even think about until it comes into view. 

A knock on the door and the call of his name draw Noah out of his thoughts. 

“Honey, are you in there?” Maya’s voice is laced with concern. 

“Yes.” he answers quietly. 

“Can I come in?” 

When he doesn’t answer immediately, she cracks open the door just a little, “Noah?” 

He musters all of his strength to answer, “Come in.” 

Maya slips into the room, the worry on her face breaks his heart a little. 

“I was looking for you all over the place.” she says, as she sits on the edge of the tub, “Everything okay?” 

She reaches for the hand that is nearest to her, carefully tangling their fingers together. 

For a moment, Noah thinks that he should tell her.

In the end, he gives another vague everything is bad, and I don’t know what to do answer. He doesn’t know if Maya actually buys it, but she doesn’t press him further. 

“Do you want to be alone or do you want me to stay here?” she asks eventually. 

“Can you stay?” Noah asks, despite her offering to do so. 

With a little more hot water added to the tub, Maya slips into the tub behind him. Noah lets the mess in his brain float away from him, when he rests his body against hers. Her arms curl around his middle, hands splayed out across his tummy. They sit like this for a while, silence wrapped around them. It’s comfortable, and Noah thinks that maybe he shouldn’t isolate himself as much. 

His breath hitches when her hand drifts a little lower. 

“Is this okay?” Maya sounds so careful and hesitant. 

Intimacy has been tricky.

The anxiety that has settled in his body has made him so tired that he falls asleep before Maya. It’s not that he hasn’t wanted this, and he knows that he’s been neglecting her quite a bit. 

The tips of her fingers skate across his hip, and that breaks his resolve. 

“Please, baby.” he sighs out shakily. 

Noah’s eyes fall shut when Maya wraps her hand around him. He lets himself get lost in the slow movements of her hand. 

She always treats him so well. 

Her lips follow the curve of his neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. Noah sighs when she reaches that one extra sensitive spot on his neck. 

“I missed you.” Maya sounds almost mournful when she speaks, “You’ve been so far away from me.” 

The words burn in his chest. 

He knows it’s true. 

Noah let himself drift away from her, he allowed them to become distant like this. He doesn’t know if he has it in him to tell her about this yet, but he can’t lose her. 

Consciously, this time, he brings himself back to the present moment – to Maya. 

It takes Noah a moment to catch up, and he feels his breath catch in his throat when he really allows himself to feel all of this. His head drops back against her shoulder as she continues to work him towards his climax. He knows that she enjoys this just as much as he does. Noah doesn’t hold back on his moans, not that he has much choice with how good her hand feels on him. 

“Please don’t stop.” He sighs out between laboured breaths. 

Her name is a prayer on his lips. 

The only thing that circles in his mind is her, the way she makes him feel, the way she feels behind him. Noah allows the feeling to swallow him entirely. It drowns out the anxiety, the fear, and instead gives him a soft warmth. The comfort he has been missing slowly creeps back into his body. 

Maya doesn’t let him get back to work after that. He’s glad that she insists that he needs a break — he wouldn’t have allowed himself one. 

Noah lets her pull him into their bedroom, into their bed. For the first time in weeks, he allows himself comfort, a brief respite from the cold he has let himself fall into. 

He doesn’t really register what they watch, and it doesn’t matter that much, either. Maya is curled up in front of him, her back warm against his chest. He buries his face in the side of her neck, lets the soft scent of her shampoo and perfume fill his senses. 

Noah knows that he needs to tell her.

She deserves to know, she deserves to make a decision of her own. 

He almost tells her in that moment. 

But Maya falls asleep before he does, and he shelves the plan just for a while longer. 

He will tell her. 

Noah doesn’t tell her for another few weeks. 

Instead, he crawls back into the dark – willingly this time. 

The more he looks into this thing, the more it darkens his mood. He’d hoped that understanding this would let him open himself to Maya again, but instead they’re just quietly drifting away from each other. 

The thing hangs over them like an oppressive shadow, and he can feel her slipping away. 

Maya is out of bed before he gets up on most mornings. She stays in her studio and only steps out for lunch and dinner. Noah thinks that she looks awfully tired. 

He knows what the right thing is, he knows how he could make this stop, and yet – he feels immobilised by the fear that still clings to him. 

Lately, he’s been pulling away more and more from his friends, too. The last message Nick has sent him has gone unanswered for a few days now. He can’t bring himself to type out whatever lame excuse flits through his mind at that moment. He can’t lie to Nick too. He’s already lying to the most important person in his life. 

Noah knows that he’s letting both of them down with this, and still, the words remain unspoken. 

It’s nearing midnight when he crawls out of bed again. Maya is asleep next to him, but he can tell that she isn’t sleeping well. 

Neither of them has in recent weeks. 

He slips out of their bedroom as quietly as he can and hides himself away in his studio. 

Almost as if pre-programmed, Noah finds his way back to the forums he’s been studying. He’s been reading up on experiences, trying to piece together what this feeling means for him. He knows that this isn’t a black and white thing. It’s awfully complicated and – 

He just manages to slam his phone onto the table when the door flies open. 

“We’re either going to talk this out now or I’m going to Ellie’s for a bit. I cannot deal with you sneaking out of bed every fucking night.” she doesn’t sound angry, and Noah doesn’t need to look up to know that she’s been crying. 

The thought of Maya quietly crying to herself breaks his heart even further. 

“I feel like you’re – drifting away from me, Noah. I don’t know what’s happening. If you – if you don’t want this any more, that’s okay, but please have the decency to tell me and don’t string me along like this.” 

The words hit him like a wall of bricks. 

He knows that he’s been horrible, not just as a partner but as a friend too. But hearing how truly painful his actions – or rather lack thereof – have been feels like the final nail in his coffin. 

“Maya I’m –”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. Just tell me what is going on, please.” 

Even from this distance he can see the furrow in her brow, the quivering of her lip. One hand grips the other so tightly. He only notices now, that she has pulled one of his sweatshirts over her body. 

Noah draws in a deep breath, “I – I don’t know how to explain it really. I have to apologise, though – I need to. You didn’t deserve this.”

Maya slowly comes closer to him, still so very hesitant. 

“Do you remember when you put make-up on me that one day?” she nods, “I don’t know – something about seeing myself like that fucked with my head a little.” 

The concern on her face becomes even more evident then, “How so? I don’t know if I understand.” 

Noah rubs a hand across his face. He can barely stop his knee from bouncing now. The nerves bite at him, gnaw at his resolve. He swallows down the beginnings of tears. 

“It – made me feel – fuck, this is already difficult to make sense of in my head – seeing myself like that felt like I was seeing myself for the first time. I don’t know – I still don’t know what that means for me. I’ve been trying to figure it out and in doing so, I’ve let this happen, and I’m so fucking sorry.” 

Noah can’t stop the tears then. 

A moment passes before he feels hands grasping his. The warmth doesn’t quite reach him yet. 

“Why haven’t you talked to me, Noah?” 

A sob breaks from him, “I wanted to.” 

He feels her forehead dropping against his knees. 

Damp stains his skin. 

Maya kneels at his feet, barely clinging on to his form. There’s something so devastating about that sight. Hearing her quiet sniffles breaks his heart just a little more. Every shake of her shoulders drives the thorn further into his chest. 

He can’t tell how much time passes until she looks up at him again. Her cheeks are red and splotchy, skin stained with tears. 

“I’m sorry that you felt as if you couldn’t talk to me about this. I – feel like I’ve let you down.” she says quietly, “I’m so sorry.” He watches helplessly as rises to her feet once again. 

“You didn’t – I made myself believe that I couldn’t talk to you.” He doesn't know if his words actually help, he hopes that they do, “You’ve always been there for me. This just – I could barely wrap my head around it. And when I figured out what I was even feeling, it fucked with me so much.” 

“I think I need a moment to think and sort my head out. Can we – we should finish this in the morning? It’s late.” 

Noah thinks that he hears a sliver of regret in her voice. It’s hidden behind the obvious pain that colours her features. Knowing that he caused this pain makes his chest tighten up again. 

He nods, fully knowing that nothing he has to say right now will change this. 

Noah doesn’t question when Maya doesn’t follow him into their bedroom. The sting of it still stays with him when he crawls back under the duvet. He can’t shake the look on her face from his mind. 

He’s never seen Maya look this hurt. 

Noah hates that it has taken him this long to realise that he cannot let things go on like he has. They both deserve better than this. He won’t let himself sit in this silence, and he won’t let her suffer at his hands any more. 

Tomorrow he’ll put his cards on the table, no matter how terrifying it is. It’s not just about being honest to her any more, it's about being honest to himself. 

He lasts maybe thirty minutes on his own, before he finds his way back into the living room. He finds Maya cradling a cup of tea in her hands. The skin below her eyes is still damp with tears. 

Silently, he holds his hand out to her. 

Maya hesitates for just a moment, before she sets her cup down on the coffee table. As soon as her hand is in his, he pulls her in. Maya wraps herself around him, face buried against his chest. Her hold on him should feel suffocating, but in this moment it’s exactly what he needs. 

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but we’ll figure this out. I’m here for you no matter what, okay?” 

Noah has to choke back a new wave of tears. 

“I know.” 

“I love you and nothing will change that.” her words sink into his chest. 

It’s been too long since he heard her say it – or said it himself. 

“Promise?” Her arms tighten around him just a little bit more, “I promise, Noah.” 

“I love you too.” he says finally, and he feels Maya relax a little against him, “Let’s go back to bed, okay?”

He wakes with Maya still wrapped around him. 

Her hand is warm on his chest, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t wake up with an ache in his jaw. 

The morning continues slow. 

He exits the bathroom to the sight of Maya getting the rest of their breakfast ready. They eat outside in their little garden, the silence is for once comfortable. 

The weight on his shoulders feels a little bit lighter. 

But the prospect of the conversation they still have to hold still lingers over him. Noah can’t deny that it terrifies him. Knowing that he’ll have to voice this thing out loud shakes him to the core. He still isn’t sure how he’s supposed to put all of this into words. 

He feels a hand on top of his. 

“Noah?” she asks softly, “You’re getting awfully quiet again.” 

Might as well rip off the band-aid now. 

“I don’t really know how to say this. I’m still trying to figure out what this means for me. I never really questioned how I see myself before that day. And seeing myself like that, it – scared me a lot. It still does to be honest.”

“When you say question – just so we’re both on the same page – what do you mean?”

He draws in a shaky breath, “I don’t know if guy is the right way to describe myself. I don’t know what the right thing is, but I know that it’s not that.” 

Noah doesn’t dare to open his eyes. 

Her hand squeezes his. 

“Noah, honey.” Maya says softly, “Can you look at me?” 

He forces his eyes open and slowly turns to look at her. 

“This is okay. It’s okay that you’re questioning this. And I wish that I could have been there for you.” she looks at him with so much genuine honesty, “Whatever you decide doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

He whispers a quiet thank-you. 

“What do you need from me right now? How can I help?” 

“Just be you. I think I need that constant.” Noah feels a little silly saying it, putting it like that, but the comfort of her is exactly what he needs. 

“I can do that.” Maya says with a nod, “But Noah, please talk to me. Don’t shut me out like that. I don’t want you to be alone with this.” 

He squeezes her hand in response, “I’m sorry for how I treated you these last few weeks. That wasn’t fair, and I’m very sorry.” 

“It’s okay. We just won’t let it get that far again. Promise me that.” 

He gives a nod in reply, “Promise.” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I know you will.” 

Maya pulls him in for a kiss, “Good. Let’s get this inside. I still have to finish the piece I’m working on.” 

“What are you working on anyway?” 

For a moment, everything feels normal. They’re cleaning up the remnants of their shared breakfast, talking about what they’re working on. Noah has missed hearing about her work. He loves the pretty animated look she gets when she talks about her current project. 

“I thought we could go for a little drive? Get out of the house for a little bit, maybe get something to snack on?” Maya proposes as she hops up on the counter, “What do you think?”

Noah comes to stand in front of her, hands naturally finding their way to the tops of her thighs, “Think that would be nice. I’m getting kinda sick of being inside all the time.” 

Maya drapes her arms over his shoulder, fingers lacing together behind his neck, “Tell me about it. Getting out of the house for a little bit will be good for us.” 

An hour later, Noah pulls out of their spot on the side of the street. In the corner of his vision, he can see Maya scrolling through her phone, most likely trying to decide which playlist she wants to put on. 

She eventually settles on her go-to, and the familiar intro of some Arctic Monkeys song warbles through the speakers. 

They drive for maybe ten minutes before Maya speaks up again.

“Please tell me if I’m touching on something you’re not ready to talk about. But I have a few questions, if that’s okay?” She sounds so hesitant, carefully dancing around the topic. 

Maybe if he’d done this all differently, things would feel so stilted now. 

“Sure. I don’t know if I can answer them, though. It’s all — I don’t know if I really know what this all means for me, you know?”

“Was it really the makeup that set this all off?” 

He nods, “I think seeing myself like that dug something up that I managed to hide so well that I didn’t even know about it.” 

“You never questioned it before that day?”

“Not that I can remember.” Noah replies, he’s thought about it often enough in the last few weeks to at least be sure of this. 

He tries his best to answer the questions Maya throws at him. Many of them still feel unclear to him. But openly talking about it for the first time helps – maybe if he’d felt a little bit braver, this would have been so much easier. He’s always found solace in her, and maybe he should have known that speaking to someone about this would help. 

They end up in a car park overlooking the ocean. It’s quiet – everything is at the moment. But for once, his mind is also quiet. They sit on a low wall, quietly talking for a little while longer. Noah lets his head drop to her shoulder, as they watch the slow ebb and flow of the water before them. 

Maya’s hand is warm on his thigh, it rests high on his leg in that comforting way. She does it when they’re out together and the clutch of anxiety is wrought tightly around him. Once in a while, he feels her fingers pulse against the inside of his thigh, like a friendly reminder that she’s still beside him. 

“I got everything for flatbread pizzas when I ordered groceries yesterday. Before you ask, I got the nice tomatoes.” 

For the first time in weeks, Noah hears himself genuinely laugh out loud. 

Getting out of the house for a while, even if it’s just to sit and talk, makes his chest feel a little less tight. The anxiety is still there, but it’s not quite as strangling any more. 

“Come with me for a minute, will you?” Maya asks when she unlocks their front door.

Naturally, Noah follows her into her studio. 

He hasn’t been into her space in weeks. The familiar scent of her paints and inks filters into his senses. Noah wonders what she’s been working on. 

The easel is still covered by an old duvet cover. He remembers it from Maya’s old apartment, the little one bedroom with the leaking faucet in the kitchen that would drive them absolutely insane at night. 

“It’s a little funny – I didn’t know what that moment did for you. I just thought that you looked so –” she gesticulates trying to find the right word before settling on something, “Beautiful. I had to do something with it.” 

She steps away from the easel, motioning for him to remove the cover. 

Noah doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so nervous. Maya has shown him plenty of her work before, but something about this feels different. 

His hands tremble a little when he reaches for the fabric. He’s learnt the hard way that he can’t just yank it off. Noah lifts the duvet over off the canvas, gathering it up in his hands. 

What he sees on the canvas makes his breath catch in his throat. 

The inspiration is clearly visible, but Maya’s mark is what makes it truly special. He can recognise himself, the way he looked that day, but there’s something otherworldly about the way Maya has portrayed him. He’s never understood how she makes her work look as if it’s shiny like this. 

Once again, Noah is transfixed by his own appearance. 

His eyes race across the canvas, unable to find a point to focus on. There’s something soft and — feminine to it. His heart thumps in his chest. 

Noah feels Maya coming up next to him. Her hand wraps around his, as she presses up next to him. 

“What do you think?” she asks quietly, and Noah doesn’t miss the hint of insecurity in her voice. 

“That’s how you saw it?” 

He sees her nod in the corner of his vision. 

“I don’t know what to say. This – this is amazing. Thank you, my love.”

Maya pulls their joined hands up, pressing a kiss to the back of his, “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help you with this. Doesn’t matter what it is.”

It takes him a few more days to build up the courage to ask her again. Last time, Maya had been the one who brought it up, but Noah knows that he’ll have to ask for it. She had said that she’d help him with whatever, and he knows that Maya will not judge him for it. She’s made that very clear. Noah repeats the words in his head like a mantra, trying to cement them there.

Things had normalised somewhat in the last few days. They’d had a few more very honest conversations, tears had been shed, but at the end of the day, one thing became clear. Actually, speaking about this was more helpful than it was scary. Maya had offered him some much-needed perspective and comfort, and all things considered, things weren’t looking too bad. 

With this new-found confidence, Noah pushes his way into the bathroom, where Maya is still going through her morning routine. He wraps his arms around her middle, placing his chin on top of her shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, finding her eyes in the mirror. 

She meets his glance, giving him a soft smile.

“You wanna try?” she asks. 

Noah gives a hesitant nod. 

“Let me finish up, and then I’ll walk you through it.” 

He stays, watching her move through the surprisingly intricate routine. Eventually, Maya hops up onto the counter, urging Noah to come closer. He steps between her thighs, placing his hands on top of hers. 

“Step one.” Maya picks up her face wash, holding it out to him, “Don’t think I have to explain this bit to you.” 

She walks him through the steps, patiently explaining what each product does. Her little tinctures and creams leave the skin of his face feeling as soft as ever before. 

Maya picks up the tube of sunscreen, squirting some of it onto her fingers. She dabs it all over his face, placing the final dot onto the tip of his nose with a giggle. 

“I know we’re inside a lot at the moment, but you have to wear sunscreen.” There's still humour in her words, but he knows that she’s serious, “I can’t believe that Nick hasn’t gotten on your ass about it yet. With how many tattoos you have, I would have expected that someone would have told you that you need sunscreen at some point.”

He spreads it across his skin, occasionally​​ checking the mirror behind Maya. 

“What now?” he asks finally. 

“All done.” 

He hesitates for a long moment, eyes flitting between his reflection and Maya. 

“Do you – if you have the time – could you do my make-up again?” Noah asks quietly. 

Maya breaks into a smile, “Sure. I could also just show you how to do it yourself?” 

Once again, Noah finds himself sitting in front of her vanity. The items on the table in front of him seem endlessly confusing. Despite how much time he has spent watching Maya do this, he feels so very clueless right now. But Maya is patient and slowly walks him through it this time. 

It’s by no means perfect, but the routine Maya proposes is simple enough for him to recreate on his own. 

And at the end of it, Noah finds himself once again faced with this version of himself. It’s a little different from the last time, but he still finds comfort in what he sees. 

Maya drops her head to his shoulder, looking at him in her mirror. 

“I stand by what I said, you look so beautiful like this.” Her voice is so soft. 

Noah can barely contain the smirk that forces its way onto his face, “And not without it?” 

She smacks his thigh, “Beautiful either way.”

“I’m still not sure about what this all means for me, but – I think I want to try they.” his voice wavers just a little towards the end. 

“In addition to he?” Maya asks then. 

Noah nods, “Just he doesn’t feel like it’s – enough?”

Maya gives a squeeze to their thigh. It’s comforting, reassuring. 

“I’m glad that you’re allowing yourself to explore this, love. It’s a big thing, but I’m so proud of you for letting yourself do this.” The genuine warmth in her voice wraps around his mind like a warm blanket. 

Noah turns as best as he can with how they’re positioned. They press a kiss to Maya’s temple, lingering there for just a moment. 

“Thank you. Really.” Noah whispers. 

The moment feels too tender for anything else. 

Noah lets himself sit in the feeling for a while. They feel Maya’s eyes on their face, quietly observing – admiring, perhaps. 

Maya lifts her head, forcing Noah to do the same. She shifts, now sitting sideways on the little bench. 

“Look at me, will you?” 

She gently guides him towards her, hand soft on his cheek. 

“I love you so much.” her thumb drifts across their cheek, “Don’t forget that.” 

“I love you too.”   

She pulls them in for a kiss. A soft little thing that makes them feel so very loved. Noah drops his forehead to hers when they part. 

Having her at his side for this will make it so much better. 

Somehow, Noah hadn’t thought that things would be so normal. They’d expected that everything would feel just a little different, but in reality, life just goes on. But then again, things are still very far from being normal. 

He’s actually managed to get some real work done. 

His shoulders feel a little bit lighter now that he’s not bearing this alone any more. 

They’ve adapted a version of Maya’s skincare routine for themself. Maya has helped him find things that work even better than her products do. He’s dipped his fingers into Maya’s makeup, too, trying to get a feel for it. Noah thinks that they’re starting to get the hang of it. 

Fingers tap on his shoulder, making him jump. 

Maya looks at him expectantly. 

“Something up?”

“I love that you’re doing this, but you’ve used up some pretty expensive products. I think it’s time that we’ll get you your own stuff.” 

Noah finds a smile on her face, despite the stern words. 

“I didn’t even realise.” Noah replies feebly, “I’m sorry.” She squeezes their shoulder, “I’m not mad. But having your own things might be nice for you, too.” 

“Can we do that online?” 

Noah doesn’t know if he’s quite ready to do this in public yet. Maya seems to pick up on his hesitance, though, and nods quickly. 

“Of course.” she presses a kiss to their cheek, “Why don’t you wrap this up so that Jolly can stop badgering me about when you’re going to send him that demo, and then we can do a little shopping?” 

He joins her in the living room a good thirty minutes later. Maya has already pulled up a variety of sites on her laptop when they sit down next to her. It takes Noah a moment to really feel comfortable picking something out, but with a little bit of nudging from Maya, they end up making increasingly braver choices. 

Noah picks out some things that he knows from Maya, others he selects just because they look interesting. If he’s experimenting with things, he might as well do it properly. 

By the end of their little digital shopping trip, the cart is filled with all sorts of things. Everything from the basic things to a variety of highlighters, glitters, and things Noah doesn't even know the name of. There are doubles of some items, things that Maya had found interesting, too. He doesn’t want to think about the total, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter that much. Having this additional thing that they can share feels good. 

There’s something intimate about this. 

Noah has never been good at letting his walls down, and this whole experience has been a struggle from the start. But they’re glad that they have the option to do this in a moment like this. They’re safe in their home with the person they love. There’s not much more they could ask for. 

Noah lets his head drop to her shoulder. 

With the laptop forgotten on the coffee table, Maya quickly finds her way into Noah’s lap. Her lips trail up the side of their neck. Their hands rest on Maya’s waist, slowly skating upwards under her shirt. 

It feels like it’s been ages since they’ve been together like this. It’s been a few weeks since Maya had gotten them off in the bathtub. But since then, so much has changed. 

Maya kisses her way along Noah’s jaw, before she finally brings her lips to theirs. 

One of her hands rests against the side of their face, while the other threads into the hair at the back of their neck. 

Maya grinds down against them, and Noah can’t hold back the whine that bubbles up in their throat. Her body is so soft under their hands, and they want nothing more than to give themself to her. Noah wants to melt into her touch, fall apart at her hands. The warmth that radiates off her body seeps into his. 

Maya moans against their lips when Noah pulls her closer. 

They feel Maya bringing a hand between their bodies. Noah knows what her destination is, they know where she is headed. And when her hand presses against their crotch, it’s as if a switch is flipped in their head. 

Cold fear washes over their body. 

Noah rears his head back, trying to draw much needed air into his lungs. It takes Maya a moment to catch up, but as soon as she does, her hands leave their body, and she moves back just enough. 

“I can’t.” Noah says quietly, shame slowly creeping up his back.

He doesn’t quite know where this sudden fear is coming from, but he can’t bear the thought of being touched like this right now. Noah feels his hands trembling against her skin and quickly pulls them away. 

Maya remains where she is, quietly watching them for a moment. 

“Baby it’s okay.” she says after a long while, “We don’t have to do anything. If you don’t feel comfortable with this at the moment, that’s okay.”

Noah runs a clammy hand across his face. This is not how he’d wanted this to go. The panic spiral is slippery, and trying to keep himself from sliding is turning out to be quite tricky. 

“Noah.” Maya’s voice barely manages to break through the fog in his brain, “Honey, can you look at me for a moment?” 

Noah draws in a shaky breath before they look up and at her. 

“It’s okay. I understand that things are difficult right now. I should have asked if you’re okay with me touching you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t.” Maya says softly. 

Noah drops his head for a moment. This whole thing makes everything so much more complicated. 

“I didn’t think that I’d react like that, either.” Noah shoots back quickly, “I don’t want you to feel bad. This is not because of you. It’s – just there’s this disconnect, you know?”

Maya looks at him with that same worried expression he’s been faced with more times than he dares to count in recent weeks. 

“It feels a little as if what’s in my head doesn’t really match up with this any more.” They gesture towards themself, “It’s good most of the time, but just now it felt like everything is wrong.” 

Maya wraps herself around them. 

She doesn’t have to say a word for Noah to know what she feels. It’s comfort in its purest form. An unspoken I may not understand entirely, but I’m here. 

She’s warm and soft, and Noah feels terrible for neglecting her like this. They can’t imagine that any of this is easy for her, too. 

They stay like this for a long while, eventually moving over into the bedroom to watch a few episodes of a show they’d started a while ago. Noah lets themself sink into Maya’s embrace, allowing the worries on their mind to drift away for just a moment. 

Some things will never change – Noah hates doing laundry. It’s tedious, it’s annoying, but they’d agreed to split chores when this lockdown started, and they’re not about to let Maya down. 

They drop the freshly tumble-dried garments into the basket before picking it up. He’ll fold everything as he’s putting it away. 

Things have settled a little bit more. 

Another evening of research, this time with moral support from Maya, had revealed that the thing they’d experienced a few days earlier had, in fact, been a bout of gender dysphoria. It had rattled them a little bit more than they’d liked to admit, but Maya had assured them that they’d be able to manoeuvre this together. 

They’re inclined to believe her. 

And really it made sense.

Throughout all of this, Noah has felt as if something didn’t match up. And if they’re honest with themself, they’ve known what it is since that first day. 

Coming to terms with it is a different thing. 

Maya hadn’t said anything about it, but they’re sure that she knows by now. Noah’s glad that she’s allowing them to do this on their own terms. They’re still not sure where this’ll take them, but one thing’s for sure they’re not going back where they’ve been before. 

Noah plucks one of Maya’s skirts from the laundry basket. 

It’s the one they love seeing on her. A pretty little thing that they’ve shoved their hand under on more than one occasion. 

An idea springs into their head then. 

Trying it on can’t hurt. 

And if they’re already exploring make-up, why not expand to clothing too. 

Their hands tremble when they hold the skirt out in front of their body. It should fit, the fabric is just elastic enough. Noah pushes their sweats down. It takes them a few moments to build up the courage to pull the skirt up and over their waist. 

Their eyes remain low, unable to look at their reflection. 

Noah draws in a deep breath. 

Their chest fills with an odd warmth. 

The hem of the skirt hits just above the middle of their thighs. 

They can’t stop looking. 

Noah pulls their shirt up, pulling it back so that it fits a little tighter around where the waistband of the skirt sits, in an attempt to emulate how Maya would wear it. 

Their heart pounds so incredibly fast.

The shape of their body still feels too boxy, too much like guy, but something about this itches a very specific spot in their brain. 

Their hands drift across their body, trying to imagine a softer, less angular shape. It feels good. 

Another thought pops into their head then. 

They open Maya’s side of the closet. 

Maya won’t judge them for this. She’s said multiple times that she’ll support whatever they need. 

For the first time, they allow their fingers to pass over the pretty dresses Maya wears with the intention of picking something for themself. 

They don’t want to risk stretching out any of her clothes. Maya has a few more loose fitting dresses, one of those will be just fine. 

They pluck a little black number from the rail. They know what it looks like on Maya. The deep v neckline looks gorgeous on Maya, and suddenly Noah has to know what it will look like on their body. 

Their hands don’t shake as much any more when they unzip the skirt and take off their shirt. Slipping the garment over their head is so easy. And they’re not as scared of looking at themself this time around. 

The sleeves are a little too short on them, and it all feels a little uncomfortable at first, but Noah is willing to blame that on them not being used to dresses. 

The fabric feels good on their body. It’s soft and light and the longer they look at their reflection, the more they get used to it. 

Pulling their hair up with the claw clip they’d borrowed from Maya a while ago settles the nerves in their belly even more. For a moment, Noah considers the additional box of make-up that now sits on Maya’s vanity, and eventually decides that just a little bit will be enough. Their hand rifles through the box until they pluck a tube of lightly tinted lip gloss from it. 

Noah feels quite secure with this by now. Applying the gloss is no issue at all. The colour is fairly sheer, and they don’t have to be super precise with it. 

When Noah steps back in front of the mirror, their breath catches in their throat. It feels as if things have clicked into place. Their eyes flicker across their reflection. 

When seeing themself in make-up felt good, this feels – euphoric. 

The small edge of panic that tries to make itself known is drowned out by how good it feels to see themself like this.  

Noah curses themself for forgetting their phone in the living room.

They can always recreate this moment. 

Noah takes a few more moments like this, finishing the laundry they have to fold while still wearing the dress. 

Taking it off again feels a little sad. It’s not like Maya would be judgemental of it, but they don’t feel quite ready to share this yet. 

Maya will understand. 

With everything returned to normal, Noah quickly wipes the gloss from their lips. When they return to the bedroom, they find the door just slightly ajar. Noah is sure that they’ve closed the door before they had tried on the skirt. 

Maybe they had left it open after all. 

Noah finds Maya in the kitchen, working on their lunch. They wrap their arms around her middle, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. 

“What are you making?” 

Maya leans back against them, and Noah can’t stop themself from pressing another kiss to her cheek. 

“Pasta. With all of the leftover veggies we still have. The cheese will save it.” she replies, letting herself sink further against Noah. 

If she saw something, Maya doesn’t let it on.

“Do you want to get ice cream later?” they ask, now fully resting their cheek against Maya’s. 

“Would love that.”

It was a slow realisation. 

Noah doesn’t exactly know when it clicked. They had long realised that he was not only insufficient to describe themself but also plain wrong. They’d tried to look at themself in the mirror and think of it, only to feel a little nauseated. 

It had started to bleed into other spaces too. Hearing Nick call them dude made them cringe, but they bit through it, not feeling quite ready to share this with someone else yet. 

Noah is sure that Nick wouldn’t have a problem with this, but there’s still that lingering fear. They’ve read too many reports on best friends turning on people after any kind of coming out. And there’s simply too much at stake here. 

Noah wants to be absolutely sure of this before he tells anyone else. The first step to that is talking to Maya.

They splash another handful of ice-cold water into their face, in the hope that it’ll ease their nerves at least a little. 

The realisation had really hit them this morning. 

They don’t know what exactly triggered it, but somewhere between washing their face and brushing their teeth, things had started to make sense. 

Noah looks up at the mirror. 

Their fingers drift across their freshly shaved cheeks. Noah’s been keeping up with it a lot more. They have never had a lot of facial hair, but keeping their face smooth eased some of the ache in their chest. 

It’s still a little difficult to see anything but guy when they look in the mirror. On some days, it's easier for Noah to imagine their features a little softer, more feminine. Today is, thankfully, one of those days. 

They’ve managed to shed their fear of the word feminine, slowly realising that maybe it was a more accurate way to describe how they feel about themself. 

Noah swallows a breath. 

The thought reverberates around their brain. 

What if? 

Noah thinks about the moments that have made them feel most comfortable in recent weeks. They think back to the afternoon when they tried on one of Maya’s dresses. It stands in such a stark contrast to the times when they have to put on this masculine facade.

There really isn’t a lot to debate here any more. 

Noah goes to find Maya. 

She has to be the first one to hear about this. 

They find her working on a small illustration in her studio. 

They’ve been talking about the new album they’ve started to work on. Progress is slow, but it is progress. And Noah’s enthusiasm for the concept seems to have coloured off on her too. Noah has a few of her sketches taped to the wall behind their monitor. 

Noah knocks on the frame of the open door. 

Maya looks up at them with a soft smile, “Hi baby.” 

“You got a moment for me?” They hope that they don’t sound as nervous as they feel. 

She pushes away from her desk, pulling the second chair towards her. 

“For you, always.” 

Noah sits, wringing their hands together in their lap. 

“Everything okay?” Maya reaches out to place her hand over theirs. 

This feels like an awfully daunting thing.

In a way it is, even though they know that Maya will be with them. 

Noah nods, “I think I have to drop the he.” they choke the words out before they manage to get caught in their throat. 

Maya blinks at them for a moment, before she nods. 

For a brief second, Noah thinks that she isn’t impressed, but then her lips twist into a smile. 

“Just they?” she asks curiously. 

Noah thinks. 

They know their answer. 

“Doesn’t feel like it’s enough, you know?” they reply. 

There’s a little bit of hesitance in Maya’s face. Her brow furrows, in that way it does when she’s trying to make up her mind about something.  

“I mean, there’s always she. You have been leaning towards more feminine things.” she says quietly. 

Noah’s heart thumps a little.  

They feel their lips beginning to tremble. 

It’s not panic – this is relief. 

Hearing her say it first makes it less scary. 

“I think I like that.” 

Noah presses her lips together. 

“I am so proud of you, baby.” Maya squeezes their hands, “And I love you so much.” 

“Promise?”

“I promise. Pinky promise.” she gives another squeeze, “And I’ll tell you as often as I have to.” 

Noah feels herself smile. 

It feels so new, but thinking of themself like this feels good – right. 

“Do you want to keep using they?” Maya asks then. 

She nods, “I like it. Both feels right.” 

Maya’s free hand finds its way to the side of Noah’s face. She carefully guides her closer, until they finally meet. It’s just a soft little thing, but it eases some of the weight from their shoulders. 

Maya scoots a little closer, her hand still covering Noah’s. Her gaze is soft and warm, and can practically feel the love seeping into her own skin. This whole thing is scary and exciting in equal measures, and while she’s sure that it will stay scary for a good while longer, she feels hopeful. 

The heavy weight of the last months doesn’t feel quite as heavy any more. There are still a few things that terrify them, but the biggest hurdle seems to be behind them. 

Noah can’t stop the tears then. 

Not a second after the first tear has fallen, Maya wraps herself around them. She holds Noah while they cry. The weight of his realisation still feels heavy, it’s still so daunting and new and overwhelming. 

It feels good to let all of it out. 

At some point, Maya moves them over into the living room. Noah doesn’t know or care how much time passes. All they know is that they feel a little bit lighter when they untangle themself from Maya.

“Feeling a little better?” Maya asks softly, tracing her fingers across Noah’s cheek.  

Noah nods, “Thank you for being – so understanding with all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Luckily, we don’t have to think about that.” Maya says with a smile, “I know this is a lot for you, and I’ll take whatever I can off your shoulders. And please tell me if I say something that doesn’t feel right for you.” 

Somehow, Noah had thought that everything would change now. And sure, things do feel a little different. But not in the way that Noah had thought. Maya doesn’t look at her differently, doesn’t treat her differently. Maybe she’s a little more affectionate at the moment, but Noah can’t complain about that. 

She loves waking up with Maya wrapped around her, loves feeling the kisses she presses against her skin when they’re still drowsy and barely roused from sleep. They’ve always been soft like this with each other. Maya has always showered them with so much affection and love. She’s always called her pretty, but now it scratches that spot in the back of Noah’s brain like little else does. 

“Have you thought about telling them yet?” Maya asks, carding her fingers through Noah’s hair. 

She looks up at Maya and finds nothing but that softness she’s grown to love so much. 

“I should probably do it sooner rather than later. Just in case, you know? I don’t think anyone’s going to be weird about it, but you can never know.”

“If someone is getting weird about it, they’re not worth your time or energy.” Maya says softly, “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I know it’s scary, though. Maybe you could start with Nick?”

“Can you stay with me when I call him?”

“Of course.” she taps her finger against the tip of Noah’s nose, “It’ll go fine, though. You know Nicky. He loves you.” 

Maybe that’s the scary thing about this. 

The dynamic between her and Nick never changed, they’ve grown up sure, but in their essence they’ve always been the same. Deep down, she knows that things with Nick will go fine, but she can’t deny the lingering fear. 

Noah decides to give herself the weekend to prepare. They’ll call Nick on Monday morning and just get it over with. 

As daunting as this is, they know that they’ll have to tell him eventually. The rest of the band needs to know at some point, although they’re really not looking forward to informing the label. Noah has already made up their mind about not wanting to address this more than necessary. They don’t want a big statement unless it is absolutely necessary. They’re sure that people will want to know more, but right now, Noah really doesn’t want to elaborate on how or why they came to this conclusion. 

As much as they know that they have benefitted from hearing other people's stories, they don’t quite feel prepared to elaborate on the mental agony of the past few months. 

Maya had brought up the rather touchy subject of therapy again, only this time Noah hadn’t protested it as much as she had before. 

It’s probably a good idea. 

Talking to Maya about this helps, but there’s only so much she can do before she reaches the end of her admittedly limited knowledge. And really, Noah doesn’t want to load even more onto her shoulders. 

Noah spoons another blob of hummus onto the plate. 

They have an afternoon of movies planned. Noah is happy to be away from band related things for a little bit. They’ve been working on the album with a lot more intention recently, but for the moment Noah needs to think about other things. 

A pair of arms wraps around her middle. 

“Is that the good hummus?”

Noah hums in response. 

“Do we have those caramelised onion crackers too?”

“I got a bag when I went to the store earlier.”

Maya doesn’t need to know yet that they got two just in case. 

“You are the best.” Maya presses a kiss to her cheek, “Thank you, sweet girl.” 

Noah tenses in her embrace. 

Sweet girl. 

They’d loved it when Maya had referred to them as sweet boy. Hearing the term like this feels – surprisingly good. 

Noah hadn’t put a lot of thought into that side of things. She’d been so busy figuring out that boy wasn’t for her that she hadn’t considered if girl was the right thing. 

“Noah?” Maya asks quietly, “I’m sorry if that wasn’t okay. I know we haven’t talked about that yet. It just – it just kinda slipped out.” 

They’re not opposed to it. 

Right now, it feels terrifying, but Noah has learnt that these things only feel scary because they’re new. 

“It’s okay.” they reply, still somewhat absent-minded, “I think I like it.” 

“You think?” 

“It doesn’t feel bad. It’s just new, and I’m not really used to it yet.” 

Maya kisses her cheek once again, “I know it’s a lot. You’re doing a lot of new things at once at the moment. I’m more than happy to keep reminding you that you’re the prettiest girl, if that’s what you need.” 

Noah wriggles her way out of Maya’s grasp, turning around so that they can look at her properly. 

“If I’m the prettiest girl, what does that make you?” 

“You tell me.” the little smirk on Maya’s lips makes her pulse speed up. 

“Can we settle on a tie?” Noah places her hand on Maya's waist, easing her closer. 

“I think we can arrange that.” 

Maya pushes up onto the tips of her toes to kiss Noah again. The kiss teeters on the edge of becoming more, but Maya pulls away before her hands have a chance to wander around Noah’s frame. 

“And now get that snack plate ready, I want to start our film.” 

Monday eventually rolls around, and somehow Noah doesn’t feel less nervous. In fact, she thinks that she’s somehow even more nervous about the whole thing. 

She had texted Nick before breakfast to ask if he had time for a call later. 

They’d barely managed to get all of their breakfast down, but Maya had insisted that they should eat at least a little bit. 

“It’ll be okay. You’ve known Nick long enough to know that this won’t change how he sees you.” Maya gives their hand a little squeeze as she speaks, “I’m here as back up.” Noah draws in a deep breath before they tap on Nick’s name. 

It feels like forever until he finally picks up the call. 

There’s a little bit of talk about the album and Nick complains about being stuck on one song before he eventually remembers that Noah probably had something they wanted to discuss. 

“Did you want something specific?” 

Noah swallows a breath and Maya gives them a reassuring nod. 

“Actually, I did –” they pause, having suddenly forgotten everything they’d planned to say.

They find Maya’s eyes and the softness within them. She mouths a you got this at her, and Noah wants to believe her so desperately. 

“You know how I’ve always kinda struggled with how I look?” she starts, hoping that Nick remembers the times he had to talk them out of the spirals of self-hatred. 

“Sure do.” 

“So – I didn’t know what it was until recently. Maya helped me figure this out – or at least start to figure it out. I – fuck, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

Nick speaks up after a long moment, “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be okay. If whatever you’ve figured out makes you feel better about yourself, that’s good news for me.” It’s enough to make their chest feel a little lighter. 

Noah decides to bite the bullet then, rip off the band-aid. 

“I’ve been using they and she as pronouns for a little while now, and I don’t think that I’ve ever felt better about myself.”

Noah bites her lip so hard that she thinks that she’ll draw blood. 

She can hear Nick moving around in the background, and her heart almost sinks a little. 

“Sorry I had to find a tissue.” he sniffles, “I am – so proud of you. I don’t know what it took to get to that point, but I can’t imagine that it was easy.”

Hearing Nick’s support brings the tears right back. 

“Noah – is that still right or –?” 

“Name stays. Just a different label.” “I mean that. I’ve never been more proud of you. This — by the way — doesn’t change a thing between us. You’re still my best friend, and I’ll still tell you when you’re talking shit.”

Noah laughs between the tears that still run across their cheeks, “I’m counting on that.” 

They give Nick a little recap of the last few months. Nick apologises more than once for adding to the mess of feelings in their head, but Noah quickly waves him off. 

He couldn’t have known. 

They fall back into their usual banter fairly quickly. Maya leaves them alone soon after, pressing a quick kiss to Noah’s cheek before she excuses herself. 

It’s comfortable, familiar. 

Nick has always been a safe person, and in retrospect, Noah isn’t sure why she was so scared of this call. 

“Have you told the others yet?” Nick asks after a while. 

“You’re the first – well, second.” 

They can practically see the proud look on Nick’s face. 

“They’ll be good with it too, you know? We’ll figure out how to approach this with the public side of the band together. You’re not alone with that. And if someone is awful about it, we’ll sic Bryan on them.”

Knowing that Nick is on her side so unconditionally means the world to her. It means that she’ll have one more person to support her when she tells the next person. And that makes it less scary. 

An afternoon of gaming later, Noah feels decidedly more relaxed. Knowing that Nick is so very normal about it feels good. He does stumble a few times, but this is a change for him too. Nick has only known her as one thing, it’ll take him a moment to get used to it too. 

When Noah leaves their office later that day, Maya is nowhere to be seen. They check their phone, to find a message that she’d gone out with Ellie to do a little shopping. 

Noah’s fingers hover over the screen for a long moment before they decide to send the message. 

Can you bring me something? Just something you’d think I’d like?

Like a treat? I was going to do that anyway <3

To wear

There’s a long beat of silence that makes their heart rate spike. 

Sure! I’ll keep an eye open. Are you looking for something specific?

Not really. I have no idea what would suit me. 

I’ll get you something pretty <3 I’m bringing food on the way back. 

How did things with Nick go in the end? Everything good? 

Everything good 

Maya eventually returns with a few bags and a few styrofoam boxes of take out. Noah gets her usual kiss on the cheek before Maya even sets her things down. 

The reason for this surprise shopping trip apparently was that Ellie’s sure that her partner will propose over the weekend, and she wanted to have something to wear just in case. Hearing how many of their friends are moving towards that phase of life makes Noah wonder when they’ll take that step. They know that they can’t see themselves with anyone else but Maya, but there’s so much going on right now that adding a wedding to the mix wouldn’t be ideal. It’ll happen when the time is right. 

Noah’s already surprised that they’re thinking about a wedding in the first place. But that’s what being in love does, Noah supposes. 

After their late lunch, Maya sets to unpacking all of her bags. 

“I hope I guessed the sizes right. This might be a little trial and error.” She explains as she pulls a flimsy looking shirt out of one of the bags, “You’ll have to have a look on your own eventually. But I thought this might be a good place to start.” 

She hands Noah a stack of clothes. 

Maya had stuck to a simple black colour palette, which Noah is honestly thankful for. None of it looks too out there, although they don’t know how to feel about the see through shirt. 

“Give it a try.” 

Noah thinks she sounds a little nervous, and really she gets it. 

This is a big thing.

She feels awfully nervous too. 

“I’m gonna — be in the bedroom. I’ll — be back.” 

Noah feels a little awkward when she walks off to their bedroom. This isn’t as high-stakes as the skirt was. Maya had picked up a nice-looking pair of trousers for her. The shirt was the actually out there thing. She strips down to her underwear, the boxers are starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Maybe there’s an in-between option that they can go for instead. 

The trousers fit comfortably, although they are a little short at the legs – nothing new, though. As she picks up the shirt, something else tumbles from it. Noah recognises it as something Maya wears under similar shirts. The idea of having their chest on display like this doesn’t feel too appealing at the moment. 

They slip the thing over their head. It’s a little constricting at first, the fabric hasn’t really stretched yet, and it feels uncomfortably tight. Noah is willing to chalk that up to them just not being used to wearing these things. 

Their fingers tremble when they unbutton the shirt – blouse? — and pull it over their shoulders. The fabric is so soft. In a way, Noah is glad that Maya had removed all the tags beforehand. They don’t want to know how expensive this all was. 

Somehow this doesn’t look like a lot. 

Something is missing. 

Noah cracks open the door, poking their head through the gap, “Can you help me?” 

They hear her steps approaching from a different part of the house, quickly coming towards them. 

“Everything okay?” 

“I don’t know how to make this look good.” Noah says quietly. 

“If you let me in, I’m sure we can figure something out.” 

Noah steps back from the door, allowing her into the room. She suddenly feels a little shy about this. 

“Can I?” Maya asks. 

Noah gives a nod in response. 

She starts to tuck and adjust the shirt. She rolls up the sleeves a little, undoes a few buttons. Noah lets her work in peace, just quietly watching as the image in the mirror changes. Maya pulls a belt from their side of the closet. She has Noah put it on, while she digs through her jewellery box. 

“Sit down for me? You’re too tall.” Maya says with a soft smile, “Can’t reach you.” 

They slump down on the edge of their bed. Maya comes to stand in front of them. One of her hands finds Noah’s cheek, forcing her to look up. 

“How are you feeling, love?” 

“A lot in one day.” Noah replies, “But this is nice.” 

“Is it?” she leans down to kiss Noah, “I’m glad. How would you feel about a little jewellery? Just for a little flavour?”.

“Sure.” 

Maya moves back just a little, allowing her to clasp two of her necklaces around Noah’s neck. Once she’s done, she sits down next to them. Her head drops to Noah’s shoulder. 

They make a pretty picture together. 

Noah always thought that they look good together. Maya’s softness, mixed with their still rough edges, works so perfectly. They don’t think that they want to be quite as feminine as Maya, at least not right now. She did like wearing the dress, but for the moment, this feels safer. 

“I really do have the prettiest girlfriend.” Maya says after a while. 

Noah’s insides warm. 

She’s still not entirely used to it. 

“We’re not having this discussion again.” They reply quickly. 

Maya fixes their eyes in the mirror, “I stand by what I said.” 

Noah breaks into a smile that Maya quickly mirrors. 

They lean over to pull Maya in for a kiss. 

The kiss quickly devolves into more, with Noah leaning over her. She’s missed this. Feeling so detached from herself has made this side of their relationship so difficult. The added anxiety hadn’t helped either. 

Noah lets her hands wander up the sides of her body. It feels a little as if she’s never done this before. Her lips skate down the length of Maya’s neck, teeth grazing against the soft skin there. The perfume she put on this morning floods into Noah’s senses. They can’t tell exactly what it smells like, but it's soft and warm and comforting. 

Maya’s hands thread into her hair.

“Baby.” Maya’s voice barely breaks through the fog in their head. 

Noah peels themself away from her skin. 

“Are you sure about this?” she asks softly. 

“Gotta show you how thankful I am for everything you’ve done for me, don’t I?” Noah replies, feeling herself smile around the words, “You’ve done so much for me.”

She resumes her trail of kisses along Maya’s neck. Noah lets herself sink to the carpet in front of the bed. They’ve done this so often, but it still feels so new in this moment. 

They ease Maya out of her shorts, pulling her underwear down with them. 

They kiss their way up the inside of her thigh, just like they’ve always done. She leaves her pretty marks on Maya’s skin. 

It’s been too long since she got to do that. 

Noah savours the first kiss she places against her folds. She stays where she is for a moment, lingering in the feeling. It takes her a moment to find her rhythm again, but once she does, Maya quickly turns into a mess of moans. Her hand is tight in Noah’s hair, keeping them in place. 

“Noah.” She sighs, “Make me feel so good, my love.” 

Noah lets out a whine against her. 

They sink further against Maya, wrapping their lips around the little bud of nerves. The noises Maya makes only spur them on further. 

Noah pours every bit of emotion that has gathered up over the last few months into this. Everything to show her love just how grateful she is for all the patience and grace. 

They curl a single finger into her, drawing another pretty sigh from Maya. One finger quickly becomes two. It’s been too long since they’ve felt Maya come undone at her hands. 

They can tell that Maya won’t last much longer. The pitch of her moans is already rising steadily, and they can feel her clenching around their fingers. Noah keeps up her tempo, working her closer and closer towards her climax. 

She can’t wait to feel her falling apart. 

Noah doesn’t have to wait much longer. Just a few passes of her fingers and tongue later, she feels Maya pulse around her. She keeps herself buried in her warmth, carefully lapping at her while she falls apart. 

The hand in Noah’s hair tightens almost painfully. 

They’re pulled away a few moments later. 

Noah drops their head against Maya’s thigh, drawing in a deep breath. They haven’t felt this breathless in a good while. But seeing Maya so blissed out above them makes it with worth it. 

Maya looks down at her with a barely there smile playing on her lips, “Thank you, my love.”

Noah presses a kiss to the skin of her thigh, “Thank you.”

“Do you – will you let me make you feel good too?”

Noah hates how hesitant she sounds. 

And they feel even worse when they shake their head, “I have no issue doing this for you, but anything to do with my – you know – makes me feel a little off right now. I’m sorry.” 

Maya’s hand combs through her hair so gently, “Don’t be sorry, love. It’s okay. I want you to feel good, and if you don’t want that right now, that’s okay.” 

Her hand settles on their cheek and Noah leans into her touch.  

“How about we get into something comfy and watch a movie or something?” she asks softly, “I think we still have a tub of the nice chocolate ice cream.” 

They must have missed the text.

Jolly doesn’t usually show up unannounced like this. She can hear them talking in the living room, but the words don’t quite make it through the door. 

Noah feels the panic rising in their chest. 

This is not how they had planned it. 

They’d made a whole elaborate plan on how they wanted to tell the boys. She wanted to do it on her own terms, decide when and how she wanted to tell them. 

This isn’t what she wanted. 

Noah’s breathing picks up.  

Their chest feels so awfully tightly. It hasn’t felt this tight in weeks. 

She tries her hardest to keep herself centred. She still doesn’t have a fool-proof method to stop the panic. 

Maya helps the most. 

She can’t always have Maya with her, even if that’s what she wants. 

Their phone buzzes, catching her attention. 

She reaches for it with the shakiest hands. Their fingers tremble when they unlock their phone. 

Jolly’s here I told him you were in a meeting. Do you want me to tell him to come back later?

Just give me a moment. 

This wasn’t how Noah had planned to tell Jolly. They would have liked a bit more time to prepare, but maybe it can’t always be how they want it to be. 

Noah gives themself a quick once over on the webcam. She’d needed to feel a little more confident today. The subtle make-up she’d put on that morning had given her the boost she’d needed to make the day a little easier, but now she has to face the prospect of Jolly seeing her like this. 

They knew it would happen at some point, but maybe she would have liked a little more time to prepare. 

Maya will be there as a buffer. 

Jolly will be okay with it. He’ll be okay with it. 

She steels herself for it. 

It’ll be fine. 

It’ll be fine. 

It’ll be fine. 

They draw in another deep breath. 

Noah can hear their muffled conversation behind the door. 

It’s terrifying. 

But this is who they are and sooner or later, they’ll have to find out. Sooner or later, everyone will see them. 

And she wants them to see. 

Rip off the band-aid, Noah tells herself. 

They open the door. 

Jolly and Maya are so caught up in their conversation that they don’t immediately notice them entering. Noah decides to just find a spot next to Maya as if nothing at all has changed. 

Jolly stops mid-sentence and gives them a once over. 

“This is new.” He states. 

“Not that new.” Noah replies. 

Maya barely manages to contain her laughter. 

“Well, it’s new to me.” Jolly still looks a little perplexed, and Noah does feel a little bad for leaving him in the dark like this. 

He’s obviously trying to decide how to approach this, and he’s very clearly having a tough time with it. 

“I — this isn’t how I had planned to do this at all, but you’re here now, and I can’t be in control of this all the time. I had a little realisation a while back and —” Noah reaches for Maya’s hand for support, “I’ve been using she and they as pronouns, and it’s been really good for me.”

Maya squeezes their hand as if to say well done. 

They watch Jolly absorb the information. 

“Are you happy?” He asks then. 

Noah doesn’t have to think about it at all. 

“I don’t think that I’ve ever been happier.”

Jolly looks at them for a long moment before he smiles. 

“That’s the important thing. I’m happy for you.” The genuine warmth that comes from him ushers the last bits of panic from their shoulders, “Anything I need to keep in mind? Do I need to change your name in my phone?”

Noah shakes their head, “Name stays.” 

“You know the label is going to love this, right?” Jolly suddenly sounds rather serious, “There’s a non-zero chance that they’ll try to centre all the marketing for the album around it.”

Noah hadn’t exactly thought this far. In fact, they hadn’t thought about the label at all. 

“If you don’t want that, we’ll make that clear. You know we won’t leave you alone with this. We’re all with you.” 

Noah didn’t expect him to react differently, but just as it had been with Nick, it's good to have confirmation. 

The conversation goes on and eventually drifts off into the actual reason for Jolly’s visit. They eventually move over into the studio, getting lost in the track they’ve been working on. 

It’s been a good while since they’ve had the option to work together like this. With the lockdown and the move, they’ve done most of the work on the album remotely. Actually being in the same room is good. 

They’re bouncing around ideas as if nothing has changed at all, and Noah is honestly glad that Jolly isn’t making a big deal out of this. She thinks that she catches him looking at her with a somewhat contemplative look. 

And she gets it. 

This is a big thing – not just for her, but for all of them. 

All of their livelihoods depend on this band. 

This will, inevitably, affect all of them. 

“Noah?” 

They look up from where they’ve zoned out. 

“I know this is a big thing, but I promise you that it’ll be fine. The band will be fine. If someone has an issue with you figuring out who you are, they can get lost. We don’t need people like that.” Jolly places a hand on their shoulder, “You will always be one of us. Different pronouns and clothes won’t change that.”

Noah quickly finds herself wrapped up in a tight hug. 

She lets herself sag against Jolly. 

The tears come a moment later. 

Jolly lets them cry until their shoulders stop shaking. 

“We’ll be fine. This is scary, but it’ll be fine. You’re not alone. We’re all here for you. I imagine that Maya did most of the heavy lifting with you, but if you ever need to talk, I’m here. Doesn’t matter what time it is. I hope you know that was the case before this, too.”  

“Thank you. Really.” 

Jolly waves his hand dismissively, “Not for that. This is just being a good friend. Should we get this finished, or do you want to get back to it later?” 

“Do you want to stay for lunch? I think Maya’s making some baked thing.” 

Jolly naturally stays. 

And while the recipe Maya tried out didn’t work out like she had planned, they still get a good laugh out of it. It’s not entirely dreadful, Noah thinks, but they know that Maya will be a little disappointed by it. 

They’re cleaning up the dishes when Jolly leans into Noah’s space again. 

“Before I forget. Who else have you told? I don’t want to accidentally mention this to someone before you get a chance to tell them yourself.” 

“Just you and Nick.” Noah replies, “And Maya, of course.” 

Jolly nods, “Good. Just making sure. This is not my news to spread around. I’m sorry if this happened before you were ready for it. I just happened to be in the area, and it was easier to stop by then text you.” 

“It’s okay. I can’t control how it happens every time. Sometimes people are just going to find out and I have to deal with that.” 

“Remember that we have to start thinking about the album rollout soon. We can control how people find out to an extent, but eventually, it’ll be out of our grasp.” 

There are a lot of things Noah hasn’t really considered yet. 

In a way, it’s a clean break. 

They’re coming back with a new album and things will just be a little different. 

It’s like Jolly said. If people have an issue with this, they can stay away. The right people will stay, and maybe a few new ones will join them too. 

Work on the album goes well. Jolly comes over a few more times to finish the last few tracks. Overall, Noah is more than happy with it. The album has turned out more introspective than they had planned, but then again, things have been rather tumultuous. 

With Davis clued in too, they’ve started working on merchandise and art.

Noah has decided to rip off another band-aid and sent a text to Matt letting him know.

Thankfully, Matt seems quite okay with it all and immediately returns to business after acknowledging the news. 

Folio is a different story. They’d called him about a week earlier and he’s still asking questions. 

It’s endearing. 

They all have their own ways of showing their support, and Noah appreciates all of it. 

Noah shifts where they’re settled against Maya’s side. They’re rewatching Avatar again, meaning that won’t miss anything if she allows herself to drift off into thought once in a while. 

She had felt so caged in and isolated before she had opened up about to Maya about how she felt, all of out of fear of being even more alone. And now she’s sure that she’s never felt more loved before. Even with this big change, their people still love them. 

Maya lets out a huff. 

Noah turns to look at her. 

“Nick’s calling. He’s so worried that he’ll say or do something wrong.” she says with a sigh, “Let me get up? I won’t be long.” 

As much as Noah doesn’t want to let her go, she reluctantly lets herself slump over to the other side of the sofa. 

Maya gives their hand a quick squeeze as she gets up. She answers the call just as she slips into her studio. Noah knows that she’s probably just going to reassure Nick that he can’t really do anything wrong, but her curiosity gets the better of her. 

They follow a moment later, just to listen in for a moment. 

“Nick – I promise you that you can’t do anything wrong. This is new for all of us. And I know that you don’t want to hurt her, but don’t you think that Noah knows that you won’t say something hurtful on purpose?” Maya asks with a hint of humour in her voice, “You've known them for how long now? — Exactly. It’ll be fine. I promise. — No, Nick, this is not annoying. It’s okay. I’d rather have you ask questions than make assumptions. And I know Noah feels the same way. You can’t imagine how much knowing that you’re all on their side means to them. They were so scared that somehow one of you wouldn’t be – I know – but I’m glad that it all worked out. Won’t lie, for a while, when I didn’t know what was going on yet, I didn’t know what she was doing to do. I’d never seen them like that and it really scared me. But, thankfully, everything worked out. We’ll see you next week, right? Good –” 

Noah quickly makes their way back to the sofa before Maya hangs up.  

They know that they’d worried her, but sometimes it slips their mind just how much anguish they put Maya through. 

She emerges a short while later and sinks down next to them again, “You wanna get comfy in bed? We have a big day planned for tomorrow.” 

They’re only going shopping tomorrow, but Noah has made the plan to at least try to buy something more feminine. They want what they’ll wear on stage to go with the vibe of the album, and that means new clothes. 

It’ll be a challenge. 

She’s stolen a few things from Maya, but it’s just not the same thing. Borrowing Maya’s clothes helped, but she wants to find her own style. 

“Early night sounds good.” Noah agrees. 

Somehow this is more daunting than Noah had expected. This isn’t their first time going out since they’ve made the switch, but they’ll be out for a while and there’s very little space for them to hide away if they do get overwhelmed. Having Maya at their side does help, but even Maya can’t make all of their anxieties disappear. 

The fact that they’re here to buy more clothes for her doesn’t help either. They try to keep telling themselves that it's only clothing. 

It’s not that big of a deal. 

Noah follows Maya through the racks. They don’t really know what they’re looking for, which doesn’t make this easier. Maya keeps holding out random things to them, but so far, nothing has felt right. 

Noah plucks a shirt from one of the racks. It’s similar to the cropped ones that they’ve borrowed from Maya. 

“That’s cute.” Maya notes, “Could be fun with that one button up you’ve never worn and some shorts.”

Noah tries to imagine it. They know the shirt Maya is talking about. They’d wanted to try it, but it had never looked quite right. Maybe this could work. 

“You know – somehow didn’t think that shorts were an option.” 

Maya smiles so sweetly then, “We live in L.A. babe. When was the last time you’ve seen me in jeans?”

“So, where do we get shorts?” 

Somehow that seems to break the dam. 

They wander from store to store after that, and Noah tries her best to not feel self-conscious about how much money they’re spending or the fact that she’s carrying bags of clothes that will make her feel so much better about herself. 

To their surprise, people don’t seem to be too fussed even when Noah browses the racks of the women’s section on their own. 

Maya wants to make one final stop before they get lunch. As they approach the store, Noah realises where they’re going. They’ve accompanied Maya here before, so eager to get a peek into her dressing room. Everything Maya had bought from this shop had turned their brain into soup. 

Coming here now feels a little scary. 

Noah can’t quite picture what their body would look like in underwear like this. They’ve barely managed to graduate to things with less coverage than their usual boxers. The lacy little things Maya wears still feel very daunting. 

They reach for her hand, trying to find a little comfort for their frayed nerves. 

“You don’t have to get anything if you don’t want to. I just want to have a look at the new arrivals.”  

Noah is content to just watch while Maya browses. They watch her pick up a few things to try on and just out of curiosity, Noah decides to examine some of the items a little closer. 

The first thing that catches their eye is a deep red set. The panties are fairly high-waisted, something she likes seeing on Maya. There are two matching top options – a bra with cups and something she’s sure Maya has called a bralette before, but who really knows. 

She picks up the top. The fabric is so soft between their fingers. They don’t know if this would even fit them. 

“Found something you like?” Maya presses up behind them. 

Noah gives a nod, “I just don’t know if it’ll fit.” 

Maya eyes the garments, taking it from their hands, “Should be okay. Do you wanna get this?”

“I want to try it at least.” they say quietly. 

“We can buy it and if you decide that you don’t like it for whatever reason we’ll figure something out.” 

They watch as Maya pays for their items. 

Noah can’t quiet decide if she’s anxious or excited about this. 

The more they’ve been actively exploring this side of them, the more comfortable they’ve become with it. Some of the insecurities they’ve held before suddenly make a lot of sense. With the realisation that boy had never been the right thing for them, a few had simply disappeared. Sure, in turn they’d discovered new things to be insecure about, but in the grand scheme of thing Noah has never felt more comfortable in their body. 

Noah can hardly contain their excitement when they get back home. She’s only tried on a few things at the stores, but some of the more out there things were reserved for the safety of their home. They’ve stuck to trousers for the most part, but the shirt options they’ve picked are a little more bold. 

But there’s something Noah is particularly excited to try on. Throughout the drive home, Noah has come to the conclusion that their feelings towards underwear lean more towards excitement. Their hope is that it’ll make them feel a little bit better about their bare body. It won’t make everything disappear, but maybe it’ll give them a little bit more confidence. And maybe it’ll spark something else too. 

Noah pluck their bag from the lingerie store and disappear into the bathroom, while Maya is distracted by something else. 

She wants to try this on her own first – just in case. This is still a big thing, after all. Noah strips down to their underwear. They’ve taken to wearing soft, unlined sports bras just for the feeling. There’s nothing to cover, but the extra step makes them feel a little more feminine. 

So far, it has worked. 

They take a moment to look at themselves. Their body hasn’t changed much, there are things they wish were different, but they’ve come to realise that these things don’t happen overnight. Noah has considered her options and while she hasn’t settled on anything yet, she has brought some of it up to Maya for a second opinion.

Noah finally shimmies out of their underwear. 

The new stuff doesn’t look quite as scary now that they’re in the safety of their home. Their hands still shake a little when they pull the panties up their thighs. The material feels so different on their skin. Noah adjusts themselves, trying to get comfortable in this. It’s clear that this isn’t made for their anatomy, but it feels good regardless. The high-waisted fit of the panties gives their waist a little more definition, and with the way the legs are cut out they actually feel as if there’s shape to their form. Noah tugs on the bralette, this isn’t too different from the things they’ve been wearing for a couple of weeks now. The fabric makes a world of a difference, though. The colour looks beautiful against their skin, and they like how the see-through fabric shows off their tattoos. 

They hear Maya call their name from the bedroom. 

Noah gives herself a final once over in the mirror before she pulls her shirt back over her frame. She loves when Maya does this, and showing herself off like this feels right.  

She opens the door to the bedroom, stepping out into the room. 

“Have you seen the —” Maya stops as soon as she sees them. 

Her eyes drift across Noah’s frame. 

They feel brave today. It’s taken them a while to feel comfortable showing their body again, even just to Maya. But today they feel good about themselves. Seeing Maya so affected by them definitely helps. 

“Did you try on the underwear?” she asks softly. 

Noah nods. 

Maya meets them in the middle of the room. She pulls Noah in for a kiss. Her hand is so soft on the side of their face. Maya’s unoccupied hand plays with the hem of their shirt, and Noah knows exactly what she wants. They’ve done the same to her. 

“Can I see?” there’s a trace of hesitance in her voice, but the curiosity outweighs it easily. 

Noah has long made up her mind. She wants Maya to see – to touch. 

They reach for the bottom of the shirt and slowly pull it upwards. Maya’s hands practically fly to their waist as soon as it is revealed to her. They feel her eyes drifting across their body, trying to take all of them in. 

“Noah.” she sighs, “You – you look so beautiful.” 

They meet in another kiss. Noah feels herself being pulled in by her waist, as Maya’s hand shifts to the small of her back. They shove their hand under Maya’s shirt, suddenly desperate to feel skin too. 

It’s been a while since they’ve been close like this and admittedly, Noah has missed it. 

Maya carefully walks them back towards the bed. Noah lets herself fall onto the mattress with a laugh. Maya quickly straddles her waist, leaning down to kiss her again. 

“Are you okay with this?” she asks between the kisses they trade. 

Noah sighs out a yes. 

They need to feel her hands on their body, need the gentle affection Maya is so willing to give them. 

From their lips, Maya begins a trail of kisses down their neck. She leaves her marks there, sucking a pretty bruise just under the edge of their jaw. Noah’s brain is already so full of fuzz. They feel hands drifting across their body, fingers tracing along the lines of their tattoos. 

Maya’s hands come to cover their chest. There isn’t anything to cup there, but the idea of it alone is enough to make Noah sigh. A thumb drags across their nipple, before she tugs at it just a little. The sting of it pulls a sound from Noah’s throat. 

Noah tangles a hair into Maya’s hair as she continues to descend along her body. They can feel the excitement bubbling in the middle as she trails her kisses along their tummy. 

“Can I touch you?” Maya asks softly. 

“Please.” she chokes out, “Please – it’s been so long.” 

Maya lets out a quiet chuckle, before she lets her hand wander lower. For now, it stays above her underwear. She places her hand above Noah’s crotch. Her touch is light, giving Noah a moment to adjust to it. 

Maya continues to kiss across their chest and tummy while the pressure of her hand slowly increases. Noah’s already halfway to hard and they’ve barely done anything at all. 

“Tell me if something feels off, okay? I want you to feel good.” Maya looks up at her with such a devastating softness. 

Maya slowly works her hand into their panties. Noah sighs when her hand curls around their cock. 

“I almost don’t want to take these off you.” Maya muses, as her fingers trace across the waistband of the panties, “You look so pretty in them.” 

“I feel pretty.”  

“Good.” She presses a kiss against their tummy, “Now let me make you feel good.” 

She carefully tugs the panties down until Noah’s cock comes free. 

Noah makes a little high-pitched sound when it slaps up against her tummy. Maya’s hand immediately returns to her, setting a slow, but steady rhythm. She continues peppering Noah’s skin with the softest kisses. Noah doesn’t even try to stop herself from moaning. She knows that Maya loves to hear her sounds, and it all feels too good anyway. 

The brush of Maya’s tongue against the head of their cock makes their hips tip forward. It’s been months since they’ve felt anything except the occasional rushed touch of their own hand on their skin. 

Noah whines when she takes the head between her lips. It’s almost overwhelming. The warmth of her mouth erases practically every thought in Noah’s head. Maya has always had that effect on them, but it’s so much more intense now. They drop their head back against the pillow, allowing themself to get lost in the sensation. 

Their hand tangles into Maya’s hair, less to direct her and more to keep her close. Noah decides then that she needs to feel more. While the mouth of her love feels good, she needs to feel all of her. 

“Maya.” she sighs, “I – fuck – let me feel you. Please. I wanna be inside –” the words come out broken up and breathy, but she can’t bring herself to worry, “Please baby.” she chokes out, “Please let me feel you. It’s been so long.” 

She hasn’t felt this desperate for her in a while.

Maya pulls away from them, but keeps her hand on their cock. 

“How do you want me?”

“Can you — on top of me.” Noah makes herself say between the soft sighs Maya pulls from her.

They watch as Maya undresses herself. She doesn’t make much of a show of it. And just a few moments later, she’s straddling Noah’s waist.

She reaches for their hand and guides it between her thighs. Noah dips her fingers between her folds. She’s soaked already. Maya sighs when their fingers sink into her. She’s so soft and warm, and Noah can’t wait to feel her wrapped around them again. It’s been far too long.

“Noah.” 

Hearing her sigh their name like that makes the warmth in their belly burn even hotter. They curl their fingers inside of her, pulling another moan from her. 

The need to feel her becomes too overwhelming then. 

“Think you’re ready?” She asks, finding herself sounding a little shaky. 

Maya nods, drawing in a stuttered breath. 

Noah slowly pulls their fingers from her. They guide the head of their cock towards her entrance. Their breath catches in their throat when they make contact, and Noah has to take a moment to stop themselves from coming undone then and there. Maya sinks down on her so, so slowly. 

She tangles their fingers together, holding on to Noah for dear life. Her eyes fall shut as she sinks lower. Noah thinks that she’s never been more beautiful. Her lips tremble, brows furrowed so slightly.

Maya pauses once she’s fully seated on top of Noah. She leans forward to meet kiss them. Her hand is so soft and warm against their cheek. It’s all so dizzying. 

“I love you so much, Noah.” she speaks against their lips, “My beautiful darling. My beautiful girl.” 

Their heart pounds in their chest. 

It still feels so novel, but god it feels good.

Noah pulls her back down for another kiss. 

“I love you.” Noah replies, lips spreading into a smile. 

Maya stays close for a moment longer, allowing both of them to settle just a little more. The soft kisses and words they exchange sear themselves into Noah’s mind. They know that Maya loves them, she shows it without shame. But in this moment, Noah feels so impossibly loved. 

Noah trails her fingers up the length of Maya’s back, pulling a little laugh from her. 

She grinds down against them, making both of them moan. 

The slow rhythm she sets makes Noah’s head swim. It’s a grind more than anything else, but it’s enough – more than enough, actually. 

Their hands are still interlaced, and Noah is glad to have that security. Their free hand roams across Maya’s thigh. Noah lets their eyes drift across her body from where they’re joined all the way up to her face. They find Maya already fixed on them, and they can’t possibly look away again. 

Noah doesn’t know how long they’ll last. 

Their constitution feels so worn and frayed already. Maya’s soft praise only pushes her further towards the edge.

“You feel so good.” she sighs, “Make me feel so good, my love.”

Noah wants to return the words and tell Maya how good she’s making her feel, but the words just won’t come. The only thing she can offer is a near wanton moan. 

Their hand grips into Maya’s thigh a little tighter as their hips pitch upwards. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you, baby?” she asks softly.

Noah gives another whine in response, “So close. You feel so good around me.”

Maya picks up her effort a little, now seemingly intent on bringing both of them to their climax. The warmth that spreads through them is unlike anything they’ve felt before. Feeling Maya clench around them makes their vision white out a little. 

They feel Maya tip forward against their chest at some point. They wrap their arms around her body, keeping her as close as possible to them. Their chests heave in unison. Noah is sure that they’ve never been more connected. 

Maya rests her head against their chest. With just a turn of their head, Noah can press their lips to her forehead. They stay like this for a long moment, just enjoying each other's warmth and presence. Noah hadn’t realised just how much they’ve missed this. Being close to Maya like this always made them feel more connected to her, and starving themself of this connection had impacted them more than they had previously thought. 

Half an hour later, they’re cuddled up in bed. 

Noah shuffles back against Maya’s chest. She wraps her arm around them, her hand settling on their tummy. Maya presses a kiss to their bare shoulder. 

Noah lets herself sink into the embrace, allowing it to envelop her entirely. Their nerves still buzz with the ecstasy of their high, but it's a pleasant, warm feeling. 

They doze off a little while later, entirely content and happy. 

Noah paces along the length of their living room. 

The article and the related posts will drop any moment and god she’s never been more nervous. This is the first time they’ll be seen in public since they’ve gone down this road. The pictures Bryan has taken are genuinely some of their favourites. 

Maya had helped her assemble a good look for this shoot. The new clothes and a little bit of make-up had done a world of a difference. Noah had felt incredibly confident that day. 

Right now, all she wants to do is sink into the ground until all of this is over. 

“It’s up.” Nick announces. 

Noah swears that she’s going to throw up. 

At this point, the actual album release will be a breeze. 

Maya wraps an arm around their middle. 

“It’ll be okay, love. You know that the important people are on your side.” she says quietly, “We all love you so much. I love you so much.” 

Noah pulls their phone from the pocket of their sweats. The tremble of their hand makes it almost impossible to unlock their phone. They navigate towards Instagram, fully knowing that some of the words will sting. 

They scroll through the comments, anticipating the vitriol. 

The first comment that catches their eye is the exact opposite of what they’d expected. 

this is so cool! i’m proud of them <3

i love seeing someone living as themselves

this rocks, haters can get fucked 

whoa i didn’t know noah went by they/she that’s dope!

There are a few odd comments that follow the usual bigoted pattern. The overwhelming majority is either just really excited to see them release new music or offering their support for Noah. 

“I told you they’d be good.” Nick calls from the other side of the room. 

There’s a little commotion about someone commenting that they’re only going in this direction because of Cyberpunk, but the room quickly quiets down again. 

Noah is set to make an appearance on a podcast with Jolly later that day. They know the person they’re supposed to talk to, and Noah is surprisingly excited to get to talk about the new album. They’ve worked hard on this and Noah knows that they’re all very proud of what they’ve created. Being able to talk about it after all this time feels good. 

For the first time since they’ve been doing interviews, Matt has requested that they’re sent the questions ahead of time, just so they can have a bit of control over what they’re asked. Noah knows that they won’t be able to avoid the topic entirely, but they don’t want it to become the main focus of every interview they do from now on. Which pronouns they use shouldn’t have anything to do with the music the band they’re in makes. Thankfully, this interviewer had stuck to the more important things. 

“Now, this new cycle comes with a lot of changes for you as a band.” he starts and Noah steels themselves for the inevitable question, “It seems like you’ve changed up your sound quite a bit from the snippets we’ve heard so far. Will the whole album lean into that kind of sound or will there be some of the heavier sound that we’re used to from you?” 

Noah let’s out the breath they’ve been holding as Jolly gives his answer. They chime in eventually, adding that they want to keep evolving their sound, both for their and their audiences' sake. To keep things interesting. 

Noah marks this day as a good one. 

Things could have gone quite a lot worse, all things considered. She tries not to think about the mountain of unanswered e-mails that still waits for her. They’ll work their way through them in the coming days.

They spend what’s left of the day together as a group. 

They don’t get nearly enough days to just hang out together any more. Having time with their friends without the looming obligations biting at their ankles is nice. 

For the rest of the evening, the band doesn’t matter, and they’re just a group of friends spending good quality time together. 

Watching the tickets for the tour sell out had been invigorating. It is just a small run of shows but knowing that they had sold out almost all of the shows had been a massive boost to their ego. 

The general reception of the new music had been good, and it had eased Noah’s nerves about the first show, at least a little bit. 

Now that the day has come, though, Noah feels impossibly nervous. They know that they’ve been a little irritable all day, but if anyone had been affected by it, they hadn’t made it known. 

Doors have opened by now, and Noah really should start to get ready. She’s kept herself busy with vocal warm-ups and administrative things. All that was left to do now was get dressed. 

Noah enters the dressing room, to find Maya sorting through their things. 

“There you are.” she says with a smile, “I was about to text you. Do you need help getting ready or do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Please stay?” Noah asks as they wrap their arms around her middle, “I think I might need a little help.” 

The outfit they’ve picked for this show is fairly neutral. With a few tricks, Maya had somehow managed to give their waist a little more definition. It’s not ideal yet, but it’s all in the works now. They’ve already made so much progress, and everything that is coming up now will only make things better. 

Noah sits down in front of the vanity. 

They’ve done this so often already, but right now, they can’t stop their hands from shaking. Maya pulls a chair up next to them, taking the brush out of their hand. 

“Let me help you, my love.” she says softly. 

Noah gladly turns their chair towards her. Maybe having this moment will make her feel a little calmer. 

“Didn’t get a chance to ask earlier, how did your last therapy session go?” Maya asks as she continues to work on their make-up. 

Noah had brought up a big question during the last session. They’d thought about it for a while. They had figured out very early on that the thing that had the biggest impact on their dysphoria was how boyish their body still felt. Noah has done what they could, and the logical next step is – as much as it scared them – hormones. 

They have brought it up with Maya before, but it had never been a firm decision. Maya had, naturally, been incredibly supportive of the idea. 

“I asked her about HRT.”

Maya stops moving then. She sets down the products in her hands. 

“You did? What did she say?” ​​

“She’s going to write me a note just in case. But she agrees that it’s the best option for me.” 

Maya breaks into a wide smile. She wraps them into a tight hug. Maya presses a plethora of kisses against the cheeks and lips. 

“That’s so good. I’m so happy for you.” 

Noah lets herself sink against Maya. Her support has been their biggest crutch during all of this. They don’t know what they would have done if they didn’t have Maya, or even worse if she hadn’t been supportive of them. Thankfully, Noah doesn’t have to worry about that. Somehow, she’s ended up with the best support system she could have asked for.

“Thank you, really.” Noah says finally, “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” 

Maya pulls away from them just enough to look at them, “You’re my person, Noah. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. With maybe a few exceptions – I draw the line at murder.”

Noah can’t help but laugh at that. 

“I mean that. Watching you be so sad and unlike yourself during those first few weeks – I never want that again. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.” 

Noah has to fight the tears. They’ve had this talk a few times, but it never fails to bring her to tears. 

“You don’t know how much that means to me.” Noah sniffles.

“I just need you to talk to me. Tell me when you need something. I can’t read your mind yet.” 

“I’ll do my best.” Noah leans in to steal a kiss from her, “I think we have to get going, though. Don’t wanna rush things. And Bryan will want to take a few more pictures.” 

Maya gives them another kiss before she continues to work on their make-up. 

Maya doesn’t do anything too out of the ordinary, but it’s enough to make them feel comfortable and confident. And mixed with the outfit, Noah feels more than ready to head out on stage again. 

As expected, Bryan snaps a few more pictures of all four of them. He has been taking candids all afternoon, and Noah is genuinely curious to see how Bryan has captured her. They all go about their own little routines in the last few moments before they go on stage. 

Noah stops by the last restroom before the stage, just to get a final glimpse at themself. So much, and at the same time so little, has changed. 

For the moment, the nerves outweigh any kind of excitement they feel. Noah’s sure that thing will settle once they’re actually one stage and the first song is underway. It’s always like that. 

They’re always impossibly nervous up until the moment they’re singing the first line. Noah finds her eyes in the mirror. 

She’ll be okay. 

Noah tugs at her shirt for a moment, makes sure that the buckle of her belt is centred. She fixes her hair, swipes a little speck of eyeshadow from her cheek. Noah wonders how long she can hide away here. 

They can hear them talking outside, they’re sure that they can hear Matt and Nick talking right in front of the door. Something about the last few shows selling out too. 

Noah decides that it’s time to stop stalling. 

She exits the restroom again and wriggles her way into their conversation. 

“What’s that about selling out?” they ask, draping their arm across Nicks shoulder. 

“Tour’s all sold out.” Matt announces, “Album’s selling like mad, too. At this point, we might even make a profit.”

Hearing that their coming out had no major negative impact on the band and their career takes a good chunk of weight off their shoulders. Nick pulls them into a half hug. 

A moment later, they’re all huddled up. Jolly says something about how they’ll be better than ever tonight, but Noah can barely hear him over the buzzing in their ears. They can hear the noise of the crowd, their excited cheers as the lights dim down. 

Folio’s excitement about getting back on stage bubbles over into her. 

This will be a good one. 

Just before they go on stage, they look back to see Maya coming up towards the side with Davis. 

All of her favourite people are here tonight. Everyone she loves is here to support them – to support her. 

As soon as they step foot on stage and the noise of the crowd fills their ears, they know that things will be okay. The show is unlike any they’ve played before. The energy in the room gives Noah drive to barrel through the setlist. 

And by the time the band takes their bows, Noah is sure of it all. 

Things will be okay. 

Noah is glad that they’ve decided against a big dinner with everyone after the show. Instead, they find themself curled up against Maya’s side while they devour their spread of takeout. The show flickering across the screen matters little, Noah is too lost in their own thoughts to pay attention to it. 

The night couldn’t have gone better. 

Being welcomed back with such open arms had superseded any expectation they’d had leading up to today. Sure, they’d hoped that people would be accepting or even welcoming, but the outpouring of love and support not just for her but for the whole band had meant the world to her. 

The thing that had really sealed it all was seeing Maya at the side of the stage. The pride and love they had found on her face had made it all worth it. 

Noah shifts against her, trying to get a little more comfortable. They’re exhausted beyond reason and here, with Maya so close, they’re about ready to clock out for the night. 

Maya presses an absent-minded kiss to the top of their head, as her arm tightens around their middle. 

This is all they need, Noah thinks. 

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

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@rumoured-whispers @cheyyyyr @mathfairchild1 @thewrstinme @Follow-me-down-to-wonderland

[avaults]

chapter one - welcome to society

from false pretense - a bridgerton!au starring suguru geto

pairing: suguru geto x female reader (zenin)

ch. summary: as daughter of the zenin household, your parents expect no less than perfection of you - their precious emerald! so what happens if the queen sees you; will she have the same perception of you? (3.8k)

content/warnings: bridgerton au, regency era au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, misogyny, bullying, jealousy, mentions of alcohol and explicit contents, mental health issues, death,  academic themes, breaking society’s norms and expectations, geto is as prideful as ever, reader pretending to be someone else, both being a pain 

author's gossip: bonjour, it's me - Anna! so the first chapter has finally arrived and I hope you like it. thank you very much for taking your time to read - please enjoy! special thanks to @fushitoru <3

Dearest gentle reader,

welcome to yet another season of  family representatives entering into society. Alongside mamas making sure their daughters shimmer as brightly as a star, are young eligible men using the opportunity to check whose sparkle might fit themselves. Weeks, months and hours are spent on preparing these young women for their debut to society - all in hopes of impressing her majesty. Though whom may the queen deem worthy enough to take place among her most prized collection of jewelry and will therefore earn the title as this year’s most desired debutante; earning this season’s title as the most incomparable - the diamond of the season.

Upon society’s excitement on to whose daughter will bedazzle the crowd and especially the queen the most to make the final cut, are also rumors lingering as to whom may grace us with their decision to fully participate in the courting related events regarding public. But before we will dive into every mother’s most anticipated part of this very column, I shall inform you about whom many males and also the queen herself have set their sights on. There are two young women who are currently being favored not only for their looks, but also for their standings in society as well as their exquisite mannerisms proven in minor gatherings before. Both are of exceptional lineages. One being miss Iori, daughter of viscount Iori and the other one is in fact a close friend of hers; miss Zenin of the Zenin household. Bear with me as we pay attention to what future will hold spare for these two little birds.

Now onto the most important part for many - during most recent days it has come to my attention that whispers surrounding this season’s attendees have steadily increased in volume. So much so, that I could not do other but to investigate those myself for I can confirm wether it is of great value or impact to society. So now this very author can confirm with joy that none other than Suguru Geto, heir to duke Geto, is preparing to pay his full attention on finding himself a match. Will he succeed on the mirage market though? We certainly shall see as men of the Geto household are said to be rather demanding and expectant. So far every woman that has entered into this house’s rows excelled with not only a grande skillset in music and literature but also in holding proper conversations to entertain audience. Additionally these women were able to continuously display more than perfect knowledge of their ranks in society and value to their partner. Though sir Suguru Geto holds quite the reputation for being much too prideful, causing him to be rather distant and disregarding towards others - especially those lower in rank. Will this apply to the dames and debutantes as well? We certainly will be kept on edge for this forthcoming quest.

Yours truly - Lady Whistledown

A huff escapes your mother’s lips as she laid this weeks print aside on the surface of your vanity, taking one last judging look at your appearance. A certain expression begins to take place on her visage, indicating that she is not yet fully content with your attire. Intrigued, you gather your nerves in order to speak up properly: „Mama, I fear you are not content with my looks so how may I improve them to your liking? Dare I recommend some striking jewelry?“. Your mother pauses with examining you to contemplate said thoughts of yours. After a moment of thinking, she responds: „My dear, that is certainly a sparkling idea. But what pieces shall we choose upon? We must keep your attire a certain amount of interesting, yet without making your look overbearing.“. „I share those very thoughts . As of now I dare say I look rather plain and I am afraid that colorless or neutral jewelry may not do much on improving the simplicity of my looks, instead it might further the dullness of it.“. Mindlessly you rise from your seat to leave for the room inside the manor where all the prized jewelry is stored and cared for.

As you are strutting down the hallway leading to the room, you glance over your shoulder to see your mother following suit with a pleased smile gracing her lips. Though you love your mother dearly, you can not deny the frustration lingering deep within your stomach. All throughout your life, you were raised to obey and please you parents every wishes in order to prepare you for mirage - according to Zenin’s standard of values of course. A certain amount of pressure constantly being laid upon you. You shall not disappoint and dishonor this family’s name ever by making a fool out of yourself or others. You shall experience quite the education; enough to uphold a proper conversation and interest potential suitors, enough to entertain audience with your social skillset during gatherings - but never shall you receive too much education to form a mind of your own and cause commotion with it. Do not speak up and do not talk back. Especially to your elders.

Once your reach the desired spot, you bring yourself to break away from those constricting feelings and to focus on the task at hand. Finding the right piece of jewelry is hard, especially from such a vast collection as that of your family. Rows and rows of silvers or golds either covered in sapphires, rubies, pearls, diamonds or emeralds are in front of you. Thus making it hard to choose from, especially the emeralds which your family is known for. Fully engulfed in the sheer beauty by the gems, you do not notice the presence of your brother Naoya until he clears his throat, making it known that he is in the room with you. His disapproving stare is burning through your skin, leaving residuals deep within your bones. More than enough to leave you with chills regularly.

Shaking off those unsettling stares, you redirect your attention and soon enough decide on a pair of sapphire studded earrings to try on along with a matching necklace. Once you applied the jewelry you study the improved look in the mirror, just to hear Naoya’s typical disregarding scoff: „Dear sister, I do not interfere with your looks much for neither do I care or share some interest in, though if you might ask me you should refrain from using anything blueish. It seems blue dulls your complexion by far, letting you resemble that of a corpse’s.“. „Naoya Zenin, this is certainly no way to treat a woman, especially your sister!“. „I am only stating the obvious. I am not at fault for my sister being so sensitive to critique. I suggest you improve that trait of yours instead of focussing on some jewelry in an attempt to do so with your looks. After all you did not inherit this family’s genes much; you are hideous. Your skills I will not fur-„. „Naoya Zenin, you are to leave this room immediately as I no longer tolerate such disdainful behavior! If you dare to refuse my very command then you leave me no other choice but to talk to your father regarding your allowances. In fact I will have him cut them.“. „But mother-„. „Enough! Now take your leave.“. As Naoya takes off, you relax a little. Letting out a breath you absentmindedly withheld. Though, his words keep circling your mind the time you turn your attention back to the mirror. It seems you can not let go of this hurtful comment and form judgement of your own. Sadly you do see his point, which makes you even more frustrated.

Just then you hear your father calling out for you, signaling you that you do not have much more time left to make choices. Unfortunately this only adds to your level of stress, that build up in the recent hours. So without another thought left to spare you quickly put the sapphires back in their place: „Oh mommy, this will simply not do! I hate to admit it, but my brother is right. Blue does not favor my complexion and actually makes me look like living death. Additionally it seems I do not have enough time left to make the right decision in jewelry as father already called out for me. I am afraid I will be at fault for us not making it to the announcement in time.“. „My dear do not fret too much. Sadly we do have not more time left, but I am certain you will select the right set of accessories soon. Just close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, then let your heart choose.“. Those words of wisdom offered you some reassurance and without a doubt you follow suit. Breathe in - breathe deep - breathe out et voilà, your gaze lands on emerald embedded earrings with an equally decent necklace to pair with. You can feel your whole face sparkling up upon applying them, knowing you just made the perfectly right decision. The emerald’s color accentuates your features nicely and boost your complexion. An additional prospect is that it adds some touch of color to your otherwise very dull ensemble of all white fabrics. Your mother can not help but let out a squeal of pure joy as she takes your gleeful appearance in: „My precious girl, these pieces of jewelry suit you so well! They make this whole attire of yours complete - making you shimmer like a gem yourself. A positive aspect that comes along with it is that you subtly represent your family’s color with it as well. Like a true Zenin indeed. Your father will be very pleased by that. But now we shall leave or else we might really be late.“. Just then your father calls out for you yet again, this time though you can hear the slight agitation in voice. Your mother already hushes you out the room and down the stairs, where you meet your fathers expectant gaze. „I am sorry daddy, I just put a lot of effort into looking perfectly presentable and also representable. I guess it took up more time than I initially calculated it would. I will make sure to keep that in mind the next time we will prepare for an event.“ Your fathers stern visage softens at your words: „It is alright, we are still on time though I would have appreciated it if you responded to my calls instead of letting me believe it fell to death ears. I was getting worried for a moment. Other than that I see you managed well. So far I am very content with your looks and I see that you added our house’s color to it - makes me really happy.“. Besides him is your brother trying his best to keep the already forming disgust on his face at bay. Instead in an attempt to to mask it he clears his throat, drawing the attention: „As much as I hate to interrupt this conversation, I might remind you we shall take our leave or I fear we will not arrive in time.“ Silently agreeing you step to the carriage to take a seat for the ride ahead. The ride itself is not long and also not filled with much talking as everyone is lost in their own thoughts based on the anxiety and stress swirling the air.

Though the moment you enter the grounds of the palace your thoughts seem to falter and you are mesmerized by the palace’s beauty of architecture. This interest keeps your nerves at bay until you are pulled out from your daydreams by your mother, pulling you inside the preparation room for the presentation. Your father and Naoya have split from you two prior, to secure themselves a good spot in the audience. After all Naoya still has to find himself a wife. Preparations for the parade are fleeting, only tucks and tufts of feathers and fabrics are left to do. Otherwise the looks are already set. Every young woman in attendance is clad in white, though there are attempts to from each to draw attention with details; Either with the arrangement and amount of feathers, the distinct scents of perfumes applied or the ever so bedazzling jewelry the decided on. Scanning the room, your eyes land on a head of raven hair not too far away.seeing that as your opportunity to calm your steadily rising nerves by striking up a small conversation with your friend prior to the parade. „Viscountess Iori, Utahime! It is such a delight to see you two.“. Utahime spins around, a bright smile latched on her lips: „Madame Zenin, Y/n - I am relieved to see you. Stress is steadily consuming me. So much so that for a second I felt like I was on the verge of crying.“. „I see what you are talking about, I actually feel the same way about this event and everything regarding it. Though dare I might say, that your attire is really stunning today.“. „Thank you very much, it is really kind of you. But I may say so about your ensemble as well - truly shimmering. I fear you are greater completion than I expected.“. „Truth be told, it will be very exciting for us. But I worry we are not the only ones in competence unlike lady Whistledown has reported.“ Looking around the room she agrees: „You certainly are right, I can spot several who have diamond worthy potential.“ While approximately 15 young ladies are adding finishing touches in attempts to calm their nerves, only a handful of them stand out - at least to you; one woman in particular. A striking aura to fit her upright posture, clad in a dress tailored to favor her already slander shape. Sadly your observations are disturbed by to footmen  ordering the guests into positions, announcing we will parade alphabetically. Unfortunately you are the last in line to present themselves, adding only further to the stress. You know that as time goes by, it will be harder for the queen to focus and therefore making it harder for her to decide, especially if there are several shining young ladies. So what if she has already made her choice by the time you step foot into the very hall. Your patience begins waning resulting in your posture lacking necessary tension, but your mother aside you is quick to notice and reminds you of it. After collecting yourself and fixing your posture, your name is being called - indicating for you to parade.

Once you are making your way down to the queen, you take chance to check for familiar faces. You even manage to spot your father and Naoya, some of your cousins, viscount Iori and even some dukes you have heard of, but there is someone among them who catches your eyes - one you have not seen or heard of before. Tall and lean with hair black as ink cascading down his shoulders and onto his chest. His raven hair framing his face, pulling focus on his striking features matching his even complexion. Eyes sharp and lips so soft adding to his extraordinary facial structure, one unlike any other you have seen before. As if god himself carved this very man out of marble. Simply heavenly. To your demise though he seems to notice your stare and averts his gaze somewhere into the audience, his eyes narrowing. His facial expression switching from discontent to boredom occasionally. Feeling the blush of embarrassment building on your chest, you redirect your own gaze ahead. Upon arriving in front of the queen, you present her your long practiced greeting. „My my, what do we have here? Please rise so I can take a better look.“. You follow the queens order wordlessly. „Th emeralds you wear are very dazzling. I must admit it suits you well - they are accentuating your beauty. And as I recall these emeralds equal your family’s colors, am I right?“. „Yes, your majesty.“. „Mhmm, very sparkling indeed…“. With these words you are dismissed along with the rest of society for the queen has to take a break in order to close her diamond wisely.

Seeing as your parents are pleased with your behavior, you excuse yourself to go fetch some fresh a air on the terrace. There you find Utahime and enjoy some catching up before deciding to head back inside. But you are interrupted by Naoya who stands in the entrance to the hall leading back to the ballroom, blocking you from entering. Your brother lets Utahime pass, telling her you two will follow soon after. But something is off; it is unlikely for your brother to meet you unless it is either in his favor or to torment you: „Do tell brother, what brings you outside?“. „Am i not allowed to catch a breath of fresh air myself before accompanying my dear sister back to the hall?“. „There is no problem with that, though it seems very unlike you for you to be so caring. So what do you want to tell me this time?“. „Well it is not something I want to tell you but rather something I want to question you about.“. „Alright go ahead so we can return as fast as possible, I am sure the queen will announce the diamond soon.“. „Well then, what happened during the parade?“. Taken aback, you respond confused: „I do not know what your speaking of? I paraded perfectly, no tripping or loss of balance.“. Naoya begins to circle you, mustering you: „Hard for me to admit, but you did. Though I did not meant that. What I want to know is what your relationship with him is?“. „What do you mean? Which relationship? With whom?“. Naoya stops in front of you, taking a step closer to you: „Do not play dumb. I am speaking of Suguru Geto!“. „I swear I do not know whom you are talking about. I have not heard of a so called `Suguru Geto´ except in lady Whistledown’s article, I do not even know what he looks like.“. „Oh sister, this will not do so let me rephrase my question. The raven haired man I saw you staring at earlier - what is your relation to him?“. You scoff at his ridiculousness, deciding it is enough you make way for the hallway. „I am tired of this nonsense so I will return on my own.“. Stepping in, Naoya threatens you: „You will not or else I will share my suspicions with the rest of the family and ruin your very being like no-one else will. So tell me, are you involved in an affair with this man?“. „No, i am not involved with this man or anyone. I would not ever dare to even think about adultery. Are you content now?“. „No, no, no… then why was there a bush all over you? This usually only happens when two parties engaged in improper activities before…“. „Or this happens out of embarrassment. Embarrassment of him catching me staring.“. „But that is exactly what I was talking about? If you keep avoiding me, then I am afraid you leave me no there choice but to walk up to-„.

Luckily your father disrupts the two of you tough upon seeing the anger splashed across his face, you consider yourself not so lucky anymore: „Young lady just what do you think you are doing here? Catching some fresh air? Or rather having a chat with your brother? Whatever it is ends now and so does your reckless behavior. Just this morning I thought you will not cause commotion for once, but I was disappointed yet again. You missed the announcement - missed the chance of becoming the diamond and making up for all your missteps along the way. This will have consequences; for the both of you! Naoya you should only fetch her so why did I end up doing it myself instead?“. Naoya is the first to speak up: „I am sorry father, but she just threw a fit and got me involved into this. I am innocent, I swear!“. „Spare all your excuses for later, when we will discuss this thoroughly. Now let us return to the hall and fetch your mother. She already took over and congratulated the diamond in our name.“. Leaving you no option, he drags you down the hall way and into the ballroom to fetch your mother rather quickly before scurrying off into the carriage. The carriage ride home is filled with your father’s rage on what happened at the announcement. Your mother sits in silence besides him, disappointment all across her face and it does not seem to leave until hours later. Once your father finished with scolding you and your brother, you apologize thoroughly without trying to explain yourself as it will not change the situation for the better. Instead it will only worsen it, potentially earning you more punishment. When nothing else is left to say, your mother rises from her seat and takes word: „Although it was quite disappointing you were not elected as diamond of the season for obvious reasons, this situation does have it’s positive aspects. While I was engaging in conversations earlier, in the over heard people’s whispers about you. It seems that you have received the title of ´the emerald of the season´ from society. Many were mesmerized by you, at least that is what I heard duke Nanami say.“. Your fathers sour expression lifts to one a little lighter: „Well if that is not a pleasant surprise. So then you may get ready for we have to present the emerald at duke Gojo’s ball.“. With that you are dismissed from this family’s gathering, allowing you to get ready for the masquerade ball ahead. Though this time everything ran quicker and more smoothly.

So you find yourself in the carriage once more, this time though on your way to the Gojo estate. The ride itself is not as suffocating as the one before, letting you relax a little for all the dancing that will happen soon enough. Several minutes later you find yourself switching between conversations and dances with potential suitors. But not one who catches your eyes in sight, much to your disappointment. Otherwise everything is well; no man causes some sort of commotion by misbehavior and no one is making you uncomfortable. So far a good start into festivities. Engaging in social activities like this one does tire you out, you need to admit. So in order to clear your mind a bit and regain some energy, you decide to take a quick stroll around the hallways of the estate. You are aware that this behavior is not accepted in society but no one is there to catch or judge you because they are in fact all present inside the ballroom. So when you see a pair of doors ajar, you pay no mind and enter quickly. Inside your met with shelves full of books. And before you can skim through some,  you light a few candles to be able to read. What you do not see though is someone slipping inside behind you, keeping watchful gaze on your every move.

a/n: publishing the first chapter has been a wild ride y'all - from my laptop not allowing me to copy and paste to tumblr being a lil' bitch about the format of the text. i had like seven mental breakdowns until I could finally publish lol 🥹 - but @fushitoru was there to save my ass. thank you looks - I appreciate you looking out for me🫶🏻. now on to the other matter; I added a taglist. so if you want to be added please notify or message me - don't be shy 😌

taglist: @tiramisuandlove @gojouology @not-ur-average-fangirl /taglist is open!

[blackbackedjackal]

Soul Eater has always been a bizarre case. on one end of the spectrum there's characters like Kilik Rung, Mira Nygus, and even major manga antagonist Noah. on the other end there's the infamous bg jazz band that are straight up minstrels (they look identical in the manga. this was not studio bones' artistic liberty) and the death scythe repping Africa named Dengu Dinga who wears a mashup of "african flavoured" clothing. and then there's Sid, obviously i can't pass judgement on what's good or bad design rep but there certainly was a scene where Maka literally calls him a "mean blue gorilla"..

sorry for rambling, but Ohkubo absolutely takes inspiration from graffiti art and hip hop aesthetics in his work which makes the antiblackness even more disrespectful

Feel free to ignore that ask if the topic is bogging you down btw, I didn't see your last post if you're done engaging with the topic for now feel free to delete it. Looking forward to what you do with strawberry moon <3

Oh dude you're good. I just needed a nap before I answered more lol. I'll try and answer as many of these as I can because I'm honestly enjoying the discussion even though I have to step away from it for a bit. It's triggering to me but not in a way that I can't talk about it, just bogs down my mind ya know?

Anyway, I've never watched Soul Eater so I had no idea of the Black characters in the show! I had to look them up and I see what you're saying. Mira is a stereotype because I'd consider her a sexualized Black woman in this context. Kilik is like 100% fine to me at a glance, like he just looks like a Black guy though there may be some writing I'm missing that still makes him a stereotype.

I had no idea that he was influenced by graffiti art but I TOTALLY see it now in his shape language. Sid is by far the worst since he still has the big white teeth and a more 'gangster' aesthetic. Especially considering the time period Soul Eater was released, it's in poor taste at best and still perpetuating Black stereotypes at worse.

Anime is it's own sub-genre of racism in animation. White people LOOOOOVE to say "oh it's a different culture and they don't know" LMAO YES THEY DO DON'T PLAY stop infantilizing Asians you fucking sickos.

Colorism alone is such an issue in Asian countries. I've lived with people from China, South Korea, Thailand, Taiwan, and the Philippines. I've heard first hand accounts of people from the Philippines being treated like lesser human beings just for having a slightly darker skin-tone and don't get me started on how Chinese imperialism has impacted Taiwanese people. I'm not going to speak for disenfranchised Asian people but it's easy to find if you look it up. But my point is if colorism is that prevalent, imagine how much worse it is when your entire culture has a history of being exploited to the point that blackface is a worldwide issue.

Also the Boondocks exists and though not a perfect example, it still has some of the best depictions of Black people in an anime style. There's no excuse to draw racist stereotypes when there's literally 5 seasons worth of overall solid Black character designs that can be referenced for other series.

[skeedelvee]

Carry On Countdown Day 26 - Savour

For this year's COC I've decided to put together daily fic rec lists! Let me know if you find any new favorite reads from these <3

For todays prompt I've gone with fics where the boys are savouring each other

An Oral Tradition by @banjjakbanjjak

Rated E, 2,909 words

When Baz Pitch came out in Eighth Year, the last thing he expected was Simon Snow to corner him, in their room, and ask him: Can you teach me to give a blow job.

Here in the Dark by @artsyunderstudy

Rated E, 4,725 words

He does this sometimes.  He wakes up in the middle of the night, sleep-drunk and uninhibited, wanting me.

Cool Runnings And Sucking Cock by @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists

Rated E, 3,416 words

“Well, if it isn’t Basilton Pitch. Did you take a break from getting your cock sucked and remember that you have friends and family?” “Took a break from sucking cock, actually,” -AWTWB by Rainbow Rowell Simon overhears a very…interesting conversation between his boyfriend and Dev.

Smooth Like Butter by @angelsfalling16

Rated E, 808 words

Simon wants to bring butter into their sex life, and Baz agrees.

double vision by @pipsqueakparker

Rated E, 5,502 words

On the outside this fic looks like gratuitous sex with two Bazes & Simon, but on the inside this fic is really all about Baz's self-discovery. -- I can’t believe I’ve done this.  I’m not sure what I’ve done, actually.  But now I’m sat here, propped up against my pillows in my once empty room, staring into an all-too-familiar pair of grey eyes.  “What the fuck,” we breathe out in unison, and hearing my own voice outside of my head is jolting. I look for my wand, but it’s still right where I left it on the bedside table. Not that it’s location would have made a difference, it’s not a bloody clicker, I can’t sit on it and accidentally spell myself a clone.  -- AKA The One Where There Are Two Bazes

Death By Basilton by @starwarned

Rated E, 2,033 words

Simon feels embarrassed. The last time he and Baz had gotten this far, he had to stop them and make up some excuse to leave. Wherein Simon has a secret to tell Baz which he's making way too big a deal out of.

5 Times They Half-Arsed It b y @krisrix

Rated E, 54,686 words

“Would a more kinaesthetic approach suffice, then?” “A-are you suggesting grabbing my arse?” “I’m suggesting, that since this seems to be a topic of great interest to you, Snow, I can charitably offer you a lesson in the basics.” Snow unleashes an agitated groan. Merlin, I don’t know how the boy can manage to keep up such a froth for so long. (Though I’ve somehow managed to keep up an erection for this long, so I’m not one to speak on the matter of indecorous stamina.) “You’ve never offered to tutor me in anything before!” he yammers. “Precisely.” I curl my lip at him. “So don’t expect me to ever be so generous with my offers of elucidation ever again.” Baz gets caught with a dildo up his arse, which results in an awkward conversation about the benefits of anal stimulation. Simon is admittedly curious, and, well, so long as it's something straight blokes can enjoy too, there's no reason not to let Baz show him the ropes...right?

✨Gratuitous self rec✨

If You Stay Ready, You Ain't Got to Get Ready by me! @skeedelvee

Rated E, 7,880 words

The boys take a trip out to the countryside for Baz's birthday. Baz wants to try out a new spell as well as a new sex act. Or 3 times Simon eats out Baz and 1 time Baz eats out Simon

Have You Heard About Baz Pitch? by me! @skeedelvee

Rated E, 3,982 words

Rumors have been flying around about Baz Pitch, and Simon's about to find out that there's some truth to them. A tale about sewing wild oats and sexual favors that get a bit out of hand.

If you have any recs that fit the prompt that I've missed, feel free to leave them in the comments! There's plenty of gaps in my reading so there's a good chance I may not have read it

Also I've had a hard time finding if some people are here on Tumblr, so if you know someone who hasn't been tagged, feel free to leave that in the comments as well <3

@carryon-countdown

[numberonetacostan]

hi shrimpy here ! im begging you to ramble more about the mephone telling taco about their programming because i wanna know how people like pickle and mic and mepad (lets pretend he's here ok ? ok. im coping) wpuld react to the " taco was meant to win " + " she was meant to have redemption arc " thing :3

Hiya Shrimpy!!!!!^^ Welcome back, AND THANK YOU FOR ASKING FOR MORE RAMBLES ABOUT TACO BEING BUILT TO WIN AND FINDING OUT AND AAAAAAAAAAAA (((o(≧▽≦)o)))

Before I get to how Pickle, Mic, and Mepad react to the news, one aspect I didn't mention in my previous rambles!!! Upon finding out, Taco glitches out!!! In the same way that Knife and Suitcase did while they were with Cobs. She's so shaken, distraught, angry, despondent, that it affects the core of her being enough to start glitching her. She'd probably stay a tad glitchy for quite some time. It would get better as she does, but that would take a while, and I'd imagine she's always a tad glitchy when the subject gets brought up.

We're going to start with Mepad because I love him!! And because I have two options for him- one that's uh. in line with canon and one in which he's alive!!!! So, in line with canon, he unfortunately isn't really there to help Taco through this. He's dead :(. But!! I subscribe to the train of thought that Mepad's body is kept in the Gemory Cave, as it's a place where his body will stay safe and dry, as well as being where he woke up for the first time. It's full circle and makes me want to cry because I miss him. My own yearning aside, I think Taco would go to see him. She has reconnected with Mic by now, and was working on changing and building new relationships before she found out the news (I definitely think there's... not exactly a regression from her, she doesn't go back to being villainous, but her social progress is so very stalled and her emotions are all thrown out of whack and into a meat grinder again, yeah?), but Mepad is the one she's really managed to open herself up to, yeah? She feels safe doing that with him, talking honestly to him with her walls down <3!!! So she would go to him. Even if he can't answer her, give her advice, soothe her, he's still there physically. She would spend hours ranting at him, sobbing, shouting, getting the emotional relief that she's only ever been able to get with him.

Living Mepad on the other hand? Well, his immediate attention would be on Taco and trying to help her, especially once she starts crying and/or glitching. He'd probably be the one to snap her out of her spiraling here, getting her to slow her breathing at least somewhat, but he would also respect her wish to be alone when she expresses it. He would not let Mephone get close enough to try and stop her like he did in my previous ramble, so she could simply walk off to lock herself in her room. He would definitely go after her soon after, especially after she becomes rather... loud, in her agony, but first? Mephone. We all saw Mepad in episode 17 after Mephone reveals the truth of their origins to most of the cast. Mepad was angry!!!! And to think that Mephone, knowing he had made her to be the way she was and that her programming was more or less malfunctioning, still didn't want to recover her? Was fine to leave her to her suffering? Someone so personally close to Mepad? Who he has more insight into the suffering of? Mepad would be downright furious. He's got a pretty cool temper, from what we've seen, he wouldn't be shouting at Mephone exactly, but he would firmly and immediately be asked to leave. Mepad would prioritize Taco's well-being, of course, and be so very soft with her, but on the inside he is so pissed. The second chance Mepad had given Mephone has long since been ruined, but this? Mepad and Mephone are so so so so divorced. They were never married but they are so very divorced.

Mepad would be so important in helping Taco heal, though. He's already an incredible thera-pad anyways!!! And hey, she may not have gotten the redemption arc she was supposed to, but know they know it was supposed to happen, yeah? She is undoubtably capable of being better!! And he'll be with her ever step of the way <3.

IF HE WASN'T DEAD *dissolves into wet sobbing*

Well this is getting long lol. Onto Mic!!! Uh. She would also be pissed at Mephone but prioritize Taco!!!! When Taco runs out because she needs a moment alone? Yeah, Mic already displays a habit of saying some really hurtful things when she's upset, Mephone would get kicked out a lot harsher. And then Mic would protect Taco with her life actually. I can see Taco having a pretty nasty depressive episode after finding out, but Mic would so be there to take care of her, make sure she eats, get her fresh air even if that's Mic scooping Taco up and carrying her around outdoors for a while. Mic would feel so very bad for her. This is a bit of a tangent, but I honestly don't have as much to say about Mic beyond her glomping Taco with so so much love and support, because I truly think that's her most prominent reaction. She might lay awake a few nights, thinking about how things between them could have been different had Taco gotten the life she was supposed to, but they're back together now and Taco is changing and that's that. (Also, if she realizes that losing her was the reason Taco was finally able to break from her programming, her heart would fill with so much love for real. Taco really cares so much for her, even if she can't always express it the right way.) Anyways, I think everyone would feel pretty bad for Taco. Between her reaction, her having lost pretty much everything she was supposed to have for something that wasn't really her fault, the relatable struggle they all have with going against their programming? I can see most of if not the entire cast being a lot lighter on Taco after this. It's okay for them to be too, she'd be even more fearful and cautious of backsliding than she already is post-canon, which is a lot!!!!! So, yeah, lots of forehead kisses, hugs, and warm cups of hot chocolate for Taco from Mic <3.

On to Pickle!!!! ...hoo boy. Well, for obvious reasons he isn't part of the initial Taco Support Gang, but he would still have a lot of thoughts!!! Particularly on the part in which Mephone had planned him and Taco to actually reconcile and be friends again. Because forgiving someone isn't really something you can always choose to do, yeah? You can give them grace, yeah, but there can still be a lot of hurt inside that never really goes away in a way that would really let you forgive. Even if he was supposed to forgive her, he can't. And that's okay!!!! But, as I am adamant on and have stated in the past, he wouldn't like to see Taco suffer. He! Is! Not! That! Kind! Of! Guy!!!!! He'd feel pretty bad hearing her sobbing through the walls and seeing her in a depressive episode!!!!! It brings him no joy or satisfaction!!! I think he and Taco might have a little one on one talk, in which Pickle could repeat some of the advice that Knife made to him, yeah? Can't change what happened, but dwelling on it forever and never trying to move on will just leave you stuck in your misery. And then a gut-wrenching (at least for me with the incredibly vivid scene of this i have in my mind. i think im hyperphantasic but thats not what we're talking about rn) little "I'm sorry" "I know" discussion. Augh. They part on better terms than they were before, but there's still a hollow sense of loss to it. What could have been, what should have been, will not be.

Let me know if you have any more questions!!!^^

[intotheelliwoods]

Collaborative 2AL Comic Calling and Info!

Oh BOY did this blow up...

Ive polished up dialogue and framing, in total there should be 30 panels, exactly the tumblr image limit haha! Everyone who is participating gets to draw a panel! I will message you the dialogue, and a general layout once I get everyone in! :) I look forward to this!

30/30 Participants [full!]

If you are interested in joining, please message me here on tumblr or Discord! [Discord would be preferred in the long run]

--------

-> Deadline for panels?

2 Weeks! Hoping everything can be ready to go to post by September 24th!

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-> What style to use?

Your own! I would love it if you can have as much fun as you can making the panel! The more unique each panel is the better, I dont want to constrict anyones artistic ability outside dialogue, where characters are in a room, and a vague framing idea/expressions.

As for coloring, fully colored and digital would be preferred! Just blue blobs can also work! With the exception of 4 specific panels, flashback panels, in a black/white/red scheme to help differentiate what panel is a flashback, and what panel isnt. I will let you know if your panel is one of those specific 4!

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-> How will posting and crediting work?

When the panels are all done, I will gather them up into a singular post on this blog. Below the comic itself in order of panels would be everyones @ to the blog they want credited, Multiple blogs can also be credited ofc (For example If you drew panel 3 you will be the third @ on the list)

You are also free to add a signature or @ to your blog in the panel art itself!

[hiraganasakura]

Hi so me being me I've decided to hyperanalyze the conversation Qrow and Raven had in Higanbana practically line by line bcus I have Many Thoughts and this is the best way I can think of to get them all out. If you can't tell I'm absolutely obsessed with these two. Btw.

Thanks to the RWBY wiki for providing transcripts for every episode, otherwise I definitely would have missed smth despite having just watched this scene recently lol

I put it under the read more for easier scrolling due to how long this post got!

I immediately noticed smth in the very first lines of the interaction:

Raven: "Hello, brother." Qrow: "...Raven."

You'll notice throughout the whole conversation that Raven never calls Qrow by his name, only condescendingly referring to him as "brother" this one time and never calling him anything else. Meanwhile, Qrow directly refers to Raven a total of three times throughout the conversation, and only one doesn't call Raven by her name (which we'll get to shortly)

On the other hand, Qrow doesn't bother with even so much as a greeting beyond simply stating Raven's name

It's different ways of communicating their distance. While Raven holds her relationship with Qrow over his head — never once, even outside of this scene, does she call him "brother" with affection iirc, only derision and condescension — Qrow doesn't seem to rly know how to greet her. He hesitates before saying her name and approaching her, as if trying to assess the situation before acting

Qrow: "So, what do you want?" Raven: "A girl can't just catch up with her family?" Qrow: "She can, but you're not. Now how 'bout we get on with it? Unless you plan on keeping these [drinks] comin'."

Again, Raven seems to bring up her familial ties with Qrow as a tactic to get him to do what she wants — in this case, stick around to talk to her despite him not seeming to rly want to. Frankly, it feels manipulative. We're gonna put a pin in this for now and come back to it in just a moment

Additionally, Qrow already knows that Raven's not just here for a friendly chat between two siblings, and sees right thru her facade that it is. Raven is here bcus she wants smth from him. But interestingly, it is Raven in V5 that says, in an almost frustrated/disappointed tone, "Family. Only coming around when they need something." There's another pin; keep both in mind

Raven: "Does she have it?" Qrow: "...Did you know Yang lost her arm?" Raven: "That's not—" Qrow: "Rhetorical question, I know you know. It's just obnoxious that you'd bring up family and then carry on like your own daughter doesn't exist." Raven: "I saved her." Qrow: "Once. Because that was your rule, right? Real 'Mom of the Year' material, sis."

Qrow dodges Raven's question about the Relic and instead brings up her hypocrisy in how she treats family. And it's a good point. Here she is lording her siblingship with Qrow over his head while simultaneously defending and upholding her rule that she is only obligated to help her own daughter a single time. Another pinpoint on our little conspiracy board

Also, here's the one time in this conversation Qrow refers to Raven as "sis". Like Raven's use of "brother", Qrow's use of "sis" is very pointed and with intent. But it's not to manipulate Raven, it's a snarky jab meant to rly hammer home Qrow's point

Raven: "I told you Beacon would fall, and it did. I told you Ozpin would fail, and he has. Now you tell me. Does. Salem. Have it?" Qrow: "I thought you weren't interested in all of that." Raven: "I just want to know what we are up against." Qrow: "And which 'we' are you referring to?"

A few things of note here. At some point in the past, Raven expressed an outright disinterest in Ozpin's inner circle, at least to Qrow. Qrow also feels excluded in the "we" Raven mentions being against Salem. To me, there seems to be a distinct possibility here that it wasn't that Raven felt personally disinterested in Ozpin's operations, but that she somehow felt excluded and feigned a lack of interest in order to protect herself. An idea that is further supported in my eyes by the following dialogue:

Qrow: "You should come back, Raven. The only way we'd beat her is by working together. All of us." Raven: "You're the one who left. The tribe raised us, and you turned your back on them." Qrow: "They were killers and thieves." Raven: "They were your family." Qrow: "You have a very skewed perception of that word."

And there it is. Raven's problem is laid out here for us, loud and clear: She feels like she was the one abandoned, not the one running away. She says it outright! "You're the one who left." To her, Qrow is the traitor, the one who left their family behind. If you ask Qrow (or, for that matter, Tai, Yang, and even Summer based on the scene in V9), it's the opposite

Bcus they have different definitions of family

Another thing to pin (I promise this will all become clear soon)

Raven: "I lead our people now. And as leader, I will do everything in my power to ensure our survival." Qrow: "I saw. The people of Shion saw, too." Raven: "The weak die. The strong live. Those are the rules." Qrow: "Well, you've certainly got someone strong on your side. I've seen the damage." Raven: "We couldn't have known the Grimm would set in as quickly as they did." Qrow: "I'm not talking about the Grimm. And I'm not talking about you, either."

Notice Raven's shift from "the tribe" to "our people". More of that guilt tripping!

Additionally, Raven is *obsessed* with rules. One save. The weak die, the strong live. Raven lives and breathes rules, even seemingly arbitrary ones. Guess what this is? Another pin!

Raven: "If you don't know where the Relic is, then we have nothing left to talk about." Qrow: "I don't know where the Spring Maiden is, either, but if you do, I need you to tell me." Raven: "And why would I do that?" Qrow: "Because without her, we're all going to die." Raven: "...And which 'we' are you referring to?"

Qrow's "either" here implies that he also doesn't know where the Crown of Choice is, which is... interesting. He's one of Ozpin's closest lieutenants, and is in the dark on where Beacon's Relic is? Wherever it is, it is such a closely kept secret that even Ozpin's best spy doesn't know where it is (maybe so that in the event Qrow gets captured by Salem he can't be forced into giving her the information?)

Meanwhile, Raven's "And why would I [tell you]?" implies that she does know who the Spring Maiden is (obviously. Raven's the Spring Maiden lol) but refuses to disclose to Qrow

A lantern sputters out after Qrow says "Without [Spring] we're all going to die." Now, I genuinely can't remember if this is headcanon or canon, but iirc Misfortune seems to act up when Qrow's upset. He's clearly tired of this little game of dancing around topics that Raven's been playing with him

And once again, Raven indicates a feeling of exclusion from Qrow's life in the iconic final line. She gets the final word in before leaving

We've finally reached the end of the conversation. Now what does all of this tell us?

And here is where all of those pins I wrote down are relevant. As I mentioned, the twins view family very differently

Qrow's view is pretty obvious: he views family as the ppl in his life who matter most to him. Unlike Raven, he does not view the tribe as family despite the fact that they raised him, disgustedly referring to them as "killers and thieves". It's implied that he was, in fact, neglected and/or likely abused by the Branwen tribe, saying in V6C4, "No one wanted me... I was cursed..." further explaining his distaste for them. Furthermore, despite not being related to Ruby by blood, they clearly consider one another family throughout the series, and he even seems closer to her than he seems to his niece who's actually blood related to him (I personally headcanon that he keeps more of a distance from Yang bcus she reminds him too much of Raven, who he feels abandoned and hurt by, but that's neither here nor there). Bloodlines and debts are secondary compared to loyalty, if they're considered at all. He is obviously furious that Raven only insists on saving Yang once and never directly interacting with her beyond that, despite Raven constantly guilting Qrow over abandoning his so-called "family" of the tribe. And yet. And yet. He still offers Raven a place back in his life, even if only to unite against Salem

Raven's view, to me, has been an enigma for a while. But after hyperanalyzing this conversation, after noting down all of those points of interest, I feel like I've finally cracked the code. Raven views family as an obligation, an exchange that always has an ulterior motive behind it. She seeks out Qrow only bcus she desires smth from him despite showing distaste when someone does the same to her; condescendingly calls Qrow "brother" more than his actual name and calls the tribe their "family" to try guilting him into doing what she wants; and feels fierce loyalty to the tribe but barely interacts with her daughter, only seeming to count one of the two as true family. She views the concept of family with cynicism and seems to feel an obligation to the tribe, as if she "owes" them for raising her

I think the two's perceptions of what defines family are all to do with the way the tribe treated both of them. This crosses a bit into headcanon territory, but as you can see by the above quotes and analysis, I rly don't think I'm just making it up entirely

As I already mentioned, I think it's implied that the Branwen tribe neglected/abused Qrow. In fact, we could probably blame their treatment of him for the deep self-loathing he has due to his "cursed" Semblance. But what about Raven?

Well, it's simple: I think she was abused, too, just in a different way. While Qrow was likely shown and told on a consistent basis that he was unwanted, unloved, undeserving of good things, Raven may have been shown and told she was wanted, loved, and deserving of good things... if she did what the tribe told her. If she repaid them for raising her and her brother, for being her "family". The way she uses her familial ties with Qrow as almost blackmail may be exactly the way the tribe treated her. Her obsession with following rules may stem from the fact that she had to follow the rules the tribe set for her in order to be accepted and deemed worth smth

As for her distance from Yang... honestly, I wonder if Raven is aware that Yang deserves better and keeps her distance as her way of doing that. When Summer confronts Raven in the V9 scene, Raven says, "...You're better at that life. Better than I was." She seems to have a fear and insecurity about being a good family member, a good mother, and maybe that's why she fled. Maybe she was scared of being like her abusers due to how she emulates them as a self-preservation tactic in so many other ways. Not entirely sure about this point tho

And I think too this is why the twins don't rly understand one another. They may have been unaware of the different ways in which the other was treated. Qrow, constantly unwanted and loathed, can't understand why Raven sticks around with the tribe; Raven, who obeyed the tribe and, in doing so, garnered enough of their favor to even eventually become leader, can't understand why Qrow can't just be "good", earn respect, and stay

This dissonance between the two experiences may also be completely intentional on the part of the tribe; abusers will often eliminate their targets' support systems in order to make them completely reliant on the abuser, so it's highly likely that the wedge was intentionally driven between the two siblings so that they could not find support in one another. This would also tie into why the twins seem to feel excluded from one another's lives and abandoned by one another: bcus they were made to feel that way by their common abusers, and did nothing to challenge these assumptions bcus they saw no reason to — and only seemed to keep proving one another right if they did

Which rly has some disturbing implications about how the Branwen tribe works. Like, do they just pick orphaned kids up off the street and abuse them into being perfect little bandits, molded to be of the greatest possible use and discarded if they're deemed worthless? Plus Qrow says his Semblance is how he got his name, which implies that the tribe also renames the kids they scoop up (possibly as a form of control or a way to make sure they can't be tracked down by any remaining family)? Plus there's the whole thing where Qrow and Raven were originally sent to Beacon to learn how to kill Huntsmen, which carries with it the implication that the Branwen tribe grooms literal orphan children into becoming stone-hearted murderers? What. The heck.

And if I'm right, if the Branwen tribe is that severely abusive, then like... wow, no wonder Qrow and Raven are Like That. They're both very deeply hurt people expressing it in different ways

I was considering adding their conversation at the Battle of Haven to this post, but I think that would be better as its own thing. Also I haven't gotten there on my rewatch yet so I may miss some details if I try to analyze it rn; it's better to wait overall methinks

But I have reached the point of my rewatch where we see Weiss and Whitley interact, and I think it would be very efficient to sum up what Qrow and Raven's relationship seems to be by using those siblings as a point of reference. Qrow = Weiss, actively trying to break free from and fight back against their abusers in different ways, while Raven = Whitley, continuing to do as their abusers want and have wanted as a method of self-preservation. Only, unlike Weiss and Whitley, Qrow and Raven have yet to come to a point where they can understand one another. I think that's a good way to briefly summarize the uh. Absolutely massive post this is.

In conclusion, I may have cracked the majority of the Branwen twins' pre-Beacon backstory purely by hyperanalyzing a single conversation. Oopsies

[mars-ipan]

Tomorrow Is Election Day And I Am So Fucking Stressed

[skitskatdacat63]

If anyone(read: nobody) was curious about Ustinya's scale :D

[comradecowplant]

I don't follow blogs ran by people being racist about rap so I'm only witnessing the secondhand responses to the recent "discourse" and sadly 'tumblrinas being racist about their bad taste in music & low lyrical literacy' is exactly what I'd put on my 2024 bingo card for this steadily declining shithole....

[slimeciclecock]

qjaiden death got me so fucked up I have about 30 posts worth of queue about her

[arolesbianism]

I have obtained a new oc and in the process I've already signed myself up for needing to make at least 3 new ocs for his story which he now has despite me initially Intending for him to be a side character for a different side character to hang out with. My townhouse has over 200 characters on it.