#this fic is so so so so good please check it out!!! i was so happy when i got this one because the writing is amazing!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slashmagpie · 1 day ago

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Break Like an Artist

My fic for @hermitadaymay's Solstice Social Collaborative Fanwork Event! I was paired up with the wonderful @eydilily to create something spooky, dramatic and contemplative featuring Gem and Pearl, and it's been an absolute blast putting this together. Please go check out Eydi's art for this AU, it's absolutely gorgeous. CWs: description of a corpse, dismemberment, loss of awareness, fire/flooding/destruction, and depiction of a panic attack. Wordcount: 5.8k

There is a plague sweeping Pearl's hometown.

One by one, she watches as her friends fall to the infection, the colour and life drained out of them and leaving hollow, apathetic husks behind. Even with the devastating loss of her friends, her village, and her regular life, the worst part of this situation is not the infection.

It's that Pearl knows that Gem is the one spreading it.

[Read on AO3]

It’s a grey day in the fishing village that Pearl calls her home. Not that it’s ever not a grey day, at least not anymore. She stares out of her window at the thick encompassing fog that’s claimed the bay, at the desaturated buildings that dot the shore, and she twirls her paintbrush in her fingers.

The canvas is blank, of course. She doesn’t remember the last time she sat down to paint and didn’t end up with a blank canvas. It must have been—months ago, at least. Back when the last monster from the depths had attacked, and not a single person had had the heart to fight back. When Tango’s house had been shattered in two, and Tango with it.

(He seems to be dealing well with the loss of his arm, at least. Or, as well as you can deal with anything, when the only things inside of you are all-consuming numbness and apathy. Pearl feels it in her chest, the yawning emptiness, and thinks that if she were to lose her arm right here and now, she also wouldn’t be able to summon the energy to care.)

She’d painted after that, though. She remembers it vividly, waking from a nightmare and running to her studio to capture lashing tentacles and inky waters and splatters of crimson blood. It’s a frenzied piece, a disturbing piece, and the moment she’d finished it she’d been filled with so much dread that she’d turned it around to face the wall and refused to look at it since.

The dread’s gone now. Along with the anxiety, and the uncertainty, and the fear. It’s all gone, and Pearl’s left sitting here, paints drying on the palette as she stares at an empty canvas.

Across the house, she hears her front door swing open and closed. A familiar voice shouts, “Pearl? Pearl, where are you?”

“Studio,” Pearl calls back, her voice flat. She continues to twirl the paintbrush as she waits for Gem to trek her way across the house to find her.

“Studio,” Gem echoes as she pushes open the door. “Oh, Pearl, are you painting again? Oh, I’m so happy for—oh.” The joy in her voice vanishes as she takes in Pearl, sitting on her stool, paintbrush raised and canvas empty. “Oh, Pearl…”

Sympathy. Pity. Concern. Pearl can pick apart the emotions in Gem’s voice, even if she can’t feel them herself. She stares back blankly, because she can’t find it in herself to care about either aspect of the situation, whether it be her own inability to paint or the way that Gem’s looking at her like she’s a wounded animal.

“Come on,” Gem says softly, crossing the room and gently prying the brush from Pearl’s fingers. Pearl lets her. She’s not really painting, anyway. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we? A nap will do you some good.”

Pearl lets Gem help her up, lets Gem allow Pearl to lean on her for support as they make their way back to Pearl’s bedroom. It’s not like Pearl has any difficulty walking. She’s not sick, she’s not injured, she’s just…

Cold. Empty. Not quite lifeless, not in the way Mumbo had been when she’d last seen him, skin and eyes and hair all the same shade of grey-white-nothingness as he’d stared into the distance, completely unresponsive. Listless, maybe, is the better word. She’s halfway to a fate worse than death and she cannot find it in her to care at all.

She feels colder where Gem touches her. She looks down, and she’s not sure if it’s her eyes playing tricks on her, or if her skin is more desaturated where it brushes against Gem’s. She lets Gem help her into bed, lets Gem fluff the pillows and fuss around her, lets Gem sit next to her as she hands Pearl a bowl of soup (“Your favourite!”) and watches her to make sure she eats.

If Pearl were more herself, she would care about what Gem’s doing to her. Care enough to stop it, maybe. Care enough to—no, not to confront her. Every time she’d tried, the words had gotten stuck in her throat. Because she’s known for a long time who’s been behind all of this, behind the corruption leeching all colour from their village, their home, their friends—

And she’d never said anything. Too worried about Gem’s feelings. Too worried about their friendship.

…Pearl realises, as Gem goes to take the empty bowl and brushes her hands against Pearl’s, that she’s not worried anymore.

She waits quietly as Gem washes the bowl in her kitchen, chattering to fill the silence as she does, updating Pearl on their friends’ conditions. Her tone is bright and optimistic, even as her words are dour. Scar seems to be doing the same. Grian’s getting worse. Joel’s down to communicating only in broken phrases—but he should be fine. It definitely won’t be like Mumbo, or Cub, or…

Gem returns to Pearl’s room, regarding her for a long moment before bending down to give her a hug. “Get better soon, okay?” she says into Pearl’s ear. “It’s not the same doing my rounds without you.”

Pearl knows that she’s not getting better. So does Gem, so Pearl doesn’t bother pointing it out. She just nods, lets Gem withdraw, lets Gem run one last hand through her hair.

“You should rest, Pearl,” Gem says, stepping away from Pearl’s bedside. “I’m going to go check on Impy now—”

Pearl’s moving before she’s even properly registered it, grabbing onto Gem’s wrist with force, holding her in place. Gem freezes. Pearl looks up at her through strands of greasy, greying hair.

“Gem,” she says, and it’s the first thing she’s said in days, and her voice is hoarse and her throat sore from the strain.

“...Pearl?” Gem replies, and she sounds almost scared.

“Gem,” Pearl repeats, getting used to the sound of her own voice in her mouth again. “I know.”

Gem laughs. It’s a nervous, tittering sound, the laugh Pearl remembers from when they’d gotten into trouble together as kids. “Know what?” she asks, voice strained.

“That it’s you,” Pearl says flatly.

Gem stares at her.

Pearl stares back.

Gem swallows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says. “Pearl—”

“I know you’re the one doing this to us,” Pearl says, more specific this time, choosing her words carefully, and Gem—

Gem tries to pull away.

Pearl tightens her grip.

“Pearl,” Gem whines, eyes wide, tugging. “Let me go—”

“Why?” Pearl croaks, and Gem snaps her mouth shut.

---

Pearl’s in the midst of mixing a particularly tricky shade of green when there’s a loud, frantic knock on her front door. She sighs, setting down her brush to rest, and gets to her feet. “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on!” she calls as the knocks continue, echoing through the house.

She pulls the door open and Tango’s there, a nervous ball of energy, just about ready to bolt. “Pearl!” he calls. “Pearl, come on, we gotta go—”

He grabs her by the arm and drags her off. Pearl just barely manages to close her front door behind her.

“Wha—? Where are we going? What’s going on?”

“Something washed up on shore,” Tango explains. “The whole town’s there, c’mon.”

Accepting that she’s not going to get an explanation out of him, and now deeply curious about this something, she lets Tango lead her down to the shore by the lighthouse. Sure enough, the whole town is there, a chattering crowd gathered around a spot on the shore that Pearl can’t quite see. Impulse is standing on the edge of the crowd and catches sight of them, raising his arm in a wave. Tango makes a beeline towards him, ducking under the crowd, and Pearl follows behind, apologising to False and Keralis as she bumps into them.

“Did you decide what to do with it yet?” Tango asks as he comes to a halt and finally lets Pearl go.

Impulse shakes his head. “We’ve decided it’s Gem’s call,” he says. “After all, she’s the—”

He doesn’t finish his sentence as the crowd suddenly goes silent and parts for Gem, her hair wild and eyes wide behind her thick-rimmed glasses. She’s got her lab coat pulled on over her day clothes, clearly not prepared for this in the slightest. She reaches the front of the crowd and stops dead still, staring at the thing that has washed up on the shore.

Pearl follows her friend’s gaze, and sees it for the first time.

It’s a body. Of course it is. A corpse, taken by the sea and ravaged by the waves and washed ashore by the brutal bay currents. The body’s clothes are torn and sodden, the skin beneath so pale that it could practically be paper. Pearl is stricken, for a moment, with the mental image of her taking a brush to this canvas, filling it back in with colour, painting contours back into its skin, breathing life back into the body.

She shakes her head violently, banishing the thought. Where did that come from? This isn’t a canvas, it’s—

It’s a person. A person who was alive, and is now dead, washed up on the beach like a dead whale and just as much of a spectacle. His eyes are open but rolled back, only the whites showing, and his hair is white too, just as pale as his skin. It stands as sharp contrast against the dark fabric of his torn clothes, a mask wrapped around the bottom half of his face.

Pearl swallows hard and averts her gaze back to Gem, who looks just as disturbed by the body as Pearl feels. It takes Gem longer to pull her eyes away, to glance around the crowd. “I’ll—I’ll take it back to my lab,” she says. “Investigate, and—and give him a proper burial.”

The words reassure the crowd, a low chatter beginning up again.

“Skizz, will you help me carry him?” Gem calls.

Skizz does, stepping forward from the crowd and helping Gem maneuver the bloated corpse. Pearl finds herself looking at it again, noticing dark striations in the skin, caught in glimpses between the tears in the clothing as it’s moved.

She shakes her head again, forces herself to look away as the body is carried out and the crowd disperses. The image of the body lingers in her mind. Something settles uncomfortably in her stomach, and she wishes that she’d never opened the door.

---

Things go back to normal after that. Or, well, as normal as they get in the village, at least. False monitors the currents and warns of any incoming floods or monster attacks. Impulse and Tango work maintenance on the fishing boats that Grian and Skizz and Keralis take out into the bay. Mumbo runs the fish market. Cub and Scar come and go along the trading routes. Joel maintains security, or at least the illusion of it.

Gem hides away in her lab running experiments she never explains, and Pearl paints.

She tries to return to her usual fare, brightly-coloured landscapes with fantastical features, but something about her paintings rings hollow when she looks at them. She decides she needs a change, to switch things up and just relax, so she pulls out her paints and a blank canvas and begins with no intentions. Her movements are fluid and free and thoughtless and she falls into a flow state that lasts hours, until she blinks her eyes and awakes to find a portrait before her, a colourless face in full saturation.

The corpse’s visage, so alive she can’t believe it’s not breathing, stares back at her from her easel, and Pearl flinches like she’s been burned.

She hides that painting away, face turned towards the wall, and returns to painting landscapes. They come easier now, and for a time Pearl feels normal, as long as she ignores the canvas in the corner.

It’s Impulse who notices that there’s something wrong first. It’s not surprising that he’d be the first to pick up on it, really. Skizz is his best friend, after all. Of course he’d notice when Skizz stopped laughing, stopped joking, stopped drumming out tunes with his fingers on the side of his boat. And when Pearl sees him, she notices changes too—his skin paler, like he’s spent several weeks locked inside a basement instead of out in the summer sun, his eyes no longer their regular bright blue.

“Hey, Skizzly,” she greets brightly, trying to play at normal, throwing him a bone to grab onto.

Skizz just glances at her before responding with a flat, “Oh, hey Pearl.”

Pearl’s smile falters. “How are you feeling? Impulse told me you’re a little under the weather.”

Skizz shrugs. “Fine, I guess. Did you need something?”

Pearl swallows, something cold sinking in her guts. “No, no, just checking in on you.”

“Gem already checked on me,” Skizz says. “She said I’m not sick.”

“Gem’s not that type of doctor,” Pearl reminds him with a weak smile.

Skizz shrugs again. “She’s the only doctor we’ve got.”

Pearl tries her best not to let that unsettle her.

---

It’s not just Skizz.

It starts with him, but it doesn’t end there. Keralis is next, and then Grian. Mumbo gets sickest the quickest, going from his anxious, affable self to a nearly-unresponsive husk within a week. That scares them all, because even Skizz is still responding when spoken to, still moving when instructed to, even after nearly a month of being infected with… whatever it is that’s going around.

False gets sick without anyone noticing, sequestered away in her lighthouse until she comes into town for groceries looking like a photograph that’s been left in the sun for too long, and that’s when people really start to panic.

And that’s when Gem declares, with all the authority that being a doctor of anthropology afforded her in a tiny town with no real doctor, that she’s putting everyone into quarantine until they can determine the source of the illness.

“I’m not sick,” Pearl tells Gem when her friend knocks on her door, dressed in full lab gear, her hair out of its usual ponytail and falling forward around her face. She’s pretty sure she isn’t, at least, having hyper-analysed the shade of blue in her eyes in the mirror every morning for the past month.

“I know,” Gem says. “I want to—I need to—can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Pearl says, stepping aside. “Of course.”

Gem enters, heading down the stairs into Pearl’s living space and staring at the paintings on the wall. Pearl watches her for a moment before stepping closer, resting a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“What’s eating you?” she asks.

Gem snorts out a laugh at that. “I’m not a real doctor, Pearl,” she says.

“I know that.”

“They all need me to be a real doctor for them. I—” She breaks off, runs an anxious hand through her hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I need help.”

Pearl raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know how I can help,” she says. “I’m even less of a doctor than you are.”

“I know,” Gem says. “But you’re my friend, and I trust you, and I need—please?”

She stares at Pearl, bright green eyes magnified through thick glasses lenses. Pearl has never been able to say no to those eyes.

“Okay,” she agrees, letting out an uncertain breath. “Okay. What do you need me to do, Dr. Tay?”

Gem laughs again, high-pitched and anxious, and Pearl feels hot and cold all at once.

---

They do house calls. Once a day, Gem and Pearl, and sometimes Impulse, will make a round of the village, checking in on everyone. Gem brings some of her lab equipment and a notebook, where she scribbles down all the readings she takes from her instruments and any observations she makes. After the first week or so, Pearl also takes to bringing a sketchbook and a small travel painting kit, attempting to record the desaturation rate in her friends’ colours.

It doesn’t matter which way they look at it—the situation is bad, and rapidly getting worse. Most of the town is infected now, and Skizz is approaching Mumbo’s level of deterioration. Cub fell ill two weeks ago, and Tango—

Well, he’s not quite grey yet, but he looks washed out where he sits at his table, especially next to Gem, all bright copper and ocean blue and forest green. His voice is flat, all of the emotion in it gone, and while he responds in full sentences to Gem’s questions as Pearl attempts to capture the moulded-straw colour of his hair, none of his words sound like him.

Gem wraps up her check-in, and Pearl follows her out, paints packed away in her bag and sketchbook held carefully so as not to smudge the paint. Impulse is waiting for them outside, staring out into the bay, where a low-lying fog has been hanging for days.

He glances over at them, voice shaking as he asks, “How is he?”

Gem hesitates. “About the same?” she offers.

Pearl shakes her head. “Worse,” she says, offering her sketchbook to Impulse, pointing out the differences in values between the colours she’d sampled from Tango two days ago to the ones she’d taken today.

Impulse’s hands are trembling as he hands the sketchbook back to her. “What do we do?” he asks. “They just keep getting worse—Gem, what do we do?”

Gem’s eyes are fixed somewhere out at sea. Her expression is so scarily blank that Pearl would worry she was infected if not for how bright and vibrant she looks against the backdrop of the village. (Are the houses getting greyer? Surely not—surely it’s just the fog, and the fact that the sky has been overcast for a fortnight now—surely—)

“We look after them best we can,” Gem says. “I’m trying—every night I’m working on a cure.”

“And do you think it’ll work?” Impulse pushes.

“I have to,” Gem replies. “It has to.”

Pearl swallows, and does not voice what all three of them are thinking: what if it doesn’t?

---

Impulse turns up one morning a shade dimmer than he had been the day before. Pearl notices immediately, her stomach lurching at the sight of him. He offers her a smile that’s smaller than his usual ones, a greeting that’s a little flatter than it would usually be. Pearl’s not sure if Gem even notices.

But Pearl notices, and her eyes sting, and she throws herself at him in a way that catches all three of them off-guard.

“Uh, Pearl?” Impulse says, stiff and uncomfortable beneath her. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Pearl mumbles against his ear.

“Pearl?” There’s a peak of distress in his voice but it’s not enough. Gem hears it, too.

“Oh no,” she breathes.

“Okay, guys, seriously,” Impulse says, pushing Pearl away. “What’s going on?”

They just stare at him.

Realisation dawns across Impulse’s face. “No.”

“Maybe…” Gem sucks in a breath. She reaches out to take his hand and squeezes it. “Maybe you should go home, Impy. Get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” Impulse protests. “I’m…” His protest crumbles under their gazes. He slumps, and Pearl knows that he would normally never crumble like that. He’d protest and fight back and keep working until he passed out on the docks and had to be carried back to bed.

“C’mon,” she says softly. “I’ll help you home.”

Impulse doesn’t protest that either. He knows, as well as the two of them do, how this ends. He knows that there’s no fighting this.

Pearl, very valiantly, does not cry about it.

---

With everyone except the two of them infected, Pearl manages to convince Gem to split the rounds, with her taking half of the houses, and Gem taking the other half, swapping halves every couple of days. Gem is reluctant, but she has no good argument against Pearl’s that this is more practical, and so she agrees.

And that’s when Pearl notices.

She thinks she’s imagining it at first, but the colour swatches in her sketchbook back up her suspicions, damning evidence she can’t ignore.

When she visits her rounds, she finds that the people she’s visiting appear to have stabilised, at least for a couple days, no greyer today than they were when she saw them the day before. And then she swaps with Gem, and notices that Gem’s half of the rotation are far paler, far less responsive, than they had been the last time Pearl had seen them. They stabilise for a couple days, and then they switch, and Pearl’s original rotation have deteriorated massively in the several days since.

There’s really only one conclusion she can draw from that, and she doesn’t want to draw it. She doesn’t want to believe that the one responsible for this is—

The fog is a permanent fixture of the village now, blanketing the bay in a thick blanket of quiet. Pearl finds it hard to sleep, even the familiar sound of waves muffled by the mist. Kept awake into the early hours of the morning, she finds herself in the studio, a brush in hand, letting the paint take her where it will.

And where it takes her is familiar: the village, desaturated and coated in fog, dark looming shapes in the mist beyond, rising out of the ocean. And there, in the midst of the painting, a bright spot in all the gloom, is Gem, so vibrant she practically lifts off the page.

Pearl stares at it for a long, long time, and then places it face against the wall and tries her best to forget about it.

---

In all the dread, they’d forgotten something important.

The sea isn’t safe. It never has been. Growing up in the bay you learn how to weather the storms, to predict the tides, to flee from floods. You learn how to build barriers, and you learn how to rebuild once the ocean drags them down.

Pearl knows that her village can handle the sea: she’s seen them do it time and time again over the years. Together, they move as a well-oiled machine, responding to threats from the depths with weathered ease. That’s why she doesn’t expect it, she thinks.

There’s never been a monster attack that False didn’t warn them about.

But False isn’t capable of doing much of anything at the moment.

And so when the tentacles rise from the waves, there isn’t a warning.

Just a deafening krk-crash that wakes Pearl from a dead sleep with a bolt of adrenaline that’s nearly nauseating. She scrambles from her blankets, still in her pajamas, and rushes up the stairs to throw on her boots. It’s edging towards winter now, the weather much milder than the summer months, and though it’s not cold by any stretch of the imagination the chill of the air still makes her shiver. She grits her teeth, racing from her front door to the village proper, and there—

There’s a sea monster, dark purple tentacles reaching out to the shore, destroying everything in its wake. The fish market is half gone, and it’s awful, but it’s a relief, in a way, because nobody lives there.

“Gem!” Pearl screams into the night.

“Pearl!” she hears echo back, followed by distant footsteps, growing ever-closer.

Gem’s face is flushed, her hair wild, her eyes wide. She’s also in her pyjamas, her lab coat that’s been ever-present for months now gone, and Pearl finds her eyes drawn to dark striations in her skin. They look like—

“Pearl,” Gem says again. “We need to get everyone out, away from the shore, up to the research centre—”

Pearl nods. “Got it,” she says. She points towards the docks and says, “I’ll head over there.”

Gem nods. “Be safe,” she says, and then she’s off again, pelting in the direction of the lighthouse.

Pearl doesn’t bother knocking as she throws Impulse’s door open. He’s still lucid enough that he’s been startled awake by the noise, though it hasn’t driven him to do much more than put his shoes on and stare out of the window at the dark shapes rearing up out of the fog.

“Impulse!” Pearl cries.

“Pearl?” Impulse says, glancing at her with dull eyes.

“We need to get people out,” she says.

There’s an extended pause, then, “Okay.”

“Can you get Skizz?” she asks. “Tango, too, maybe? I need to go to the beach, help everyone down there.”

Another extended pause, then a nod. “I can do that,” Impulse says. He moves too slowly, not driven by the same panic flooding Pearl’s veins, but it’s good enough. It has to be. Pearl doesn’t have time to consider the alternative.

She goes racing off for the beach. She throws open Keralis’ door first, relieved that he is, at least, wearing underwear when she drags him from his bed and into the night. She leaves him there while she grabs Grian from his hut, and then takes them both by the wrists, pulling them along behind her while she races for the cliffside.

It feels like hours that she races back and forth, grabbing her friends from their homes and dragging them in various states of comprehension to the safety of the cliff before running back into the danger zone. Grian’s hut is gone, and so is a large portion of the road. The tentacles have taken a chunk out of the farms further up the coast. Gem’s been taking the people she rescues a different route up to the research facility, the path that Pearl’s taking cut off to her by debris.

Once she’s got everyone on her side of town, she collapses panting on the grass, her lungs aching with the strain. There’s a fire somewhere down on the shore, someone’s lantern knocked astray by swinging tentacles. Her eyes burn just from looking at it.

A voice says, “I got him.”

Pearl looks up.

It’s Impulse, manhandling a colourless, greyscale Skizz.

Pearl goes cold.

“Where’s Tango?” she asks.

Impulse blinks. Slowly. Too slowly.

“Oh,” he says. “I’ll go get him.”

Pearl shakes her head, rocketed up to her feet by panic once again. “No, I’ll go,” she gasps. “You stay here.”

And then she’s off running again, beelining for Tango’s house, praying to any higher power that will listen that she’s not too late. Her lungs ache. Her legs burn. She can’t quite catch her breath. She’s shaking.

And then she’s knocking down Tango’s door, grabbing him from his bed against the far wall, dragging him away—

The roof coming down sounds like thunder, like the sky split open and gutted for parts. Pearl goes down hard, stars bursting behind her eyes, her breath coming out empty and then as a whine. She blinks, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark, for her ears to stop ringing, and that’s when she hears it.

It’s—not a scream. More of a whimper, or a wail, stretched out and awful and pained and punctuated by short, desperate gasps. It goes straight to her stomach, straight to making her sick, and she doesn’t want to look. Doesn’t want to move.

But, god, she has to, doesn’t she?

She wiggles her fingers, her toes, and lets out a deep groan as she pushes herself up onto her hands and knees. The world has narrowed in on itself, the open air of Tango’s house reduced to a crawlspace, and she shuffles down it, rubble and debris tearing her skin open and leaving bloody red marks on desaturated wood. It is a far cry from the blood she finds, practically brown with how much colour has been leeched from it.

“Oh, my god,” she chokes. “Tango…”

Tango just moans in response. She can’t tell if he’s pale from blood loss or pale from the infection, but either way it has the effect of making him look half dead. He’s half buried beneath the rubble, body jerking with what she can only assume is pain, barely felt beneath the weight of numb apathy.

“I gotta get you out of here.” The words taste acrid against her tongue. Or maybe that’s the smoke. She can’t tell. “I’ve got you.” She grabs Tango by his good arm and grimaces. “It’s gonna be okay.”

It’s not a reassurance for him. Not really. Pearl’s familiar enough with his condition by now to know that he can’t really care about being okay at this point.

It’s more for her as she does her best to get leverage in the small space and pulls.

When Tango screams, she knows it’s completely involuntary, an animal howl of agony that stops her short. Pearl gasps, tears on her cheeks, head spinning. “Please, no,” she begs, and she doesn’t know if she’s talking to him or the higher power that’s been ignoring her for weeks. “No, no, I gotta—I—”

“Pearl?”

“Gem!” Pearl cries. “Gem, please, I need—it’s Tango—he’s—”

“I’ve got you,” says Gem’s voice, familiar and close as footsteps pound across rubble. There’s a series of grunts and clunks as rubble shifts, and then there’s light pouring into the crawlspace, which is no longer so much of a crawlspace. Gem stares at the two of them, Pearl in tears on her knees and Tango half buried and lying in his own dull blood.

“Okay,” she gasps out, and she sounds terrified. “Okay,” she repeats, steadier this time.

Pearl wants to be relieved, but she’s just on the other side of hysterical. Gem’s holding an axe, which she must have used to clear the rubble, and she steps forward with it held between white knuckles.

“Hold him still,” she tells Pearl.

Pearl swallows. “Gem?” she whispers.

“Please.”

Gem glances down at Pearl, and god, she never has been able to say no to that, has she?

She shuffles forward, puts her weight against Tango, holds him still. Squeezes her eyes shut.

It doesn’t make it any better.

It doesn’t stop her from hearing the sick crunch of the axe cutting through bone or the blood-curdling scream Tango lets out.

It doesn’t stop her from feeling the sudden lack of resistance as she pulls Tango’s bleeding body away from the rubble, leaving his arm behind.

---

Pearl manages to hold it together until they’re able to get Tango safe and stable. Once the wound has been cauterised and disinfected and bandaged, and he’s left sitting with a mostly-unresponsive Skizz and an Impulse who’s just aware enough to be awkward about how little he feels for his friend, she walks away from the town’s refugees on the hillside until she can no longer hear them, and they can no longer hear her. She stands for a moment, surveying the damage below, the sun rising over the sea and the flooded streets and destroyed buildings, and she sucks in a breath that knocks her to her knees.

The panic attack comes in quick half-breaths and waterlogged wails, her hands gripping at her hair and pulling it hard enough to hurt. The world blurs around her as she chokes on saltwater and bile, her ears ringing with screams and funeral bells. When the hands settle on her shoulders she barely feels them—only feels them when they rise to her wrists and untangle her fingers from her hair.

“—earl? Pearl. Look at me. Come on, I know you can do it.”

“Ge-em,” Pearl chokes out. “I can’t—I—”

“I’ve got you,” Gem soothes. She takes Pearl’s hands in hers, squeezes them tight, real and grounding. “See, come on, that’s it. Breathe with me.”

Pearl blinks tears from her eyes as she tries to time her breathing to Gem’s. She’s not very good at it, her heart too quick and Gem’s too slow, but it helps, dragging her down from the high of panic.

“That’s it,” Gem breathes. She lets go of Pearl’s hand, reaching up to push the hair out of Pearl’s face, cupping her cheeks in her palms. “See? Nice and calm. Everything’s fine, see?”

“Yeah,” Pearl agrees, and the words feel hollow. Her panic feels hollow, somewhere above her body, her soul sunken to somewhere below her knees. She sucks in a breath, lets Gem wipe tears from her eyes with her thumbs.

Gem is so bright. A searchlight in a storm, a ray of rising sun through the dark. The world seems to grey around her.

Pearl reaches out, splaying her hand against Gem’s cheek, a clumsy echo of Gem’s own reassuring, grounding touch. Gem is still so bright, vivid enough that Pearl doesn’t think any paint could capture it.

And Pearl, held in comparison, is grey and dull. A shade, drained of life.

She swallows. Lets out a shaking breath. Looks up into Gem’s green eyes, sees the fear and regret in them, and can barely summon her own panic or hurt in return.

“Oh,” she says, and the word falls like a stone, plunging into the depths.

---

Pearl lets out a breath. “It was the body, wasn’t it?” she asks, loosening her grip. “The one that washed up. It did something to you.”

Gem swallows. She pulls away, holding onto her own wrist where Pearl had dropped it, clutching it to her chest. “I’m so hungry, Pearl,” she whispers. “I fade so fast now. I need… I need…”

“You’re going to kill us.” Gem flinches at the words. “You know that, don’t you, Gem? You’re going to kill us. You are killing us.”

“I just need your colours,” Gem replies, a whine in her voice. “I just…”

“What happens when we’re gone, Gem? What happens when you’ve taken all the colours? What happens then?”

Gem stares at her. There are tears in her eyes. They don’t quite fall, but Pearl can feel them drip into her hollow heart. There’s an ocean between them now and Pearl doesn’t have the wits to cross it. She doesn’t care enough to cross it, and she doesn’t feel enough to care about that.

“I have to go and check on Impy,” Gem repeats, her voice thick. “I’ll see you later, Pearl.”

“You won’t,” Pearl calls after her as Gem hurries for the door.

Gem doesn’t reply, just slamming the door shut in response.

Pearl sits in bed for a long time, staring at the wall with hazy vision. Her thoughts are muffled under the thick fog that chokes the village, and so when she finally stands, she’s not entirely sure why. She lets her body carry her back to her studio, picks up a canvas from against the wall, and places it on her easel. She sits down in front of it and stares.

Gem’s face stares back at her, the only alive thing in a dead and colourless world.

#solsticesocial #hermitaday #hermitcraft #fanfiction #magpie feather quill #if you're seeing this immediately after posting the ao3 link might not work #i am spending most of posting day on a plane so i am going about it in a way that's a little janky

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0omillo0 · 1 day ago

Note

Your fics are so good literally I check this place every day. I would mainline skz angst fics if I could. Angst/hurt/comfort PLEASE. Hyunjin one where reader was in an abusive relationship in the past and they get into an argument that was really miscommunication and Hyunjin like, doesn’t raise his fists but like turns around fast or something and spooks reader and they run off, no phone no keys no nothing. Pure flight mode.

Hyunjin x reader ; angst -> comfort

warnings: abusive ex, mention of fighting

a/n: I’ve FINALLY finished school I’m so tired, but I’m happy I can write all your requests now! (thank you xoxo). also thank you for requesting this! It’s the same problem I have so it was comforting writing this

•

It wasn’t Hyunjin’s fault.

You kept telling yourself that, repeating it silently, like a mantra, as the tension between you both began to rise. The words in your head sounded steady, but your body didn’t believe them. The weight pressing on your chest grew heavier with each exchanged word, with every flicker of frustration in his voice.

Hyunjin was nothing like him.

But no matter how hard you tried, the past didn’t stay buried.

Your ex had turned arguments into weapons. He had wielded raised voices like shackles, holding you captive. Apologies had come like clockwork after the damage was done, hollow promises that nothing would change. It had taken years to leave—years to find your way out of the cycle. And when you met Hyunjin, with his kind heart and gentle soul, you’d believed healing was possible.

You wanted so desperately to believe it.

The argument started over something small, something so inconsequential you barely remembered how it had begun. You’d mentioned the groceries—how there were none left at home—and he had bristled.

“I can’t do everything, Y/N,” he said sharply, barely glancing up from where he stood at the counter, his voice carrying an edge that made you pause.

It took a moment for you to respond. “I didn’t say you had to. I was just—”

“You were just what?” He turned then, meeting your gaze with frustration flickering in his dark eyes. “Pointing out another thing I forgot? Adding it to the list?”

The words hit you like a wave, unsteadying your footing. Your heart sank as you studied his expression.

“That’s not fair,” you said quietly, your tone cautious now. “I wasn’t trying to blame you for anything.”

“Well, it sure sounded like it.” He ran a hand through his hair, his voice lower now but no less biting.

You took a step forward, something twisting painfully inside you. “Why are you acting like this?” you asked, your voice rising slightly. You hated the tremor that betrayed you, hated that you already felt like you were losing control.

“I’m not acting like anything!” he shot back, his voice louder now, filling the space between you. “Why do you always have to push? Why can’t you just let things go?”

“Because I care about you, Hyunjin! I care when you’re upset, and I don’t know why you won’t just tell me what’s wrong!”

A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he turned his head, shaking it in disbelief. “Maybe I don’t want to talk about it. Did you think of that?”

The words cut deeper than you expected, the sharpness in his tone stealing the air from your lungs.

“I’m just trying to help—”

“Well, maybe I don’t need your help!” he interrupted, his voice breaking into a shout.

You flinched at the sound, the echo of it slamming into you like a freight train. Your heart was pounding now, your breath coming shorter. Your feet shuffled backward, almost on instinct, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“God, you act like you need to fix everything,” he continued, his frustration spilling out unchecked. “Like you need to fix me.”

Your breath hitched, and the room around you seemed to shift. For a moment, Hyunjin’s voice wasn’t his—it was someone else’s. Someone whose words were weapons. Someone who’d told you time and time again that you were the problem.

“I don’t want to fix you,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to steady yourself. “I just want to understand.”

“Well, maybe I don’t need you to understand!” His voice broke again, louder this time, frustration and exhaustion tangled together in every syllable.

And then it happened.

Hyunjin turned sharply, his hand flying up to rake through his hair in agitation. The movement was sudden, unintentional, but your body didn’t care. Your mind didn’t stop to think.

You ran.

You didn’t even remember the door slamming behind you, your bare feet hitting the pavement as you fled into the cold night air.

The streets blurred as you moved, the echo of his voice—louder, sharper than you’d ever heard it—ringing in your ears. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, your breaths coming in short, frantic gasps. You didn’t stop to grab your keys or your phone. You didn’t stop to think about where you were going.

The only thought in your mind was to escape.

The cold pavement stung your feet, but you barely felt it. The thin fabric of your shirt did nothing to shield you from the biting wind, but you didn’t care. The fear clawing at your chest was louder than anything else.

You didn’t stop until your legs gave out beneath you, your body collapsing onto a park bench in the middle of nowhere. The silence around you was deafening, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths.

You curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest as tears spilled down your face. The trembling in your hands wouldn’t stop, no matter how tightly you clutched at your arms.

“I’m so stupid,” you whispered to yourself, your voice breaking between sobs. “He’s not like that. He’d never—”

But the fear wouldn’t let go.

When Hyunjin realized you were gone, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. The door was ajar, swaying slightly in the wind. The apartment felt empty without you there.

“Y/N!” he called out, his voice laced with panic as he grabbed his coat and bolted into the night.

He searched everywhere he could think of: the café you loved, the little bookstore down the street, the convenience store on the corner.

But you weren’t there.

He called your name again and again, his voice growing hoarse as the minutes dragged on.

And then he saw you.

You were curled up on a bench beneath a flickering streetlight, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“Y/N!” he shouted, relief and guilt flooding his chest as he ran toward you.

Your head snapped up, your tear-streaked face locking onto his. For a moment, you tensed, your body shrinking back as if to protect itself.

“It’s me,” he said softly, raising his hands in surrender. “It’s just me.”

He approached slowly, his heart breaking at the sight of you. “Can I come closer?”

You nodded after a moment, your breaths shaky.

He knelt in front of you, his hands hovering uncertainly before he reached out to place his coat over your trembling shoulders. “You’re freezing,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “God, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s not your fault,” you cut in, your voice barely audible. “I panicked. It’s—it’s my past. I just…” You couldn’t finish, fresh tears spilling over.

Hyunjin reached for your hands, his own trembling as he held them gently. “I don’t care how long it takes, or what it takes—I’ll do whatever I need to so you feel safe again. Please, just let me take you home.”

The apartment felt warmer when you returned, but you still shivered beneath the blanket Hyunjin had wrapped around you. He made tea in silence, his movements slow and careful, as if afraid to startle you.

When he finally sat beside you, he looked at you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“I want to know,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I want to understand what you’ve been through. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. But when you saw the worry in his eyes, the love that hadn’t wavered despite everything, you told him.

You told him everything.

Hyunjin listened without interrupting, his hands gripping yours tightly.

“I’ll never raise my voice like that again,” he said when you finished, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll never make you feel unsafe. I swear.”

You nodded, leaning into him as his arms wrapped around you. You let yourself believe him.

tags: @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids x y/n #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin angst #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #straykids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids hyunjin

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jillsandwhichs · 23 hours ago

Text

Midnight

Chapter 8 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You are studying at your friend Sarah's house and you get to meet her dad, Joel Miller. Later that evening, Sarah heads to bed and you crash on her couch, continuing to study. However, that studying is soon interrupted when Mr. Miller decides to strike up a convo with you—one that turns into something much more

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Acquainted/Hookup

WC: 4.8k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Age gap, Making out, Dirty talk, Breast play, Protected P in V, Riding, Spanking, Minor Dom!Joel, Degradation kink (Not too major but it is present) and Choking

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

As your friend Sarah parked her car, she cleared her throat and opened the driver's side door. You opened the passenger door and got out, grabbing your backpack and slinging it across your shoulder, keeping it secure in that spot. You closed the door and as you did, you heard the sound of Sarah locking her 2010 Bentley. Her dad, Joel, who you are about to meet for the first time, bought it for her when she turned sixteen.

She is now twenty-one and you're nineteen. You two go to College together. She majors in Geology whereas you are a Psychology major. You two couldn't be more different with what career paths you want to go down but the two of you have bonded beautifully nonetheless. Yet despite being so close, you've never been to her place. It's either your apartment or at the local library. For once though, she invited you to her house which is in the suburbs of downtown Austin TX.

Sarah used her key to open the front door to the house and stepped aside, allowing you to enter first. The house was cozy looking just from the area you first entered in. It smelt nice too though you couldn't quite pin down what the scent could be exactly. You took off your Doc Martins and hung your jacket up on the rack as Sarah did the same, removing her Converse and tossing her jacket on the floor. Of course, you plan to have as good a set of manners as you can.

"Just through here, we can study at the dining table." Sarah said softly, removing her backpack from her back and holding it close. You followed behind her and as you did, you saw a tall, muscular yet older man standing in the kitchen. You recognized him too, it's her father, Joel. He's definitely much taller than you expected and looks a bit older too. He has to be in his late thirties at best. Sarah was clearly surprised to see her dad as she set her bag down and ambled over to him.

"Dad, I didn't think you'd be home so early," She glanced at the clock, "It's only seven." Joel set his soda can down and looked at the digital oven clock and nodded. "Yeah, boss let me and your uncle off early today. How was class?" He asked her, his voice thick with a southern accent. Honestly, it was pretty attractive. You silently took a seat at the table as they continued to converse. "Fine. Boring. I just want to get to the good stuff, you know?" "I know baby but you have to be patient." Joel snickered.

Sarah nodded and pulled two water bottles from the fridge, tossing one to you and keeping the other one in hand. "You goin' introduce me to your friend over here?" Joel pointed at you and gandered over at Sarah. "Right..." Sarah introduced you, then introduced him to you. "And this is my amazing dad, Joel." Sarah said sarcastically yet lovingly as she took a seat across from you. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Miller." You said with a smile. He snorted and shook his head. "Call me Joel."

Joel. Right. You probably sounded stupid by being so formal. You chuckled and nodded. "Okay." You murmured. Joel turned back to face Sarah. "I'll be up in my room so uh, if either of ya's need me, just come and knock." "Okay dad." Sarah nodded and began to take stuff out of her bag. "It was nice to meet ya." Joel stated to you. "Nice to meet you too, Joel." You smiled. He then inched off towards the staircase before leaving the downstairs area.

Before you knew it, you and Sarah had all of your study supplies out. Everything from your laptop to notebooks, you two were prepared. Finals are coming up and there is absolutely no way you plan to fail any of them, especially for you Psychology 101 class. You have studied and worked your ass off day and night for that class. You'll be damned if you get anything lower than a 90%.

"This class is kicking my ass." "Which one?" "Advanced Geology studies. I can't wait to become a paleontologist but working towards it is a bitch." Sarah laughed and rubbed her temple. "I get it. I am beyond excited to become a psychiatrist but the last thing I want to be doing right now is studying. I'd much rather be out getting drunk and eating junk food." You snorted. Sarah nodded. She couldn't agree more.

You two have gone to your fair share of College parties. They all suck, in all honesty, but they are fun. You and Sarah always go to them together. The last time you guys went to one was about a month ago so a break would be pleasant. And, it was like Sarah read your mind. "If we finish studying early, I can order us some dinner." "That would be fantastic." You said as you grabbed out extra notes from your backpack.

"Let's get to it then." Sarah groaned before putting that black gel pen to paper. You instead used your laptop, at least for this studying session.

The clock starts now.

Your fingers were beginning to cramp up. All of that typing and writing does that to you. Just by looking at Sarah, you could tell she was exhausted. The only thing keeping her awake now was the fact food was right in front of her. You two decided to not wait and ended up ordering Chinese about an hour into studying. It's now almost ten at night and Sarah is clearly spent. Occasionally, she takes a bite of her noodles and coconut chicken but other than that, she's staring off into space.

"You good?" You giggled and used your chopsticks to get a piece of sesame chicken into your needy mouth. "Yes, yes I am." Sarah rubbed her eyes and took a drink of her water. "I am dropping out of College." She joked and took another bite of her food. You laughed and nodded. "I feel ya... Are you going to go to sleep then?" "Here in a bit, most definitely. As for you, you can either crash on my floor or on the couch—whichever you prefer."

You thought about that for a moment. Both are fine options. Though, you'll probably sleep down here so you don't disturb her whilst you continue to study.

Slurping up some more noodles, you sighed and swallowed them. "I'll crash down here, I plan to study more, so." "More!? You are insane." Sarah's eyes went wide and she rolled them playfully. "I don't play around when it comes to finals. This noggin has to acquire as much knowledge as possible." You giggled and stretched out your fingers, trying to release them from the uncomfortable feeling of cramps and stiffness. "If you say so, props to you." Sarah stood up and closed her takeout box.

"I'm spent for the night, I'll continue in the morning." She stated as she ambled over to the fridge. She opened it up and set her Chinese food inside of it to save for later. You figured you'll do the same once you get full. "I'm heading to bed girl. If you need anything, help yourself, nothing is off limits." Sarah assured you. As she walked past you, she patted your head playfully and grabbed her water. "Goodnight!" You said kindly, waving to her. "Nighty night." Were her last words.

A minute or so later, you heard her bedroom door shut and you released a sigh. Now you are all alone. It isn't so bad though. You decided you'd finish up your food then sit on the couch to study, that'll be much more comfortable.

You found yourself on the couch shortly after. Your laptop rested in your lap and you had your earbuds in. The song playing was Dreams by Fleetwood Mac—one of your favorites. As you listened to a classic tune, you scrolled on YouTube, finding videos to benefit your study sesh. You found quite a few and added them to your 'Studying' playlist in which you use very often.

Tonight went well. You had a good time with Sarah despite the boring studying, you got yummy food which you devoured and you even met her dad after all this time. Joel doesn't seem bad at all. He's kind, welcoming and well, hot. Of course, you'd never make your attraction towards him obvious, he's your best friends dad! But the moment you saw him, your stomach did flips and you had to hold back a grin.

You shook the thoughts from your head and went back to focusing. You sighed deeply and began to type in a new docs. You've typed out four different ones just in this singular night. It's been rough but you know it's insanely worth it in the long run. You are so proud of how far you've come in College-it is truly amazing.

As you typed more and more, you must've not noticed the six foot man traverse down the stairs and say hello to you until you glanced up and saw him standing in front of you, a tallboy in hand. "Oh." You muttered and paused your music, removing your ear buds and looking up at him. "Hey, Mr. Miller-I mean, Joel." "Hello." He snickered and sat down beside you, stretching and letting out a low groan. You honestly thought he was sleeping.

"What're you studyin'?" You heard Joel ask. You cleared your throat and turned your laptop more to face him. "Just studying for my finals-currently for my Biochem class." "Biochemistry, huh? That your major?" "Absolutely not." You snorted. You'd rather shoot yourself, actually. "I major in Psychology." "Ah, psychology. Pretty sure Sarah wanted to major in that at one point or another." "She did. She's good with Geology though." You stated and paused your studying session to just speak with this man.

Joel sipped his beer and cleared his throat, the cold, refreshing drink clearing it up naturally too. Joel gandered at the coffee table then at your hands. "You drink?" "Oh uhm..." You stuttered. You're nineteen, he realizes that, right? You do drink from time to time but why would you admit that? "I'm not dumb." Joel snickered. "You want a beer or is wine more your thing?" "Beer." You stated plainly. "Atta girl." Joel nudged your knee and stood up, stumbling over to the fridge.

He grabbed out a beer from the fridge and walked back over to you, setting it on the coffee table and gazing at you. "How old are ya?" "Oh, I'm nineteen." "Young. Don't let life slip past ya." Joel snickered and chugged some of his beer. As he did, his blue work shirt slightly lifted up, offering you a glance of his pudgy stomach. You bit your lower lip and looked away, staring at your laptops bright screen. You can't even deny that seeing his stomach was enticing.

You grabbed the beer and opened it up. The crackling sound of cracking it open was satisfying. You brought it up to your lips and took a sip. It was strong but not hardcore, you could handle it. It was bland though, definitely not the best beer you've had but hey, it's from an older man's fridge, what else can you really expect? Joel laughed when seeing you drink it. Admittedly, he was surprised you handled it with grace.

Joel chuckled after seeing you drink the beer so casually. It isn't everyday he sees a girl of your age and size handle a beer straight like that. Admittedly, he found it rather attractive.

"Surprised you ain't out yet, I heard Sarah crash upstairs not too long ago." "Yeah, I'm not very tired yet. I'm usually awake until midnight anyways." "Midnight? As a College student? You're crazy." Joel teased and drank more of his beer. Everyone says that. You should head to bed earlier but you're simply rarely tired until later at night. You set your beer down and closed your laptop (You can resume your work later, when you aren't so... Distracted...).

You had changed before sitting on the couch. You're wearing something rather... Revealing? It's a pair of lacey shorts with a matching top which definitely shows off your cleavage. You hope Joel doesn't mind or doesn't even notice overall. When you peeped over at him, he was focused on his beer and whatever else he was thinking about. That's a good sign.

"So uhm, Joel, what do you do for work?" You decided to make conversation so the tension wasn't so evident. "Contractor. It's basically construction and carpeting mixed together." Joel stated. "I see. That's a tough job." "When ya start, yeah, then you get used to it and it's nothin'." He established. Seems true enough but that can go for really any job, right? You're such becoming a psychiatrist will have a similar outcome.

"With your degree, what do you plan to become?" "Psychiatrist." "Study the human brain, I see. Bet if ya studied mine, you'd either be terrified or disgusted." Joel laughed and put his beer down. "Why's that?" "An old man like myself ain't got nothin' innocent up in the brain." He cackled and undid his belt, tossing it off to the side to let his stomach have more space. An innocent act yet, your brain immediately shifted to something more seducing.

Guess a young mind isn't so different then.

You giggled and rested your head in your hand. "What makes you think a young mind is any different?" "All College students have similar things up in their heads. Work, homework, alcohol and sex... That ain't nothin' darlin'." Darling? What an odd thing to randomly call you. You felt your stomach flip at the sudden petname and the eye contact he decided to initiate. You looked down and bit your lip. "You aren't wrong." You snorted.

Sex. That's on your mind often.

"So what's on your mind then? Murder? How to buy cocaine?" You joked. "Sometimes." He teased back. "What's really on your mind?" You questioned him in a low, enticing tone-it wasn't even intentional either, it just sort of... Came out. "Right now?" "Sure." "Money, takin' a shower and sex." You laughed at his response. Seems like the average manly reply. Money, taking a shower and sex. Sex. Sex is on his mind right now?"

Joel smirked and looked you in the eyes. "How 'bout you?" "Well, let's see... Studying, Christmas break because that'll be heavenly and uhh, sex." You plainly said. You bit your lip afterwards and adjusted your seating position. Joel looked you up and down and nodded. "Sex for you too then, huh?" Joel let out a breathless snicker. You nodded and fluttered your eyes at him. Shit. Are you really seducing your best friend's dad? You are a total bitch.

You felt Joel's hand slither to your thigh. You breathed in a sharp breath and looked down, noticing his hand trailing upwards. It felt so good. It made your stomach twist and churn in the best ways possible. "Are you a virgin?" "No." You whispered as his hand moved closer to your pussy. It was covered by your shorts, but they have easy access. You are wet. You can feel it. You are pulsing. It's all because of this older fucking man.

"Who's the oldest guy you've fucked?" Joel was so straight forward. You cleared your throat. "I don't know... Seventeen or eighteen." You admitted. "Christ." He chuckled. "I'm almost fourty, that okay?" Joel asked. He's a man, such a man but a respectful one. The moment he saw you earlier, he could've came in his pants right then and there. You are gorgeous. He saw you and hell, if Sarah wasn't there he would've hit on you then and there.

Sarah has brought over a handful of friends and all of them were nothin' compared to you. In fact, he's never done anything with her friends. The craziest he's ever done is hookup with his brother's ex but, he'll never admit that to anybody.

As Joel's fingers inched closer to your special spot, you grabbed his hand and looked at him with an alarmed look. "What about Sarah?" "She's asleep." "I know but I can't just hookup with my friend's dad." "Yeah you can, I'm right here." Joel touched your pelvic area and earned a whimper out of you. The touch coming from him was something different. You wanted to give in and honestly, you plan to. This doesn't harm Sarah in any way, yeah? She won't even know.

You slowly let go of his hand and this gave Joel the green light. His fingers slipped passed the fabric of your shorts and you felt two of his finger tips against your damp underwear. He can most definitely feel how wet you are. "I've hardly fuckin' touched ya and you are this wet?" "Sorry." You looked down in shame. Though, Joel snickered. "Hell are you apologizing for? I think it's sexy." He said in a sexy, deep voice before he suddenly pulled you into his lap.

You straddled him and felt shivers trail down your spine. The two other boys you've been with were not this straight forward. You looked down and encased your arms around his neck, not knowing where else to put them. Joel's hands remained on your upper thighs. "Tell me," Joel began, "What is it you want?" You have no clue. You want Joel to lead the way, quite frankly. "What I want is..." You murmured before making eye contact with him. "I want you to do whatever it is you'd like to do to me." You whispered out.

A faint, hushed breath came from Joel as he heard you say that. He squeezed your thighs and looked into your alluring eyes. "Jesus Christ." You felt Joel harden beneath you. Did you seriously turn this man on even further? You're proud of yourself for that. "I want you to ride me." Joel breathed heavily and patted your ass, making you squeak. You've rode a guy, once, but you've done it. At least you won't be going into this completely blindsided.

Breathing in deeply, you nodded. "Okay." You smiled. Whilst on top of him, you leaned back and pulled your sleeping shirt off. You weren't wearing a bra beneath it-you aren't supposed to sleep in bras. Once it was off, Joel immediately latched onto your left tit. You gasped and held onto his head, your fingers trailing through his brunette hair. "Oooh fuck." You whimpered and took it.

Joel suckled and swirled all over your nipples and breasts. It felt amazing. It was a euphoric feeling. His tounge worked wonderfully around your perky breasts. All you did was caress his hair and be supporting. He pulled away and now kissed you. His lips aggressively went up against yours and you moaned, kissing him just as passionately back. This felt so surreal. Shortly after making out with you, he pulled away and went back to sucking your tits.

Autonomously, you felt yourself grinding against him. You could feel your folds becoming more and more wet. The friction of you against him, dry humping him, was enough to turn you on even more. Joel's hands held onto your thighs tighter as you continued. You've never felt this drawn to somebody before. You want your hands all over him, and his all over you. You shouldn't feel this way. This is Sarah's fucking dad! You are a total cunt for even kissing him let alone preparing to ride him.

He let go of your tits and gazed into your eyes, patting your thighs. "Here," He grunted and leaned back. Joel pulled his blue, stained work shirt over his hand and threw it onto the floor. You placed your hands on his chest and dragged them down to his jeans. His belt was already off. You reached inside his jeans and immediately felt his erection. Oh, he's hard. It was so sexy-the fact he was twitching and pulsing over you.

"Take your shorts off, I'll do this." Joel stated, beginning to mess with his pants. You nodded and stood up for just a moment, dropping down your silkly pants and leaving your pink, laced undies on. Joel finds them cute. You climbed back onto his lap as he pulled out his hard cock. It is long & girthy. You are a bit amazed, in all honesty. He's bigger than anyone you've been with. You can't wait to feel how he feels inside of you.

"Do you have a condom?" "Yeah, I do." Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled one out. You were a bit confused as to why he already had one on him but you decided not to bother with it. You held onto him as he began to wrap himself up. The second that condom is on, it's game time. He pulled the rubber down... And down... And down. He's long, your mind isn't just playing tricks on you. You wonder how he'll feel once inside of your dripping cunt.

Joel's hand went to your panties and pulled them to the side. As he did that, you heard him groan. "You're fuckin' soaked. You get like this for just any guy?" "No... Not usually..." It was odd. No man has ever turned you on like this. Joel is different. He's a real man. "You're a dirty girl." He slid his index through your folds, causing you to shutter and grip onto his skin more firmly. "But you'll take my cock good, right?"

His words. The way he speaks. He's a pro. Let the water gates flood! You moaned and nodded. "Yes." "Good girl." Joel slapped your ass before gripping it and pulling you down onto his length. He gave you no time to adjust. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck once again, needing that closure. He was deep inside of you already. It feels... Different. You don't know if it's because he's bigger and longer or if it's because well, it's this guy.

For some reason, you have a feeling it's a mixture of both.

After testing the waters and feeling for what's best, you began to ride him. You grinded your hips back and fourth on his lap, his length teasing your inner walls. With each movement, even just the slightest, you'd earn a groan or a grunt out of Joel. "Fuck." Joel murmured, his hands squeezing your rear as you moved against him. "You're fuckin' tight." He praised you. "You spread your legs for just any guy then, huh? Dirty fuckin' girl." Joel degraded you.

Oddly enough, you found that hot.

You bit your lip and moved against him faster. Joel would occasionally spank you and you're sure there'll be red marks on both cheeks once he's done with you. It feels so good. Having this man deep within you is a pleasure and it's all yours. You moaned and tossed your head back and as you did, you felt his hand grip it and squeeze it. "Stay quiet, you hear? Don't need Sarah hearin' us." Joel stated to you. He's right.

But fuck, how can you stay quiet? This feels extraordinary. Just inside of you, you can feel his dick twitching. You're sure he hasn't had a good pussy like yours in awhile. You began to bounce on him and with each one, Joel seethed and held onto you tighter. "Look at ya, you know what you're doin'." He's right. You do. Maybe you are a whore, a slut, whatever, you don't care-just as long as he's the one calling you such names.

"Keep ridin' me like the fuckin' desperate girl you are. I saw you eye-fuckin me earlier, don't think you're slick." Well damn. You suppose he isn't stupid. You whimpered and rode him much faster & harder now. You began to mix your grinding and bouncing together, creating the ultimate pleasurable feeling. He let go of your neck and went back to holding your ass. He slapped it, hard, earning a squeak out of you. Such a good feeling this is.

You smashed your lips against his and licked his lower lip. Joel laughed and opened his mouth, allowing you to explore it. You slipped your tounge inside and smiled against his lips. The warmth of his mouth was comforting and a feeling that was only bringing you closer to the edge. His hands caressed your bum softly before spanking it once again and this time after spanking you, he began to move your hips forward, taking over.

"You've clearly been needin' this, hm? You a whore?" "No." Was all you managed you get up. Joel scoffed and kissed you again, this time moving his tongue roughly into your mouth. At the sudden kiss, you held onto him tighter. You can feel your orgasm building up, it's so very evident. He pulled away and spit drabbles off of your lips. "That right? You ain't a whore? You're sure as hell actin' like one." He then began to kiss your neck.

Those soft kisses. He planted numerous of them on the inner parts of your throat. You are so close. You're going to cum any moment now. "I feel... Joel..." You shuttered out, your body beginning to shake. "That'a girl, cum for me." With just a few more bounces and grinds, you finally hit your breaking point. You moaned loudly but Joel was quick to kiss you just to shut you up. You held onto the back of his head, pulling and tugging on his scraggly hair.

Joel held your waist in place as he began to thrust upwards. Each thrust made him realize how wrong yet right this feels/is. Fucking his own daughters best friend? Hell, what's gotten into him? At the same time however, he doesn't regret a damn thing.

One more thrust and boom, Joel's hot seed bursted into the rubber. He grunted and gripped your ass as he finished into the condom. You simply kept your head in the crook of his neck, trying to process this entire situation.

After he came down from his high, he patted your ass so you'd get off of him and you did. You plopped onto the couch and continued to breath rather heavily. That was intense, it was insane. You glanced over at Joel who simply picked his beer up and drank a big swig out of it. He's probably processing this just as you are. You don't know how to feel about all of this anyways.

He looked over at you and smirked. "Sarah don't need to know about this, yeah?" He stated as he began to fix his pants and throw his shirt back on. "Definitely." You nodded. This is your guy's little secret. "What do we do now...?" You murmured. "I'm goin' take my happy ass to bed but uh, my number is on the fridge door so if you ever need me, I'll be there." Joel winked and fixed his pants as he stood up.

That's it? He just fucked you and now leaves? Is every man like this? You scoffed and put your shirt back on. "What's the attitude for?" "Nothing. Hand me my pants." Joel leaned down and grabbed them, kneeling down and putting them past your ankles, pulling them up for you. "Don't take what we did personal, sweet thing. It was just another hookup for me, alright?" Just another hookup. Right.

You nodded, despite not agreeing. He is giving you his number so that's nice, you think? After getting fully dressed again, you sighed deeply and sat down on the couch. Joel drew himself closer to your face and planted and kiss on your cheek. "Don't ever tell anyone 'bout this, you hear?" "Mhm." You mumbled and pulled the brown blanket over you, just wanting to be covered up completely now.

He pulled away and gazed at you. "For the record, you are the best I've had in awhile." Was that meant to magically make you feel better? You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Okay then." You put plainly. He picked up his beer and began to slowly walk backwards towards the stairs. "Numbers on the fridge." Were the last words he said before he began to leave, heading back to his bedroom.

"Numbers on the fridge." You whispered to yourself and scoffed, turning off the lamp to your right and laying down on the couch. What a fucking evening this has been.

#tumblr fyp #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #please reblog #smut

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hungermakesmonsters · 2 days ago

Text

The Red Ribbon

Chapter One

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 6k

A/N : This is a little something I've been toying with for a while. It's only going to be a short thing (3 parts) over the next few weeks. There's no upload schedule but it'll probably be posting on Fridays anyway 😅 Also I've been ill all week so that's my excuse for typos

Master List

Chapter One

“Remind me why I hired you?”

His voice was a cold snap that caused your cheeks to burn with embarrassment. Even on his birthday, your boss was an asshole.

Your hands trembled as you tried to restack the files that you’d clumsily manage to drop all over his office floor. The contents of the files had spilled out and you already knew that it was going to take you hours to make sure the correct paperwork ended up back where it was supposed to be.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question,” he added a moment later. “Why did I hire you?”

“Because your other assistants keep quitting,” you muttered under your breath.

It was humiliating, scrabbling around on his office floor, the carpet scrapping your bare knees as you tried to pick everything up as quickly as possible.

“What was that?” He asked.

It was reasonable to guess that he hadn’t heard you - you were certain he would have been a lot angrier if he’d heard you. Still, you hated yourself for letting it slip out. As much as you hated the way your boss treated you, the pay was good. Too good to quit.

“I said I’m sorry Mr Russo,” you answered softly, managing to grab the last of the files and get back to your feet. “I’ll get these sorted and have them on your desk first thing in the morning.”

“I hope you’re planning on staying late.”

“What?” The word spilled from your lips before you had the chance to stop it.

“Do you have somewhere else to be? Something more important than fixing your fuck up and doing the job I pay you to do?” Mr Russo asked.

As a matter of fact, you did have somewhere else to be and something that was more important than fixing the potential Anvil candidate files that you’d managed to dump all over his office floor, but you couldn’t tell him that.

There was only one person who knew how you spent your nights, and it certainly wasn’t your boss. No, if Billy Russo knew where you went after your days at Anvil, he’d see to it that he had your resignation in his hand by the end of the day. And you were sure the same could be said of your night job.

“No, Mr Russo,” you answered, dropping your gaze to the floor, “I don’t have anywhere more important to be.”

“Good answer,” he said as he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and pulled it on. He moved towards his office door, stepping past you as if you were just another piece of furniture, a spare chair in the way. “And don’t even think about leaving that unfinished. I’ll be in at 5am so you’re not going to have the opportunity to sneak in early tomorrow to finish up.”

He didn’t even wait for a half-hearted ‘yes, Mr Russo’ before leaving for the day.

You glanced at your watch, doing the maths in your head; you should have been finishing in ten minutes time, at five o’clock, which would have given you three hours to get home, eat, and then get across town to work your night job.

The Red Ribbon was New York's most exclusive gentlemen's club - though to call it a gentlemen’s club was somewhat outdated as, these days, it catered to the needs and desires of wealthy clientele regardless of gender identity and sexual orientation. But, it had been considered a gentlemen’s club since the 1950s, and the verbiage was surprisingly hard to shake.

The club offered something that few similar establishments did; total anonymity for both guests and workers. There were no cameras in The Red Ribbon, no phones or recording devices were allowed. And everyone wore masks. The only way to tell the staff from the clientele were the red ribbons worn about their necks.

You’d been working at The Red Ribbon for the last six months. At the start you’d tended bar, not wanting to get too hands-on with the customers - not because you had any strong feelings or moral objections about those that did, but mostly because you didn’t think you’d be any good at it. You’d never been the sort to consider yourself graceful, much less sexy, but you could make a mean espresso martini and you were great with pointless smalltalk.

The money was good, but it wasn’t good enough, not when you had debts and financial obligations.

At The Red Ribbon, the hosts made the most money, each getting assigned to one of the private rooms and being tasked with taking care of the customers' needs for the whole night. It was ultimately up to the host what taking care of the customer entailed though boundaries were firmly established before the host set foot in the private room. Every host had their own limits, some were happy to touch and be touched, some took it further still, and others preferred a hands-off approach.

If there was one thing The Red Ribbon was known for beyond the total anonymity it offered, it was the level of security. Everyone who set foot through the doors knew better than to cause trouble or push the boundaries of any member of staff.

You’d made the switch from bartender to host slowly, filling in whenever someone was out sick or when you needed a little extra money. You were slow to warm to it but, to your surprise, you found that you actually enjoyed it. Though you stayed firmly in the no touching or being touched camp, the tips you made in one night were still more than you made over a whole week tending bar.

But, when that money still wasn’t enough to cover your debts, you took a day job.

And that was how you’d ended up spending an evening hunched over a desk at Anvil, trying desperately to match paperwork with the correct file for a boss who’d made it pretty clear that he didn't like you and thought you were too inept for your job.

By the time you were done, you barely had the chance to make it home and shower and, instead of eating a proper meal, you ate a Snickers bar on the subway.

The Red Ribbon had a special entrance for staff that used old prohibition tunnels and a hidden elevator to get you into the building and up to the top floor.

New York was stunning from fifty floors up and, some nights, you’d find yourself in the locker room just staring out at the skyline as you changed into your uniform. But tonight you didn’t have the luxury of time.

You stood in front of the schedule, checking which room you were in and which mask you’d be wearing. While bar staff and servers all wore the same elegant black and red masks to obscure their faces, hosts wore individual masks that corresponded with the room they’d be working. Tonight you were in the rabbit room, so you plucked the ornate rabbit mask from its hook on the wall.

Of all the masks, the rabbit had always been your favourite because of the detailing on the ears and the way it just sat right on your face.

You always got such a rush from pulling a mask on and heading out into the club. Under any other circumstance the thought of walking around in a revealing black bodysuit would have been embarrassing, but once you had your mask on, you felt almost powerful, like a superhero with a secret identity. With the mask, you weren’t you, you were whatever part you were playing and tonight you were Bunny, and Bunny could be whoever you wanted her to be.

The last part of your uniform was the red ribbon that you tied around your neck, the very thing that distinguished staff from customers, and gave the club its name.

You gave yourself one last look in the floor to ceiling mirror, making sure that you looked ready to handle whatever the night had to throw at you, before finally stepping out into the main area of the club.

Once you passed the threshold, everything about you changed; you held your head high and walked through the club like you owned the place. Here you weren’t the quiet little PA who had to keep her mouth shut in case her boss decided to fire her. Here you called the shots.

The spring in your step became even more noticeable as you climbed the stairs and headed onto the walkway that led to the private rooms, each situated above the dancefloor with views of the whole club.

“Hey, lil Bunny,” an all too familiar face said.

You grinned from ear to ear at the sight of Rocky, one of the club's security guards, a man, who in any other circumstances would terrify you. He was a huge behemoth of a man, truly deserving of the title Built Like a Brick Shit-House. To the patrons, he was the one they didn’t want to get on the bad side of, but to you and the rest of the staff, he was safety incarnate.

“Hey, Rocky,” you said, bumping fists with him as you came to a stop in front of him.

He’d taken something of a shine to you on your first night at The Red Ribbon - he later told you it was because you reminded him of his sister who’d died only a few years before. Since then he’d always kept a close eye on you.

After bumping fists, you kept your arm outstretched so he could fit your security bracelet for the night; a very ornate looking panic button that you could use discreetly if you needed Rocky to deal with a problem customer.

“You let me know if you need anything,” he said softly but seriously.

And, with that, you were on your way again, slipping into the rabbit room with a few minutes to spare before your guest arrived. You did a quick sweep of the room, making sure everything was tidy before turning on the music and checking the bar and, finally, you lowered the lights.

Less than five minutes later, a group of men were shown into the room, each wearing plain black masks that covered the top half of their faces, and each dressed to the club's high standards. Though, just from looking at them you could tell that some were more comfortable in suits than others.

“Welcome to The Red Ribbon, I’m Bunny and I’ll be your host for the evening and I’ll be running the bar for you, so make yourselves comfortable and I’ll get you your first round,” you announced and, with a flourish of your hand, you waved them towards the sofas.

You took drink orders and made a point of saying a little personal hello to each of them, knowing that it’d help win you tips by the end of the night.

As far as groups went, they seemed decent enough, not exactly what you’d call reserved by any stretch, but they seemed to be happy to talk amongst themselves while you tended bar, not expecting anything more of you.

After about half an hour, one of them broke away from the group and headed towards the bar. You couldn’t help but watch him, taking in the perfect way that his suit fit his tall, slender frame.

He took a seat on one of the stools at the bar and flashed you the sort of smile that you were sure had panties dropping all across the five boroughs on a regular basis.

“What can I get you?” You asked.

“Another scotch would be great.”

“Sure thing.”

You were acutely aware of the way his eyes followed your every movement as you grabbed a bottle and fresh glass with ice. Your skin felt like it was tingling under his gaze - he wasn’t leering, it felt more like he was appreciating.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” he said.

For a second you wondered if it was a line - it certainly sounded like a line - but there was something in the way he was looking at you, something that made you think he was actually being serious.

“What makes you say that?” You asked in your playful voice, deciding to indulge him.

“I’d remember seeing you.”

He wasn’t shy about drinking in the sight of you. At any other time you might have felt disgusted, but it was part of the job and you probably would have been more offended if he wasn’t checking you out.

“Hmm, and what exactly is it you think you’d remember?” You retorted playfully.

He grinned at that, a laugh rumbling in his chest. And his eyes - fuck, his dark eyes almost seemed to twinkle.

“I’m not sure it’d be considered polite if I was to get... anatomical,” he joked.

“It’s my ass, isn’t it?” You offered offhandedly, breaking any tension or sense of shame.

His grin grew wider, though there was a hint of surprise on his face too, like he hadn’t quite expected you to be so forward.

“Now that you mention it, you do have a very nice ass,” he agreed, “in fact that whole thigh-ass area is perfection.”

You could feel warmth spreading across your cheeks and down your neck, and you were glad of the low lights and the mask on your face. While you were used to comments on your body and what men wanted to do with you while working, there was something different about this. This felt like flirting. Honest to god flirting. And it had been a long time since anyone had tried to flirt with you.

Out in the real world, his comment would have turned you into a shy mess, but behind the bunny mask... well, let’s just say that Bunny wanted to play.

“Oh, a thigh man as well?”

“I’m a man of refined tastes,” he shrugged.

His grin had you wishing you could see the rest of his face. You were already trying to picture what he might look like behind the mask but you were certain that your imagination was not doing it justice.

“And what else does that taste extend to?” You asked, leaning across the bar a little more as you slid his drink towards him.

His fingers briefly covered yours - rougher than you’d expected - before you slowly pulled your hand away. For a split second, you felt your breath catch, and there was a flicker of something on his face that made you think he’d felt it too, that moment of electricity when you’d touched.

“Are we still talking anatomically? Because I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about your tits for the last five minutes.”

Again, it wasn’t the sort of comment you’d put up with in any other situation but, then and there, in a place where you held all the power, you liked hearing it. The fact that he’d been allowed into The Red Ribbon meant that he was someone, that he was rich and powerful, so for poor, boring you to be the object of his desires gave a thrill like no other.

You let slip another laugh, propping yourself against the bar with a hand beneath your chin, eyes fixed on Mr Tall, Dark and Playful.

“Only the last five minutes?” You said, almost sounding distraught.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Bunny,” he remarked, leaning towards you as he lifted his drink and took a slow sip.

“I get the feeling that you like trouble.”

“You have no idea...”

It would have been a lie to say that the temptation to carry on the flirtatious conversation wasn’t increasing with every passing second; it was fun, you were actually enjoying it rather than just being subjected to it. But he wasn’t the only person in the room who wanted your attention and you had a job to do.

“Looks like your friends want some attention too,” you said, nodding your head towards the group of men still sitting at the table. One of them was waving you over, obviously in desperate need of another drink.

“Animals, the lot of them,” he said, almost fondly. “I should have known they had selfish reasons for bringing me here on my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” You asked and received a nod in response, before shaking your head and muttering; “another Sagittarius...”

“Another?”

You looked at him, almost embarrassed that you’d let it slip out and that you’d blurred the line between your real life and Bunny.

“Just a guy I know,” you shrugged.

“He break your heart or something? Need me and the guys to pay him a visit?” He offered playfully.

Another laugh escaped you and you couldn’t help but think about how strange it felt to be able to genuinely laugh with one of the customers. After months of perfecting your customer service laugh, you’d never expected to find yourself actually laughing at some off-handed comment. Especially when the comment was about a stranger going to beat the shit out of your boss for being mean to you.

“No, it’s okay. I can handle myself.”

“I’ll bet you can, Bunny.”

“Well,” you said, definitively, changing the subject and taking your thoughts away from your terrible day-boss, “happy birthday. I think you deserve something fancy to drink.”

He grinned as you turned away to fish a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge and grab enough glasses for him and his friends.

“This place is really somethin’ else,” a second voice said. “I know you said the girls were pretty but... holy shit.”

Tall, Dark and Playful gave a laugh.

“Prettiest girls in New York are all right here,” he said, clapping his friend on the back.

“Careful boys, my ears are burning,” you joked as you turned back to them.

“It's a beautiful woman's fate to be the subject of conversation wherever she goes,” he said.

“Didn't expect to hear anyone quoting Dorian Gray tonight,” you answered back, amused.

He looked almost surprised by the comment, his jaw dropped slightly and his eyes grew a little wider.

“You’ve read Dorian Gray?” He asked. “You like to read?”

“Does that surprise you?” You asked, your mask hiding the way your eyebrow rose. “Do you not think girls like me can read the classics?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s -” he glanced at his friend beside him, then to the group sitting at the table. You couldn’t hear what they were saying but from some of the hand gestures being made, you could guess that it was something filthy, “- it’s just that I'm not used to being around people who can actually read.”

He got a rough punch in the arm from the guy beside him for that, and you started to laugh again.

They continued to talk while you popped the champagne and started to fill glasses for the whole party. You placed one in front of the birthday boy, and one in front of his friend, before loading up a tray and taking the rest to the party at the table.

“Champagne to toast the birthday boy,” you said with a cheeky smile, earning a round of cheers from the men.

When you returned to the bar, Tall and Dark’s friend passed you, heading back to the group, leaving the birthday boy all alone.

“Not gonna drink with your friends?” You asked.

It was hard not to feel curious - it was part of the job, the masks, the hidden identities, there were always so many unanswered questions.

“I’ve never been one for birthdays,” he answered with a shrug, but still shot you a smile before lifting his champagne flute to his lips.

“Hmm so the mysterious, handsome stranger has a tragic backstory,” you said playfully.

“I don’t know if I’d call it tragic,” he said, his shoulder ticking upwards uncomfortably.

“Should I ask?”

Probably not, you thought. But some part of you wanted to know, wanted to prod and poke until you had him all figured out.

“My mother abandoned me a few hours after I was born,” he stated flatly.

Oh.

Shit.

You didn’t expect him to laugh when he looked at you again, his head shaking. “Don’t look so shocked, it was a long time ago and I’ve come a long way since then.”

“I just -” the confidence of Bunny slipped for a moment, leaving only you; the clumsy girl with a heart that often felt far too big, “- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve joked...”

“It’s fine, really. I’ve had plenty of time to get over it. Besides, the way I figure it, she did me a favour. You want soft kids, coddle them and treat them well.”

“Wouldn't know anything about that,” you said with a wry smile. “My parents definitely didn't coddle us.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“That all I'm getting?” He asked, smiling that playful smile again.

“Getting personal defeats the point of the masks, don't you think?” You retorted, leaning to top up his drink.

“I suppose,” he answered, pausing for a beat before continuing, “I guess you could tell me anything and I'd have to take your word for it.”

“You don't strike me as the sort of man who's trusting enough to do something like that.”

It was something you could see in his eyes, the way they took you in and watched every little flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

“Then why don't we play a game?” He offered. “We each get to ask a question, and you get to call the other out if you think they’re lying. And if I catch you in a lie, you have to tell me something true.”

Your eyes narrowed a little, trying to get a measure of him. Normally you were reasonably good at reading people - though maybe a lot of that came from working various PA and secretarial positions, needing to be able to anticipate your boss’ shitty moods.

“Okay, you’re on,” you agreed, “but a few ground rules; you’re not allowed to ask about who I am or anything that might identify me.”

“Sounds fair.” He lifted his champagne and took a slow drink but his eyes never left you. “What are you most afraid of?”

That caught you off guard. It was more serious than you’d anticipated.

“You could ask me almost anything, but that’s what you want to know?”

“You can tell a lot about a person by what they’re scared of,” he said, shrugging.

You took a second to consider your answer.

“Jellyfish.”

“Really, Bunny, you’re gonna lie right outta the gate?”

“Okay, fine,” you said with a huff, hating that he’d caught you out already. “I guess I’m most scared of dying alone, but jellyfish are a close second.”

“You think you’re gonna die alone?” He asked.

There was something in his voice that seemed to suggest he didn’t get it, or maybe it was that he thought it would never happen. Little did he know that you - the real you - didn’t exactly have the best luck with men.

“That’s two questions. Don’t I get a turn?” You asked, deciding to dodge his question.

Tall and Dark relented and gave a wave of his hand.

“What do you hate most about New York?”

“Hate?” He repeated.

“Everyone always loves the same things about the city, but most people hate something different,” you explained.

You watched him closely as he considered his answer, looking for anything that might tell you if he was about to lie to you.

“The subway. It stinks of piss and there’s always too many people.”

You had to give him that one for obvious reasons, though he didn’t strike you as the kind of guy who used the subway all that often.

“When was the last time you used the subway?”

“That’s two questions, Bunny,” he chided playfully.

“Fine. Your turn.”

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“What? You think that this wasn’t my career goal?” You said, barely holding back a laugh as you shook your head. “I don’t know, I went through a lot of phases; I wanted to be a vet until I lost my first hamster, wanted to be a doctor until my brother broke his arm, and I wanted to be a lawyer but I have a conscience...”

The birthday boy laughed with you, smiling at you, obviously happy enough with your answer because he didn’t call you out, making it your turn again.

“What’s your favourite place in New York?” You asked.

“Right here,” he said. “Right now. With you.”

“Yikes, what a line,” you said, smirking at him despite the heat in your cheeks. “Do lines like that usually work for you?”

“Normally I don’t need lines.”

“No?”

“People - women - usually make their minds up about me pretty quickly, and it’s rarely because of anything I have to say,” he explained.

You watched as he lifted his glass and drained his drink. Without needing to be asked, you refilled his glass. There was a pang of sadness in you, for him, for what he obviously had to go through.

“You must be pretty rich then,” you said, managing to keep the playful tone.

“Oh filthy rich,” he confirmed.

“Emphasis on the filthy part.”

He smirked at that.

The longer the conversation went on, the stranger it felt; it didn’t feel like work anymore, and you almost wished that it wasn’t. But moments like this didn’t happen to you out in the real world. He probably wouldn’t even look at you twice if he saw you in the light of day.

“Anyway, I call bullshit. There must be somewhere you like better than here, even if you are enjoying my company,” you said.

“Alright,” he conceded with an almost rueful smile, “there’s a baseball field in Brooklyn. I used to go there when I was a kid to watch other kids play...”

There was more to it, even you could tell that much, but it seemed personal - far more personal than you were prepared to get with him.

“You like baseball?”

“Liked,” he said, correcting you and adding another layer of uncertainty. “And that’s two questions.”

“Sorry, I’m not used to playing games when I’m tending bar,” you said, topping up his glass again before glancing towards his friends. “And, on that note...”

Again, you felt his eyes on you as you moved around the bar and headed to his friends, checking that everyone was having a good time and taking orders for fresh drinks.

“Think you’ve made the birthday boy’s night,” one of them said.

“Yeah, normally he slips out of his birthday parties after the first hour,” another commented, and they all laughed.

And, as you made your way back towards the bar (towards him), you couldn’t help but wonder what his birthdays were usually like.

“Hope they weren’t giving you any trouble,” he said as you slipped behind the bar and put the empty glasses you’d gathered to the side so you could start getting fresh drinks.

“No, you’ve all been perfect gentlemen,” you said, smiling at him, your face obviously showing some degree of relief because he quickly commented on it.

“Are there times when guys aren’t gentlemen?” He asked.

There was something in his tone, a hint of - what? - protectiveness, or anger maybe.

“Sometimes, but that’s what Rocky is for,” you said, nodding your head towards the door.

“The big guy?” He asked and you nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t fancy my chances with him.”

Filling a tray with the fresh drinks, you went back to the table and passed them around before heading back to him again, taking up the spot on the opposite side of the bar from him, leaning your elbow on the bartop.

“So,” you said, almost decidedly, “want to tell me why you’re spending your birthday night out talking to me and not with your friends?”

He seemed to hesitate, but only for a split second.

“I thought it was my turn.”

“It is,” you conceded, “if you want to keep playing, but I think you might enjoy your birthday more if you spent it with friends.”

“We could be friends.”

“Friends don’t check out each other's asses, handsome.”

“Oh, so you’ve been checking out my ass?” He said as a grin tugged at his lips.

“What can I say?” You shrugged. “Something about men in well tailored pants drives me wild.”

The birthday boy let out another laugh, and it was such a happy sound that he drew glances from his friends, all of them wondering just what it was you’d said to manage to get a response like that from him.

He grabbed his glass and got to his feet.

“This isn’t over, Bunny,” he said before heading towards his friends.

Over the rest of the night, you found yourself watching him, always coming up with a teasing or playful remark whenever you went across to get them fresh drinks (oh, you wanted a drink, I just thought you wanted to stare at my ass again and I know how much you enjoy watching me walk away).

And he watched you, too.

Your skin prickled with goosebumps under his attention and you quickly came to love the sensation. Never in all your time working at The Red Ribbon had you felt such a connection with a guest, and you probably never would again.

So, when they all finally stood to leave, you felt a pang of regret - you shouldn’t have sent him back to his friends, you should have kept him with you so you could talk more.

Each of the guys said their thanks, each dropping bills into the tip jar by the door on their way out.

One of them stopped and looked at you, a smirk on his lips. “Thanks. I dunno what you said to him but I ain’t seen him like this in a long time.”

Your heart stuttered, not sure what it was you could have done to inspire such a change in a man you didn’t even know.

You noticed him linger as the door swung shut behind the last of his friends and, at any other time, that would be cause for concern but something told you that you weren’t in danger. Not from him.

“Something else I can help you with?” You asked, as playful as ever.

“Plenty,” he said, his smile dropping a little. “But everything I want would break the rules, and the last thing I want is to get banned when there’s a chance I might see you again.”

It was sweet how oddly accepting he was of how things were, how they had to be. It made it harder to watch him walk away knowing that you might not see him again. You’d never felt such an instant connection with a stranger before, especially not a stranger who’d seen this side of you, a stranger who knew what you did for a living and didn’t judge you for it.

Against your better judgement, you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth, before pulling back slightly. You lingered close, watching the way the corner of his lip ticked upwards and heard the slightest catch of his breath.

“Well, here’s hoping you can tell who I am the next time you see me,” you offered in little more than a whisper.

Slowly, cautiously, his hand lifted to your face and you felt your heart skip a beat. It was the barest of touches, so light that he might not have even touched you at all, but you felt a warmth spread across your skin nonetheless.

“I’ll know, Bunny,” he said with a certainty that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m gonna find you again.”

“Promises, promises,” you joked, wanting to keep the mood light, knowing that the odds of seeing him again were small. And, with that thought, you found yourself leaning forward again, this time pressing your lips to his for the briefest of seconds. “Something to remember me by.”

Then you stepped back, creating space between your body and his, a silent signifier that the night was over.

“I will find you,” he said again. “I always get what I want, Bunny, one way or another.”

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you said, avoiding answering his comment.

He gave you one last look, drinking in the sight of you from head to toe, and you felt your whole body warm in response. Then he left, leaving you alone with your racing heart and the promise that you’d see him again.

It should have worried you; the way he’d spoken to you, the way he’d been looking, and the fact that he wanted to find you again. But it didn’t. Instead of worry, all you felt was want, even if you knew that the man behind the mask might be someone completely different. Even if you knew the man behind the mask probably wouldn’t be interested in who you were when you weren’t playing Bunny.

Later that night as you laid in bed, your vibrator between your thighs and his dark eyes in your mind, you wondered what he was doing. Your eyes closed tight, picturing him standing over you, watching as you fucked yourself. He’d smile that playful smile down at you and slowly grip his cock - and, fuck, his cock was probably as perfect as the rest of him.

You longed to know what he looked like beneath the mask and beneath the expensive clothes.

You wanted to know what it felt like to be touched by him, for him to kiss you and hold you. For him to fuck you.

No matter what you imagined as you slid the vibrator in and out your body, your thoughts continued to return to one thing; his eyes. You wanted to get lost in them, wanted to make him laugh and see them sparkle. You wanted to see them darken with need as he fucked you and took what he wanted from you.

I always get what I want, he’d told you. And he wanted you.

A loud moan tore from your lips as you came, your whole body shivering with pleasure at the thought of this strange and alluring man getting what he wanted from you.

Then, with a heavy sigh, you sank back on your bed and curled up, the usual feelings of insecurity quickly filling you again.

He’d probably forget all about you; everything he’d said had probably just been to try and get something more than you’d been prepared to give. He’d probably already forgotten you...

Little did you know that, across town, Billy Russo was fisting his cock to thoughts of you without knowing it was you he was thinking of, his hand stroking up and down his length as he stood in the shower. He jerked off to thoughts of your body, your laugh, your smile. He pictured all the ways that he wanted you, his Bunny, all the things he wanted to do.

Your plump and pretty lips would look good wrapped around his cock, and your plush thighs would no doubt feel amazing wrapped around his head as he feasted on your cunt.

He licked his lips for what must have been the hundredth time since you kissed him and was, yet again, disappointed that there was no lingering taste of you.

As he came, he knew that he had to have you. He would find you again, and he would make you his if it was the last thing he did.

A/N : I feel weird when I don't post on a Friday, so here's a new thing 😅 like I said at the start, this will just be a short, sweet thing (3 parts and done), but hopefully it'll be a lot of fun and a little bit more playful/light-hearted compared to Love, Sick Love. (And I promise no cliffhanger ending to this one 😅) If you've played TellTale's The Wolf Among Us, that's where I got the ribbon idea from (well that and that old ghost story... but no ones head is going to fall off in this, I promise).

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged. I'm not going to full commit to posting every Friday for this because I work in retail and, as you can imagine, it's hectic at the moment, but I want to try and post at least once a week since this is only going to be a short story.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

Also I can't remember if anyone else asked to be tagged in all future Billy stories, if I've missed you please shout at me.

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #trr ff

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revelboo · 3 days ago

Note

When the Devil works hard, but fanfic authors work harder

I came for x sound wave and starscream but stayed for Wheeljack, Jazz and (checks notes) Thundercracker?(He grew on me) I've been binging your fics and they're all super good it's hard to pick a favorite (I'm definitely not like a zoo animal rattling the bars of my enclosure every time I see an update for jazz or wj).

Anyways I hope you have a good vacation and stay hydrated 🩷

I’m just having fun. 18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Inside Out Pt 7

TFO Starscream x Reader

• Servos sliding against your spine, tracing the bones under the skin and muscle as he comes down from the high, he has to bite back a laugh. At himself, at the whole situation. That pull, that need hasn’t calmed at all. If anything, it’s sank in deeper, getting stronger. Staring up at the ceiling, he grits his denta when you shift on top of him. Sliding deeper when you push yourself up from where you’d been sprawled on him. And he’s fully alert now, wings fidgeting where they’re trapped under him as you avoid looking at his face.

• Shivering as his spike pulses inside you and his hands slide to rest possessively on your hips, you can’t meet his optics. Because this? So much worse than the next morning walk of shame, because he’s still inside you. And when you do look at him, his expression is so damn smug you want to slap him. Like he hadn’t been as urgent and needy as you’d been. “Let go,” you mutter, trying to get off of him. And his servos tighten on you, moving you against him to make your toes curl. Making you realize how much stronger he is than you are. Hating that it feels good, the way his thick spike strokes deep inside you.

• “Why would I do that?” He groans, watching you toss your head back, your little hands on top of his as he moves you. Hips lifting to drive up as he pulls you down, listening to you make those noises for him. Tightening on him. “This is mine, remember,” he growls, back of his helm hitting the berth, frame straining as you roll your hips and your breathing becomes ragged.

• “Please.” Hate the plea, but you need him to move faster, these slow deliberate drives keeping that high out of reach. Needing it and hating that you do. That he’s doing this to you. Making you crave him, when you should hate him. “I need more.” Please. So close and hating yourself for wanting this, wanting him.

• Your silken heat gripping his spike as he grits his denta, there’s something almost obscene and strangely beautiful about watching your back arch as he begins to thrust faster. Your lips parting. Alien and strange, not Cybertronian, but undeniably his. Soft and warm, making those needy sounds that string him tight as you take his spike. “Say it,” he snarls, hips snapping up to meet you when he drags you down. “Say my name.” Only his, because he’s never giving this up when it feels so good. Doesn’t care if he shouldn’t be so obsessed with an alien, if no one ever finds out, no one can care.

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #tfo starscream

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strangelysamantha · 2 days ago

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after hours ✧

steve harrington x fem!reader.

warnings: 18+, NSFW, MDNI. smut, blowjob, swearing, hanjob. possible sub steve ;) fluffy ending.

summary: giving steve head after your shift at family video.

a/n: jj fic coming next, i was going to write about him but then i saw a steve harrington edit and i had to. LMAO LOVE YOU TY FOR SUPPORTING ME. <333

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you pulled steve into a kiss, one hand gripping his jaw. you pull away softly. “isn’t this so hot steve?” you smirk, you place your hand on his bulge, palming him through his pants. he let out a pathetic whine, “mhm baby.” you fidget with his belt, undoing his jeans. you slide your hand into his underwear, gripping his cock, he shivered underneath you. “you like when i touch you steve?” he breathlessly let out a “yes,” he finally reached your gaze, his eyes locked on yours. “you’ve never touched me in public.” you bite your lip, “are you worried someone would see?” you tilt your head to the side, a small laugh escaping you. you fully grip his cock now, slowly jerking him. “what if someone could see you crumbling beneath me?” he threw his head back, profanities fall from his lips.

you grabbed his hand, placing it on your chest. this move caused him to touch you more, his fingers tracing every part of your body. “steve.” your stern tone caused him to retreat. you pull his cock out, and you look at him, raising a hand in front of his mouth. “spit,” you stare at him, and he happily obeys. you rub your hands together, using his spit as lubricant. you completely wrap your hand around him, jerking him. he watches you, his chest heaving. “don’t tease me baby.” you shake your head, “i’m not teasing, i want your cum.” your words turn him on more. “cmon stevie, you had a long day at work. don’t you want some relief?” he nods his head, his hips thrusting forward. “fuck, you’re such a slut.” he musters between breaths, causing you to roll your eyes. you speed up, massaging his balls as well. “and? you love it. don’t you?” he forcefully settles his lips against yours, his tongue fighting for dominance. “yeah i love it.”

you glance around, checking to make sure the coast was clear. seeing no one, you bend over, your mouth taking him whole. “shit baby.. you don’t know what you do to me.” you wrap your lips around the head, your tongue swirling against his tip. you use your hand to jerk the rest of him. you deepthroat him, slobbering against his cock. he grabs your hair, thrusting into your mouth. “fuck i’m not going to last long.” you continue, desperate to make him reach his high. you lift off of him, taking a breath of air. “cum for me steve.” you quickly jerk him, sticking your tongue out for his load. he closes his eyes, his head falling against the head rest. ropes of cum land on your face, he inhales deeply, catching his breath. he reaches in his glove box for napkins, quickly cleaning your face. “you’re perfect steve.” he looks away, embarrassment flooding his cheeks. you continue, “i’m so lucky to call you mine.” he looks at you, smiling softly. he looks away for a moment, "i don't deserve you."

you frown in response. "you are too good to me, i want you. only you." he kisses your lips, his hand on your thigh. "i love you so much." you grin, "i love you more." he chuckles, "wanna go to mine?" you nod, "yes, please."

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut fic #steve harrington story

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judes-hoe · 15 hours ago

Text

Too Long ~ JB5

Genre ~ smut(18+), little fluff

Summary ~ you and Jude can’t keep your hands off each other at a family dinner. So Denise makes you sleep in separate rooms.

Warnings ~ p in v(unprotected), denial, caught,

A/N ~ here you go my anon that wanted this🩷🩷 (also I am NOT making Denise seem mean, i clearly state in the fic she does it because family is over and she wants you both to be respectful. Please do not come at me I’m just doing what anon wanted!!!)

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You and jude were staying at his parent’s house for the weekend, because Denise and marks family were coming over on Saturday for a big family dinner. Yet you and Jude always had a little problem with keeping your hands to yourself.

Denise often giving warnings glances throughout the day. Making you sit at opposite sides of the couch with family between you both. Though you would just text each other, giggling to yourself. Then she took your phones… Denise was a cruel woman…but you loved her to bits.

Denise never does this, she is only doing it now due to all family being here and wants you and Jude to be respectful. Everyone gathered around the table, Denise letting you and Jude sit together as long as you behaved.

Not even 3 minutes in, Jude had to put a hand on your thigh. You had to bite back a smile. Dinner went by, you and Jude trying to do subtle touches. Before Denise gave a glare and nods to the kitchen. You and Jude look at each other knowing you’re in trouble.

You and Jude stood in the kitchen looking at Denise who had her arms crossed. “You two, how many times!” She asked. “Sorry, we can’t help it!” Jude said to his mother. “We love each other.” He whispered. “I get that Jude, but all I’m asking is for you guys to not be on each other eating your faces off.” She said.

“Ok…we’ll calm down.” He said. “And you’re sleeping in different rooms tonight, your aunt and uncle are staying the night and I don’t need them possibly hearing you both.” She said in a slightly embarrassed tone.

“Okay mom.” Jude said with no point in arguing. “Okay Denise.”

The night finished in a blur, Jude going to his room. You going to the room all the way down the hall. You sat there looking at the ceiling, playing on your phone a little. You always had trouble sleeping if Jude wasn’t near. Except it was in your guys bed back in your apartment in Madrid.

You checked your phone and it reads 1:35am. You sigh and look around the dark room. You hear a soft knock on the door. “Yes?” You whispered. You see the door open and a tall figure walk in. “I can’t sleep I need you.” You hear Jude say closing the door. “I can’t sleep either, come here.” You say.

You feel the bed dip, Jude lays next to you. “You think you can be quiet?” Jude ask nipping at your neck. You close your eyes and softly nod.

It wasn’t long before you and Jude had your clothes off. “I’ve been wanting this all day.” Jude said positioning himself between your legs. “Me too, I can’t wait to go home and not worry about this anymore.” You said. “I love your mom, but I hate these family events.” You tell him. “Me too love..” he said leaning down to kiss you as he slowly pushes inside you.

You let out a feel quiet muffled moans. Jude’s thrust is slow yet deep. He had to do it this way so you weren’t loud. You also both loved to switch to something more slow and passionate.

Jude pulls away his thrust slow and deep. Tucking your head in his neck, muffling your soft moans. “Fuck you feel so good.” Your hands coming to his back and holding onto him. “I love you.” You moan softly. Jude eyes flutter when he feels you squeezing his cock. “I love you too..”

It wasn’t long before you both cum, careful not to be too loud. Jude pulled out and laid next to you. “That was so good, you felt so good.” He mumbled and kissed your shoulder. “I’ll clean you up and then leave.”

He quickly clean himself and then you, helping dressing you and then himself again. He then kissed your forehead, waiting until you feel asleep before he snuck back to his room.

The next morning, you walk out your room and see Jude leaving his room. You both smirk and go downstairs. Sitting in the living room, giving each other discreet glances. Jude smirking at you, Denise sees this, she knows what you guys did. “You know I was thinking of redoing the floors, they’re quite creaky.” She said looking at you both.

You and Jude immediately look at each other and then at Denise. “Sorry Denise.” You mumbled. Jude just rolled his eyes, he didn’t regret last night, but he still disobeyed his mom’s rules. “Sorry mom.” He mumbled.

Later that day you and Jude were leaving the house. You stood at the front door hugging Denise, mark, and Jobe goodbye. “Sorry again Denise; we’ll work on controlling ourselves.” You tell her as you hug her. “I know what it’s like to be young and in love, but yes please work on it, especially around family.” She smiled and kissed your cheek.

Jude then hugged his mom. “Sorry mom, love you, see you whenever.” He said. You and Jude then got into the car and left for the airport. To go back home, with no worries of anyone hearing…

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#jude bellingham #judes-hoe😚#jude bellingham drabble #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagine #jude victor willliam bellingham #jude bellingham oneshot

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ollypopwrites · 3 days ago

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The Privilege of Worship

Emmerich Volkarin x Cis!Fem Rook [note: references to the fact Rook is Curvy but there’s little to no description of her appearance.] Summary: He had pieced together everything she hadn’t actually said out loud. Rook had been a bit smitten since he had first moved into the Lighthouse, and she hadn’t been very subtle about it either. It was a very clear conclusion: he didn’t believe that she would put herself first and he was going to have to do it for her. Rating: M (18+ MDNI) CW: canon dialogue divergence, height difference, self-doubt, enthusiastic consent, check ins, communication, breast play, fingering, semi-public sex, body worship, squirting, masturbation reference, after care, very slight d/s negotiation if you squint, Emmrich is almost too gentlemanly for his own good, Rook talks too much when she’s nervous, scaring the hoes (each other), grown ups being grown up about relationships. Word count: 6.7k Notes: I just wanted to have Rook fingerbanged in a graveyard and then feelings happened ok. EDITED: Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for the moral support and assistance with this fic I'm so happy to be yelling about porn with you once more.

Read on A03

“So, Emmrich I wanted to tell you something,” Rook started. “I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing with…all of this. I’ve never been with anyone. Romantically, I mean.”

Rook began to panick at the look on Emmrich’s face. She probably should have worded it better, but she had just said the first thing that came to her mind before she lost the nerve to say it. The night had been going so well, and she thought she was watching it fall apart right before her eyes.

“Not the first everything! I’m not a virgin,” she quickly went to correct herself. The blunt way she said it didn’t seem to soothe the shocked expression he wore. “I’ve had one or two flings over the years.”

“One or two?” Emmrich repeated slowly, as if trying to process it.

“What I mean is,” Rook kept on, “it’s all just a bit… new.”

The pause in conversation was enough to make her wince, as she awaited his response. What Rook had considered more than the difference in years between them was the difference in experience in this particular area. Weeks living with the team had meant stories had been told, and with every polite mention of a past suitor or relationship Rook had felt her stomach tie into a knot.

It had hit her in the middle of the same night that the only thing more terrifying than saying it out loud to him was for him to figure it out while they were in the middle of being intimate.

“We can move slowly.” he assured her with a smile, the same one that always seemed to put her at ease.

“Hopefully not too slow.” Rook couldn’t help herself.

Emmrich chuckled, “as you wish, my dear.” Then he added, “I’m… glad you chose me.”

“It’s been good so far,” she breathed, shifting in her seat a little.

“Oh!” He seemed so pleased with himself. “Excellent.”

“Anyway…” She looked around. “Should we enjoy the garden?”

“Certainly.”

The heat of embarrassment had long left her face, she was still warm, but it had dulled to a low simmer of excitement and contentment. With her arm tucked in his, they walked the gardens without any purpose. No rites or gathered flowers, just enjoying the general splendor as wisps danced to and fro, and meandering spirits appeared and disappeared in the periphery.

When Rook saw the looming Love in Life and Death monument she gently pulled him toward it. Her thoughts lingered on that first kiss, the gentility and sweetness of it, much as the rest after had been. The slightest hint of becoming more had been either interrupted back at the Lighthouse or by some wandering Mourn Watcher there in the gardens.

It was not that Rook was rushing it, but it was hard to ignore the press of impatience.

“I think this is my favorite spot in the gardens,” Rook said as they neared it.

“And why is that dearest?”

He knew why, she was certain by the slight glint of mischief in his eye. It made her stomach flutter, and she pushed past the nerves of feeling put on the spot.

“Just the general atmosphere,” she shrugged, but she was grinning like an idiot, she knew.

Emmrich hummed a response, taking her hand and unlooping her arm from his. She let him spin her so her back was to the monument, a recreation of the very evening that brought them to this moment. Rook felt the stone at her back as he led her, and immediately lifted herself onto her toes, looking up and ready to accept a kiss she was sure was coming.

Emmrich held her in suspense for a few moments. His hand gently cupped the curve of her jaw, the coolness of his rings against her warmed cheeks an intoxicating contrast. He tilted her head back further, eyes roving over her face and settling on her lips. The other hand very gently landed at her waist, not overbearing by any means, and Rook carelessly curled her fists around his pressed shirt as the anticipation began to become too much. Finally, he looked her in the eyes.

“This is where I ought to say something devastatingly debonair,” he said gently.

Rook laughed a little, “I am on the edge of my seat.”

“I sorely hate to disappoint, my dear,” his thumb gently rubbed the skin over her cheek bone, “but I find myself too enchanted with the idea of putting my lips to other uses to come up with anything.”

Rook’s breath hitched, she felt her smile falter in pure shock at the intense zap of desire that shot through her. “That — that’s you not knowing what to say?” She replied. “Maker, Emmrich.”

He laughed a little, unguarded and like he was a bit surprised himself. “May I?”

“Please.”

Emmrich kissed her. Similar to most of their previous kisses, it was sweet, a bit chaste except for the way he lingered in each one. The stone at her back kept her steady as his hand flexed its grip on her waist, the other sliding down her face to dip just below the collar of her shirt at the juncture where her shoulder met her neck. His long fingers splayed and tilted her head, his thumb just over the pulse point of her throat. He had to feel her heart hammering.

But he kept a reasonable distance between their bodies, just close enough that they were touching without him pressing into her at all. Each pass of their lips over each other was a test of her patience, as she surged and retreated, trying not to push the heat of them too far when he met her with the same controlled gentility. Her fingers loosened in the grip she had of his shirt, trying her best to follow his lead despite the urge in her to pull him tight against her and nip at his lower lip until he gave her an opening to slip her tongue in.

“You don’t have to hold back on my account,” he murmured against her lips.

“You’re the one holding back,” she teased.

He kissed her a little firmer then, but just as quickly as the flame had spiked he pulled himself back again. Frustration started to rear its head in her, her impatience reaching its boiling point. She could push through, she could barrel headfirst and approach this the way she had with her previous partners.

Faking it until she made it, acting confident and assertive and figuring it out as she went was not just her leadership style. It was how she had approached anything she felt uncertain about. But this was different, he was different.

So she pulled away and asked, “is it because of what I told you earlier?”

Her voice was a bit smaller than she would have liked, the self-consciousness so plainly obvious she felt that heat of embarrassment start to take over again. The slight tang of panic overtaking the excitement she felt before.

Emmrich pulled back a little to look at her. The desire in his eyes was somewhat clouded by a flicker of doubt. He was considering what to say; how to say it kindly, how to make sure it couldn’t be misunderstood. Rook almost didn’t want him to say anything at all. Maybe she should just grab him by that impossibly stiff collar and kiss him breathless so he couldn’t think about how much she hadn’t experienced in comparison to him.

“There is a bit of concern, I will admit,” he finally said. “The last thing I want is you to feel as if anything intimate is expected of you, Rook.” His expression tightened, “your eagerness is infectious, and I am enjoying it thoroughly.” His smile was tilted to one side, still tense in his self-deprecation, “almost too thoroughly, if I am being honest. But your comfort must come before all else.”

Oh, he was too good to be true. Rook had to blink a couple times, take a moment to process what she was hearing. What it felt like to be cared for. It was just a little foreign, and for a split moment she wished she was in her armor, not the soft and thin casual clothes that left her unprotected. The vulnerability was stark and a bit scary; like he had pieced together everything she hadn’t actually said out loud. Rook had been a bit smitten since he had first moved into the Lighthouse, and she hadn’t been very subtle about it either. It was a very clear conclusion: he didn’t believe that she would put herself first and he was going to have to do it for her.

And he was probably right.

It was a crossroads moment, one that was so obvious it couldn’t have been more clear if it was narrated by some unseen omniscient presence. Rook could choose in that moment to fall back into old ways, to make their connection a fleeting and desperate grab for intimacy in the face of the apocalypse. To let it be something that she would inevitably feel the need to run from when things got too uncomfortable.

Her past entanglements hadn’t been bad, but they had not been anything more than frisky fun. They were shallow and lasted no longer than a few months: both parties knowing they weren’t staying in the long run so they took and took from each other until there was nothing else either person was willing to give.

Rook could easily let this be the same. She could act crass and brave; all she had to do was pull Emmrich’s mouth back down to her own and whisper something filthy enough to make him believe she wasn’t afraid.

Or she could accept this offer of care and hand it back in kind. She could embrace the vulnerability of the fact that he wanted very much to be good to her. He had been so careful, ensuring that without a doubt she was interested in him before he even considered acting on his attraction. He had made every step very deliberately, so that even in this stage of exploration of what this could maybe become his intentions were always clear.

“I trust you, Emmrich. Do you trust me?” Rook asked.

“Of course,” he didn’t hesitate.

Rook touched his cheek, the scratch of five o’clock shadow beginning to sprout there was a tangible and grounding sensation against her palm. She didn’t miss the way he leaned ever so slightly into the touch either, bolstering her and making her certain of her decision.

“I promise I will let you know if I need things to slow down,” she assured him, “if you promise to believe me when I say I’m alright.”

“And you will tell me?”

There it was, that sliver of doubt.

“Yes. I will.”

Emmrich grabbed her hand from his face, a soft squeeze and the smallest of circles traced on the back of it as he smiled at her. With a gentle tug he placed her hand over her shoulder and leaned in again, lips pressing close and his body crowding her back against the stone. Another chaste kiss, but this time his hands sprawled over curves, grabbing through thin cloth and she lifted herself on her toes to meet him.

With each press of their lips, he seemed to let go of another bit of reservation. Rook felt herself matching each one, the tension building up again, her prior discomfort from the vulnerability dissolving the moment he groaned so quietly against her lips. He shifted slightly, turning his head and trailing his kiss to the corner of her lips. He was pulling away and suddenly nothing seemed like a worse idea.

Rook felt a noise slip past her throat, something between desperate and frustrated. Her hand tangled into his hair and pulled him back to her lips properly, giving the tiniest nip over his bottom lip before her tongue pressed in her teeth’s wake. Emmrich’s mouth opened in a gasp, before he teased his tongue against hers.

Like most things she was finding with Emmrich, even making out in the gardens flowed and ebbed in a well-balanced way that kept her on her toes. Were their prior conversations not so serious, she may have teased the good professor for snogging in the Memorial Gardens like some hormonal apprentice. The difference in height between them kept him from pressing his hips to hers, even as she lifted herself and he leant down to meet her. But her heart leapt at the idea of him grinding against her while they kissed and kissed and kissed.

Very slowly his hands slid over the curve of her waist past the swell of her hips and onto her backside. With a whine she kissed him harder if possible, and then he squeezed. The gasp she let out had her faltering in their kiss, and then with ease she was not quite expecting him to display he lifted her.

It was only the short distance to place her in a sitting position on the lowest stone tier of the monument behind her. The second supported her back as her feet dangled and she immediately opened her legs to allow him closer. At this height it was a bit more comfortable, he slotted directly against her, just about the same height as him standing and leaning over her.

Suddenly his fingers were undoing the buttons of her blouse, all the while he ducked his head to kiss at her pulse point. Rook tilted her head back, giving him all the access he could ever need, each press of his lips, teeth and tongue giving her full body goosebumps and pulling a moan from her throat.

Her shirt was open just wide enough for him to pull it down over one shoulder, his mouth painting the curve of it. A swell of cleavage had been revealed, a nimble hand spanned one of her breasts. He kneaded softly, pressing just enough to create the slightest friction of his palm against a hardened nipple and make her gasp suddenly.

Rook felt the point of no return creeping up. The sudden recognition that they were in the middle of the garden making her open her eyes to scan around them. There was an atmospheric fog that seemed to settle around the gravestones at all times, but it wasn’t enough to offer real cover.

“Emmrich,” She whispered, it sounded less like she was trying to get his attention and more like a plead given that his thumb began to circle her nipple through the cloth of her smallclothes.

For a moment she had forgotten she was trying to get his attention, the lull of the sparks it ignited in her was such a delicious temptation. He offered her a reprieve by simply squeezing her breast, allowing a logical thought to pierce the haze of arousal.

“What would your fellow Mourn Watchers say — ah,” she faltered as his teeth dug gently into the skin of her neck and he sucked, “—if they found Professor Volkarin necking in the gardens?”

“They’d say I was the most fortunate man alive or dead, certainly,” he murmured, lips not quite losing contact with the skin of her throat. “But only if they were somehow not rendered speechless by the sight of you, my dear.”

Focus, Rook.

Beating a pair of blighted Gods seemed an easier task, but she managed to find her mind.

“Emmrich,” she insisted.

Instantly, his hands and mouth stilled. But there was a moment of tense silence as he stayed where he was, his breaths coming in small pants, fingers still twitching to touch and grab. Surprisingly, he said nothing, just gathered himself for a moment. She didn’t want him to fall back into propriety, but she had to ask.

“What if someone sees us?”

“Would you like to stop?” He tilted his head, still angled so he was below and looking up at her.

“That’s not what I asked,” she challenged. “As much as I want you to ravish me right here, we don’t need to be on the Mourn Watch’s bad side for desecrating the Memorial Gardens.”

There was the slightest change in his eyes, a momentary narrowing before he came back to himself. Something going on in his mind she couldn’t quite figure out.

“I assure you,” he lifted himself to kiss her lips, “no one will be coming to disturb us.”

“How do you know?”

“I am a senior necromancer,” Emmrich told her with the slightest lilt of haughtiness, “there are privileges that come along with the position.”

“I see what you’re getting at,” she smiled. “Reanimated royal cooks and a private night in the garden,” she moved to undo the chain on his collar, the first step to undressing him, “you really are trying to impress.”

“My dear, this is only the beginning,” he delicately grabbed her hand so she had to stop fussing with his chain, and kissed each knuckle. “But if you truly are uncomfortable continuing on —“

“No,” she insisted. “No, I’m fine,” she nodded her head, “not the first time I’ve been a bit risky, and if you say no one will stumble upon us...” she leaned in to kiss him again.

Emmrich arched a brow at her. “One of your two dalliances? In public, really?”

She couldn’t tell if he was being jealous or judgemental. The only response she could find was, “come on, with the life I lead? You think no one’s ever fucked me behind a bar before?”

The unmoving look he gave her was full of as much patience as the unknown other emotion she couldn’t place. She was doing it again. Another attempt at making herself feel less self-conscious,

leaning on bravado that was her only saving grace in moments of uncertainty.

“I see.”

“I was more worried about your delicate sensibilities.”

Emmrich gave a short laugh.

“I feel like I keep saying wrong things,” she admitted, “can we get back to the kissing bit?”

He acquiesced, but this time the kisses didn’t start slow and gentle. Emmrich picked up exactly where he left off, overwhelming her with heavy draws of his tongue into her mouth. She was glad for it, reaching back for that fire that was stoking in her, and determined not to let anything douse it again.

Despite the fervor in his kisses, his hands were more soft. Teasing touches over her breasts again through fabric, still keeping some distance between them even as he was slotted between her thighs. Impatiently she grabbed for him, pulling him close so she could kiss above his collar. He smelled of some kind of cologne or maybe aftershave, lavender and sage and myrrh, she took a deep breath at the pleasantness of it before she nipped at the skin.

He let out a sigh, thumb grazing over her nipple through fabric again, and she was spurred on. She felt exposed with her top half open, while he was perfectly well kempt except for where she had wrinkled his shirt with grabbing hands. Boldness crested in her as she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him flush against her.

There was the telltale hardness of him, blocked by all the layers of his clothing and hers, but unmistakable. He grunted, a deep low sound that gave her chills, and immediately she felt the firm grind of him against her. There was far too much clothing between them for her to truly get off from it, but his mouth had dropped to the swell of her cleavage, hot tongue running across the skin and in combination it was enough to make her moan.

Emmrich stopped moving immediately, and she threw her head back with a disappointed noise. His fingers toyed with the edge of her underclothes, just barely reaching under, grazing the bare underside of her breasts. Rook sucked a sharp breath in, eyes flying open to find his lingering there where his fingers were. They flicked back to hers, and she nodded her head, running her hand up over his cheek and through his hair.

He kissed her first, sweetly this time, a soft and heart wrenching sincerity to it that she didn’t have time to process before his hand slipped completely underneath her bandeau. He sighed into her lips, squeezing the flesh in his hand. When his thumb traced over her nipple without the fabric as a barrier she moaned, louder than before and her fingers tightened in his hair.

He did it again, seeming to feed off the reaction. “You make the loveliest sounds, dearest.”

She chuckled a little, not really having the mind to find something to say back. He groped and kissed, and she rocked her hips into his seeking any kind of friction she could get. Emmrich pressed harder into her, and she heard him choke back a groan as she rolled her hips, and he shifted just slightly to pull his hips away.

A truly petulant groan left her as she grabbed at him again. “You're still holding back, Emmrich.”

“I am,” he admitted plainly.

“Don’t,” she urged. “I’m fine.”

“Trust me, my dear, I know,” he simply said, pulling his hands carefully from underneath her bandeau. “My plans for this evening are going just as I had hoped.”

Rook felt her stomach drop, “but —“

“Give me your hand, please,” he held his out and she didn’t hesitate to press her palm to his.

She expected him to be a gentleman and help her down from the ledge he had put her on. She preemptively felt the disappointment of desire unsatisfied, her stomach turning at the idea of finishing a walk around the garden so unsated with her underclothes sticking wetly to her cunt, a constant reminder of what almost was. Emmrich took her hand and she felt the slide of metal against her skin, he placed three of his gold bands on her ring finger and one on the middle finger. All six bracelets he normally wore on his right wrist were also slipped onto hers.

Rook inspected them with a tilted head, not a perfect fit but not too tight or loose enough she worried about them slipping off. The gold bangles jingled against each other as she examined the unfamiliar weight of them. She was confused, and his arm looked so bare without them, it felt incredibly intimate.

“What are you doing?” She asked him.

His hands rested on her thighs, sliding up to the belts around her waist, “if you’ll allow it, I’d like to remove these,” he ran his ringer over one of those buckles.

“Of course I’ll allow it,” Rook frowned.

“Wonderful,” he started unbuckling.

She just watched him, before her unadorned hand reached for the fabric tied at his waist. “Can I?”

“No, you may not,” he smiled, with a shake of his head still tilted down to where he was undoing her trousers. His eyes lifted to hers, amused, at the huff of annoyance she gave when she let go of the fabric.

“How are you planning on fucking me with out undressing at all?”

Emmrich had gotten the buckles undone, untucking her shirt from the trousers and began unlacing. He was quick with it, not faltering over any knots or clasps. “It seems your previous partners have made some egregious errors in their courting of you,” he told her gently, “forgive my language, but I am not going to ‘fuck you’ at all.”

The curse sounded so out of place on his tongue she almost had no idea what to say besides an inarticulate grunt of, “what?”

He untied his own sash around his waist, unfolding it and draping it across her lap. He reached underneath it, grabbing at the trousers that hung open on her and started to tug them down. Rook lifted her hips to let him, watched in confusion as he undid her boots, set them aside and sliding both underclothes and pants all the way off of her so her bare bum sat against the stone.

As he folded her trousers very neatly to set them aside, she finally found her wits again, “Emmrich? You’re sending a lot of mixed messages right now.”

He kissed her lips, stepping back between her legs. “I’m not going to take you carelessly,” he told her.

“Maybe I haven’t been clear,” she smiled, “I’d very much like it if you had your way with me, threw me over a gravestone or something.”

“The idea is incredibly tempting, my dear,” he assured her. “Do not mistake me, having you at my mercy is quite often on my mind.”

“Well you can’t say it like that and not follow through,” Rook reached for his shirt again.

“Rook,” he breathed a laugh, grabbing her hands to place them on the edge of the stone. “That privilege is something that must be earned. I will not even allow myself to look upon you in all your naked glory before I have done so.”

Rook tilted her head, “but you have -“

“Please, humor me, darling,” he kissed her. “Let me do this the right way.”

This was a dance she had no idea the steps to, but she nodded her head, ready to let him show her. It was strange, to be treated like something precious. It left her feeling off kilter, unsure how to show the same care back — but if he minded he hadn’t said so. She was so full of want for him, she hadn’t been secretive about it, but maybe he liked that. It certainly seemed like he did, given the strain in his trousers.

As Emmrich kissed her his hand slipped to the outside of her covered thighs, roaming down until he finally made contact with the skin of her calf, all the way down to her ankles, across the top of her foot. He followed a trail back up the same way, this time his hand sliding under the cummerbund draped over her lap.

In her wildest fantasies she had taken care to imagine the drag of metal across her skin from his grave gold, but she felt the weight of it on her own hand. It was somehow even more intimate to be wearing them herself, while his hand was bare as he squeezed the generous flesh of her thigh.

He began massaging lightly, the press of his fingers never moving into painful, and she groaned a little at the soothing feeling. His head tilted down for her neck again, and she was finding his favorite spot to kiss was right were he could feel her pulse beating. The tickle of his moustache painting a complex mix of sensations while he so gently sucked on the skin there.

“I fear your skin may become an insurmountable vice of mine,” he said gently.

His right hand slid down to her knee and back up the inside of her thigh. His other was tracing the curve of her torso, over her side before resting with his hand just underneath her bandeau not quite touching her breast pressing enough to feel her ribs. The anticipation was going to kill her, she was alight, nerves on fire as she wanted more — of this almost touching where she wanted him and for him to just touch her — she wasn’t sure what she would have preferred.

His right hand had avoided the apex between her thighs, coming up to trial a line over the curve of her stomach. From her belly button and down to where the thatch of hair began, his fingers scratched gently through them before detouring to her thigh again. When he finally traced his fingers over the slick inside of her thigh, her arousal smeared there, he gasped slightly.

“Maker, preserve me,” his voice was light as he spoke more to himself than her.

Rook whined, biting her tongue against a string of desperate begging.

Gentle fingers traced over her outer lips, rubbing and making her choke on the breath in her lungs. A tortuous slow exploration of her, Emmrich’s breath coming a little faster as he seemed to keep forgetting he was showering her neck with kisses — stopping with every dip into a new depth even before he reached where she was wettest for him. A gentle circle of her clit had her head thrown back with a moan that was so loud, she was almost embarrassed as he rubbed against the seam of her.

When his fingers trailed down to her entrance, he hesitated where he found how wet she was, and then groaned. “Forgive me, I —“

He dipped a single finger slowly inside of her and then pulled his hand from her. Any protest she had died when he lifted the finger to his mouth, sucking on the bare digit, and moaning at the taste of her.

“Emmrich,” Rook gasped.

But he just kissed her. The hint of her own arousal on his mouth making her feel more lewd than she had ever before, and the heat of his kiss taking any logical thought away from her. His hand slipped under the fabric again, his hand angled so he could slip a finger in her a grind his palm against her clit gently. Even when Rook gasped, unable to kiss back, his mouth was on hers, tongue flicking and teeth grabbing.

Another finger slipped into her, her arousal making the stretch easy but no less exhilarating. His bracelets around her wrist jangled against each other as she gripped at his shoulder, trying to find something to ground her, trying to touch any part of him she could. The stone at her back held her upright, and she threw her head back at a shock of pleasure when his hand finally took hold of her breast beneath her smallclothes, mouth dipping to skirt the edge of the cloth and take another pert nipple through it.

An orgasm was approaching almost embarrassingly quickly. She spoke his name again, a desperate plea that he responded to with only a moan of his own. Her cunt clenched around his fingers, hips jolting forward, and her fingers nearly aching with the grip she had on him.

“Yes,” he murmured, pulling away to watch her. “There you are, I have you.”

Rook crumbled, panting and moaning, each roll of her hips gracefully matched by his hand. He pinched her nipple, and her legs drifted further open, back sliding down the stone a bit so she was at an almost uncomfortable angle. His hand never stopped, palm grinding against her clit, fingers pumping at just the right angle with the slightest crook of them upwards dragging against something truly sinful within her. It curled her toes and made her back arch against her will, all the while she kept fluttering her eyes open to watch him watch her.

His mouth was parted, just slightly smiling, he may have looked cocky, too pleased with himself, except for the raw focus in his eyes. It was like the world had fallen away entirely, and she was the only one who existed to him. Hungry, pleading and slightly awestruck. He was beautiful.

The waves of pleasure in her died down, and she opened her mouth to say something to him — but the train of thought flew away when he slipped his fingers out of her and used them to start rubbing a slow pattern over her clit. Testing the sensitivity, and watching for every micro expression.

Need flared brightly in her again. So soon after, she felt insatiable, like she had to keep that feeling of release going forever. And he was happy to oblige her.

“Again?” He asked.

“Yeah — yeah, again,” Rook gasped. “Please!”

Emmrich faltered at the begging, something flashing over his face that spelled out nights of wrung out pleasure and his firm hand correcting her when she slipped up. His pace quickened, his body pressing as close as he could to her without impeding his task.

“This is what you deserve, Rook,” he told her between kisses. “To be undone, at the hands of someone who knows how to piece you back after.” He pressed his forehead to hers, “I can hardly believe you chose me.” When she tangled her fingers into his now completely ruffled hair and tugged slightly, he groaned, “I am beyond fortunate you did.”

It was hard to fully process what he was saying. “Wanted you — from the beginning,” was all she could manage.

Emmrich stuttered a laugh, rewarding her with a pinch of her nipple again. “Insatiable minx.”

Her second orgasm came with a similar speed, but this time carried on so long she could hardly form words. Perhaps pleasure made time roll on slower than she could tell, his unrelenting pace making her eyes roll back into her head and all words cease. An internal chant of begging for more rang in her own ears but she couldn’t quite make her lips form the words.

It was entirely overwhelming, the feeling of wanting to be splayed out for him. To let him have her whatever way he wanted. She wanted to beg him to never ever stop until she was crying and mindless.

“Good. Give me another,” Emmrich said, more a demand than a question as his other hand slipped out of her bandeau and beneath the cummerbund lain over her legs. All while one hand still played with different pressures and ministrations on her clit, the other pressed two fingers to her again.

He caught himself, “is that alright?”

All Rook knew was that she wanted more, had to have more. She was all desire, all greedy lust, ready to do whatever he asked as long as he didn’t stop. It was terrifying, it was liberating, but it felt safe.

“Yes,” she gasped. Finding a shred of her mind through the haze to laugh, “if you think you can manage it.”

His fingers plunged into her at the challenge, wrenching a gasp from her. “Challenging me in this area is not your best idea, Rook.”

“Are you sure?” Rook grinned, drunk on pleasure, “I’m getting exactly what I want out of it.”

“You’re much too capable of speech, darling,” Emmrich grinned back. “I shall have to rectify that.”

He was still fully clothed, and no intimate part of her was exposed to him, but it was perhaps the filthiest thing she had ever done. He had said it was just the beginning, and she believed him wholeheartedly. Even with the slick sounds of his fingers pumping in her, the way she had abandoned any kind of self-preservation to moan, and his mouth latched onto her nipple through the fabric. There was so much more on the horizon, and she was already on the verge of begging him to abandon his vow to ‘properly’ court her.

Something was happening that she was unsure of, a stirring in her cunt that was not entirely unfamiliar. A brand new pressure, something that had teased itself in her before but never was allowed to fully bloom. In a slight panic, Rook opened her eyes, shock and awe written in the way her lips opened to pant through the sensation.

He cooed at her, gentle encouragement and praises that made her want to please him so badly it was concerning. “Lovely, my dear,” she caught him saying, “you fall apart so beautifully for me.”

“Emmrich, I —“

A sigh, “my name on your lips is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s — I’m going to —“ she felt like she had to warn him.

“Yes, please,” he murmured, sounding just as desperate as her, “you’re so good to me.”

Rook fell apart again. Emmrich pulled his fingers from her as he felt her tighten around him, and to her own shock, she felt a dam break in her, a burst of wetness painting his fingers and the stone beneath her.

Emmrich let out a whine that made her ravenous, it was needy and raw . Urgently, he kept rubbing over her clit, and it happened again. The sound wet and messy and altogether filthy. She felt tears stinging her eyes, her legs shaking and wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her body. Everything felt more vibrant, colors, sounds, every physical sensation magnified.

“Magnificent, Rook,” his voice lowered again. “Absolutely perfect.”

The praise hit her hard and she sobbed when he repeated the same ministrations once more. When he went to do it again she gasped, feeling like she might actually die. She was too sensitive, the stone at her back was beginning to bite and she was honestly a little scared at how her body wanted to have more still.

“Wait,” she gasped. “Wait — it’s too much — I —“

Emmrich immediately stopped, pulling his hands away to rest on her thighs. “It seems I got carried away.”

“No, no,” Rook shook her head frantically, trying to put words together in a rush to console him. “No, it was perfect.”

“Breathe,” he reminded her, rubbing soothingly on the skin.

Rook took in a heavy breath. He was watching her closely, but he leaned in to kiss her brow. While she caught her breath, leaning boneless against the stone, he started to clean her up, using the fabric still draped over her. Gently he wiped the mess away between her legs, and on his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, still getting her breath back. “I made a mess I didn’t even know I could make.”

Emmrich faltered for a moment, swallowing audibly. “The last thing you need to do is apologize, Rook, I’m glad I could enlighten you.”

He was being strange. For a moment he didn’t touch her at all, his hands firmly on the stone on either side of her, hips leaned back and taking deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” Concern made her sit up straighter, his bangles clacking against each other on her wrist when she reached out to touch his face.

Emmrich’s eyes were glued to the jewelry on her skin for a moment. “I’m fine, dearest.”

He flicked his eyes to hers, another wry smile on his lips that didn’t fit the bliss she was feeling at the moment. The pupils of his eyes were blown out so wide the green of his eyes were barely visible. Still he patiently watched while she caught her breath, leaning boneless against the stone. He was still straining against his trousers. Each breath he took was measured, and intentional.

“Let me get use of my legs back,” she said suddenly, “and I’ll take care of you.”

“No need, darling,” he assured her.

“But you just —“

“Pardon me, Rook, but I know perfectly well what I did,” he cut her off. “It was what I intended to do, I just seemed to have… miscalculated my ability to keep my composure.”

“You don’t have to keep your composure with me,” she insisted.

“I truly appreciate that,” he said with eyes closed as he straightened up, tall and proud, despite sporting quite an obvious erection. “But tonight was about you.”

“It can be about us.”

“It is,” he said gently, then continuing to clean up. “But you said you’d let me do this properly. You deserve to be courted selflessly.”

Rook leveled him with a look, half exasperated at this surprising new stubbornness and increasingly fond of his commitment to making her feel special. He laughed a little.

“Put that look away, Rook,” he said, “it’s an erection, it’s hardly going to kill me.”

“But I want to make you feel good.”

Emmrich gathered up his cummerbund in his hands, licked his lips slightly and looked at her. “You’ve given me a great gift,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “the evidence of your pleasure will be more than enough to satisfy me.”

Rook was spent, or should have been anyway, but the flare in her body was instantaneous. He helped redress her while she imagined him alone in the laboratory back at the Lighthouse, holding the fabric to his nose while he stroked himself. Would he wrap it around himself, stroke himself through it? And what had she been missing out on her entire life when his special brand of seduction and devotion was already driving her quickly towards madness?

“Emmrich,” she said, looking down at him where he was on one knee as he started putting her boots back on her feet. “Thank you.”

“It’s quite literally my pleasure, darling.”

She believed him.

Thank you for reading!

#emmrich x rook #emmrook #emmrich fanfic #emmrich fic #dragon age fanfiction #olly writes

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monbons · 2 days ago

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I wrapped up this epic fic exactly two weeks ago. I’ve missed these boys more than I can put into words…

Which is why I am so pleased to share Making Tarts and Kissing Boys Simon today. ❤️

Check out my COC Day 26: Savour post for a video of this gorgeous doll!

And if you haven’t read my fic yet, you should. It’s so good.

The Boy Next Door

Rating: M

Chapters: 13/13 (word count: 46k)

Summary: Simon is a disaster. An utter disappointment. (Or at least, he feels that way.) Looking for a fresh start and some direction, he moves in with his Gran, who happens to live next door to the most mysterious boy Simon has ever met. A boy who never leaves his home. A boy no one ever visits. Determined to befriend his lonely neighbour, Simon ends up changing both of their lives in the process.

Posting Schedule: New chapter every Friday.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Epilogue

#the boy next door #bubble baz #making tarts and kissing boys #I loved writing this fic and you’ll love the little world I built

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chicgeekgirl89 · 22 hours ago

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A/N: @lemonlyman-dotcom. My darling. I HAVE CONNED YOU!! This is like in the Hallmark movies when you find out he/she was really a prince(ss)/secret millionaire/the owner of the evil corporation all along. YOUR SECRET SANTA IS MEEEEEEEEE!!! The Christmas tree fic is a FAKE!! I pretended to moan and groan about how I couldn't get this fic written BUT REALLY I WAS DELIGHTEDLY CRAFTING IT FOR YOU THE WHOLE TIME!!! Oh the evil joy it brought me every time I posted a little snippet of complete malarky and you reblogged it MWAHAHAHA!! 😈 How did I do? Were you fooled by my outstanding acting? Hehe, I hope you were and that this is a complete surprise! I took your @tarlos-santa prompt idea about Owen and Carlos teaming up to get T.K. the perfect gift and ran with it. It's full of holiday shenanigans and little easter eggs for you, good luck finding them all! (Also I hope you like this badly photoshopped header, I am delighted by the low quality badness of it lol!)

Read on AO3

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Carlos freezes, his lips pressed against the soft skin that lies just below T.K.’s bellybutton. His left index finger is hooked into the elastic waistband of T.K.’s boxers and he’s already pulled them down low enough to see the sharp jut of his husband’s hipbone. He lifts his head, slightly alarmed. “Am I sure I want to give my husband a pre-work blowjob? Well I was, but now I’m not.”

“No, not that. Please keep doing that,” T.K. says, shifting a little bit, his hands going up behind his head. “I meant are you sure you want to go Christmas shopping with my dad today?”

“Oh, that.” Carlos presses another kiss into him. “Why wouldn’t I want to go?”

“Because my dad is…a lot,” T.K. says, then sucks in a breath when Carlos scrapes his teeth over that sexy hipbone. “And he’s terrible at Christmas shopping.”

“I know,” Carlos mumbles against T.K.’s skin. “That’s why I’m going.”

A week ago Owen had given him a call and invited him out for lunch and Christmas shopping. Surprised, but also pleased, he’d readily agreed and they’d made plans to meet at a restaurant in The Domain and hit up some of the stores afterward. Owen had texted Carlos last night to remind him to wear comfortable, practical footwear and bring reusable bags.

“Maybe,” he says, nipping at the sensitive skin in the crux of T.K.’s thigh so that he squirms, “if I go, you’ll actually get something you like this year.”

“You really think that you can convince my dad to buy something normal for Christmas?” T.K. scoffs. “Good luck.”

Carlos looks up at him again. “You underestimate the cow eyes?”

“You’re going to use the cow eyes on my dad?”

“If I have to.”

“You’re going to use the cow eyes on my dad to stop him from buying me a fifteen pound block of imported cheese from Italy because the salesman tells him it’s a good deal? Or a decorative, three foot tall, hand carved horse statue that he thinks matches the aesthetics of the loft? Or—“

“I will take care of it,” Carlos assures him.

“What if he—“

“T.K.!”

“What?”

“How about we stop talking about your dad while I’m trying to blow you?”

He tugs T.K.’s boxers down, freeing his morning wood and T.K. lets out a hiss as the cool air of the loft touches his skin along with Carlos’ fingers. “Okay, yeah,” he says, his voice tight with the beginnings of pleasure. “We can do that.”

Two hours later Carlos is showered and dressed and pulling into the parking lot on the north side of the Domain. He checks the mall map and heads toward Flower Child, a restaurant with great vegan options and fresh ingredients.

Owen is sitting at a table outside, a Yankees hat on his head, and he stands when Carlos gets close, excitement on his face. “Carlos, good to see you,” he says, pulling him in for a brief hug.

“Thank you for the invitation.”

Owen looks at him sympathetically as they sit. “I know this year is going to be hard,” he says. “And I know Christmas shopping with me isn’t the same as doing it with your dad, but I want to help where I can.”

Carlos bites back a snort of laughter. He and his dad never once Christmas shopped together. His dad hated shopping. It’s very sweet that Owen—who loves shopping and would consider an afternoon at the mall with his son a highlight of his week—thinks Gabriel and Carlos would have enjoyed doing the same, but honestly the idea of trying to drag his dad around for hours buying presents is hilarious.

“That’s very thoughtful Owen, thank you,” Carlos says, hoping with all his might that his dad is watching down from somewhere and laughing too.

“I took the liberty of ordering us both their seasonal rose petal lemonade,” Owen says. “Have you had the Glow Bowl here? The shiitake combined with the sunflower sauce is di-vine.”

“That sounds good,” Carlos says, flipping the menu over to take a look.

“The last time I brought T.K. here he had the roasted beet and organic apple salad.”

“I think I remember that,” Carlos says with a smile. His father-in-law has a penchant for taking menu items very seriously, a fun quirk that has carried over to T.K. His husband gets very excited anytime they try a new restaurant. Although he usually ends up liking Carlos’ meal better than his own, stealing bites until Carlos offers to switch.

He ends up ordering the Glow Bowl and Owen decides to go wild and try the Brussels sprouts and organic kale salad after some banter with their server. “So,” Owen says, taking a sip of his lemonade. “How’s the new job?”

“Not so new anymore,” Carlos says. It’s been almost eight months at this point, but he and Owen really haven’t spent any significant time together since he started with the Rangers outside of professional reasons. He’s barely had time for his husband let alone anyone else. “I feel like I’m starting to find my place though. It’s different from beat work.”

“I’d imagine so. The hat and the belts alone are quite the change,” Owen comments.

Carlos chuckles. “Yeah it’s definitely a look.”

“Well, it’s one you wear quite well. How’s your mom?”

His smile dims. “She’s okay. The holidays are hard. She and my dad had a lot of traditions. But my tías and my sisters have been around a lot, so that helps.”

“And she has a son who is carrying on his father’s legacy,” Owen says. “I’m sure that helps too.”

Carlos shrugs, letting his fingers hug the glass in front of him, the condensation making them slick. “I guess.”

“You are humble to a fault Carlos,” Owen says. “I’m sure both of your parents are proud of you. I know I am. The way you’ve handled things this last year is impressive.”

“It doesn’t feel impressive.” Vulnerability slips into his tone. It’s not something he allows often, but his father-in-law pulled him back from the edge of making one of the biggest, most irreparable mistakes of his life. He’s already seen Carlos at his worst; admitting that he’s been struggling won’t do any damage. “It feels like I’m barely keeping my head above water most days,” he admits.

“The first year of marriage is always challenging,” Owen tells him factually. “I would know, I’ve done it several times. You and T.K. have faced some unique circumstances that have made it even more difficult. But you’re still together, working on yourselves, your relationship, your careers. That is impressive. Don’t forget to let yourself celebrate it.”

“Thanks,” Carlos says, dropping his eyes as his cheeks flush. “That means a lot.”

“Good.” Owen taps the table, his face serious. “Now, let’s talk about T.K.’s birthday. I have some ideas.”

They eat and talk with companionable ease. Carlos steers Owen away from the idea of hiring a mariachi band and circus performers for the party, but does concede to hiring a DJ. They also decide to have it catered by Carlos and T.K.’s favorite taco truck; the one that makes homemade churros that are to die for.

When they finish eating they throw away their garbage and Owen looks at him with renewed vigor. “So,” he says, “where should we start?”

“Well I have a few ideas—”

“So do I! Come on, let me show you!”

Carlos follows his father-in-law down the line of stores. Even though it’s seventy-five degrees outside the place feels festive. There are windows decked out with wreaths and snowmen and Christmas trees, and Mariah Carey is blasting over the speakers. Families walk by, some smiling, others arguing. There are little kids dressed in their holiday best, ready for family photos, and a few melting down over toys that Santa won’t be bringing for several more weeks.

They walk into a store selling fitness equipment and Owen gestures grandly to a large black tub. “An ice bath!”

Carlos tries to school his face into something neutral. “An ice bath?”

“They are all the rage in the health and fitness industry right now. They boost your metabolism, provide stress relief, reduce inflammation, and improve your mood.”

“Mhm,” Carlos says, fully aware of the ice bath craze, but seeing for the first time just how difficult it might be to sway his father-in-law away from some of his more zany gift ideas.

Owen’s face falls in a way that is so reminiscent of T.K.’s disappointed face that Carlos feels a pang of guilt. “You don’t like it.”

“No, I—it’s a great idea,” Carlos says. “I’m just…I’m not sure where we’d put it in the loft.” He tries to emphasize how small and unsuited the loft is to this kind of gift without saying it aloud.

“Ah!” Owen says. “That’s the thing! This one is completely collapsible. Store it in the closet until you want it and then inflate it with one of these pumps in less than twenty minutes.” He grabs one off the shelf and holds it up to show Carlos. “It’s a cinch!”

“It…yeah. Seems…easy,” Carlos says, wondering how the hell he’s going to steer this ship to something more appropriate for T.K.

“And,” Owen says, “it’s really two for the price of one. Because you both can use it. Not at the same time obviously, it’s a very small tub.”

“Right,” Carlos says.

Owen eyes him critically. “Hm…you don’t seem to love the idea.”

“Oh no, I mean, if you think T.K.—“

“No, no, I can see it in your eyes. This isn’t the one. Not to worry, I have other options.”

He marches down a few aisles, but before they can find whatever it is he’s got his mind on, a smiling employee blocks their path. “Hello gentlemen. Finding everything you need?” she asks.

“Ah, not quite yet,” Owen tells her. “We are shopping for my son. This is his husband, Carlos.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says and something in her eyes hooks onto them. “You know, I’m not sure what exactly you’re in the market for, but we are having a sale on our elite face shape massagers.”

“Face shape massager?” Carlos asks in confusion.

She whips out a white box with a circular shaped device on the inside. “Yes! This little piece of technology can help reduce the appearance of double chins and improve skin quality! Would you like to give it a try?”

“Um, no, that’s okay,” Carlos says. “You know I really think we need to be moving on, right Owen?”

“No, no!” Owen says. “Give it a try. It can’t hurt. We Strand men have strong jawlines and I’m sure T.K. would like to keep his intact as the years go by. Let’s see how it works.”

Before Carlos can protest further the woman is looping the device over his head, his jaw clamping shut at the pressure. She pushes a button and red light illuminates his skin while the entire thing begins to vibrate. “Can you feel how the photons lift and firm the skin?” she asks.

“Mhmm,” Carlos says, the sound vibrating along with the massager.

“That is incredible,” Owen says, taking a step closer so he can get a better look. “It has red and blue infra lights?”

“It does! And it works even better when combined with our Cleopatra LED Light Mask,” she says, showing them a plastic mask that would make even Hannibal Lecter flee in terror. Carlos can only imagine how T.K. would use that to torture him, leaning over him in the middle of the night, his face lit by the red glow of the lights…

Carlos rips the massager off his face and hands it back to the woman. “Thank you so much for your time, but I think we’re going to go a different direction.”

"I don’t know Carlos, these both seem very reasonably priced,” Owen says, checking out the tag.

“You know what, I actually think T.K. already has both of these,” Carlos says in desperation. He mentally casts around for a believable lie. “…Marjan got them for his birthday… last year.”

“Oh, well, in that case—“

“What about for you, sir?” the woman asks Owen, her skills at capturing her prey honed to perfection after years of retail work. “I can see you take excellent care of your skin. Your pores are nearly non-existent.”

Owen beams and fifteen minutes later they walk out the door with two bags of “me-gifts” for him to put under his own Christmas tree. “Are you sure you don’t want some of these under eye de-puffers?” Owen asks, “They come in a two-pack.”

“I’m good,” Carlos says. “Thank you though.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Will do.”

“Okay,” Owen claps his hands. “So we’ve struck out on T.K. so far, but I have another idea.”

“Great!” Carlos says.

Owen looks at him with great confidence. “A hat.”

“A hat?”

“A hat.”

Forty-five minutes later Carlos loses the hat battle and they leave a Western wear shop with a brown leather cowboy hat for T.K. that he is going to love, but will have no practical use for outside of their bedroom. Owen is thrilled that his son can now match with Carlos, and Carlos is just glad they got the brown one and not the shiny blue one with silver stars.

He offers to take their bags to the car since they’re starting to get in the way and he’s on his way back, trying to figure out how he’s going to convince his father-in-law to go to Dick’s Sporting Goods and buy some batting gloves that are actually on T.K.’s wish list. Owen will probably dislike this idea because it is both practical and reasonably priced.

Carlos is plotting his plan of attack when a hand reaches out and grabs him, jerking him behind a sign with a map of the mall on it. “Whoa, hey!” he says, before realizing it’s Owen who has latched onto his arm. “What’s going on?”

“Look. Over there.”

Carlos follows the line of his finger to a kiosk selling cellphone cases and accessories. “Owen, what am I looking at?”

“That guy.”

“The one that looks like Santa?” The jolly, bearded fellow is talking to the seller at the kiosk, smiling and laughing.

“And the other guy.”

A shifty looking man, younger than the bearded grandfatherly type who is talking to the salesperson, is lurking near the stand too. “Okay…” Carlos says.

“I’ve been following them since you left. I’m pretty sure they just shoplifted from Bath and Body Works. And it looks like they’re about to do it again. We need to stop them.”

“Owen, that’s a pretty serious accusation. Are you sure that’s really what you saw?”

“The jolly one was distracting the workers with his holiday charm and I’m pretty sure the shifty one put several hand sanitizers in his pockets.”

Carlos barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Pretty sure?”

“There was a stand of candles in the way, but I know I’m very sure he was shoving them in by the handfuls.”

“Then let’s go tell a mall security guard.”

“All they’re going to do is call APD. You can arrest them now and prevent more crime from happening before APD can even get here.”

“I can’t arrest them because you think you saw them do something,” Carlos says.

Owen sighs. “Just watch. You’ll see.”

As they watch the shifty guy moves away from the stand and slinks toward another store a little further down. Carlos relaxes his shoulders. “See? Nothing happening here. Let’s check out—“

He’s interrupted by a huge crash as an entire shelf of the cellphone kiosk hits the floor, sending things flying everywhere. Everyone in the area stops and stares as the kiosk worker reels backward and falls to the floor.

Owen and Carlos move simultaneously. “Whoa, easy there,” Owen says as the kiosk worker tries to sit up. “That was a nasty fall. Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m okay,” he says, wincing as he pushes himself upright. “I don’t know what happened.”

“It looks like someone removed the pins from this shelf,” Carlos says, examining it.

“Removed the pins? Why would someone do that?”

“Could have been a prank of some kind,” Carlos says.

“Or it could have been someone trying to create a distraction,” Owen says, giving Carlos a meaningful look.

“A distraction?” The guy looks confused. “What?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carlos tells him. “Here, we’ll help you clean this up.”

They spend a few minutes picking up cellphone bits and bobs and helping the guy get the shelf back into place. “Is that everything?” Owen asks.

The guy looks around. “Yeah. I think so. Thank you guys for your help, I’m sure you have other things to get back to.”

As soon as they’re out of earshot Owen shakes his head. “Told you. Shoplifters.”

“Owen…”

“I know, you think I’m crazy. But where are that Santa guy and his shifty elf helper now, huh? Did they stick around to help? No. I bet you that shifty guy loosened that shelf on purpose and then he and Santa grabbed things from one of these nearby stores while we were distracted.”

“Or,” Carlos says pragmatically, “the shelf was never installed correctly and fell on its own.” He smiles and nods toward the sporting goods store. “How do we feel about some batting gloves?”

Owen does buy the batting gloves, but Carlos suspects it’s only because he’s preoccupied with his fictional shoplifter case. He keeps looking around, trying to be casual about it, but failing miserably. Strand men are great at a lot of things; subtlety is not one of them.

“You’re still thinking about those guys, huh?” Carlos asks as they walk out of Dick’s Sporting Goods.

“I know in my gut that they’re up to no good, Carlos,” Owen says. “You see a lot of shady people in my line of work.”

“More than in mine?” Carlos asks skeptically.

“Okay, fair point. But are you really telling me you don’t think they looked a little suspicious?”

Carlos mentally reviews what he saw earlier. “They definitely looked like they could be trouble. But we have no proof. Unless we see something else, there’s nothing we can do.”

“I’m so glad you agree,” Owen says. “I think it’s time for further investigation.”

Carlos stops walking, his brow furrowing in surprise. “Further investigation?”

“Come on. We’re making a little detour. I hope you know what you want for Christmas.”

Carlos follows him toward the center of the mall where a giant Christmas display has been set up and fake snow flurries from the sky. There’s a large gingerbread cottage, fake reindeer, a candy-cane lined path, mounds of cotton acting as the only snowfall Texas will see this year, and the centerpiece of it all is a gigantic throne upon which sits a jolly Santa who is holding two screaming toddlers while an elf attempts to get a picture worthy of a Christmas card.

“Owen, what are we doing here?” Carlos asks. Two men hanging around a kid-friendly area sans children is not a good look.

“I heard that Santa guy talking earlier. He doesn’t just look like Santa, he is one of the mall Santas. The scrawny guy is an elf. And I know where their green room is.” He takes a look around and then ducks under one of the candy cane striped ribbons that line the area to keep pedestrians out. “Follow my lead,” he says and then drops out of sight into a mound of cotton snow.

“Owen!” Carlos hisses, dropping to his own knees instinctually so that both of them are now hidden in the piles of fluff. “Owen what are you doing?”

“Investigating. This way,” Owen whispers over his shoulder, beckoning Carlos forward.

He really has no choice. Owen is going to do this whether Carlos follows him or not. So Carlos crawls on his hands and knees after his father-in-law, past reindeer legs and lollipop stems, until they reach the base of the gingerbread house.

Owen points silently toward a cutout window and, like something out of a cheesy, 90’s Christmas film, they both rise up underneath it, trying to listen and peek over the sill without being seen.

Sure enough the Santa look alike and his scrawny elf partner are both inside. “Ugh. Only like fifteen hand sanitizers and a couple hand lotions,” the scrawny guy says, shoving merchandise into a large blue duffle bag. “Got some decent jewelry from Kendra Scott while everyone was distracted with that cell phone kiosk though.”

“I told you. We have to keep it small. Otherwise people will get suspicious. Besides, we got that laptop last week and all those clothes from Anthropologie. Those are worth a lot on resale.” Santa takes a sip from his coffee cup. “I made almost ten grand off a mall in El Paso last year. Trust me. This’ll be worth it if we can make it a couple more weeks.”

“It had better be. This elf costume itches,” the scrawny guy retorts, reaching for a red and green costume hanging from a hook on the wall.

Owen motions to Carlos and they crawl back out toward the regular part of the mall. “There you have it,” Owens says as they stand. “Proof. Let’s bust in there and arrest them.”

“You aren’t authorized to arrest anyone. And I’m off duty,” Carlos says. “There are lots of bystanders around. This isn’t a violent crime. We need to call it in first.”

“Okay, so call away.”

“I will,” Carlos says. “Keep an eye on them, let me know if they go anywhere.”

“You got it,” Owen says.

Carlos sends a mental apology to his dad. He’d been really annoyed all those times Gabriel had gotten caught up in one of Owen Strand’s schemes. But now he can see that it’s a very slippery slope and once you start sliding you can’t stop.

He places a call, explains the situation and confirms that officers will be arriving shortly. Relieved that this is almost over, he turns back to tell Owen they need to stick around until APD arrives, but Owen has vanished

Frantically Carlos scans the area, his eyes landing in horror on the line of children and parents waiting eagerly to meet Santa. Sometime in the last ten minutes their suspects have taken center stage, Santa on his throne and Scrawny taking photos. Owen is up next in line, the woman behind him eyeing him suspiciously as she holds tightly to the hand of an eager little boy in a sweater with a T-Rex wearing reindeer antlers on its head.

Before Carlos can even move, Scrawny, now dressed in full red and green elf regalia, calls Owen forward and he marches up toward Santa’s throne. “Oh no,” Carlos whispers under his breath as he jogs over to the line. “Excuse me,” he says, trying to push toward the front.

“Hey! No cutting! Get in the back!” an irate father yells.

Another elf with a headset puts both hands out to stop Carlos from moving further. “Sir! Sir! You have to wait at the end of the line!”

“This is official Texas Ranger business,” Carlos tells her, his heart pounding as he watches Owen step right up to their suspects.

“Right, sure it is,” she scoffs.”

“Buddy, what do you want?” Santa asks, suspicion in his voice, despite the smile on his face.

“Owen, stop!” Carlos calls desperately, pushing past the headset elf who immediately begins calling for security.

Either Owen doesn’t hear or he doesn’t care, his voice carrying over the din of the crowd. “What I want to know is, why you think it’s acceptable to use the good name of Santa Claus for criminal activity,” he says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Santa tells him. “Ho, ho, ho, is this some kind of joke?”

“It most certainly is not a joke,” Owen says. “Santa is supposed to give gifts away, not steal them for himself.”

“Okay, get out of here,” Scrawny the elf says, marching toward him.

“I will not get out of here,” Owen says hotly. “The two of you are robbing the stores of this mall and I won’t stand for it. Not at Christmas.”

“Buddy, you knock it off right now,” Santa says, his twinkly persona dropping away as he gets to his feet.

“You don’t deserve to wear this suit,” Owen tells him, poking a finger at his chest. “We have evidence of what you’ve done. Let’s not make a scene in front of all these families. The respectable thing to do here is to calmly turn yourselves over to the authorities.”

Owen is right. That would be the respectable thing to do. But this is not a respectable Santa.

Instead, he runs. And Owen goes after him.

“Owen! Wait!” Carlos yells, vaulting a gumdrop fence to try and get closer.

It’s too late. Owen takes a flying leap and tackles Santa into a snowbank, knocking a fake reindeer’s head off in the process as the crowd around the display gasps in shock and Run, Run Rudolph begins to blast over the speakers.

“Stop! Texas Ranger!” Carlos yells, and then ducks as Scrawny grabs a giant candy cane and swings it at his head.

Carlos catches the candy cane in both hands and grabs on tightly. “Drop it!” he orders.

Scrawny refuses to let go and they wrestle over it for a minute until Carlos manages to rip it out of his hands, chucking it to the side. “Get on your knees,” he says, but Scrawny is scrappy. He lunges forward and catches Carlos around the middle, sending both of them sprawling onto the floor.

Carlos grunts as he lands flat on his back, the air immediately knocked from his lungs. Scrawny takes advantage of that to deliver a devastating blow to his jaw that sends pain exploding through Carlos’ face.

On instinct more than skill he manages to hook a leg around Scrawny and roll them both over, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the floor. “Stop moving,” he orders between gritted teeth. “Turn over.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Scrawny yells.

“Yeah well, you can tell the officers all about that when they get here,” Carlos huffs out, shoving the man onto his front and pinning his hands behind his back.

His assailant subdued, he looks up and find that Owen has Santa in a headlock. “Get off of me!” Santa yells.

“You, are a very bad Santa,” Owen says breathlessly as blood pools in a cut on his lip and a black eye begins blooming around his eye socket.

“He’s hurting Santa!” The yell of a small child catches Carlos’ attention and his face heats as he realizes how many onlookers are gaping at them, cellphones taking video that is likely going to break the internet at some point later today.

“Owen let him go!” Carlos calls as mall security appears in the distance, one of them cruising in on a Segway that has been decorated in red and green tinsel garland.

Owen releases Santa, both of them doubling over in pain as Carlos pulls Scrawny to his feet. The Segway security guard skids to a stop and approaches him warily. “I’m Carlos Reyes, a Major with the Texas Rangers,” Carlos tells him. “These two have been stealing from stores in the mall all day. I have APD on the way.”

“We’ve been getting reports of items missing,” the officer says. “Didn’t ever think it would be Santa and his elf though.”

“Do you have somewhere to hold these two until they get here?” Carlos asks.

“Yes, sir.”

Carlos hands off Scrawny as another two guards grab Santa and plop him down into the back of a golf cart, securing his hands with zip ties.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks Owen. It’s hard to get the words out, his jaw aching more and more with each syllable as it begins to swell.

“He got a couple good shots in,” Owen says, swiping at the blood on his lip. “I’ve had worse though.”

“You should have let me handle it,” Carlos says.

“Sorry Carlos, I know you’re good. But you’re not good enough to take on Santa and his elf,” Owen tells him.

Someone from mall security gets them ice and then APD finally shows up. Carlos has just finished giving his statement to an officer when EMS arrives. He groans when he sees who it is. “We’re in trouble.”

Owen follows his gaze and winces. “Oh yeah. We are.”

Tommy, Nancy, and T.K. are moving toward them and Carlos can spot the exact moment they get close enough to realize who they’re going to be helping today because all three of them freeze on the spot. T.K.’s eyes go wide and then a mixture of worry and fury crosses his face as he picks up the pace and beats his partner and his boss to their sides.

“What happened?” he demands, kneeling down and putting a hand on Carlos’ thigh.

“There was a situation that needed to be dealt with and we handled it,” Owen says and T.K. shoots him a look of fury.

“What does that mean?”

“It means Santa was up to no good and we stopped it,” Carlos says, suddenly feeling very tired.

T.K. opens his mouth, but Tommy and Nancy reach them at that point and they have their own questions. “Well this is a bit of a surprise,” Tommy says, reaching for the ice that Owen is holding on his eye. “What on earth have you two been up to today?”

“Yeah Captain Strand, I thought you had worked through the anger issues,” Nancy says, attaching a pulse oximeter to Carlos’ index finger.

“This wasn’t anger. This was holiday related justice,” Owen says primly.

“More like holiday related shenanigans,” T.K. mutters under his breath, but the concerned eyes he shoots at Carlos and the steady rubbing of his hand up and down Carlos’ thigh for comfort bely that his anger is really just worry.

“Okay, both of you, tell us what hurts,” Tommy commands.

In the end they get taken to the hospital for x-rays. Owen is pronounced fine, no damage done to his eye socket, although he’ll have one hell of a black eye, and Carlos’ jaw isn’t broken, but it is badly bruised. Scrawny really packed a punch. He’s relieved when he’s finally back home in bed, T.K. fussing over the comforter and the ice pack he’s holding to his face.

“Is the ice too cold?” T.K. asks. “Are you hungry? Of course you’re hungry, it’s like eight o’clock. I’m going to make you some soup.”

Carlos has a feeling he won’t be eating solids for several days, and soup does sound good; lunch with Owen feels like weeks ago at this point. But he catches T.K.’s hand and tugs him down onto the bed instead. “In a minute,” Carlos says. “Sit with me for a bit first.”

T.K. perches on the edge a frown on his face as he brushes a hand through Carlos’ curls. “I shouldn’t have let you go with my dad today. I knew something like this would happen.”

“How could you possibly have known something like this would happen?” Carlos asks, cracking an incredulous smile and then wincing when it sends throbs of pain through his face.

“Because that’s how it always is with my dad. If there’s trouble, he’s going to find it. He’s almost gotten us killed twice. He went undercover with a white nationalist group. He bought a horse and kept it at the firehouse for weeks. It’s like he literally can’t help himself.”

“He did the right thing today though,” Carlos says. “Those guys had stolen thousands of dollars worth of stuff from the shops in the mall.”

“I know, but I wish you hadn’t been in the middle of it,” T.K. grumbles, his hand coming up to gently cup Carlos’ bruised jaw. “Did you get any shopping done? Or did you spend the entire time playing detective?”

“Oh we got some shopping done,” Carlos says. “And I tried. I really tried babe. But your dad is…”

“Stubborn? Difficult? Unpredictable?”

Carlos nods. “All of those things.”

“So? What should I look forward to getting for Christmas this year?”

“How do you feel about hats…?”

#tarlossanta #tarlossanta24 #Tarlos #911 Lone Star #Owen Strand #Carlos Reyes #Christmas Shenanigans #T.K. Strand #Bad Santa

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darksigns-exe · 2 days ago

Text

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.

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.

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