#while with each other they make use of each other's attacks to make their own

[qwertyprophecy]

Mortholme Post-Mortem

The Dark Queen of Mortholme has been out for two weeks, and I've just been given an excellent excuse to write some more about its creation by a lenghty anonymous ask.

Under the cut, hindsight on the year spent making Mortholme and answers to questions about game dev, grouped under the following topics:

Time spent on development Programming Obstacles Godot Animation Pixel art Environment assets Writing Completion Release

Regarding time spent on development

Nope, I’ve got no idea anymore how long I spent on Mortholme. It took a year but during that time I worked on like two other games and whatever else. And although I started with the art, I worked on all parts simultaneously to avoid getting bored. This is what I can say:

Art took a ridiculous amount of time, but that was by choice (or compulsion, one might say). I get very excitable and particular about it. At most I was making about one or two Hero animations in a day (for a total of 8 + upgraded versions), but anything involving the Queen took multiple times longer. When I made the excecutive decision that her final form was going to have a bazillion tentacles I gave up on scheduling altogether.

Coding went quickly at the start when I was knocking out a feature after another, until it became the ultimate slow-burn hurdle at the end. Testing, bugfixing, and playing Jenga with increasingly unwieldy code kept oozing from one week to the next. For months, probably? My memory’s shot but I have a mark on my calendar on the 18th of August that says “Mortholme done”. Must’ve been some optimistic deadline before the ooze.

Writing happened in extremely productive week-long bursts followed by nothing but nitpicky editing while I focused on other stuff. Winner in the “changed most often” category, for sure.

Sound was straightforward, after finishing a new set of animations I spent a day or two to record and edit SFX for them. Music I originally scheduled two weeks for, but hubris and desire for more variants bumped it to like a month.

Regarding programming

The Hero AI is certainly the part that I spent most of my coding time on. The basic way the guaranteed dodging works is that all the Queen’s attacks send a signal to the Hero, who calculates a “danger zone” based on the type of attack and the Queen’s location. Then, if the Hero is able to dodge that particular attack (a probability based on how much it's been used & story progression), they run a function to dodge it.

Each attack has its own algorithm that produces the best safe target position to go to based on the Hero’s current position (and other necessary actions like jumping). Those algorithms needed a whole lot of testing to code counters for all the scenarios that might trip the Hero up.

The easiest or at least most fun parts for me to code are the extra bells and whistles that aren’t critical but add flair. Like in the Hero’s case, the little touches that make them seem more human: a reaction speed delay that increases over time, random motions and overcompensation that decrease as they gain focus, late-game Hero taking prioritising aggressive positiniong, a “wait for last second” function that lets the Hero calculate how long it’ll take them to move to safety and use the information to squeeze an extra attack in…

The hardest attack was the magic circle, as it introduced a problem in my code so far. The second flare can overlap with other attacks, meaning the Hero had to keep track of two danger zones at once. For a brief time I wanted to create a whole new system that would constantly update a map of all current danger zones—that would allow for any number of overlapping attacks, which would be really cool! Unfortunately it didn’t gel with my existing code, and I couldn’t figure out its multitudes of problems since, well…

Regarding obstacles

Thing is, I’m hot garbage as a programmer. My game dev’s all self-taught nonsense. So after a week of failing to get this cool system to work, I scrapped it and instead made a spaghetti code monstrosity that made magic circle run on a separate danger zone, and decided I’d make no more overlapping attacks. That’s easy; I just had to buffer the timing of the animation locks so that the Hero would always have time to move away. (I still wanted to keep the magic circle, since it’s fun for the player to try and trick the Hero with it.)

There’s my least pretty yet practical solo dev advice: if you get stuck because you can’t do something, you can certainly try to learn how to do it, but occasionally the only way to finish a project within a decade to work around those parts and let them be a bit crap.

I’m happy to use design trickery, writing and art to cover for my coding skills. Like, despite the anonymous asker’s description, the Hero’s dodging is actually far from perfect. I knew there was no way it was ever going to be, which is why I wrote special dialogue to account for a player finding an exploit that breaks the intended gameplay. (And indeed, when the game was launched, someone immediately found it!)

Regarding Godot

It’s lovely! I switched from Unity years ago and it’s so much simpler and more considerate of 2D games. The way its node system emphasises modularity has improved my coding a lot.

New users should be aware that a lot of tutorials and advice you find online may be for Godot 3. If something doesn’t work, search for what the Godot 4 equivalent is.

Regarding animation

I’m a professional animator, so my list of tips and techniques is a tad long… I’ll just give a few resource recommendations: read up on the classic 12 principles of animation (or the The Illusion of Life, if you’d like the whole book) and test each out for yourself. Not every animation needs all of these principles, but basically every time you’ll be looking at an animation and wondering how to make it better, the answer will be in paying attention to one or more of them.

Game animation is its own beast, and different genres have their own needs. I’d recommend studying animations that do what you’d like to do, frame by frame. If you’re unsure of how exactly to analyse animation for its techniques, youtube channel New Frame Plus shows an excellent example.

Oh, and film yourself some references! The Queen demanded so much pretend mace swinging that it broke my hoover.

Regarding pixel art

The pixel art style was picked for two reasons: 1. to evoke a retro game feel to emphasise the meta nature of the narrative, and 2. because it’s faster and more forgiving to animate in than any of my other options.

At the very start I was into the idea of doing a painterly style—Hollow Knight was my first soulslike—but quickly realised that I’d either have to spend hundreds of hours animating the characters, or design them in a simplistic way that I deemed too cutesy for this particular game. (Hollow Knight style, one day I’d love to emulate you…)

I don’t use a dedicated program, just Photoshop for everything like a chump. Pixel art doesn’t need anything fancy, although I’m sure specialist programs will keep it nice and simple.

Pixel art’s funny; its limitations make it dependent on symbolism, shortcuts and viewer interpretation. You could search for some tutorials on basic principles (like avoiding “jaggies” or the importance of contrast), but ultimately you’ll simply want to get a start in it to find your own confidence in it. I began dabbling years ago by asking for character requests on Tumblr and doodling them in pixels in whatever way I could think of.

Regarding environment assets

The Queen’s throne room consists of two main sprites—one background and one separate bit of the door for the Hero disappear behind—and then about fifty more for the lighting setup. There’s six different candle animations, there’s lines on the floor that need to go on top of character reflections, all the candle circles and lit objects are separated so that the candles can be extinguished asynchronously; and then there’s purple phase 2 versions of all of the above.

This is all rather dumb. There’s simpler ways in Godot to do 2D lighting with shaders and a built-in system (I use those too), but I wanted control over the exact colours so I just drew everything in Photoshop the way I wanted it. Still, it highlights how mostly you only need a single background asset and separated foreground objects; except if you need animated objects or stuff that needs to change while the game’s running, you’ll get a whole bunch more.

I wholeheartedly applaud having a go at making your own game art, even if you don’t have any art background! The potential for cohesion in all aspects of design—art, game, narrative, sound—is at the heart of why video games are such an exciting medium!

Regarding writing

Finding the voices of the Queen and the Hero was the quick part of the process. They figured that out they are almost as soon as writing started. I’d been mulling this game over in my mind for so long, I had already a specific idea in mind of what the two of them stood for, conceptually and thematically. When they started bantering, I felt like all I really had to do was to guide it along the storyline, and then polish.

What ended up taking so long was that there was too much for them to say for how short the game needed to be to not feel overstretched. Since I’d decided to go with two dialogue options on my linear story, it at least gave me twice the amount of dialogue that I got to write, but it wasn’t enough!

The first large-scale rewrite was me going over the first draft and squeezing in more interesting things for the Queen and the Hero to discuss, more branching paths and booleans. There was this whole thing where the player’s their dialogue choices over multiple conversations would lead them to about four alternate interpretations of why the Queen is the way she is. This was around the time I happened to finally play Disco Elysium, so of course I also decided to also add a ton of microreactivity (ie. small changes in dialogue that acknowledge earlier player choices) to cram in even more alternate dialogue. I spent ages tinkering with the exact nuances till I was real proud of it.

Right until the playtesters of this convoluted contraption found the story to be unclear and confusing. For some reason. So for my final rewrite, I picked out my favourite bits and cut everything else. With the extra branching gone, there was more room to improve the pacing so the core of the story could breathe. The microreactivity got to stay, at least!

A sample of old dialogue from the overcomplicated version:

Regarding completion

The question was “what kept me going to actually finish the game, since that is a point many games never even get to meet?” and it’s a great one because I forgot that’s a thing. Difficulties finishing projects, that is—I used to think it was hard, but not for many years. Maybe I’ve completed so many small-scale games already that it hardly seems that unreasonable of an expectation? (Game jams. You should do game jams.)

I honestly never had any doubt I was going to finish Mortholme. When I started in late autumn last year, I was honestly expecting the concept to be too clunky to properly function; but I wished to indulge in silliness and make it exist anyways. That vision would’ve been easy to finish, a month or two of low stakes messing around, no biggie. (Like a game jam!)

Those months ran out quickly as I had too much fun making the art to stop. It must’ve been around the time I made this recording that it occurred to me that even if the game was going to be clunky, it could still genuinely work on the back of good enough storytelling technique—not just writing, but also the animation and the Hero’s evolving behaviour during the gameplay segments which I’d been worried about. The reaction to my early blogging was also heartening. Other people could also imagine how this narrative could be interesting!

A few weeks after that I started planning out the narrative beats I wanted the dialogue to reach, and came to the conclusion that I really, really wanted it to work. Other people had to see this shit, I thought. There’s got to be freaks out there who’d love to experience this tragedy, and I’m eager to deliver.

That’s why I was fine with the project’s timeline stretching out. If attention to detail and artistry was going to make this weird little story actually come to life, then great, because that’s exactly the part of development I love doing most. Projects taking longer than expected can be frustrating, but accepting that as a common part of game dev is what allows confidence in eventual their completion regardless.

Regarding release

Dear anonymous’s questions didn’t involve post-release concerns, but it seems fitting to wrap up the post-mortem by talking about the two things about Mortholme's launch that were firsts for me, and thus I was unprepared for.

1. This was the first action game I've coded. Well, sort of—I consider Mortholme to be a story first and foremost, with gameplay so purposefully obnoxious it benefits from not being thought of as a “normal” game. Still, the action elements are there. For someone who usually sticks to making puzzle games since they’re easier to code, this was my most mechanically fragile game yet. So despite all my attempts at playtesting and failsafes, it had a whole bunch of bugs on release.

Game-breaking bugs, really obvious bugs, weird and confusing bugs. It took me over a week to fix all that was reported (and I’m only hoping they indeed are fully fixed). That feels slow; I should’ve expected it was going to break so I could’ve been faster to respond. Ah well, next time I know what I’ll be booking my post-release week for.

2. This was my first game that I let players give me money for. Sure, it’s pay-what-you-want, but for someone as allergic to business decisions as I am, it was a big step. I guess I was worried of being shown that nobody would consider my art worth financial compensation. Well, uh, that fear has gone out of the window now. I’m blown away by how kind and generous the players of Mortholme have been with their donations.

I can’t imagine it's likely to earn a living wage from pouring hundreds of hours into pay-what-you-want passion projects, but the support has me heartened to seek out a future where I could make these weird stories and a living both.

Those were the unexpected parts. The part I must admit I was expecting—but still infinitely grateful for—was that Mortholme did in fact reach them freaks who’d find it interesting. The responses, comments, analyses, fan works (there’s fic and art!! the dream!!), inspiration, and questions (like the ones prompting me to write this post-mortem) people have shared with me thanks to Mortholme… They’ve all truly been what I was hoping for back when I first gave myself emotions thinking about a mean megalomaniac and stubborn dipshit.

Thank you for reading, thank you for playing, and thank you for being around.

[engie-ivy]

949 words

Sirius Black is known as the office Grinch, so what has suddenly gotten into him?

You Make It Feel Like Christmas

You Make It Feel Like Christmas - Gwen Stefani

“You're delusional.”

“I'm not!”

“You must be.”

“No, I swear,” Benjy hisses.

“Well, maybe you misheard,” Hestia offers.

Benjy huffs. “You think I would not recognize ‘Jingle Bells’?”

Emmeline shakes her head. “Anything is more likely than Mr Black humming that song.”

“He was in front of me at the coffee machine,” Benjy says. “And I swear I heard him do it!”

You see, the reason why the mere idea of Sirius Black walking around the office humming ‘Jingle Bells’ is so preposterous, is because Sirius Black is known as the office Grinch.

The man dislikes everything that's even remotely related to Christmas.

When Mary and Dorcas were hanging the Christmas lights, Mr Black commented on energy savings for the office and the necessity of cutting down on the electricity bill. In his opinion, Christmas was a huge waste of energy in its entirety. No one actually knew if he was still talking about electricity.

When the first Christmas song was played on the radio, Mr Black pointedly put on his noise canceling headphones. Plus, he actually has no idea who Mariah Carey is, which is shocking in its own right.

When Edgar came to work wearing his Christmas jumper, Mr Black reported him for inappropriate work attire (though luckily Lily from HR simply told him to get over it).

Moreover, Mr Black constantly complains that Christmas Day is an obligatory day off, instead of him being able to save his vacation hours for, in his words, ‘when he actually needs them’.

He has also called Christmas markets a trick to sell junk no one needs, he's known to think that a gift certificate makes for the best Christmas gift, and that black coffee tastes better than any hot chocolate ever could.

“Okay, I'm actually getting really worried,” Caradoc whispers as they convene at the coffee machine.

“Me too,” Edgar replies in a concerned voice. “Maybe he's come down with some sort of illness?”

“Did you guys hear what he said when he saw the little Christmas tree on my desk?” Mary hisses. “He said it looked ‘nice’. Nice! No eye roll, no sarcastic undertone. Just nice.”

“I almost had a heart attack when I saw his tie this morning,” Emmeline says faintly. “I mean, tiny snowmen?”

Dorcas bites her lip. “Could it be some sort of brain disease?”

“Or maybe he hit his head and he has a concussion?” Benjy offers.

“Should we like… take him to the hospital or something?” Fabian asks.

“Gosh,” Hestia says. “Why are you all so negative? Maybe he just finally caught the Christmas spirit!”

“Excuse me?”

Everyone pauses their work to look at the man who appeared in the doorway to their office. He's got floppy, honey-coloured hair, is wearing a rather tattered coat and is carrying a box with a bow tied around it.

“I'm looking for-”

“Remus!” Mr Black jumps to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

A light colouring appears on the man's cheeks as he looks at Mr Black and he smiles a little sheepishly. “I hope I'm not disturbing you?”

Mr Black closes his laptop without giving it a second look. “Not at all! I can always make time,” says the man who once almost made Gideon cry because he dared ask him a question while he was in the middle of an Excel sheet.

“Great,” the box-carrying man, Remus, grins, and despite the scars on his face, it makes him look strangely endearing. “My mum and I baked Christmas cookies, and we, of course, made way too much for just us, so I thought I'd drop by your office to bring some?”

“That's so sweet of you!” Mr Black happily takes over the box. “I absolutely love Christmas cookies,” says Mr Black, who has never even touched any of the cookies Caradoc baked for the office.

“I see you're wearing the tie I gave you,” Remus says.

“Of course,” Mr Black replies. “It's my favourite.”

“That's good,” Remus smiles softly.

They both just look at each other for a moment, while the rest of the office exchanges looks.

Then Remus averts his eyes and looks down at his shoes. “You know, I was wondering…” He begins. “Would you like to go and look at the Christmas lights together tonight? It may sound cheesy, but they're actually really pretty and it's one of my favourite Christmas activities to-”

“I would love to!” Mr Black replies a little breathless. “I've been really wanting to go and see the lights.”

Mary makes an indignant sound, but both men hardly seem to notice there's anyone else in the room.

“Great!” Remus looks up and beams at Mr Black. “And I was thinking that maybe we could visit the Christmas market and drink some hot chocolate together?”

“I love the Christmas market,” Sirius replies without skipping a beat. “And I'd love to drink hot chocolate with you.”

“Good. Great. Perfect,” Remus says. “So, it's… it's a date?” The colouring on his cheeks increases.

"It's a date,” Mr Black agrees.

Both men stare at each other for a long moment, having completely forgotten there's a room full of people looking at them, people who start shifting uncomfortably in their chairs.

Remus is first to snap out of it. “I… I

I should let you get back to work.”

“Work,” Mr Black repeats, like he's trying to remember what the word means. “Right. Work.”

“See you tonight?” Remus asks.

“Can't wait,” Mr Black replies.

As Remus leaves and Mr Black turns back to the room, everyone immediately turns to their computer, pretending to be working.

Hestia exchanges a look with Emmeline.

Sirius Black definitely caught something alright, but it ain't Christmas spirit.

[tackykachowch]

OKAY CHAT I DIDN'T INTEND IT TO BE THIS WAY BUT THIS POST IS SUPER-HUGE. Read at your own risk lol

*taps the mic* Uh, welcome to Chili's. So, I mustered up the courage to finally make a post about how I view Silco and Jinx's relationship and why I think it is actually a lot better than it's commonly perceived. Please please please do not assume that I do this to specifically whitewash Silco or make him less morally gray, this is my genuine read on them based on my own experience and views. I do not claim that I don't have any bias at all, but I think that it didn't influence my opinion that much.

I am going to say this from the start: I don't have much negative to say about them and I don't think of their relationship as toxic. If this point of view is unacceptable to you, please disregard this post. However, if you want to discuss this topic with me and challenge my points, please be civil about it and don't insult me. I don't have any ill intentions, nor am I trying to normalize unhealthy behavior.

Okay, from this preamble to another. This analysis is going to be based entirely on season 1 and nothing else. Some of my points will address common perceptions about them in the fandom, some I'll write as a regular analysis.

Now let's start shall we (yes, this is going to be a one long post because they're so so important to me). In the second paragraph I said that I don't view their relationship as toxic. Let me explain. I think this is a very complex topic and opinions will vary from person to person. Considering that both Silco and Jinx are mentally ill this adds another layer to our already complicated cake. So, for me toxic relationships are those where at least one person almost always behaves in the way they see is right, disregarding other person's wants or needs. It also must include unhealthy/toxic behaviors, i. e. manipulation, gaslighting, possessiveness, control over other person's decisions, physical and/or emotional abuse etc etc. These behaviors must be routinely occurrences and not happen only once or twice. You can say: "But a lot of things you listed exactly describe how Silco behaves towards Jinx!" well. No but I'll get to this later.

There's also an elephant in the room we need to deal with: codependency. Now, I don't claim to be an expert on the topic or even well-informed, but I have a feeling that this term is a Bit overused. Terms, especially medical ones, are very useful for describing one specific thing. But as of late a lot of terms are used on things that are not. Well. The thing the term is describing. You don't need to go far for examples: hyperfixation, depression, panic attack, etc. When knowledge becomes widespread, things like that are inevitable, unfortunately. But back to the topic. Are Jinx and Silco's relationship codependent? I personally don't think so. One of the key characteristics of a codependent relationship is losing a sense of self and disregarding your wants/needs, and Jinx and Silco never display that. They are very self-driven characters. And while Jinx did do some things to impress Silco, it's not necessarily a symptom of a codependent relationship specifically. Again, I'll compare it to medical symptoms. If your right side hurts it doesn't mean you have appendicitis, if you have a short attention span it doesn't mean you have ADHD. Mental health problems Jinx and Silco have can be just that: mental health problems. Trust issues, low self-esteem, fear of abandonment, etc. They don't need to be a part of a bigger problem, even if there are some similarities. (Also just a side note: I got misdiagnosed with OCD this year, so I take correct descriptions and understanding of conditions/words very personally).

MAN THAT WAS TOO LONG. GET TO THE ACTUAL POINTS.

Alright. So first of all, Jinx and Silco are VERY trusting of each other. They both allow each other to enter their personal spaces, and feel comfortable and free in each other's presence. Silco allows Jinx to do his eye injections, to show him physical affection, he also trusts her with missions for his job, even when everyone else is against it. When Jinx in ep4 tells him that "(her screw up) won't happen again", he simply answers "I know". Despite Jinx's own insecurities Silco fully trusts her (sometimes even to his own detriment). And she fully trusts him as well (until the whole Vi shenanigans anyway), what can be seen in a way she's not afraid of his emotions or even to hurt him, because she knows perfectly well that he'll never harm her in any way (physical, I mean). And although there is a clear miscommunication between them in ep4 I don't think it's a common thing between them, and this specific case was caused by Jinx's deeply rooted trauma and low self-esteem, which Silco is unfortunately unable to fix.

Now onto the probably most common criticism of Silco specifically: that he made Jinx his weapon and raised her to be this bloodthirsty on purpose. And to this I say - no way. Silco DOES love Jinx and DOES trust her, but he's not blind and not an idiot. He perfectly knows that Jinx can cause a huge mess and potential troubles on the missions, his subordinates hate her, her mental state is unstable and therefore she's not the most reliable asset in the slightest, nor a necessary one. At no point do we get actual proof that Silco needs Jinx specifically for his operations, he seems to allow her to participate in them out of her own volition. After all, she does like being needed and included in the family business. You could argue that he needs Jinx for her gadgets and weapons, but nobody besides her uses them, so this option doesn't fit. "But he did request her to build Fishbones!" yeah. After Jinx stole the gemstone, again, out of her own choice. Silco is a swift strategist, if he sees an opportunity somewhere he takes it immediately. So there's nothing actually wrong with him asking Jinx to build a weapon with the use of gemstone. She didn't steal it for it to just. Lie there, after all. As to her bloodthirsty-ness I think he only nurtured what was already there. If you remember, in the very first episode Jinx made a bomb with NAILS in it. I don't think I need to tell you that it's just a horrible idea for a bomb, and she was only 9 at the time. As to Silco's "become what they fear" line. I don't think it indicates that he specifically raised Jinx to be a weapon, because he applied the same phrase to himself and we don't see him running around throwing glitter bombs at everyone (although it would've been cool to see ngl).

Next - Silco is very supportive of Jinx. His office is filled with things she drew all over, her inventions are tied to the ceiling. When Jinx is overwhelmed and upset about the failed mission he tells her to "focus on her gadgetry" and to "take some time". He clearly knows what she likes and what would put her in a better mood. He also doesn't restrict her self-expression, which can be seen in the way Jinx looks. I mean, you'd think that Silco would probably want for her to wear something more...classy? But he doesn't mind even one bit.

Another point I see a lot - that Silco loves Jinx but not Powder. I actually kiiinda understand where this point of view comes from, because the show does frame Vi and Silco as representatives of her Powder and Jinx persona respectively, but I don't think the text itself supports this. Let's take the river scene because it is the cause of this discussion in the first place after all. Silco tells Jinx that she needs "to let Powder die" and that "Jinx is perfect", but I don't necessarily agree that he meant it in a "choose between two of your personas" kind of way, because this conflict never existed between them in the first place. Vi does want "Powder" to come back, but Silco didn't show anything that would indicate of him disliking young Jinx in any way. He did adopt her when she was still Powder, after all. And even if she changed her name on the same night, her personality didn't, because that's not how humans work. So, he NEEDED to love Powder to raise her. Back to the river scene, he tells Jinx that she needs to let Powder die so "the fear of pain would no longer control (her)". "Powder" is tightly connected to Jinx's trauma of killing her entire family and Vi leaving her, i. e. the fear of pain of being betrayed again and the fear of messing up. In terms of psychology she really does need to live through this moment and properly process it, but unfortunately there's no psychologists in neither Piltover or Zaun, and Silco being mentally ill and not knowing better himself can only help her this way. "Jinx is perfect" also doesn't mean that he prefers Jinx over Powder, but rather "Jinx, the person you are right now, is perfect and strong. You need to let that weak part of you (Powder) die, so you can move on and become something greater". Jinx might've interpreted his line in the wrong way herself, but again, there's no actual evidence of Silco liking "Powder" less and only ever wanting "Jinx". And if we hop further into the finale, he literally says "YOU are perfect". Whatever seat she chooses, she will always be perfect to him. Even if she turns against him and everything he fights for, even if she kills him, even if she hates him, she remains perfect in his eyes. He might differentiate "Powder" and "Jinx" and a weaker/stronger part of her, but despite all that she's still his daughter.

Also. He's dealing with her mental health SOOOO great chat it's not even funny. I mean obviously he can't take care of it perfectly because again, psychology is non-existent in this world, but everything he CAN do he does just sooo good. He never lets other people berate or insult her, if he scolds her he only ever does this in private, he always tries to be patient and gentle with her, and the only time we seem him lash out at her is after Jinx stole the gemstone. He also seems to know what causes her psychosis and how to stop it, because he yells "Don't listen to her!" to Jinx when Vi triggers her, and then proceeds to try and shoot in Vi's direction to shut her up. We now know that this wasn't the best decision at all, but he literally goes feral when Jinx is hurt, so can you really blame him? There is of course an issue of him enabling her violence and letting her do everything she wants, but to cut Silco some slack he deals with a very mentally ill child, and as we saw in ep3 cutting Jinx off of something can easily cause her to have a mental breakdown. So I think partly his enabling was caused by his want not to hurt her.

Phew. I think we only need to get through the minor points now.

Manipulation: we only ever see Silco manipulate Jinx once, when he lied to her about Cait and Vi's reason for being in the Underground. Nothing indicates that he regularly manipulated her before.

Possessivness: I think this claim also doesn't have substantial evidence to back it up. We only see Silco being possessive of Jinx because of Vi, and even then it's not pure possessiveness. He literally doesn't want Jinx to be betrayed and possibly even killed like him. I think if Jinx just wanted to leave him on her own he would be a-okay with that. Also he doesn't watch over what she does/where she goes, which again reinforces his trust in her and him respecting her privacy.

Silco isolated Jinx from others: uhhh. See the end of the previous paragraph. If Jinx wanted to befriend someone she could've easily done that, and Silco wouldn't even know. The only person she couldn't befriend because of him is Ekko, but even he says to Vi that Jinx chose to be on Silco's side herself, so *shrugs*

And with that, I think I covered everything I wanted about their relationship. It's not perfect, but it's not bad either. Personally, I don't want to label it as anything, because minus the drug mafia and murders aspects they're just a regular father and daughter. There are no perfect parents, there are no perfect children, but if they try their hardest to love each other in a way they're both happy with, they're great in my book.

[darksigns-exe]

a prayer to venus - noah sebastian x ofc

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

word count: 21k

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

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

masterlist | taglist sign-up

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does the internet work on your phone?” 

He checks and – nothing. 

“Again?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maya tilts his chin up just a little. 

“Close your eyes for a moment.”

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

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

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

“Is that a promise?” 

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

He loves what they have. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shoves the thought to the back of his mind. 

Nothing has changed. 

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

Nothing has changed. 

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

He finds Maya’s eyes in the mirror. 

She’s plotting something. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a little jarring. 

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

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

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

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

Are you busy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maya should be here. 

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

Nothing. 

Noah turns over onto his back. 

He stares up at the ceiling for a long while. 

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

Eventually, Noah pushes himself off the sofa. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The issue lies deeper. 

Appearance doesn’t match what I have in mind

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

Noah taps on the first result.

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

Surely, not – 

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

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

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

His lungs haven’t felt this tight in years. 

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

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

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

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

Noah slumps down in front of the counter. 

It can’t be that. 

He’s never questioned himself like that before. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows the lump in his throat. 

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

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

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

There’s no rush to finish the album anyway. 

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

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

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

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

But he? 

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

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

Sure, he’s had moments of insecurity. 

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

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

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

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

Noah lets himself sink into the water and suds. 

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

It’s an odd thing. 

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

A long-lost friend.  

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

What’s the worst that could come of this?

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” he answers quietly. 

“Can I come in?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His breath hitches when her hand drifts a little lower. 

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

Intimacy has been tricky.

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

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

“Please, baby.” he sighs out shakily. 

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

She always treats him so well. 

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

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

The words burn in his chest. 

He knows it’s true. 

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

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

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

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

Her name is a prayer on his lips. 

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

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

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

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

Noah knows that he needs to tell her.

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

He almost tells her in that moment. 

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

He will tell her. 

Noah doesn’t tell her for another few weeks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neither of them has in recent weeks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The words hit him like a wall of bricks. 

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

“Maya I’m –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noah can’t stop the tears then. 

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

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

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

He feels her forehead dropping against his knees. 

Damp stains his skin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s never seen Maya look this hurt. 

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

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

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

Silently, he holds his hand out to her. 

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

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

Noah has to choke back a new wave of tears. 

“I know.” 

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

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

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

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

He wakes with Maya still wrapped around him. 

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

The morning continues slow. 

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

The weight on his shoulders feels a little bit lighter. 

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

He feels a hand on top of his. 

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

Might as well rip off the band-aid now. 

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

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

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

Noah doesn’t dare to open his eyes. 

Her hand squeezes his. 

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

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

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

He whispers a quiet thank-you. 

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

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

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

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

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

He gives a nod in reply, “Promise.” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I know you will.” 

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

“What are you working on anyway?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You never questioned it before that day?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naturally, Noah follows her into her studio. 

He hasn’t been into her space in weeks. The familiar scent of her paints and inks filters into his senses. Noah wonders what she’s been working on. 

The easel is still covered by an old duvet cover. He remembers it from Maya’s old apartment, the little one bedroom with the leaking faucet in the kitchen that would drive them absolutely insane at night. 

“It’s a little funny – I didn’t know what that moment did for you. I just thought that you looked so –” she gesticulates trying to find the right word before settling on something, “Beautiful. I had to do something with it.” 

She steps away from the easel, motioning for him to remove the cover. 

Noah doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so nervous. Maya has shown him plenty of her work before, but something about this feels different. 

His hands tremble a little when he reaches for the fabric. He’s learnt the hard way that he can’t just yank it off. Noah lifts the duvet over off the canvas, gathering it up in his hands. 

What he sees on the canvas makes his breath catch in his throat. 

The inspiration is clearly visible, but Maya’s mark is what makes it truly special. He can recognise himself, the way he looked that day, but there’s something otherworldly about the way Maya has portrayed him. He’s never understood how she makes her work look as if it’s shiny like this. 

Once again, Noah is transfixed by his own appearance. 

His eyes race across the canvas, unable to find a point to focus on. There’s something soft and — feminine to it. His heart thumps in his chest. 

Noah feels Maya coming up next to him. Her hand wraps around his, as she presses up next to him. 

“What do you think?” she asks quietly, and Noah doesn’t miss the hint of insecurity in her voice. 

“That’s how you saw it?” 

He sees her nod in the corner of his vision. 

“I don’t know what to say. This – this is amazing. Thank you, my love.”

Maya pulls their joined hands up, pressing a kiss to the back of his, “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help you with this. Doesn’t matter what it is.”

It takes him a few more days to build up the courage to ask her again. Last time, Maya had been the one who brought it up, but Noah knows that he’ll have to ask for it. She had said that she’d help him with whatever, and he knows that Maya will not judge him for it. She’s made that very clear. Noah repeats the words in his head like a mantra, trying to cement them there.

Things had normalised somewhat in the last few days. They’d had a few more very honest conversations, tears had been shed, but at the end of the day, one thing became clear. Actually, speaking about this was more helpful than it was scary. Maya had offered him some much-needed perspective and comfort, and all things considered, things weren’t looking too bad. 

With this new-found confidence, Noah pushes his way into the bathroom, where Maya is still going through her morning routine. He wraps his arms around her middle, placing his chin on top of her shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, finding her eyes in the mirror. 

She meets his glance, giving him a soft smile.

“You wanna try?” she asks. 

Noah gives a hesitant nod. 

“Let me finish up, and then I’ll walk you through it.” 

He stays, watching her move through the surprisingly intricate routine. Eventually, Maya hops up onto the counter, urging Noah to come closer. He steps between her thighs, placing his hands on top of hers. 

“Step one.” Maya picks up her face wash, holding it out to him, “Don’t think I have to explain this bit to you.” 

She walks him through the steps, patiently explaining what each product does. Her little tinctures and creams leave the skin of his face feeling as soft as ever before. 

Maya picks up the tube of sunscreen, squirting some of it onto her fingers. She dabs it all over his face, placing the final dot onto the tip of his nose with a giggle. 

“I know we’re inside a lot at the moment, but you have to wear sunscreen.” There's still humour in her words, but he knows that she’s serious, “I can’t believe that Nick hasn’t gotten on your ass about it yet. With how many tattoos you have, I would have expected that someone would have told you that you need sunscreen at some point.”

He spreads it across his skin, occasionally​​ checking the mirror behind Maya. 

“What now?” he asks finally. 

“All done.” 

He hesitates for a long moment, eyes flitting between his reflection and Maya. 

“Do you – if you have the time – could you do my make-up again?” Noah asks quietly. 

Maya breaks into a smile, “Sure. I could also just show you how to do it yourself?” 

Once again, Noah finds himself sitting in front of her vanity. The items on the table in front of him seem endlessly confusing. Despite how much time he has spent watching Maya do this, he feels so very clueless right now. But Maya is patient and slowly walks him through it this time. 

It’s by no means perfect, but the routine Maya proposes is simple enough for him to recreate on his own. 

And at the end of it, Noah finds himself once again faced with this version of himself. It’s a little different from the last time, but he still finds comfort in what he sees. 

Maya drops her head to his shoulder, looking at him in her mirror. 

“I stand by what I said, you look so beautiful like this.” Her voice is so soft. 

Noah can barely contain the smirk that forces its way onto his face, “And not without it?” 

She smacks his thigh, “Beautiful either way.”

“I’m still not sure about what this all means for me, but – I think I want to try they.” his voice wavers just a little towards the end. 

“In addition to he?” Maya asks then. 

Noah nods, “Just he doesn’t feel like it’s – enough?”

Maya gives a squeeze to their thigh. It’s comforting, reassuring. 

“I’m glad that you’re allowing yourself to explore this, love. It’s a big thing, but I’m so proud of you for letting yourself do this.” The genuine warmth in her voice wraps around his mind like a warm blanket. 

Noah turns as best as he can with how they’re positioned. They press a kiss to Maya’s temple, lingering there for just a moment. 

“Thank you. Really.” Noah whispers. 

The moment feels too tender for anything else. 

Noah lets himself sit in the feeling for a while. They feel Maya’s eyes on their face, quietly observing – admiring, perhaps. 

Maya lifts her head, forcing Noah to do the same. She shifts, now sitting sideways on the little bench. 

“Look at me, will you?” 

She gently guides him towards her, hand soft on his cheek. 

“I love you so much.” her thumb drifts across their cheek, “Don’t forget that.” 

“I love you too.”   

She pulls them in for a kiss. A soft little thing that makes them feel so very loved. Noah drops his forehead to hers when they part. 

Having her at his side for this will make it so much better. 

Somehow, Noah hadn’t thought that things would be so normal. They’d expected that everything would feel just a little different, but in reality, life just goes on. But then again, things are still very far from being normal. 

He’s actually managed to get some real work done. 

His shoulders feel a little bit lighter now that he’s not bearing this alone any more. 

They’ve adapted a version of Maya’s skincare routine for themself. Maya has helped him find things that work even better than her products do. He’s dipped his fingers into Maya’s makeup, too, trying to get a feel for it. Noah thinks that they’re starting to get the hang of it. 

Fingers tap on his shoulder, making him jump. 

Maya looks at him expectantly. 

“Something up?”

“I love that you’re doing this, but you’ve used up some pretty expensive products. I think it’s time that we’ll get you your own stuff.” 

Noah finds a smile on her face, despite the stern words. 

“I didn’t even realise.” Noah replies feebly, “I’m sorry.” She squeezes their shoulder, “I’m not mad. But having your own things might be nice for you, too.” 

“Can we do that online?” 

Noah doesn’t know if he’s quite ready to do this in public yet. Maya seems to pick up on his hesitance, though, and nods quickly. 

“Of course.” she presses a kiss to their cheek, “Why don’t you wrap this up so that Jolly can stop badgering me about when you’re going to send him that demo, and then we can do a little shopping?” 

He joins her in the living room a good thirty minutes later. Maya has already pulled up a variety of sites on her laptop when they sit down next to her. It takes Noah a moment to really feel comfortable picking something out, but with a little bit of nudging from Maya, they end up making increasingly braver choices. 

Noah picks out some things that he knows from Maya, others he selects just because they look interesting. If he’s experimenting with things, he might as well do it properly. 

By the end of their little digital shopping trip, the cart is filled with all sorts of things. Everything from the basic things to a variety of highlighters, glitters, and things Noah doesn't even know the name of. There are doubles of some items, things that Maya had found interesting, too. He doesn’t want to think about the total, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter that much. Having this additional thing that they can share feels good. 

There’s something intimate about this. 

Noah has never been good at letting his walls down, and this whole experience has been a struggle from the start. But they’re glad that they have the option to do this in a moment like this. They’re safe in their home with the person they love. There’s not much more they could ask for. 

Noah lets his head drop to her shoulder. 

With the laptop forgotten on the coffee table, Maya quickly finds her way into Noah’s lap. Her lips trail up the side of their neck. Their hands rest on Maya’s waist, slowly skating upwards under her shirt. 

It feels like it’s been ages since they’ve been together like this. It’s been a few weeks since Maya had gotten them off in the bathtub. But since then, so much has changed. 

Maya kisses her way along Noah’s jaw, before she finally brings her lips to theirs. 

One of her hands rests against the side of their face, while the other threads into the hair at the back of their neck. 

Maya grinds down against them, and Noah can’t hold back the whine that bubbles up in their throat. Her body is so soft under their hands, and they want nothing more than to give themself to her. Noah wants to melt into her touch, fall apart at her hands. The warmth that radiates off her body seeps into his. 

Maya moans against their lips when Noah pulls her closer. 

They feel Maya bringing a hand between their bodies. Noah knows what her destination is, they know where she is headed. And when her hand presses against their crotch, it’s as if a switch is flipped in their head. 

Cold fear washes over their body. 

Noah rears his head back, trying to draw much needed air into his lungs. It takes Maya a moment to catch up, but as soon as she does, her hands leave their body, and she moves back just enough. 

“I can’t.” Noah says quietly, shame slowly creeping up his back.

He doesn’t quite know where this sudden fear is coming from, but he can’t bear the thought of being touched like this right now. Noah feels his hands trembling against her skin and quickly pulls them away. 

Maya remains where she is, quietly watching them for a moment. 

“Baby it’s okay.” she says after a long while, “We don’t have to do anything. If you don’t feel comfortable with this at the moment, that’s okay.”

Noah runs a clammy hand across his face. This is not how he’d wanted this to go. The panic spiral is slippery, and trying to keep himself from sliding is turning out to be quite tricky. 

“Noah.” Maya’s voice barely manages to break through the fog in his brain, “Honey, can you look at me for a moment?” 

Noah draws in a shaky breath before they look up and at her. 

“It’s okay. I understand that things are difficult right now. I should have asked if you’re okay with me touching you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t.” Maya says softly. 

Noah drops his head for a moment. This whole thing makes everything so much more complicated. 

“I didn’t think that I’d react like that, either.” Noah shoots back quickly, “I don’t want you to feel bad. This is not because of you. It’s – just there’s this disconnect, you know?”

Maya looks at him with that same worried expression he’s been faced with more times than he dares to count in recent weeks. 

“It feels a little as if what’s in my head doesn’t really match up with this any more.” They gesture towards themself, “It’s good most of the time, but just now it felt like everything is wrong.” 

Maya wraps herself around them. 

She doesn’t have to say a word for Noah to know what she feels. It’s comfort in its purest form. An unspoken I may not understand entirely, but I’m here. 

She’s warm and soft, and Noah feels terrible for neglecting her like this. They can’t imagine that any of this is easy for her, too. 

They stay like this for a long while, eventually moving over into the bedroom to watch a few episodes of a show they’d started a while ago. Noah lets themself sink into Maya’s embrace, allowing the worries on their mind to drift away for just a moment. 

Some things will never change – Noah hates doing laundry. It’s tedious, it’s annoying, but they’d agreed to split chores when this lockdown started, and they’re not about to let Maya down. 

They drop the freshly tumble-dried garments into the basket before picking it up. He’ll fold everything as he’s putting it away. 

Things have settled a little bit more. 

Another evening of research, this time with moral support from Maya, had revealed that the thing they’d experienced a few days earlier had, in fact, been a bout of gender dysphoria. It had rattled them a little bit more than they’d liked to admit, but Maya had assured them that they’d be able to manoeuvre this together. 

They’re inclined to believe her. 

And really it made sense.

Throughout all of this, Noah has felt as if something didn’t match up. And if they’re honest with themself, they’ve known what it is since that first day. 

Coming to terms with it is a different thing. 

Maya hadn’t said anything about it, but they’re sure that she knows by now. Noah’s glad that she’s allowing them to do this on their own terms. They’re still not sure where this’ll take them, but one thing’s for sure they’re not going back where they’ve been before. 

Noah plucks one of Maya’s skirts from the laundry basket. 

It’s the one they love seeing on her. A pretty little thing that they’ve shoved their hand under on more than one occasion. 

An idea springs into their head then. 

Trying it on can’t hurt. 

And if they’re already exploring make-up, why not expand to clothing too. 

Their hands tremble when they hold the skirt out in front of their body. It should fit, the fabric is just elastic enough. Noah pushes their sweats down. It takes them a few moments to build up the courage to pull the skirt up and over their waist. 

Their eyes remain low, unable to look at their reflection. 

Noah draws in a deep breath. 

Their chest fills with an odd warmth. 

The hem of the skirt hits just above the middle of their thighs. 

They can’t stop looking. 

Noah pulls their shirt up, pulling it back so that it fits a little tighter around where the waistband of the skirt sits, in an attempt to emulate how Maya would wear it. 

Their heart pounds so incredibly fast.

The shape of their body still feels too boxy, too much like guy, but something about this itches a very specific spot in their brain. 

Their hands drift across their body, trying to imagine a softer, less angular shape. It feels good. 

Another thought pops into their head then. 

They open Maya’s side of the closet. 

Maya won’t judge them for this. She’s said multiple times that she’ll support whatever they need. 

For the first time, they allow their fingers to pass over the pretty dresses Maya wears with the intention of picking something for themself. 

They don’t want to risk stretching out any of her clothes. Maya has a few more loose fitting dresses, one of those will be just fine. 

They pluck a little black number from the rail. They know what it looks like on Maya. The deep v neckline looks gorgeous on Maya, and suddenly Noah has to know what it will look like on their body. 

Their hands don’t shake as much any more when they unzip the skirt and take off their shirt. Slipping the garment over their head is so easy. And they’re not as scared of looking at themself this time around. 

The sleeves are a little too short on them, and it all feels a little uncomfortable at first, but Noah is willing to blame that on them not being used to dresses. 

The fabric feels good on their body. It’s soft and light and the longer they look at their reflection, the more they get used to it. 

Pulling their hair up with the claw clip they’d borrowed from Maya a while ago settles the nerves in their belly even more. For a moment, Noah considers the additional box of make-up that now sits on Maya’s vanity, and eventually decides that just a little bit will be enough. Their hand rifles through the box until they pluck a tube of lightly tinted lip gloss from it. 

Noah feels quite secure with this by now. Applying the gloss is no issue at all. The colour is fairly sheer, and they don’t have to be super precise with it. 

When Noah steps back in front of the mirror, their breath catches in their throat. It feels as if things have clicked into place. Their eyes flicker across their reflection. 

When seeing themself in make-up felt good, this feels – euphoric. 

The small edge of panic that tries to make itself known is drowned out by how good it feels to see themself like this.  

Noah curses themself for forgetting their phone in the living room.

They can always recreate this moment. 

Noah takes a few more moments like this, finishing the laundry they have to fold while still wearing the dress. 

Taking it off again feels a little sad. It’s not like Maya would be judgemental of it, but they don’t feel quite ready to share this yet. 

Maya will understand. 

With everything returned to normal, Noah quickly wipes the gloss from their lips. When they return to the bedroom, they find the door just slightly ajar. Noah is sure that they’ve closed the door before they had tried on the skirt. 

Maybe they had left it open after all. 

Noah finds Maya in the kitchen, working on their lunch. They wrap their arms around her middle, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. 

“What are you making?” 

Maya leans back against them, and Noah can’t stop themself from pressing another kiss to her cheek. 

“Pasta. With all of the leftover veggies we still have. The cheese will save it.” she replies, letting herself sink further against Noah. 

If she saw something, Maya doesn’t let it on.

“Do you want to get ice cream later?” they ask, now fully resting their cheek against Maya’s. 

“Would love that.”

It was a slow realisation. 

Noah doesn’t exactly know when it clicked. They had long realised that he was not only insufficient to describe themself but also plain wrong. They’d tried to look at themself in the mirror and think of it, only to feel a little nauseated. 

It had started to bleed into other spaces too. Hearing Nick call them dude made them cringe, but they bit through it, not feeling quite ready to share this with someone else yet. 

Noah is sure that Nick wouldn’t have a problem with this, but there’s still that lingering fear. They’ve read too many reports on best friends turning on people after any kind of coming out. And there’s simply too much at stake here. 

Noah wants to be absolutely sure of this before he tells anyone else. The first step to that is talking to Maya.

They splash another handful of ice-cold water into their face, in the hope that it’ll ease their nerves at least a little. 

The realisation had really hit them this morning. 

They don’t know what exactly triggered it, but somewhere between washing their face and brushing their teeth, things had started to make sense. 

Noah looks up at the mirror. 

Their fingers drift across their freshly shaved cheeks. Noah’s been keeping up with it a lot more. They have never had a lot of facial hair, but keeping their face smooth eased some of the ache in their chest. 

It’s still a little difficult to see anything but guy when they look in the mirror. On some days, it's easier for Noah to imagine their features a little softer, more feminine. Today is, thankfully, one of those days. 

They’ve managed to shed their fear of the word feminine, slowly realising that maybe it was a more accurate way to describe how they feel about themself. 

Noah swallows a breath. 

The thought reverberates around their brain. 

What if? 

Noah thinks about the moments that have made them feel most comfortable in recent weeks. They think back to the afternoon when they tried on one of Maya’s dresses. It stands in such a stark contrast to the times when they have to put on this masculine facade.

There really isn’t a lot to debate here any more. 

Noah goes to find Maya. 

She has to be the first one to hear about this. 

They find her working on a small illustration in her studio. 

They’ve been talking about the new album they’ve started to work on. Progress is slow, but it is progress. And Noah’s enthusiasm for the concept seems to have coloured off on her too. Noah has a few of her sketches taped to the wall behind their monitor. 

Noah knocks on the frame of the open door. 

Maya looks up at them with a soft smile, “Hi baby.” 

“You got a moment for me?” They hope that they don’t sound as nervous as they feel. 

She pushes away from her desk, pulling the second chair towards her. 

“For you, always.” 

Noah sits, wringing their hands together in their lap. 

“Everything okay?” Maya reaches out to place her hand over theirs. 

This feels like an awfully daunting thing.

In a way it is, even though they know that Maya will be with them. 

Noah nods, “I think I have to drop the he.” they choke the words out before they manage to get caught in their throat. 

Maya blinks at them for a moment, before she nods. 

For a brief second, Noah thinks that she isn’t impressed, but then her lips twist into a smile. 

“Just they?” she asks curiously. 

Noah thinks. 

They know their answer. 

“Doesn’t feel like it’s enough, you know?” they reply. 

There’s a little bit of hesitance in Maya’s face. Her brow furrows, in that way it does when she’s trying to make up her mind about something.  

“I mean, there’s always she. You have been leaning towards more feminine things.” she says quietly. 

Noah’s heart thumps a little.  

They feel their lips beginning to tremble. 

It’s not panic – this is relief. 

Hearing her say it first makes it less scary. 

“I think I like that.” 

Noah presses her lips together. 

“I am so proud of you, baby.” Maya squeezes their hands, “And I love you so much.” 

“Promise?”

“I promise. Pinky promise.” she gives another squeeze, “And I’ll tell you as often as I have to.” 

Noah feels herself smile. 

It feels so new, but thinking of themself like this feels good – right. 

“Do you want to keep using they?” Maya asks then. 

She nods, “I like it. Both feels right.” 

Maya’s free hand finds its way to the side of Noah’s face. She carefully guides her closer, until they finally meet. It’s just a soft little thing, but it eases some of the weight from their shoulders. 

Maya scoots a little closer, her hand still covering Noah’s. Her gaze is soft and warm, and can practically feel the love seeping into her own skin. This whole thing is scary and exciting in equal measures, and while she’s sure that it will stay scary for a good while longer, she feels hopeful. 

The heavy weight of the last months doesn’t feel quite as heavy any more. There are still a few things that terrify them, but the biggest hurdle seems to be behind them. 

Noah can’t stop the tears then. 

Not a second after the first tear has fallen, Maya wraps herself around them. She holds Noah while they cry. The weight of his realisation still feels heavy, it’s still so daunting and new and overwhelming. 

It feels good to let all of it out. 

At some point, Maya moves them over into the living room. Noah doesn’t know or care how much time passes. All they know is that they feel a little bit lighter when they untangle themself from Maya.

“Feeling a little better?” Maya asks softly, tracing her fingers across Noah’s cheek.  

Noah nods, “Thank you for being – so understanding with all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Luckily, we don’t have to think about that.” Maya says with a smile, “I know this is a lot for you, and I’ll take whatever I can off your shoulders. And please tell me if I say something that doesn’t feel right for you.” 

Somehow, Noah had thought that everything would change now. And sure, things do feel a little different. But not in the way that Noah had thought. Maya doesn’t look at her differently, doesn’t treat her differently. Maybe she’s a little more affectionate at the moment, but Noah can’t complain about that. 

She loves waking up with Maya wrapped around her, loves feeling the kisses she presses against her skin when they’re still drowsy and barely roused from sleep. They’ve always been soft like this with each other. Maya has always showered them with so much affection and love. She’s always called her pretty, but now it scratches that spot in the back of Noah’s brain like little else does. 

“Have you thought about telling them yet?” Maya asks, carding her fingers through Noah’s hair. 

She looks up at Maya and finds nothing but that softness she’s grown to love so much. 

“I should probably do it sooner rather than later. Just in case, you know? I don’t think anyone’s going to be weird about it, but you can never know.”

“If someone is getting weird about it, they’re not worth your time or energy.” Maya says softly, “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I know it’s scary, though. Maybe you could start with Nick?”

“Can you stay with me when I call him?”

“Of course.” she taps her finger against the tip of Noah’s nose, “It’ll go fine, though. You know Nicky. He loves you.” 

Maybe that’s the scary thing about this. 

The dynamic between her and Nick never changed, they’ve grown up sure, but in their essence they’ve always been the same. Deep down, she knows that things with Nick will go fine, but she can’t deny the lingering fear. 

Noah decides to give herself the weekend to prepare. They’ll call Nick on Monday morning and just get it over with. 

As daunting as this is, they know that they’ll have to tell him eventually. The rest of the band needs to know at some point, although they’re really not looking forward to informing the label. Noah has already made up their mind about not wanting to address this more than necessary. They don’t want a big statement unless it is absolutely necessary. They’re sure that people will want to know more, but right now, Noah really doesn’t want to elaborate on how or why they came to this conclusion. 

As much as they know that they have benefitted from hearing other people's stories, they don’t quite feel prepared to elaborate on the mental agony of the past few months. 

Maya had brought up the rather touchy subject of therapy again, only this time Noah hadn’t protested it as much as she had before. 

It’s probably a good idea. 

Talking to Maya about this helps, but there’s only so much she can do before she reaches the end of her admittedly limited knowledge. And really, Noah doesn’t want to load even more onto her shoulders. 

Noah spoons another blob of hummus onto the plate. 

They have an afternoon of movies planned. Noah is happy to be away from band related things for a little bit. They’ve been working on the album with a lot more intention recently, but for the moment Noah needs to think about other things. 

A pair of arms wraps around her middle. 

“Is that the good hummus?”

Noah hums in response. 

“Do we have those caramelised onion crackers too?”

“I got a bag when I went to the store earlier.”

Maya doesn’t need to know yet that they got two just in case. 

“You are the best.” Maya presses a kiss to her cheek, “Thank you, sweet girl.” 

Noah tenses in her embrace. 

Sweet girl. 

They’d loved it when Maya had referred to them as sweet boy. Hearing the term like this feels – surprisingly good. 

Noah hadn’t put a lot of thought into that side of things. She’d been so busy figuring out that boy wasn’t for her that she hadn’t considered if girl was the right thing. 

“Noah?” Maya asks quietly, “I’m sorry if that wasn’t okay. I know we haven’t talked about that yet. It just – it just kinda slipped out.” 

They’re not opposed to it. 

Right now, it feels terrifying, but Noah has learnt that these things only feel scary because they’re new. 

“It’s okay.” they reply, still somewhat absent-minded, “I think I like it.” 

“You think?” 

“It doesn’t feel bad. It’s just new, and I’m not really used to it yet.” 

Maya kisses her cheek once again, “I know it’s a lot. You’re doing a lot of new things at once at the moment. I’m more than happy to keep reminding you that you’re the prettiest girl, if that’s what you need.” 

Noah wriggles her way out of Maya’s grasp, turning around so that they can look at her properly. 

“If I’m the prettiest girl, what does that make you?” 

“You tell me.” the little smirk on Maya’s lips makes her pulse speed up. 

“Can we settle on a tie?” Noah places her hand on Maya's waist, easing her closer. 

“I think we can arrange that.” 

Maya pushes up onto the tips of her toes to kiss Noah again. The kiss teeters on the edge of becoming more, but Maya pulls away before her hands have a chance to wander around Noah’s frame. 

“And now get that snack plate ready, I want to start our film.” 

Monday eventually rolls around, and somehow Noah doesn’t feel less nervous. In fact, she thinks that she’s somehow even more nervous about the whole thing. 

She had texted Nick before breakfast to ask if he had time for a call later. 

They’d barely managed to get all of their breakfast down, but Maya had insisted that they should eat at least a little bit. 

“It’ll be okay. You’ve known Nick long enough to know that this won’t change how he sees you.” Maya gives their hand a little squeeze as she speaks, “I’m here as back up.” Noah draws in a deep breath before they tap on Nick’s name. 

It feels like forever until he finally picks up the call. 

There’s a little bit of talk about the album and Nick complains about being stuck on one song before he eventually remembers that Noah probably had something they wanted to discuss. 

“Did you want something specific?” 

Noah swallows a breath and Maya gives them a reassuring nod. 

“Actually, I did –” they pause, having suddenly forgotten everything they’d planned to say.

They find Maya’s eyes and the softness within them. She mouths a you got this at her, and Noah wants to believe her so desperately. 

“You know how I’ve always kinda struggled with how I look?” she starts, hoping that Nick remembers the times he had to talk them out of the spirals of self-hatred. 

“Sure do.” 

“So – I didn’t know what it was until recently. Maya helped me figure this out – or at least start to figure it out. I – fuck, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

Nick speaks up after a long moment, “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be okay. If whatever you’ve figured out makes you feel better about yourself, that’s good news for me.” It’s enough to make their chest feel a little lighter. 

Noah decides to bite the bullet then, rip off the band-aid. 

“I’ve been using they and she as pronouns for a little while now, and I don’t think that I’ve ever felt better about myself.”

Noah bites her lip so hard that she thinks that she’ll draw blood. 

She can hear Nick moving around in the background, and her heart almost sinks a little. 

“Sorry I had to find a tissue.” he sniffles, “I am – so proud of you. I don’t know what it took to get to that point, but I can’t imagine that it was easy.”

Hearing Nick’s support brings the tears right back. 

“Noah – is that still right or –?” 

“Name stays. Just a different label.” “I mean that. I’ve never been more proud of you. This — by the way — doesn’t change a thing between us. You’re still my best friend, and I’ll still tell you when you’re talking shit.”

Noah laughs between the tears that still run across their cheeks, “I’m counting on that.” 

They give Nick a little recap of the last few months. Nick apologises more than once for adding to the mess of feelings in their head, but Noah quickly waves him off. 

He couldn’t have known. 

They fall back into their usual banter fairly quickly. Maya leaves them alone soon after, pressing a quick kiss to Noah’s cheek before she excuses herself. 

It’s comfortable, familiar. 

Nick has always been a safe person, and in retrospect, Noah isn’t sure why she was so scared of this call. 

“Have you told the others yet?” Nick asks after a while. 

“You’re the first – well, second.” 

They can practically see the proud look on Nick’s face. 

“They’ll be good with it too, you know? We’ll figure out how to approach this with the public side of the band together. You’re not alone with that. And if someone is awful about it, we’ll sic Bryan on them.”

Knowing that Nick is on her side so unconditionally means the world to her. It means that she’ll have one more person to support her when she tells the next person. And that makes it less scary. 

An afternoon of gaming later, Noah feels decidedly more relaxed. Knowing that Nick is so very normal about it feels good. He does stumble a few times, but this is a change for him too. Nick has only known her as one thing, it’ll take him a moment to get used to it too. 

When Noah leaves their office later that day, Maya is nowhere to be seen. They check their phone, to find a message that she’d gone out with Ellie to do a little shopping. 

Noah’s fingers hover over the screen for a long moment before they decide to send the message. 

Can you bring me something? Just something you’d think I’d like?

Like a treat? I was going to do that anyway <3

To wear

There’s a long beat of silence that makes their heart rate spike. 

Sure! I’ll keep an eye open. Are you looking for something specific?

Not really. I have no idea what would suit me. 

I’ll get you something pretty <3 I’m bringing food on the way back. 

How did things with Nick go in the end? Everything good? 

Everything good 

Maya eventually returns with a few bags and a few styrofoam boxes of take out. Noah gets her usual kiss on the cheek before Maya even sets her things down. 

The reason for this surprise shopping trip apparently was that Ellie’s sure that her partner will propose over the weekend, and she wanted to have something to wear just in case. Hearing how many of their friends are moving towards that phase of life makes Noah wonder when they’ll take that step. They know that they can’t see themselves with anyone else but Maya, but there’s so much going on right now that adding a wedding to the mix wouldn’t be ideal. It’ll happen when the time is right. 

Noah’s already surprised that they’re thinking about a wedding in the first place. But that’s what being in love does, Noah supposes. 

After their late lunch, Maya sets to unpacking all of her bags. 

“I hope I guessed the sizes right. This might be a little trial and error.” She explains as she pulls a flimsy looking shirt out of one of the bags, “You’ll have to have a look on your own eventually. But I thought this might be a good place to start.” 

She hands Noah a stack of clothes. 

Maya had stuck to a simple black colour palette, which Noah is honestly thankful for. None of it looks too out there, although they don’t know how to feel about the see through shirt. 

“Give it a try.” 

Noah thinks she sounds a little nervous, and really she gets it. 

This is a big thing.

She feels awfully nervous too. 

“I’m gonna — be in the bedroom. I’ll — be back.” 

Noah feels a little awkward when she walks off to their bedroom. This isn’t as high-stakes as the skirt was. Maya had picked up a nice-looking pair of trousers for her. The shirt was the actually out there thing. She strips down to her underwear, the boxers are starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Maybe there’s an in-between option that they can go for instead. 

The trousers fit comfortably, although they are a little short at the legs – nothing new, though. As she picks up the shirt, something else tumbles from it. Noah recognises it as something Maya wears under similar shirts. The idea of having their chest on display like this doesn’t feel too appealing at the moment. 

They slip the thing over their head. It’s a little constricting at first, the fabric hasn’t really stretched yet, and it feels uncomfortably tight. Noah is willing to chalk that up to them just not being used to wearing these things. 

Their fingers tremble when they unbutton the shirt – blouse? — and pull it over their shoulders. The fabric is so soft. In a way, Noah is glad that Maya had removed all the tags beforehand. They don’t want to know how expensive this all was. 

Somehow this doesn’t look like a lot. 

Something is missing. 

Noah cracks open the door, poking their head through the gap, “Can you help me?” 

They hear her steps approaching from a different part of the house, quickly coming towards them. 

“Everything okay?” 

“I don’t know how to make this look good.” Noah says quietly. 

“If you let me in, I’m sure we can figure something out.” 

Noah steps back from the door, allowing her into the room. She suddenly feels a little shy about this. 

“Can I?” Maya asks. 

Noah gives a nod in response. 

She starts to tuck and adjust the shirt. She rolls up the sleeves a little, undoes a few buttons. Noah lets her work in peace, just quietly watching as the image in the mirror changes. Maya pulls a belt from their side of the closet. She has Noah put it on, while she digs through her jewellery box. 

“Sit down for me? You’re too tall.” Maya says with a soft smile, “Can’t reach you.” 

They slump down on the edge of their bed. Maya comes to stand in front of them. One of her hands finds Noah’s cheek, forcing her to look up. 

“How are you feeling, love?” 

“A lot in one day.” Noah replies, “But this is nice.” 

“Is it?” she leans down to kiss Noah, “I’m glad. How would you feel about a little jewellery? Just for a little flavour?”.

“Sure.” 

Maya moves back just a little, allowing her to clasp two of her necklaces around Noah’s neck. Once she’s done, she sits down next to them. Her head drops to Noah’s shoulder. 

They make a pretty picture together. 

Noah always thought that they look good together. Maya’s softness, mixed with their still rough edges, works so perfectly. They don’t think that they want to be quite as feminine as Maya, at least not right now. She did like wearing the dress, but for the moment, this feels safer. 

“I really do have the prettiest girlfriend.” Maya says after a while. 

Noah’s insides warm. 

She’s still not entirely used to it. 

“We’re not having this discussion again.” They reply quickly. 

Maya fixes their eyes in the mirror, “I stand by what I said.” 

Noah breaks into a smile that Maya quickly mirrors. 

They lean over to pull Maya in for a kiss. 

The kiss quickly devolves into more, with Noah leaning over her. She’s missed this. Feeling so detached from herself has made this side of their relationship so difficult. The added anxiety hadn’t helped either. 

Noah lets her hands wander up the sides of her body. It feels a little as if she’s never done this before. Her lips skate down the length of Maya’s neck, teeth grazing against the soft skin there. The perfume she put on this morning floods into Noah’s senses. They can’t tell exactly what it smells like, but it's soft and warm and comforting. 

Maya’s hands thread into her hair.

“Baby.” Maya’s voice barely breaks through the fog in their head. 

Noah peels themself away from her skin. 

“Are you sure about this?” she asks softly. 

“Gotta show you how thankful I am for everything you’ve done for me, don’t I?” Noah replies, feeling herself smile around the words, “You’ve done so much for me.”

She resumes her trail of kisses along Maya’s neck. Noah lets herself sink to the carpet in front of the bed. They’ve done this so often, but it still feels so new in this moment. 

They ease Maya out of her shorts, pulling her underwear down with them. 

They kiss their way up the inside of her thigh, just like they’ve always done. She leaves her pretty marks on Maya’s skin. 

It’s been too long since she got to do that. 

Noah savours the first kiss she places against her folds. She stays where she is for a moment, lingering in the feeling. It takes her a moment to find her rhythm again, but once she does, Maya quickly turns into a mess of moans. Her hand is tight in Noah’s hair, keeping them in place. 

“Noah.” She sighs, “Make me feel so good, my love.” 

Noah lets out a whine against her. 

They sink further against Maya, wrapping their lips around the little bud of nerves. The noises Maya makes only spur them on further. 

Noah pours every bit of emotion that has gathered up over the last few months into this. Everything to show her love just how grateful she is for all the patience and grace. 

They curl a single finger into her, drawing another pretty sigh from Maya. One finger quickly becomes two. It’s been too long since they’ve felt Maya come undone at her hands. 

They can tell that Maya won’t last much longer. The pitch of her moans is already rising steadily, and they can feel her clenching around their fingers. Noah keeps up her tempo, working her closer and closer towards her climax. 

She can’t wait to feel her falling apart. 

Noah doesn’t have to wait much longer. Just a few passes of her fingers and tongue later, she feels Maya pulse around her. She keeps herself buried in her warmth, carefully lapping at her while she falls apart. 

The hand in Noah’s hair tightens almost painfully. 

They’re pulled away a few moments later. 

Noah drops their head against Maya’s thigh, drawing in a deep breath. They haven’t felt this breathless in a good while. But seeing Maya so blissed out above them makes it with worth it. 

Maya looks down at her with a barely there smile playing on her lips, “Thank you, my love.”

Noah presses a kiss to the skin of her thigh, “Thank you.”

“Do you – will you let me make you feel good too?”

Noah hates how hesitant she sounds. 

And they feel even worse when they shake their head, “I have no issue doing this for you, but anything to do with my – you know – makes me feel a little off right now. I’m sorry.” 

Maya’s hand combs through her hair so gently, “Don’t be sorry, love. It’s okay. I want you to feel good, and if you don’t want that right now, that’s okay.” 

Her hand settles on their cheek and Noah leans into her touch.  

“How about we get into something comfy and watch a movie or something?” she asks softly, “I think we still have a tub of the nice chocolate ice cream.” 

They must have missed the text.

Jolly doesn’t usually show up unannounced like this. She can hear them talking in the living room, but the words don’t quite make it through the door. 

Noah feels the panic rising in their chest. 

This is not how they had planned it. 

They’d made a whole elaborate plan on how they wanted to tell the boys. She wanted to do it on her own terms, decide when and how she wanted to tell them. 

This isn’t what she wanted. 

Noah’s breathing picks up.  

Their chest feels so awfully tightly. It hasn’t felt this tight in weeks. 

She tries her hardest to keep herself centred. She still doesn’t have a fool-proof method to stop the panic. 

Maya helps the most. 

She can’t always have Maya with her, even if that’s what she wants. 

Their phone buzzes, catching her attention. 

She reaches for it with the shakiest hands. Their fingers tremble when they unlock their phone. 

Jolly’s here I told him you were in a meeting. Do you want me to tell him to come back later?

Just give me a moment. 

This wasn’t how Noah had planned to tell Jolly. They would have liked a bit more time to prepare, but maybe it can’t always be how they want it to be. 

Noah gives themself a quick once over on the webcam. She’d needed to feel a little more confident today. The subtle make-up she’d put on that morning had given her the boost she’d needed to make the day a little easier, but now she has to face the prospect of Jolly seeing her like this. 

They knew it would happen at some point, but maybe she would have liked a little more time to prepare. 

Maya will be there as a buffer. 

Jolly will be okay with it. He’ll be okay with it. 

She steels herself for it. 

It’ll be fine. 

It’ll be fine. 

It’ll be fine. 

They draw in another deep breath. 

Noah can hear their muffled conversation behind the door. 

It’s terrifying. 

But this is who they are and sooner or later, they’ll have to find out. Sooner or later, everyone will see them. 

And she wants them to see. 

Rip off the band-aid, Noah tells herself. 

They open the door. 

Jolly and Maya are so caught up in their conversation that they don’t immediately notice them entering. Noah decides to just find a spot next to Maya as if nothing at all has changed. 

Jolly stops mid-sentence and gives them a once over. 

“This is new.” He states. 

“Not that new.” Noah replies. 

Maya barely manages to contain her laughter. 

“Well, it’s new to me.” Jolly still looks a little perplexed, and Noah does feel a little bad for leaving him in the dark like this. 

He’s obviously trying to decide how to approach this, and he’s very clearly having a tough time with it. 

“I — this isn’t how I had planned to do this at all, but you’re here now, and I can’t be in control of this all the time. I had a little realisation a while back and —” Noah reaches for Maya’s hand for support, “I’ve been using she and they as pronouns, and it’s been really good for me.”

Maya squeezes their hand as if to say well done. 

They watch Jolly absorb the information. 

“Are you happy?” He asks then. 

Noah doesn’t have to think about it at all. 

“I don’t think that I’ve ever been happier.”

Jolly looks at them for a long moment before he smiles. 

“That’s the important thing. I’m happy for you.” The genuine warmth that comes from him ushers the last bits of panic from their shoulders, “Anything I need to keep in mind? Do I need to change your name in my phone?”

Noah shakes their head, “Name stays.” 

“You know the label is going to love this, right?” Jolly suddenly sounds rather serious, “There’s a non-zero chance that they’ll try to centre all the marketing for the album around it.”

Noah hadn’t exactly thought this far. In fact, they hadn’t thought about the label at all. 

“If you don’t want that, we’ll make that clear. You know we won’t leave you alone with this. We’re all with you.” 

Noah didn’t expect him to react differently, but just as it had been with Nick, it's good to have confirmation. 

The conversation goes on and eventually drifts off into the actual reason for Jolly’s visit. They eventually move over into the studio, getting lost in the track they’ve been working on. 

It’s been a good while since they’ve had the option to work together like this. With the lockdown and the move, they’ve done most of the work on the album remotely. Actually being in the same room is good. 

They’re bouncing around ideas as if nothing has changed at all, and Noah is honestly glad that Jolly isn’t making a big deal out of this. She thinks that she catches him looking at her with a somewhat contemplative look. 

And she gets it. 

This is a big thing – not just for her, but for all of them. 

All of their livelihoods depend on this band. 

This will, inevitably, affect all of them. 

“Noah?” 

They look up from where they’ve zoned out. 

“I know this is a big thing, but I promise you that it’ll be fine. The band will be fine. If someone has an issue with you figuring out who you are, they can get lost. We don’t need people like that.” Jolly places a hand on their shoulder, “You will always be one of us. Different pronouns and clothes won’t change that.”

Noah quickly finds herself wrapped up in a tight hug. 

She lets herself sag against Jolly. 

The tears come a moment later. 

Jolly lets them cry until their shoulders stop shaking. 

“We’ll be fine. This is scary, but it’ll be fine. You’re not alone. We’re all here for you. I imagine that Maya did most of the heavy lifting with you, but if you ever need to talk, I’m here. Doesn’t matter what time it is. I hope you know that was the case before this, too.”  

“Thank you. Really.” 

Jolly waves his hand dismissively, “Not for that. This is just being a good friend. Should we get this finished, or do you want to get back to it later?” 

“Do you want to stay for lunch? I think Maya’s making some baked thing.” 

Jolly naturally stays. 

And while the recipe Maya tried out didn’t work out like she had planned, they still get a good laugh out of it. It’s not entirely dreadful, Noah thinks, but they know that Maya will be a little disappointed by it. 

They’re cleaning up the dishes when Jolly leans into Noah’s space again. 

“Before I forget. Who else have you told? I don’t want to accidentally mention this to someone before you get a chance to tell them yourself.” 

“Just you and Nick.” Noah replies, “And Maya, of course.” 

Jolly nods, “Good. Just making sure. This is not my news to spread around. I’m sorry if this happened before you were ready for it. I just happened to be in the area, and it was easier to stop by then text you.” 

“It’s okay. I can’t control how it happens every time. Sometimes people are just going to find out and I have to deal with that.” 

“Remember that we have to start thinking about the album rollout soon. We can control how people find out to an extent, but eventually, it’ll be out of our grasp.” 

There are a lot of things Noah hasn’t really considered yet. 

In a way, it’s a clean break. 

They’re coming back with a new album and things will just be a little different. 

It’s like Jolly said. If people have an issue with this, they can stay away. The right people will stay, and maybe a few new ones will join them too. 

Work on the album goes well. Jolly comes over a few more times to finish the last few tracks. Overall, Noah is more than happy with it. The album has turned out more introspective than they had planned, but then again, things have been rather tumultuous. 

With Davis clued in too, they’ve started working on merchandise and art.

Noah has decided to rip off another band-aid and sent a text to Matt letting him know.

Thankfully, Matt seems quite okay with it all and immediately returns to business after acknowledging the news. 

Folio is a different story. They’d called him about a week earlier and he’s still asking questions. 

It’s endearing. 

They all have their own ways of showing their support, and Noah appreciates all of it. 

Noah shifts where they’re settled against Maya’s side. They’re rewatching Avatar again, meaning that won’t miss anything if she allows herself to drift off into thought once in a while. 

She had felt so caged in and isolated before she had opened up about to Maya about how she felt, all of out of fear of being even more alone. And now she’s sure that she’s never felt more loved before. Even with this big change, their people still love them. 

Maya lets out a huff. 

Noah turns to look at her. 

“Nick’s calling. He’s so worried that he’ll say or do something wrong.” she says with a sigh, “Let me get up? I won’t be long.” 

As much as Noah doesn’t want to let her go, she reluctantly lets herself slump over to the other side of the sofa. 

Maya gives their hand a quick squeeze as she gets up. She answers the call just as she slips into her studio. Noah knows that she’s probably just going to reassure Nick that he can’t really do anything wrong, but her curiosity gets the better of her. 

They follow a moment later, just to listen in for a moment. 

“Nick – I promise you that you can’t do anything wrong. This is new for all of us. And I know that you don’t want to hurt her, but don’t you think that Noah knows that you won’t say something hurtful on purpose?” Maya asks with a hint of humour in her voice, “You've known them for how long now? — Exactly. It’ll be fine. I promise. — No, Nick, this is not annoying. It’s okay. I’d rather have you ask questions than make assumptions. And I know Noah feels the same way. You can’t imagine how much knowing that you’re all on their side means to them. They were so scared that somehow one of you wouldn’t be – I know – but I’m glad that it all worked out. Won’t lie, for a while, when I didn’t know what was going on yet, I didn’t know what she was doing to do. I’d never seen them like that and it really scared me. But, thankfully, everything worked out. We’ll see you next week, right? Good –” 

Noah quickly makes their way back to the sofa before Maya hangs up.  

They know that they’d worried her, but sometimes it slips their mind just how much anguish they put Maya through. 

She emerges a short while later and sinks down next to them again, “You wanna get comfy in bed? We have a big day planned for tomorrow.” 

They’re only going shopping tomorrow, but Noah has made the plan to at least try to buy something more feminine. They want what they’ll wear on stage to go with the vibe of the album, and that means new clothes. 

It’ll be a challenge. 

She’s stolen a few things from Maya, but it’s just not the same thing. Borrowing Maya’s clothes helped, but she wants to find her own style. 

“Early night sounds good.” Noah agrees. 

Somehow this is more daunting than Noah had expected. This isn’t their first time going out since they’ve made the switch, but they’ll be out for a while and there’s very little space for them to hide away if they do get overwhelmed. Having Maya at their side does help, but even Maya can’t make all of their anxieties disappear. 

The fact that they’re here to buy more clothes for her doesn’t help either. They try to keep telling themselves that it's only clothing. 

It’s not that big of a deal. 

Noah follows Maya through the racks. They don’t really know what they’re looking for, which doesn’t make this easier. Maya keeps holding out random things to them, but so far, nothing has felt right. 

Noah plucks a shirt from one of the racks. It’s similar to the cropped ones that they’ve borrowed from Maya. 

“That’s cute.” Maya notes, “Could be fun with that one button up you’ve never worn and some shorts.”

Noah tries to imagine it. They know the shirt Maya is talking about. They’d wanted to try it, but it had never looked quite right. Maybe this could work. 

“You know – somehow didn’t think that shorts were an option.” 

Maya smiles so sweetly then, “We live in L.A. babe. When was the last time you’ve seen me in jeans?”

“So, where do we get shorts?” 

Somehow that seems to break the dam. 

They wander from store to store after that, and Noah tries her best to not feel self-conscious about how much money they’re spending or the fact that she’s carrying bags of clothes that will make her feel so much better about herself. 

To their surprise, people don’t seem to be too fussed even when Noah browses the racks of the women’s section on their own. 

Maya wants to make one final stop before they get lunch. As they approach the store, Noah realises where they’re going. They’ve accompanied Maya here before, so eager to get a peek into her dressing room. Everything Maya had bought from this shop had turned their brain into soup. 

Coming here now feels a little scary. 

Noah can’t quite picture what their body would look like in underwear like this. They’ve barely managed to graduate to things with less coverage than their usual boxers. The lacy little things Maya wears still feel very daunting. 

They reach for her hand, trying to find a little comfort for their frayed nerves. 

“You don’t have to get anything if you don’t want to. I just want to have a look at the new arrivals.”  

Noah is content to just watch while Maya browses. They watch her pick up a few things to try on and just out of curiosity, Noah decides to examine some of the items a little closer. 

The first thing that catches their eye is a deep red set. The panties are fairly high-waisted, something she likes seeing on Maya. There are two matching top options – a bra with cups and something she’s sure Maya has called a bralette before, but who really knows. 

She picks up the top. The fabric is so soft between their fingers. They don’t know if this would even fit them. 

“Found something you like?” Maya presses up behind them. 

Noah gives a nod, “I just don’t know if it’ll fit.” 

Maya eyes the garments, taking it from their hands, “Should be okay. Do you wanna get this?”

“I want to try it at least.” they say quietly. 

“We can buy it and if you decide that you don’t like it for whatever reason we’ll figure something out.” 

They watch as Maya pays for their items. 

Noah can’t quiet decide if she’s anxious or excited about this. 

The more they’ve been actively exploring this side of them, the more comfortable they’ve become with it. Some of the insecurities they’ve held before suddenly make a lot of sense. With the realisation that boy had never been the right thing for them, a few had simply disappeared. Sure, in turn they’d discovered new things to be insecure about, but in the grand scheme of thing Noah has never felt more comfortable in their body. 

Noah can hardly contain their excitement when they get back home. She’s only tried on a few things at the stores, but some of the more out there things were reserved for the safety of their home. They’ve stuck to trousers for the most part, but the shirt options they’ve picked are a little more bold. 

But there’s something Noah is particularly excited to try on. Throughout the drive home, Noah has come to the conclusion that their feelings towards underwear lean more towards excitement. Their hope is that it’ll make them feel a little bit better about their bare body. It won’t make everything disappear, but maybe it’ll give them a little bit more confidence. And maybe it’ll spark something else too. 

Noah pluck their bag from the lingerie store and disappear into the bathroom, while Maya is distracted by something else. 

She wants to try this on her own first – just in case. This is still a big thing, after all. Noah strips down to their underwear. They’ve taken to wearing soft, unlined sports bras just for the feeling. There’s nothing to cover, but the extra step makes them feel a little more feminine. 

So far, it has worked. 

They take a moment to look at themselves. Their body hasn’t changed much, there are things they wish were different, but they’ve come to realise that these things don’t happen overnight. Noah has considered her options and while she hasn’t settled on anything yet, she has brought some of it up to Maya for a second opinion.

Noah finally shimmies out of their underwear. 

The new stuff doesn’t look quite as scary now that they’re in the safety of their home. Their hands still shake a little when they pull the panties up their thighs. The material feels so different on their skin. Noah adjusts themselves, trying to get comfortable in this. It’s clear that this isn’t made for their anatomy, but it feels good regardless. The high-waisted fit of the panties gives their waist a little more definition, and with the way the legs are cut out they actually feel as if there’s shape to their form. Noah tugs on the bralette, this isn’t too different from the things they’ve been wearing for a couple of weeks now. The fabric makes a world of a difference, though. The colour looks beautiful against their skin, and they like how the see-through fabric shows off their tattoos. 

They hear Maya call their name from the bedroom. 

Noah gives herself a final once over in the mirror before she pulls her shirt back over her frame. She loves when Maya does this, and showing herself off like this feels right.  

She opens the door to the bedroom, stepping out into the room. 

“Have you seen the —” Maya stops as soon as she sees them. 

Her eyes drift across Noah’s frame. 

They feel brave today. It’s taken them a while to feel comfortable showing their body again, even just to Maya. But today they feel good about themselves. Seeing Maya so affected by them definitely helps. 

“Did you try on the underwear?” she asks softly. 

Noah nods. 

Maya meets them in the middle of the room. She pulls Noah in for a kiss. Her hand is so soft on the side of their face. Maya’s unoccupied hand plays with the hem of their shirt, and Noah knows exactly what she wants. They’ve done the same to her. 

“Can I see?” there’s a trace of hesitance in her voice, but the curiosity outweighs it easily. 

Noah has long made up her mind. She wants Maya to see – to touch. 

They reach for the bottom of the shirt and slowly pull it upwards. Maya’s hands practically fly to their waist as soon as it is revealed to her. They feel her eyes drifting across their body, trying to take all of them in. 

“Noah.” she sighs, “You – you look so beautiful.” 

They meet in another kiss. Noah feels herself being pulled in by her waist, as Maya’s hand shifts to the small of her back. They shove their hand under Maya’s shirt, suddenly desperate to feel skin too. 

It’s been a while since they’ve been close like this and admittedly, Noah has missed it. 

Maya carefully walks them back towards the bed. Noah lets herself fall onto the mattress with a laugh. Maya quickly straddles her waist, leaning down to kiss her again. 

“Are you okay with this?” she asks between the kisses they trade. 

Noah sighs out a yes. 

They need to feel her hands on their body, need the gentle affection Maya is so willing to give them. 

From their lips, Maya begins a trail of kisses down their neck. She leaves her marks there, sucking a pretty bruise just under the edge of their jaw. Noah’s brain is already so full of fuzz. They feel hands drifting across their body, fingers tracing along the lines of their tattoos. 

Maya’s hands come to cover their chest. There isn’t anything to cup there, but the idea of it alone is enough to make Noah sigh. A thumb drags across their nipple, before she tugs at it just a little. The sting of it pulls a sound from Noah’s throat. 

Noah tangles a hair into Maya’s hair as she continues to descend along her body. They can feel the excitement bubbling in the middle as she trails her kisses along their tummy. 

“Can I touch you?” Maya asks softly. 

“Please.” she chokes out, “Please – it’s been so long.” 

Maya lets out a quiet chuckle, before she lets her hand wander lower. For now, it stays above her underwear. She places her hand above Noah’s crotch. Her touch is light, giving Noah a moment to adjust to it. 

Maya continues to kiss across their chest and tummy while the pressure of her hand slowly increases. Noah’s already halfway to hard and they’ve barely done anything at all. 

“Tell me if something feels off, okay? I want you to feel good.” Maya looks up at her with such a devastating softness. 

Maya slowly works her hand into their panties. Noah sighs when her hand curls around their cock. 

“I almost don’t want to take these off you.” Maya muses, as her fingers trace across the waistband of the panties, “You look so pretty in them.” 

“I feel pretty.”  

“Good.” She presses a kiss against their tummy, “Now let me make you feel good.” 

She carefully tugs the panties down until Noah’s cock comes free. 

Noah makes a little high-pitched sound when it slaps up against her tummy. Maya’s hand immediately returns to her, setting a slow, but steady rhythm. She continues peppering Noah’s skin with the softest kisses. Noah doesn’t even try to stop herself from moaning. She knows that Maya loves to hear her sounds, and it all feels too good anyway. 

The brush of Maya’s tongue against the head of their cock makes their hips tip forward. It’s been months since they’ve felt anything except the occasional rushed touch of their own hand on their skin. 

Noah whines when she takes the head between her lips. It’s almost overwhelming. The warmth of her mouth erases practically every thought in Noah’s head. Maya has always had that effect on them, but it’s so much more intense now. They drop their head back against the pillow, allowing themself to get lost in the sensation. 

Their hand tangles into Maya’s hair, less to direct her and more to keep her close. Noah decides then that she needs to feel more. While the mouth of her love feels good, she needs to feel all of her. 

“Maya.” she sighs, “I – fuck – let me feel you. Please. I wanna be inside –” the words come out broken up and breathy, but she can’t bring herself to worry, “Please baby.” she chokes out, “Please let me feel you. It’s been so long.” 

She hasn’t felt this desperate for her in a while.

Maya pulls away from them, but keeps her hand on their cock. 

“How do you want me?”

“Can you — on top of me.” Noah makes herself say between the soft sighs Maya pulls from her.

They watch as Maya undresses herself. She doesn’t make much of a show of it. And just a few moments later, she’s straddling Noah’s waist.

She reaches for their hand and guides it between her thighs. Noah dips her fingers between her folds. She’s soaked already. Maya sighs when their fingers sink into her. She’s so soft and warm, and Noah can’t wait to feel her wrapped around them again. It’s been far too long.

“Noah.” 

Hearing her sigh their name like that makes the warmth in their belly burn even hotter. They curl their fingers inside of her, pulling another moan from her. 

The need to feel her becomes too overwhelming then. 

“Think you’re ready?” She asks, finding herself sounding a little shaky. 

Maya nods, drawing in a stuttered breath. 

Noah slowly pulls their fingers from her. They guide the head of their cock towards her entrance. Their breath catches in their throat when they make contact, and Noah has to take a moment to stop themselves from coming undone then and there. Maya sinks down on her so, so slowly. 

She tangles their fingers together, holding on to Noah for dear life. Her eyes fall shut as she sinks lower. Noah thinks that she’s never been more beautiful. Her lips tremble, brows furrowed so slightly.

Maya pauses once she’s fully seated on top of Noah. She leans forward to meet kiss them. Her hand is so soft and warm against their cheek. It’s all so dizzying. 

“I love you so much, Noah.” she speaks against their lips, “My beautiful darling. My beautiful girl.” 

Their heart pounds in their chest. 

It still feels so novel, but god it feels good.

Noah pulls her back down for another kiss. 

“I love you.” Noah replies, lips spreading into a smile. 

Maya stays close for a moment longer, allowing both of them to settle just a little more. The soft kisses and words they exchange sear themselves into Noah’s mind. They know that Maya loves them, she shows it without shame. But in this moment, Noah feels so impossibly loved. 

Noah trails her fingers up the length of Maya’s back, pulling a little laugh from her. 

She grinds down against them, making both of them moan. 

The slow rhythm she sets makes Noah’s head swim. It’s a grind more than anything else, but it’s enough – more than enough, actually. 

Their hands are still interlaced, and Noah is glad to have that security. Their free hand roams across Maya’s thigh. Noah lets their eyes drift across her body from where they’re joined all the way up to her face. They find Maya already fixed on them, and they can’t possibly look away again. 

Noah doesn’t know how long they’ll last. 

Their constitution feels so worn and frayed already. Maya’s soft praise only pushes her further towards the edge.

“You feel so good.” she sighs, “Make me feel so good, my love.”

Noah wants to return the words and tell Maya how good she’s making her feel, but the words just won’t come. The only thing she can offer is a near wanton moan. 

Their hand grips into Maya’s thigh a little tighter as their hips pitch upwards. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you, baby?” she asks softly.

Noah gives another whine in response, “So close. You feel so good around me.”

Maya picks up her effort a little, now seemingly intent on bringing both of them to their climax. The warmth that spreads through them is unlike anything they’ve felt before. Feeling Maya clench around them makes their vision white out a little. 

They feel Maya tip forward against their chest at some point. They wrap their arms around her body, keeping her as close as possible to them. Their chests heave in unison. Noah is sure that they’ve never been more connected. 

Maya rests her head against their chest. With just a turn of their head, Noah can press their lips to her forehead. They stay like this for a long moment, just enjoying each other's warmth and presence. Noah hadn’t realised just how much they’ve missed this. Being close to Maya like this always made them feel more connected to her, and starving themself of this connection had impacted them more than they had previously thought. 

Half an hour later, they’re cuddled up in bed. 

Noah shuffles back against Maya’s chest. She wraps her arm around them, her hand settling on their tummy. Maya presses a kiss to their bare shoulder. 

Noah lets herself sink into the embrace, allowing it to envelop her entirely. Their nerves still buzz with the ecstasy of their high, but it's a pleasant, warm feeling. 

They doze off a little while later, entirely content and happy. 

Noah paces along the length of their living room. 

The article and the related posts will drop any moment and god she’s never been more nervous. This is the first time they’ll be seen in public since they’ve gone down this road. The pictures Bryan has taken are genuinely some of their favourites. 

Maya had helped her assemble a good look for this shoot. The new clothes and a little bit of make-up had done a world of a difference. Noah had felt incredibly confident that day. 

Right now, all she wants to do is sink into the ground until all of this is over. 

“It’s up.” Nick announces. 

Noah swears that she’s going to throw up. 

At this point, the actual album release will be a breeze. 

Maya wraps an arm around their middle. 

“It’ll be okay, love. You know that the important people are on your side.” she says quietly, “We all love you so much. I love you so much.” 

Noah pulls their phone from the pocket of their sweats. The tremble of their hand makes it almost impossible to unlock their phone. They navigate towards Instagram, fully knowing that some of the words will sting. 

They scroll through the comments, anticipating the vitriol. 

The first comment that catches their eye is the exact opposite of what they’d expected. 

this is so cool! i’m proud of them <3

i love seeing someone living as themselves

this rocks, haters can get fucked 

whoa i didn’t know noah went by they/she that’s dope!

There are a few odd comments that follow the usual bigoted pattern. The overwhelming majority is either just really excited to see them release new music or offering their support for Noah. 

“I told you they’d be good.” Nick calls from the other side of the room. 

There’s a little commotion about someone commenting that they’re only going in this direction because of Cyberpunk, but the room quickly quiets down again. 

Noah is set to make an appearance on a podcast with Jolly later that day. They know the person they’re supposed to talk to, and Noah is surprisingly excited to get to talk about the new album. They’ve worked hard on this and Noah knows that they’re all very proud of what they’ve created. Being able to talk about it after all this time feels good. 

For the first time since they’ve been doing interviews, Matt has requested that they’re sent the questions ahead of time, just so they can have a bit of control over what they’re asked. Noah knows that they won’t be able to avoid the topic entirely, but they don’t want it to become the main focus of every interview they do from now on. Which pronouns they use shouldn’t have anything to do with the music the band they’re in makes. Thankfully, this interviewer had stuck to the more important things. 

“Now, this new cycle comes with a lot of changes for you as a band.” he starts and Noah steels themselves for the inevitable question, “It seems like you’ve changed up your sound quite a bit from the snippets we’ve heard so far. Will the whole album lean into that kind of sound or will there be some of the heavier sound that we’re used to from you?” 

Noah let’s out the breath they’ve been holding as Jolly gives his answer. They chime in eventually, adding that they want to keep evolving their sound, both for their and their audiences' sake. To keep things interesting. 

Noah marks this day as a good one. 

Things could have gone quite a lot worse, all things considered. She tries not to think about the mountain of unanswered e-mails that still waits for her. They’ll work their way through them in the coming days.

They spend what’s left of the day together as a group. 

They don’t get nearly enough days to just hang out together any more. Having time with their friends without the looming obligations biting at their ankles is nice. 

For the rest of the evening, the band doesn’t matter, and they’re just a group of friends spending good quality time together. 

Watching the tickets for the tour sell out had been invigorating. It is just a small run of shows but knowing that they had sold out almost all of the shows had been a massive boost to their ego. 

The general reception of the new music had been good, and it had eased Noah’s nerves about the first show, at least a little bit. 

Now that the day has come, though, Noah feels impossibly nervous. They know that they’ve been a little irritable all day, but if anyone had been affected by it, they hadn’t made it known. 

Doors have opened by now, and Noah really should start to get ready. She’s kept herself busy with vocal warm-ups and administrative things. All that was left to do now was get dressed. 

Noah enters the dressing room, to find Maya sorting through their things. 

“There you are.” she says with a smile, “I was about to text you. Do you need help getting ready or do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Please stay?” Noah asks as they wrap their arms around her middle, “I think I might need a little help.” 

The outfit they’ve picked for this show is fairly neutral. With a few tricks, Maya had somehow managed to give their waist a little more definition. It’s not ideal yet, but it’s all in the works now. They’ve already made so much progress, and everything that is coming up now will only make things better. 

Noah sits down in front of the vanity. 

They’ve done this so often already, but right now, they can’t stop their hands from shaking. Maya pulls a chair up next to them, taking the brush out of their hand. 

“Let me help you, my love.” she says softly. 

Noah gladly turns their chair towards her. Maybe having this moment will make her feel a little calmer. 

“Didn’t get a chance to ask earlier, how did your last therapy session go?” Maya asks as she continues to work on their make-up. 

Noah had brought up a big question during the last session. They’d thought about it for a while. They had figured out very early on that the thing that had the biggest impact on their dysphoria was how boyish their body still felt. Noah has done what they could, and the logical next step is – as much as it scared them – hormones. 

They have brought it up with Maya before, but it had never been a firm decision. Maya had, naturally, been incredibly supportive of the idea. 

“I asked her about HRT.”

Maya stops moving then. She sets down the products in her hands. 

“You did? What did she say?” ​​

“She’s going to write me a note just in case. But she agrees that it’s the best option for me.” 

Maya breaks into a wide smile. She wraps them into a tight hug. Maya presses a plethora of kisses against the cheeks and lips. 

“That’s so good. I’m so happy for you.” 

Noah lets herself sink against Maya. Her support has been their biggest crutch during all of this. They don’t know what they would have done if they didn’t have Maya, or even worse if she hadn’t been supportive of them. Thankfully, Noah doesn’t have to worry about that. Somehow, she’s ended up with the best support system she could have asked for.

“Thank you, really.” Noah says finally, “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” 

Maya pulls away from them just enough to look at them, “You’re my person, Noah. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. With maybe a few exceptions – I draw the line at murder.”

Noah can’t help but laugh at that. 

“I mean that. Watching you be so sad and unlike yourself during those first few weeks – I never want that again. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.” 

Noah has to fight the tears. They’ve had this talk a few times, but it never fails to bring her to tears. 

“You don’t know how much that means to me.” Noah sniffles.

“I just need you to talk to me. Tell me when you need something. I can’t read your mind yet.” 

“I’ll do my best.” Noah leans in to steal a kiss from her, “I think we have to get going, though. Don’t wanna rush things. And Bryan will want to take a few more pictures.” 

Maya gives them another kiss before she continues to work on their make-up. 

Maya doesn’t do anything too out of the ordinary, but it’s enough to make them feel comfortable and confident. And mixed with the outfit, Noah feels more than ready to head out on stage again. 

As expected, Bryan snaps a few more pictures of all four of them. He has been taking candids all afternoon, and Noah is genuinely curious to see how Bryan has captured her. They all go about their own little routines in the last few moments before they go on stage. 

Noah stops by the last restroom before the stage, just to get a final glimpse at themself. So much, and at the same time so little, has changed. 

For the moment, the nerves outweigh any kind of excitement they feel. Noah’s sure that thing will settle once they’re actually one stage and the first song is underway. It’s always like that. 

They’re always impossibly nervous up until the moment they’re singing the first line. Noah finds her eyes in the mirror. 

She’ll be okay. 

Noah tugs at her shirt for a moment, makes sure that the buckle of her belt is centred. She fixes her hair, swipes a little speck of eyeshadow from her cheek. Noah wonders how long she can hide away here. 

They can hear them talking outside, they’re sure that they can hear Matt and Nick talking right in front of the door. Something about the last few shows selling out too. 

Noah decides that it’s time to stop stalling. 

She exits the restroom again and wriggles her way into their conversation. 

“What’s that about selling out?” they ask, draping their arm across Nicks shoulder. 

“Tour’s all sold out.” Matt announces, “Album’s selling like mad, too. At this point, we might even make a profit.”

Hearing that their coming out had no major negative impact on the band and their career takes a good chunk of weight off their shoulders. Nick pulls them into a half hug. 

A moment later, they’re all huddled up. Jolly says something about how they’ll be better than ever tonight, but Noah can barely hear him over the buzzing in their ears. They can hear the noise of the crowd, their excited cheers as the lights dim down. 

Folio’s excitement about getting back on stage bubbles over into her. 

This will be a good one. 

Just before they go on stage, they look back to see Maya coming up towards the side with Davis. 

All of her favourite people are here tonight. Everyone she loves is here to support them – to support her. 

As soon as they step foot on stage and the noise of the crowd fills their ears, they know that things will be okay. The show is unlike any they’ve played before. The energy in the room gives Noah drive to barrel through the setlist. 

And by the time the band takes their bows, Noah is sure of it all. 

Things will be okay. 

Noah is glad that they’ve decided against a big dinner with everyone after the show. Instead, they find themself curled up against Maya’s side while they devour their spread of takeout. The show flickering across the screen matters little, Noah is too lost in their own thoughts to pay attention to it. 

The night couldn’t have gone better. 

Being welcomed back with such open arms had superseded any expectation they’d had leading up to today. Sure, they’d hoped that people would be accepting or even welcoming, but the outpouring of love and support not just for her but for the whole band had meant the world to her. 

The thing that had really sealed it all was seeing Maya at the side of the stage. The pride and love they had found on her face had made it all worth it. 

Noah shifts against her, trying to get a little more comfortable. They’re exhausted beyond reason and here, with Maya so close, they’re about ready to clock out for the night. 

Maya presses an absent-minded kiss to the top of their head, as her arm tightens around their middle. 

This is all they need, Noah thinks. 

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@rumoured-whispers @cheyyyyr @mathfairchild1 @thewrstinme @Follow-me-down-to-wonderland

[fangedxnight1836]

Characters of the day:

The Flags!! - From Stormbringer.

They were a youth “benefits” society featured within the Port Mafia. They were all successful candidates to become the next executives. They were described as being equal or better than Chuuya. Originally called the “Young People’s association”, with all members being aged 25 or younger.

Piano man

Some facts about him:

Leader of the flags

Eldest in the group

Clothes are always black and white

one who invited Chuuya to be in the organisation

The only person who was good at dealing with the super-bills of the mafia

uses an electric carbon steel piano wire gun which is where he got his nickname

HC’s:

He has a delayed reaction when it comes to people telling him jokes.

He has a lot of blackmail when it comes to all the members of the flags (including Chuuya).

As the leader of the group he makes people do all his work and when they say no he pouts while showing his blackmail.

he has a swear jar which only gets filled by albatross and Chuuya.

Lippmann

Some facts about him:

described as being very attractive, appealing to both genders.

his job was very important as he is the point of negotiation between the port mafia and the public

he is a movie star with “crazed fans all over the world”

His ability directly reacted with the attackers murderous intent, impossible to kill him quietly.

HCs

he’s literally the biggest diva alive.

Everyone loves him in the group.

He is the best judge of character and everyone asks him for advice. He says his favourite movie is the notebook but it’s actually all his own movies.

He is the best dressed, and is never caught lacking or having a bad hair day.

Albatross

Some facts about him:

Chuuya and him live in the same “luxurious apartment complex”.

he drags Chuuya out from his room to various battlefields with different transport methods each time. This annoys Chuuya

the flag which is the closest to Chuuya. (Chuuya does have friends, other than what people usually depict him as)

Good at using different vehicles and was trusted by the mafia to use them, in battle. Gave Chuuya his bike after he died 😭. (The pink one).

Some HC’s:

He often influences Chuuya in joining him on some daily pranks to annoy people.

He creates random cuss words to say at people.

He can skate board.

He and Chuuya bully Doc and iceman replacing their wardrobe with each others .

Doc

Some facts about him:

He has saved and deliberately taken around 800 lives,

Among the Port Mafias medical team, he was the best.

His goal was to get closer to God by saving 2 million people, which is why he joined the Mafia. He is waiting for a large scale conflict to allow him to save those lives.

He got his doctorate in Medical science from North America.

Some HC’s:

If he were to be alive or born in a different time line, the show human earthworm in Jujutsu Kaisen would be one of his favourites.

I fear he has insomnia.

He and Ice man rant all the time together.

He scares Chuuya with random over exaggerated incidents people had coming to get healed from him and how he needs to be careful and the battlefield.

Iceman

Some facts about him:

Second eldest in the group

Doesn’t have an ability

Hitman who uses objects around himself to finish the job, not using an ability or weapons

Has a physical constitution which allows him to sense when an ability is activated nearby

Known as a man of the shadows

His kill ratio is higher than that of ability combat users

Some HC’s:

He shows up to Doc for noreason just to complain.

Ice man has the best drinks stashed in his room. (Gatekeeped)

His most painful experience other than battling Verlaine was probably stepping on Lego.

He’s a chill guy fr.

He’s good at pool and often shows off.

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 25: Hunting Ground

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 5.8K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

The tavern is a grim affair, smelling of stale beer and sweat. Shadows cling to the corners, like oil slicks that refuse to be cleaned away, and the sputtering lanterns hanging from crooked beams seem too exhausted to illuminate the room properly.

The clientele is a mixed assortment of rogues, mercenaries, and people who look as though they have more secrets than morals. A large half-orc with a patchy beard glares at anyone who comes too close, while a wiry elf in a tattered cloak palms a dagger. Even the bartender, a grizzled man with a missing ear, watches with a hawkish stare, his hands never far from the club he has leaning behind the bar.

Astarion leans in close, his eyes shrewd with awareness. “We should split up and cover more ground. It will be easier to catch anything useful if we are not one conspicuous trio.”

Shadowheart nods, her attention already sweeping over the tavern’s interior. “Stay within sight of each other,” she adds, her voice a shade sterner than usual.

You swallow down the knot of anxiety that forms at the thought of leaving Astarion’s side. It’s irrational, you know, given how well he can take care of himself. He could charm half the room and slice his way through the other half if he needed to. Still, the idea makes your fingers twitch with a half-formed desire to grab onto him.

You nod, plastering on a smile that feels far too tight. “Be careful,” you murmur to Astarion, who gives you a wink and a roguish grin.

He slips away into the crowd, moving like silk through the mass of bodies, and Shadowheart gives you an understanding look before heading off. Taking a breath, you step forward and fall into character. A charming yet dangerously mysterious smile slides across your lips, the kind that hints at secrets and makes people wonder whether you’re a friend or a threat.

Your focus drifts across the room, and you catalogue the patrons. Rough-looking sailors huddle over dice games. A pair of cloaked figures whisper harshly at a table near the back. A barmaid moves between tables, her eyes hollow and far away, as if she’s detached from the filth of her surroundings.

This place is a den of treachery, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You know how to play the game, how to be what people in these places expect to see: a pretty face with the potential for ruin lurking just beneath.

A part of you remains on high alert, aware of where Astarion and Shadowheart are, keeping track of the distance between you. Stay focused, you think. Still, you keep one eye on Astarion, his silver hair catching the tavern’s oily light like moonbeams tangled in cobwebs.

He’s joined a game of cards, settling in with the kind of disarming ease that only he can manage. Shadowheart, meanwhile, glides around the edges of the room like a shadow given form. Her wolfish focus is sharp and attentive, missing nothing as she prowls the perimeter.

You take a deep breath, shedding the last of your tension, and begin your hunt with a simple trick: proximity.

You drift close to a group of rough-looking mercenaries boasting about their latest job and make sure they notice you. The trick is to be almost approachable, to seem just out of reach. You toss your hair, and the men’s curiosity sharpens, like wolves sniffing at the edge of the woods.

It isn’t long before one of them breaks away from the pack, sidling up to you with a swagger that tells you he thinks he’s in control of this encounter.

“May I buy you a drink?” he offers, leering in a way that would send shivers of disgust down your spine if you weren’t so practiced at this.

Instead, you tilt your head, considering him, and then let your smile widen just a fraction. “I was about to buy one myself, but I suppose it would be terribly rude to refuse.”

He grins, and you know you’ve hooked him. As he calls for a drink, you let the conversation flow, asking just enough questions to keep him talking. He’s eager to impress, telling you about some recent job escorting a merchant’s caravan, and you listen with feigned interest, nodding at all the right moments.

You slip away at the first chance of escape with a whispered, “Don’t be a stranger,” that leaves him grinning like a fool.

You move on to another cluster of patrons, this time a pair of traders whispering about how business has been suffering. Here, you adopt a different approach: you act the part of a fellow merchant, commiserating with their struggles and sprinkling in enough business jargon to earn their trust. You don’t push too hard, but you nudge the conversation toward anything unusual they’ve heard. They don’t have much to offer.

You glide between groups like a dancer changing partners. Each conversation is a delicate performance, a balance of charm and subtle prying. With a group of dockworkers, you switch to playful teasing, laughing at their ribald jokes and pretending to be scandalized, all the while coaxing out tales of trouble on the docks.

When a more serious crowd catches your eye—hard-eyed mercenaries with their hands never straying far from their blades—you adjust your act once again. Your smile becomes cooler, more challenging, and you weave your words with a thread of danger. They size you up, but when you don’t flinch under their scrutiny, they let you into their circle.

Here, you hear something more concrete: talk of graves being disturbed in strange ways.

It’s not much, but it’s a lead.

You’re nodding along, making the appropriate sympathetic noises as the woman in front of you drones on. Her voice is as grating as boots crunching over shards of broken glass, and you’re only half-listening, the other half of your attention firmly fixed on Astarion.

His laughter—smooth, melodic—floats across the crowd, drawing more attention than a moth-eaten tavern like this deserves. Even now, even here, he’s a beacon. The men and women at his table seem magnetized, drawn to his every gesture.

It’s maddening.

One of them, a rugged brute with arms like tree trunks, leans too close. His hand brushes against Astarion’s shoulder, lingering, and that familiar spark of jealousy ignites in your chest. It coils tight, a snake slithering through your ribcage, and you can’t help the way your gaze sharpens.

It’s absurd, really, the way everyone fawns over him, how they orbit his beauty like planets held captive by a star. Women, men—it never seems to matter; everyone’s drawn in, and you get it. Gods, do you get it, but still, it irks you.

The woman says something that makes your ears perk up, something about people disappearing from the lower districts, especially from a house of healing where the down-and-outs seem to be swept away like detritus in a storm. You refocus, flashing a smile that makes her puff up with importance, but you’re still watching Astarion, your peripheral vision locked onto that table.

You know Astarion can handle himself; you know he’s as dangerous as the blade he keeps concealed in his boot, but that knowledge does nothing to calm the roiling heat in your gut. The man is talking too loudly, clearly inebriated, and when his hand drops lower to rest on Astarion’s knee, you feel your fingers curl into fists.

Astarion throws his head back and laughs, and it’s a sound like sunlight breaking through storm clouds—deliberate, meant to disarm and entice. The minutes creep by, and your patience wears thinner than an old piece of parchment. Your attempts at charming conversation yield no further leads. The whispers and rumours all swirl around the same topics: the city’s underbelly swallowing the unfortunate whole.

Astarion’s game of cards continues, round after round, and he’s building up quite the impressive stack of coin. The gamblers around him are varying degrees of drunk and frustrated, their brows furrowed in disbelief at how thoroughly they’re being played.

Then, there’s the drunken ass—his hands have grown bolder, the touches escalating from lingering grazes to something more presumptuous. That ember of jealousy roars into a bonfire, and you resist the urge to stride over there and burn the oaf to ash.

Astarion remains poised, every move calculated to avoid the touch without looking like he’s avoiding it. His hands perform little flourishes, as if he’s merely emphasizing his amusement at the game, knocking away a grasp with an airy gesture. The ease with which he handles it should reassure you, but instead, it needles at your already raw nerves.

The man laughs, and he reaches out again. This time, he aims lower, his intentions crystal clear. Your vision blurs at the edges with the intensity of your fury, and you dig your nails into your palms to keep from marching over there and making a scene—or worse, letting the magic that hums under your skin break free and turn this entire bar into a funeral pyre.

Shadowheart’s presence is a calming anchor in your peripheral vision, but even she seems tense, her dark eyes darting between Astarion and you. She’s noticed your simmering anger, the way you haven’t moved from your spot in far too long. You press your lips into a thin line, silently willing Astarion to end the game, to finish this charade before your composure snaps like a brittle twig underfoot.

You exhale slowly, reminding yourself that your anger won’t help him. If you intervene, it’ll only draw more attention, but gods, it’s hard.

Gale’s manor looms, a great silhouette of stone and ivy under a sky washed with the fading indigo of retreating night. The air clings to a chill, fog curling in wisps around the base of the steps like restless phantoms. Astarion barely notices. He drifts, an apparition himself, anchored to the world only by the occasional murmur of Kamena’s voice.

His thoughts drift, unmoored, back to that tavern and to every awful, visceral memory it unearthed. His body is present, but his mind has been dragged back into places where hands claimed, used, and discarded. He swears he still feels it—phantom touches pricking along his skin, invisible fingers pawing at him, groping at his waist, his arms, wherever they could stake a claim.

He closes his eyes, but that only intensifies the memory: coarse fingers seizing his chin, breath hot and acrid against his ear, murmurs of desire that were nothing more than knives.

How is it that even with Cazador rotting in some forgotten pit, he remains haunted, every soft whisper of the past ready to drag him back to that hell? A deep shame burns through his chest. He’s stronger now, isn’t he? He should be past this.

But the hands don’t stop, and the breath doesn’t fade, and all he can do is stand there, fighting a war inside his head against ghosts who have never truly let him go.

“Hey,” Kamena’s voice is soft, a flickering candle in the dark, coaxing him back. “Astarion?”

He forces himself to focus, but it’s like trying to pull free of tar. He blinks, realizing he’s still standing in the manor’s foyer, Shadowheart long gone.

“Astarion?” Kamena tries again, worry threading through her words. “Where are you?”

He swallows, finding his voice and hating how fragile it sounds. “I’m… here,” he answers. “Sorry, darling. Lost in thought. Nothing to worry about.”

Kamena knows him too well, sees through every crack and flaw he tries to hide. Her eyes search his face, reading the pain he can’t disguise. “Come on. Let’s get you upstairs.”

She turns, using her body to guide him toward the staircase, never touching him directly. Instead, she hovers close, her movements careful and deliberate, a hand gesturing to show him the way, an arm raised slightly to ensure he follows.

Astarion’s steps feel heavy, each one an effort as they ascend. He clings to her presence, attention trained forward, focusing on the sway of her movements, on the quiet grace that surrounds her.

As soon as the door clicks closed, Kamena’s fingers snap, and flames spring to life in the fireplace. She moves without hesitation, heading straight for the tub in the corner.

He stands, feeling unanchored, like a ghost in his own skin. His gaze darts to the flickering fire, but the warmth doesn’t touch him, doesn’t sink into the cold that’s burrowed beneath his bones. He walks aimlessly, every step a vain attempt to shake free from the invisible hands still clawing at him.

His eyes catch on the glint of his dagger lying on the side table. He grabs it, the cool steel settling into his hand with a familiar weight. He runs his fingers along the blade’s edge, feeling the whetted sharpness. He doesn’t notice the pressure building, the way his fingertips push into the edge of the blade, carving shallow lines into his skin.

Kamena’s voice floats through the haze, soft and steady, like an angel whispering down from the heavens. “Astarion. Give me the dagger, please.”

Her words tug at the deepest parts of him, the ones not quite lost in the tide of memories. He blinks, startled, as though waking from a dream. Astarion’s gaze drops to his hand, where thin, crimson lines well up across his fingertips. Blood beads and drips, painting streaks down his skin, but he feels oddly detached from the pain.

Kamena steps closer, her hand lifting instinctively as though to take his, but she catches herself. Her fingers hover in the space between them, trembling slightly, so close he can feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

“You’re safe. You’re here, in our room. No one can hurt you. I’m here, and I’ve got you.”

Astarion’s fingers curl tighter around the hilt, the dagger feeling heavier with every passing second. Reluctantly, he extends his hand, the movement jagged, unnatural, as if his body is at odds with the instinct to surrender it.

Kamena’s hand reaches out and takes the dagger from him. He feels the absence of the blade in his hand like the absence of a limb.

"The bath is ready,” Kamena gestures toward the steaming tub.

Astarion shifts slightly, forcing his mind to settle as her voice touches him. "Are you trying to insinuate that I smell?"

Kamena hums, a small, amused sound, but she holds his gaze for a long beat, her smile there but tempered. "I’m not saying you smell, but the bath’s there if you want it."

She backs away slightly, giving him space, and in that moment, her gentleness, her patience, is almost more than he can bear.

He presses his fingertips together, the slick of his blood smearing beneath his thumb. The shallow cuts on his skin knit together as if nothing happened. It always heals—mending, sealing, returning to its cold, perfect stillness. A parody of life. Beneath the flesh, the raw, aching wounds of his soul remain open. Festering.

Why is it that his body—a cadaver dressed in silken skin—can stitch itself whole, while his spirit remains in tatters? Why does he carry these invisible gashes, these scars that pulse and throb? A single careless word, a fleeting glance, and the old wounds gape wide, spilling anguish like blood from a reopened vein.

He stares at the red streaks on his fingers, as if the answer lies there, hidden in the crimson swirl. But it doesn’t. It never does. His blood is lifeless, a mimicry of vitality. His soul, if it still exists, is no better. He feels trapped in this silent torment, a scream that no one can hear.

The healing is a cruel joke. His body pretends at recovery, as though that will make him whole, as though that will stitch together the fractured pieces of himself, but it’s a lie.

The promise of warmth, of something alive against his skin rather than that damnable ghost of touch, pulls him toward the tub. Without a word, he moves toward it, feeling the weight of his body dragging. His fingers trail the edge of the tub for a moment before he undresses, his clothes slipping from his body in careless movements. There’s no care, no thought—just the need to shed what feels too tight, too heavy.

Kamena watches him from the corner of her eye as she grabs a cloth and begins wiping the blood from his blade with meticulous care.

Astarion breathes out slowly, his chest tightening for a moment as he lowers himself into the warm water. He closes his eyes, letting the heat settle in his muscles, the soft splash of water against his skin distracting him. It feels different tonight, the comfort almost too much for his fractured mind to hold onto.

He’s lost in the warmth when he hears the soft swish of satin. Kamena’s presence fills the room, and for a brief moment, Astarion allows himself to simply look at her.

She’s wearing satin shorts and a tank top. Her hair, like a cascade of silk, tumbles over her shoulders before she tucks it behind her pointed ear with the grace of someone who doesn’t even need to think about it.

Kamena moves toward his discarded clothes, and without a word, she begins folding them. Her movements are careful and precise, as if she’s the one tidying up the remnants of his life, making order of the chaos. Each fold is deliberate, a small act of care, and it unsettles him in the best way possible.

His mouth opens before his brain catches up. “You’re stunning, Kamena.”

She pauses, and there’s no teasing smile on her lips, no quick retort. Instead, she simply sits down beside the tub. “Are you okay?”

Astarion stiffens slightly, the question landing like a blow he didn’t expect, and he tries to hide behind the banter that has always been his shield. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m absolutely fine. In fact, I’m positively glowing, as you can see.” His lips twitch, but the effort feels hollow, like something dying before it can be fully born.

Her eyes narrow slightly, her fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the towel she’s holding. “Astarion… I saw what happened at the tavern.”

Astarion feels like a raw nerve exposed to the world. He wants to pull away, deflect, but he can’t. She sees through him, and he’s not sure if he hates it or needs it more than he can admit.

“Ah, that,” he starts, attempting once again to cover the tremor that has snuck into his voice. “It’s nothing. Just a bit of fawning. I’m used to it. Attention like that is... quite familiar, really. You know how it is. People just can’t resist.”

"I don’t think it’s nothing."

Her words sink in like a stone in water. He doesn’t want to show her how much it hurts—how close it is to the old scars, the ones that never really fade, the ones that still feel raw under his skin.

“I am fine,” he insists a little too forcefully, as if trying to convince himself. “I’m always fine. It is nothing.”

Kamena only nods, her eyes never leaving his. There’s no judgment there, no impatience. Just quiet understanding. She’s not asking for his confession. She’s waiting for him to offer it, in his own time.

Her fingertips skim the surface of the water, sending ripples across the stillness. Each movement is fluid and gentle, and Astarion watches her, the rhythm offering a strange kind of peace.

He realizes it then, like a sudden crack in the ice beneath his feet. He’s running too.

His chest tightens, something sharp and jagged biting at the edges of his ribs. Fuck. He’s been pretending, hiding, letting her think he’s fine when all he’s doing is locking himself behind walls she’s never meant to scale.

How could I be so foolish?

His voice is soft when he finally speaks, almost a whisper, like the words are fragile. “I have not felt like that in a long time,” he says, his gaze focused on the water. He clenches his fists, the memory still too fresh, too vivid. “That man at the tavern, he... he made me feel like I was nothing. Just a piece of meat, something to devour. I remember how it felt to be a toy, a tool, a thing that others could use as they pleased.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “That man wasn’t the first. He won’t be the last. All it takes is one touch, one moment of weakness, and I’m right back there. In their hands."

Kamena shifts closer to the tub, her hands resting lightly on the edge, though she doesn’t touch him.

Not yet. Not until he’s ready.

"I know what it’s like," she says, “to feel like you’re stuck, like every move you make could sink you deeper, and you have no idea if you can ever get back up to breathe."

The weight of her words hits Astarion harder than he expects. He can feel it—the echoes of the same fear, the same suffocating hesitation that creeps into his bones whenever he dares to move forward.

He knows she's talking about herself, the careful way she keeps herself distanced. It’s like she’s always half-reached, but never fully here. Her pain, her quiet self-protection—it’s all the same undercurrent that he’s been fighting for years, and it makes him ache in a way he can't quite explain.

Her fingers move over the water again, delicate, almost reluctant. There's a tremor in the motion, like the last fragile thread of a dream slipping away.

Without thinking, Astarion stretches out his hand, a slow, deliberate movement, and he touches her fingers. She freezes, her breath catching in her throat, but then her fingers curl around his.

There’s no grand gesture, no sudden shift. Just two souls, existing in the same fragile space.

The House of Healing stands like a crumbling tooth at the edge of the city, its façade streaked with grime and despair. The wooden shutters hang unevenly on rusted hinges. The smell hits you first—a rank cocktail of sweat, sickness, and something sour that clings to the back of your throat. It’s a place meant for those who have nothing left: no coin, no hope, no other options.

Inside, beds, if you can call them that, line the walls in uneven rows. Most are little more than pallets of straw covered in thin, stained sheets. Patients lie there like abandoned dolls, their faces hollow, their skin sallow. A woman coughs into a rag, the sound wet and deep, while another murmurs feverishly, her voice breaking into fractured words no one listens to.

The healers move through the room like wraiths, their robes smeared with grime and their expressions blank. They look as unwell as the people they tend to.

One of them, a man with a crooked nose and hands trembling from overwork, dabs at a patient’s brow with a damp cloth, his movements slow and mechanical. Another stands over a woman whose breaths come in rattling gasps, muttering a prayer under her breath as if words alone could stave off death.

Gale looks at the scene, more troubled than disgusted. His lips press into a thin line as he steps forward, his boots scuffing against the warped wooden floor. “No one deserves this,” he says quietly, almost to himself. His gaze drifts to a child curled on one of the pallets, his tiny frame too still, too pale. "Not even the poorest soul."

A healer shuffles past you, her face lined like old parchment, her steps dragging. You catch a glimpse of her hands, fingers gnarled and reddened, shaking as she tries to tie a bandage. She doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even seem to register your presence.

It’s easy to see how someone could disappear here, swallowed by the chaos and neglect. No one would question an empty bed, assuming death had taken its toll again.

Hecat steps closer to you. “So, where do we start?”

“Fan out,” you instruct.

Each step carries you further from the relative order of the main ward. You pass a cracked window, the glass fogged with grime. Outside, the faint sound of the city’s bustle feels worlds away, muffled as if even the streets refuse to acknowledge this place.

You move through the rows of creaking cots, where patients lie motionless or thrash weakly against stained sheets. You kneel by a frail woman whose limbs seem to have withered away like autumn leaves clinging to a branch. Her skin is sallow, her lips cracked, and when you ask her name, her response is little more than a garbled whisper. A sound that isn’t a sound.

“Can you hear me?” you ask louder.

Her head rolls to the side, but her vacant stare continues past you, into some abyss you cannot fathom.

Across the room, Gale’s deep voice carries briefly before faltering. You glance over to see him standing with a man whose head lolls forward, drool pooling at the corner of his slack mouth. Gale straightens, shaking his head at Hecat, who crouches beside another and mutters under her breath. Frustration twists her features, and her shoulders tense like a bowstring about to snap.

Rusted syringes are discarded like broken quills that have long since lost their ink. Dirty rags lie slumped in buckets of water so thick with grime it has the viscosity of tar, and the smell is indescribable—like rot left to fester under the sun.

You spot a healer briskly passing by, their robes torn and smudged. They move with single-minded focus, carrying a tray of empty vials that rattle softly with every step. You reach out, catching their arm.

“Wait,” you say firmly. “What’s happening here?”

The healer doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even acknowledge you. They try to keep moving forward. Even as you hold them in place, their worn shoes slide against the floor with each useless step. You shake them vigorously, hoping for any response, but get none.

“Answer me!” you demand.

Heat flares at your palms as you channel the Weave, not enough to hurt but enough that any normal person would instinctively recoil. The healer doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. Their face remains eerily blank, their eyes as lifeless as the patients’ around you.

Your grip loosens, and they slip away again, disappearing into the haze of the ward. You glance at Hecat and Gale, who have stopped their own efforts to look at you. Gale’s brow furrows, his lips pressed thin. Hecat’s mouth twists, her sharp eyes darting between you and the retreating healer.

The world tilts on its axis as you pivot sharply. A wave of nausea crashes over you, and your stomach churns violently. Your knees weaken, and it feels as though the floor rushes up to meet you. The blood drains from your face, and your mouth floods with bitter saliva as you stagger forward. Before you can collapse, Hecat’s strong hands grip your shoulders, steadying you.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, but you can’t answer, your throat tightening as bile rises.

You double over and retch, the sound harsh and raw in the oppressive silence of the ward. Gale is at your side almost instantly, pressing a neatly folded handkerchief into your trembling hands. You wipe your mouth, head pounding with every unsteady heartbeat.

You wrench yourself free of Hecat’s hold, her concerned protest fading into the background, purpose driving you past the fog of illness and fear. Your gaze fixes on one of the patients, and you fall to your knees beside them, ignoring the wet squelch of the filthy floor beneath you. Your fingers work quickly, brushing aside the layers of grime-encrusted cloth covering their neck, searching for something—anything.

“Hey!” Gale calls from behind you, his voice sharp with confusion. “What are you doing?”

You don’t answer. You can’t stop. The thought, the terrible possibility, grips you like a vice. You check their neck, their wrists, their arms—your movements frantic now. Your breath catches as you fling back the sheet covering their lower body, exposing legs marred with a lattice of puncture wounds. Fangs, puncturing flesh over and over like an unholy feast.

“They’re enthralled,” you whisper, the words trembling from your lips with grim finality.

The three of you stare in collective horror at the grim tableau before you. Hecat’s jaw tightens, her sharp eyes narrowing, while Gale looks like he’s just been punched in the gut, his complexion pale and ashen.

“This isn’t a house of healing,” you continue, your voice hollow, almost breaking. “It’s a hunting ground.”

You see it now, in every detail—the desperate state of the patients, the apathetic healers who seem to be little more than empty vessels, the pervasive wrongness that saturates this place like a curse.

“They’re feeding on them,” you say, your gaze fixed on the patient’s legs, the bite marks overlapping in a grotesque pattern. “Draining them. Using them. Until there’s nothing left.”

“And then?” Hecat asks, though by the tremor in her voice, she already knows the answer.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet her eyes. “Then, they’re turned.”

The truth weighs on you like a stone, each piece falling into place to form a picture too terrible to look at.

This isn’t just a tragedy—it’s a factory. A grotesque assembly line, churning out victims and killers in equal measure.

Gale stammers, his words tripping over one another in his urgency, his hands gesturing wildly as if pulling answers from the air. “We can’t just leave them like this. There has to be something we can do!”

You, however, are unmoved. Perhaps it’s cynicism. Perhaps it’s realism. Or perhaps the hollowness within you simply cannot stretch wide enough to encompass this many broken souls. You glance from one bed to another, your gaze sweeping over the withered faces, the slack jaws, the glassy stares that don’t even track your movement. Each figure is a ghost tethered to a failing shell, far beyond any salvation you could offer.

You shake your head, the motion small but resolute. “There’s nothing we can do,” you say flatly.

Gale reels back as if you’ve struck him. “Nothing?” he echoes, aghast. “You won’t even try?”

You meet his eyes, and they burn with the kind of indignation that only comes from belief in a better world—a belief you no longer share.

“Look at them.” You gesture sharply to the room around you. “Do you think they can be saved? Their bodies are ruined. Their minds are gone. They’re not even living, Gale. They’re... leftovers.”

His face contorts, a mix of anger and heartbreak warring in his expression. “How can you say that? They’re people, not scraps on a plate!”

You exhale sharply, the sound carrying more weariness than frustration. “People, once. Now? They’re feeding troughs. Thralls. Whatever they were, it’s gone.”

Hecat steps forward, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. “She’s right. Even if you pour magic into them, it won’t undo what’s been done. They’re too far gone.”

Gale doesn’t back down. “We don’t know that!” His voice rises, ringing through the grim stillness. “We owe it to them to try. To do something.”

You glance at Gale and Hecat, your voice sharp and decisive. "We should leave. Take a few days to regroup and plan, and then come back when it’s dark."

Gale narrows his eyes, his frustration still simmering beneath the surface. "And why, exactly, should we wait?"

“Because this place isn’t for the living. It’s a hunting ground. Come nightfall, the ones we’re after will return to feed, and we’ll be waiting for them."

Hecat smirks faintly, her arms crossing as she leans against the grimy wall. "Using their own trap against them. Clever. A little cruel, but clever."

Gale shakes his head, disapproval radiating from him like a chill. "And in the meantime, what happens to these people? You just leave them here, like bait in a snare?"

You fix him with a cold stare, your voice unwavering. "That’s exactly what they are, Gale. Bait. Better to use it than to let it rot."

Gale’s anger flares, his voice trembling with outrage. “Bait? That’s what they are to you? These are people.” His words lash out like a whip, sharp enough to sting. He takes a step closer, his face set in a righteous fury you once might have admired. “How can you stand here, look at this suffering, and decide their best use is as tools for your goals?”

You hold his gaze, unflinching, unrepentant. “Do you think I want this? Do you think I enjoy it? The only way to help them is to rid Waterdeep of the parasite feeding on them, and using what’s left of these people is the fastest way.”

His eyes widen, disbelief flooding his expression. “What’s left of them?” he spits. “You’ve already written them off, haven’t you? You’ve decided their lives are worth nothing, so why not throw them into the fire?”

You scoff, your voice rising. “You’re godsdamned right I have. Look around, Gale. What do you see? I see empty husks barely clinging to what could generously be called life. I see people who won’t thank us for whatever salvation you think you can offer. I see us wasting time on them when the real enemy is out there, thriving.”

Gale’s hands curl into fists, trembling at his sides. “You sound no better than the monsters we’re hunting.”

That lands like a punch, but you refuse to let it show. Instead, you take a step forward, closing the distance between you, your voice a growl. “And what would you have me do, then? Heal them? Bring them all back from the brink with a wave of my hand? The best thing I could do for them is—” Your voice breaks, sharp and bitter. “Burn it all to the fucking ground.”

The words are barely out before the heat ignites in you, surging like a storm unbound. Flames curl over your skin, licking up your arms and dancing along your hair. They flicker gold and crimson, light that bends and writhes like living poetry. The air around you crackles, the smell of burning ozone sharp in your nose.

Gale steps back, his eyes widening as the heat pushes against him. “This isn’t justice,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “This is rage. Destruction.”

You laugh bitterly. “Don’t preach to me about justice. Justice won’t bring back the dead or save the next victim. Rage? Destruction? They get results.” The fire swirls higher, casting shadows that twist and shift across the room. “So tell me, Gale—what do you want to do? Save them? Heal them? You can’t even get them to open their eyes!”

Your words echo in the space, your flames their only answer. They reflect off the grimy walls, painting the room in molten light that only underscores the decay. Gale stands frozen, torn between his ideals and the grim truth of your argument. Somewhere, you think you hear Hecat chuckle, low and bitter, but you don’t look at her.

You don’t need her approval.

You don’t need Gale’s either.

All you need is an end to this madness—an end that might, just might, begin with flame.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I love reading your comments ❤️

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

Hi guys! It's been WAY too long. I'm really sorry. Work is crazy for the holiday months, and I've been told I may lose my job, so... it's been rough. Except spotty updates until at least the end of January (either work calms down or I get let go 🤣)

[franeridan]

no but talking about the beginning of the kaido fight i dunno if it's just a personality of the characters involved sort of thing but i love the difference between the way lu zoro and law interact with each other vs with kidd and killer, there's an ease to their working off each other that's missing from how they move around kidd n killer and you would say it's normal since they've spent months together by then and all three of them fought doflamingo together already, but i love that oda keeps these things in mind when writing dynamics sm

[ragsy]

MOTW NPC Rach Lombardi, Mark's toxic ex who got ripped to shreds by dogman and then whose revenant ghost latched onto someone else who was on their own dogman revenge quest (player character Tatara)

she's fun.

[arolesbianism]

Why would I draw or further flesh out the other members of Chou's party when I can instead think abt how all of them play in game and spiral out into making up a shit ton of other game mechanics that do not matter to the actual story

[smutoperator]

Her Sister's Boyfriend

Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader (special participation: Jang Daah)

Kinkvember Chapter 5

Main kinks: cheating, foot fetish, handcuffing, worshipping

Word count: 4473.

After a long time being very busy, Wonyoung finally would be able to spend a weekend with her sister, which she missed so much. Although she and Daah would occasionally find each other at Starship's halls, they would go on for many days without being able to see each other.

"Sister, I came a little earlier than expected. I tried to text you a few times, but I guess you're still busy at work. Either way, I'll be at your guesthouse soon, bye." Wonyoung texted as she arived at Daah's guesthouse but couldn't find her. That was until she was surprised by a shocking scene going on.

"Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhhh," Daah's moans echoed through the house as her boyfriend pinned her against the glass while having sex with her. Wonyoung was definitely surprised; that was the way she found out her sister had gotten a boyfriend. But instead she just gave you a wink and walked unnoticed past Daah, who was with her eyes closed and enjoying a mind-blowing orgasm from you.

But on the next day, as Daah went to shop for some groceries, Wonyoung made her move. She went to the kitchen with her body naked from the waist down, her long legs completely exposed, as you heard some noises at the kitchen and decided to check things out.

"Honey, are you already ba... what the fuck?" You were shocked when you saw Wonyoung's lower body fully exposed. Wonyoung giggled. "Why do all you guys panick in front of a bare pussy?" she asked. "I'm pretty sure you were inside my sister's own pussy when I arrived here yesterday," she said.

"I'm sorry, it's a little different when it's not my girlfriend," you say to Wonyoung. "Different?" she asks. "Why exactly? Pussies are very similar. They are wet and warm; they squirt and get stretched out by some cock that wants to cum insde them; isn't that how it works?" she says. "Although, to be honest, my pussy is a little different; my partners have said I have Korea's diamond pussy," Wonyoung brags about it.

"Diamond pussy, what do you mean?" you ask her. "Well, they say my pussy is so tempting it's much better than the others. They say it's worth more than a diamond. Why don't you have a taste and check it by yourself?" Wonyoung asks as she shoves your face against her pussy. You try to resist out of loyalty to your girlfriend, but her words were true. As soon as the amazing scent of Wonyoung's pussy invades your nostrils, any thoughts you had about Daah go out of the window.

You quickly start licking Wonyoung's folds, unable to resist the temptations of her diamond pussy. She's very vocal, telling where you need to attack, and by the wetness you can feel inside it, she's not faking it. "Yes, lick it like that, ohhhh fuck," she moans, pushing your head further against it. You lick it like crazy, amazed at how good her pussy smells.

"Oh, your tongue feels so good in my pussy," Wonyoung says. She moves her body left and right, meaning you get to enjoy every inch of her vagina. "Ahhh, ahhhh, yes," she moans. When she pushes her pussy a bit apart, reacting to the stimulation, you quickly go back and lick it. Soon, you replace your tongue with your fingers, making Wonyoung cream herself over the kitchen's floor. "I guess my sister will have to do some cleaning when she returns," she says.

"OH MY GOD, YESSSS," Wonyoung gleefully screams as she grinds her pussy in your face. Right now, it's no longer you that has control; it's her, as she just uses your face as a pleasure playground for her vagina until she gets what she craves for: her orgasm.

"Ahhh, that felt so good," Wonyoung says as her juices cover your face. "I think you deserve a gift for making me cum," she says, taking your shirt off. "Wow, you're so strong; no wonder my sister was so in love with you yesterday," she continues, paying close attention to your muscular frame.

Wonyoung reaches under your pants and confirms what she already knew: a muscular guy like you had a massive cock that was already throbbing for her. "My sister is shorter than me; I bet that big cock was hitting her cervix all the time," Wonyoung says as she reminds herself of yesterday's sex moment between you and Daah. She kisses you and touches your balls. "Hope you saved some cum for me and didn't drain it all yesterday," she says.

"That's so big and hard, oh my god, so fucking huge," Wonyoung says as she gets impressed by your cock. If there is something Wonyoung has seen countless times, it's big cocks. But it's more than just size; it's shape—the huge throbbing tip popping out of your foreskin, the erection pointing to the sky, the big balls. She caresses it and keeps praising your cock, even lying about never seeing a cock that big before to pretend she's more innocent than she is.

Wonyoung spits on your cock and jerks it off before getting on her knees to suck it. You just groan as her dick-sucking lips tightenly envelope your dick, with her moaning hard as she gets very sloppy, saliva coming out of her chin. "Fuck my face; I want to feel every inch of it in my throat," Wonyoung says, and you do it just as she asks. Well, except it's Wonyoung's face fucking your cock, because she pushes it hard against your shaft every single time.

"Shit, shit, stop; you're going to fast; I'm gonna," you say. "Cum?" Wonyoung says. "That's exactly what I want," Wonyoung says, kissing your tip and then licking your shaft from top to bottom before landing on your balls as she keeps jerking it off. "God, it feels so good, shittt,' you say as she savors your cock like an ice cream and licks your tip before shoving it in her face. She then jerks your foreskin off with your tip in her mouth. "Ohhhh shit, yeah," is all you can say.

But they say there are actions to speak louder than words, and you ejaculating all over Wonyoung's throat after her blowjob session certainly qualifies. She tastes it and swallows it all. "So salty," she says. "Good boy, I want you to fuck me now; let's go to bed," she continues.

Wonyoung carries you to the same bed you and Daah had sex. She gets herself dressed in enticing waist-high stockings, wearing all black lingerie alongside red high heels; her appearance with this outfit gets you hard shortly after, which she notices. "Good to see this cock going up all for me," she says. She cuffs your hands to the bed and sits on top of your already naked body, shoving her feet in your face for you to sniff and lick. "Doesn't it smell good, baby?" she asks. "Yes," you answer without hesitation, being true to yourself as her feet seem to have on you the same effect her pussycat did. Your imagination runs wild as you try to lick her feet, but she pulls out at the last second. "Patience, baby," she says.

Wonyoung keeps running her feet over your face, teasing you endlessly. She then crosses her legs, giving you a quick opening of her pussy before shutting it down. "How much do you want to fuck it, enough to give your girlfriend up for me?" she asks. "Yes," you answer, completely hypinotized by this goddess. You always felt Daah had been a great girlfriend, but her younger sister just seems to be on another level. A one in a thousand years level, to be more precise.

"You did great work when you were in that kitchen," Wonyoung says. "And behavior like this deserves to be rewarded, don't you think?" She continues, walking around the bed before she pushes her feet against your torse and prepares herself for her next move.

Wonyoung rips off her recently bought stockings right at her bottom area. No big deal; she has lots of money to buy plenty of them. She quickly sits on your face. It's incredible that she doesn't have the biggest ass, but she knows exactly where to sit to suffocate you to the fullest. "That's right, just like that," she says as you grab her waist and quickly eat her pussy while she grinds on your face. 

"That's your reward for doing such a good job," Wonyoung says as she moans hard. You try to touch every inch of her body. "You know how special you are? Eating that diamond pussy the whole country craves for," she continues, showing her through-the-roof self-confidence.

Your face turns into Wonyoung's personal playground. You don't know how that's even possible, but her pussy rides your face as if it were actually riding your cock. "That's right, show me how excited you are for your special treat," Wonyoung says as she keeps shoving her folds in your face. She then turns around and takes her attention to your cock. As she starts jerking it off, you get an amazing view of her cute ass twerking on your face. "Ahhhh, that's so good," Wonyoung says as your tongue keeps licking her pussy.

"Good boy deserves some special treat," Wonyoung says, deepthroating your cock as if your big shaft were nothing. She takes it all the way in from the get go, drooling all over it like the needy slut she is. She rubs her hand all over it and gets quite sloppy, engulfing it like those sword eaters from a circus. You spank her ass trying to cope with the heat, making her moan as you do so. "Such a good boy, such a good boy," she keeps repeating as her cunt suffocates you to the maximum.

You move into Wonyoung's feet, tasting it and licking her toes. "Love the way you appreciate my tasy feet, especially my perfect toes," she says, keeping the work on your cock. "Oh fuck," you say. "Come on, baby, don't cum again," she orders as you kiss her feet like a gentleman while she sucks your cock like a slut.

Your mouth is now full of Wonyoung's fingers, while your fingers are all over her pussy. "You know how much I love that?" she asks, giving your cock some crazy deepthroat to show her appreciation. "Tell me how much you want me to sit on this big cock?" Wonyoung asks as she wraps your face between her feet and her ass, moaning when you tongue her pussy. You answer positively, but she can't hear it; your words are getting lost inside her cunt like everything that gets inside it; hopefully soon your cock.

"I know you're eager to get inside my diamond pussy, but first I want to tease you a little more," Wonyoung says as she runs her soles over your shaft. "Seem like you loved my toes a lot, so I think you'll love them wrapped around that big cock too," Wonyoung says as she triple teams your cock: her feet and hand jerking it off, her mouth licking your tip. "That's really good, isn't it? Aren't you very spoliled?" Wounyoung asks as her feet now massage your shaft all by themselves.

"You want it to slide in my pussy don't you? Tell me how much you want it; I want you to beg for it," Wonyoung says as she keeps jerking your shaft off with her feet. "Yes," you say, pushing your face closer to hers despite being cuffed. "Well, here's your little treat for being so patient," Wonyoung replies.

Wonyoung rubs your cock against her entrance and then squats on it. "Just feeling that tight grip of that big cock in my pussy," she says. "Ahhh, yeah, nice and slow, spread it open for me," she begs as she starts bouncing on your dick, her ride being very straightforward and powerful.

"That's right, it feels good, doesn't it?" Wonyoung asks you as she pushes your cock deeper in her pussy and increases the pace. But it's the moment where she rubs her toes on your balls that drives you crazy. "That's right, give it to me; show me that good boy is putting in some extra work, yeah, yeah," she says as you push your cock upwards to pound her diamond pussy despite your limited mobility cuffed to the bed, as your willingness to fuck Wonyoung tops everything.

But Wonyoung quickly regains control and just moves on with her insane ride, going fast and deep almost as if bouncing on your big cock was like a regular job to her. She grinds her pussy on your cock and laughs like a maniac, then presses her hands on your chest and pushes hard. You try to counter. "Give it to me nice and fucking deep, oh fuck, yes, harder, harder, ahhhh," she moans when you finally grab her waist and give her the pounding that she needs so much.

"Oh, fuck," you say as your fast pace almost makes you cum. Wonyoung kisses you and enjoys the pounding you give her. "Keep taking it deep," she demands. But it's her who takes matters into her hands, spreading her legs and just demolishing your cock with fast and loud bounces.

"Shit," you groan as Wonyoung starts doing what she's known the best for—her signature spinning ride where she hits your cock from all sides while rotating on it. "Show me what a good fucking boy you are," she demands. "AHHHHHH," you scream as the walls of her tight cunt smash your cock into pieces, squeezing it as hard as they can.

"Oh yeah, that's right; keep stretching it. Shape my walls with your cock," Wonyoung demands as she continues to bounce on it like a maniac. She puts her feet in your mouth and teases you, then switches to a sideways ride while fingering her pussy and then starts spinning again. You grab her waist, trying to control her, but she clearly shows who is in command. Well, that is until Wonyoung makes the next move.

Wonyoung takes your handcuffs off, and you immediately grab her, carry fucking her all over the bedroom. "I want you to show me what you can do; unleash the beast inside you," she demands as you give her ass a couple taps. You get on top of her and start worshipping her body with plenty of kisses in all her parts: her pussy, her boobs, her belly, her mouth—nothing escapes from you.

"Good boy, that's right, I want you to worship every inch of my body," Wonyoung demands as you keep kissing her all the way to her feet, to which you pay special attention, putting her fingers up your mouth and kissing her soles. "Show me what you want; show me what you've been begging for," she continues. You lick her pussy next as Wonyoung puts herself in a fetal position to watch you worship her diamond hole. "Doesn't I have the best pussy in the whole world?" she asks. "Yes," you promptly answer with your mouth still full of her folds.

"Get deeper in that pussy," Wonyoung demands as she pushes your face in its direction. "That's so fucking good," she moans as you keep working your mouth in it, sending her to the heavens. But what she wants the most is your cock, as you put Wonyoung in a mating press position and fuck her while massaging her toes behind her head, making her moan really loud.

"YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEEP IN ME, YESSS," Wonyoung screams as your hard thrusts make her body get pushed back and forth. "That cock is so wide, it stretches out my tiny little pussy so good," Wonyoung moans. "Harder, harder, fucking use it," she keeps begging as you groan with her pussy squeezing your shaft further. Your thrusts get more and more aggressive; her moans get louder and louder. "YES, YES, YES, YES, AH, AH, AH, AH," Wonyoung moans as she kisses you.

"AHHHHHH," it's your turn to scream as you pound her really hard. It's really difficult for you to hold still and not pump her pussy full of your seeds, but you stay put in spite of the extreme pressure Wonyoung's tight cunt exerts on your big cock. "Oh yeah, keep going, just like that, FUCK, YOU HIT ME SO DEEP, AHHHH," Wonyoung demands and then screams.

"Show me you're a good boy; keep holding that cum until I tell you to," Wonyoung says. "You're putting in a lot of hard work; you truly deserve the honor to cum inside the best pussy in the world," she says. You give her ass some little taps, and she giggles as you hit her deep. "That cock is doing such a good job," she says.

You take a break just to follow her instructions and avoid cumming earlier. But Wonyoung isn't a girl of taking breaks, kneeling to suck your cock as soon as you pull out of her. "Oh fuck, your mouth is so perfect, yes," you groan as Wonyoung pushes you to the edge, sucking your cock very sloppily and jerking it off with her big hands. "Oh shit," you say as she deepthroats your massive length with ease once again and increases the pace, sucking it hard until you have to give her butt a little tapping to not cum.

"Hmm, you want to see that ass bouncing while I ride your cock?" Wonyoung asks. "Well, there it is," she says, mounting on top of it in reverse cowgirl. "Oh fuck, ahhhh yeah, right there," Wonyoung moans as she is as happy as ever. "Slow down," you try to tell her. "No baby, I'm not slowing down; you're gonna take me at my best, that's right, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHH," Wonyoung says as her cute butt keeps hitting your crotch. You decide not to slow down and push upwards. 

"Oh yeah, fuck, that's right, that's right, put in some fucking work," Wonyoung says as you hit her hard and deep before you tap her ass once again to survive to fight another round. "You deserve a reward, baby," she says, pulling out and sucking your cock a little more while you eat her pussy for a sexy 69.

"You're gonna follow my orders, right?" Wonyoung says. "Get up here and fuck me from behind next," she orders. You start massage her pussy in preparation as she puts her face down and ass up, moaning as you keep worshipping her fuckhole. "You're doing so well," she praises you.

"Come here, you say as you grab her waist and insert your cock in her pussy from behind. "Oh fuck, that's right, nice and deep," Wonyoung moans. "Wow, you're so tight, oh shit" you say as you grab her waist. Wonyoung counters and bounces on your cock even on all fours. "YEAH, YEAH," she repeats as she keeps moaning. "OHHHH, OHHHH, OHHH," you groan, trying not to cum and playing with her toes to distract yourself.

"Keep that ass up," you tell Wonyoung as her feet jerk your cock off while you thrust inside her pussy, which starts queefing as she manages to squeeze your shaft both from the inside and outside. You have to stop, punishing her for being so naughty as you masturbate her pussy, but she stays focused and reaches with her long hands to keep stroking your shaft.

"AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH," Wonyoung moans hard as you make her cum, but not without a price, as her jerking off makes you cover the bedsheets with your semen as well. "You're not gonna make me cum unpunished; where is my good boy? You're behaving very badly now," Wonyoung says. "Now get this cock hard again and please give it back to me," she continues.

You do just as she demands, getting hard as soon as the walls of her pussy tighten around your cock once again. "Perfect, just like that, fuck, yes, yes, yes," Wonyoung moans as you pound her from behind, tying her arms behind her back. "Spread it open, fucking spread that pussy open," she demands as she moves back into shaking her hips and moves them up and down your big cock. You answer by grabbing her shoulders and then spreading her mouth. "That's right, take it, take it," she says, never stopping to bounce as both her cheeks and your crotch clash and make loud noises clapping against each other.

"That's it, such a good boy," Wonyoung says as you pound her hard and fast. You try to match her horniness, but she's just on another level, wearing you out after a couple minutes to save yourself from an orgasm while her sweaty body keeps moving up and down your shaft regardless. "Show me you're not done, that's right," she keeps commanding as soon as you regain strength to fuck her hard again. But Wonyoung is just a different demon and keeps moving her hips in a way that the walls of her pussy now hit your cock sideways. "OHHHHH," you groan hard, gettung caught by surprise.

Even on all fours, it's Wonyoung who controls the pace, with you avoiding yet another close call by tapping her ass and giving yourself a break, begging for a blowjob. "Come suck it, oh fuck," you say to her as Wonyoung grabs your shaft and takes it in her throat like a demon. You shove your monster cock all the way in her, going balls deep and spanking her ass yet she barely moves, coating it full of her saliva and performing the loudest blowjob ever as you grab her hair and fuck her face.

You use the lubrication from her saliva to fuck Wonyoung in a spooning position and get a great look at her pretty and horny face. "That's right, that's right," she says. You kiss Wonyoung and finger her pussy as you fuck it, lifting one of her legs and attacking her cunt hard. "Fuck me until you cum, ahhhh, yeah, yeah," Wonyoung says as you seem keen on not stopping. You choke her in between kisses and then spread her legs. "So good, so good," she says as she moves to kiss you and watch your cock bulge under her. "AHHHHH, THAT'S SO DEEP," she screams as she looks at you with naugthy eyes, giggling as you push hard against her pussy and she fingers it.

"I'm gonna cum for you if you cum inside me," Wonyoung says as you get more animalesque, groaning hard at each thrust. "You're hitting me so deep; time to finish deep inside my pussy," Wonyoung begs. You kiss her feet and worship it as your love for her only increases, even forgetting about your girlfriend. "Please, give me your cum," she begs as you two share kisses, and she's now in a featal position, her long legs over her head.

You feed Wonyoung your cock as she licks her chops afterwards, using her saliva for another session of deep pounding as you two have some very passionate sex. "You know how deep that is? Your cock is so big, I feel so jealous of my sister for finding you; I need to share you with her or make you mine altogether, fuckkkk," Wonyoung says.

"Let it out, let it out; your reward for being such a good boy will be breeding the best pussy in the world. Have you ever cum inside my sister?" Wonyoung asks. "Well, yesterday it was the first time," you answer. "After how many encounters?" Wonyoung asks again. "Fifteen," you answer. "Yet here you are, ready to cum inside me after just meeting me 30 minutes ago, bad boy," Wonyoung says. "Well, I can't blame you; my pussy is just that good," she continues.

"Fuck that feels so good," you say to Wonyoung. "I know," she says. "Now fuck me hard, because that's what I want; show me how much you love this perfect pussy; get ready to give me the best fucking load you can. Put that cum deep inside my pussy," she continues.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Eleven shots. You finally unload your cum gun inside Wonyoung's pussy. Her walls squeeze you so hard your cock pops out of it as your white sperm runs down into the bedheets. You even manage to leave a couple drops on her beautiful right foot as your cocks come out and the remaining cum lands perfectly in there for her to put it in her mouth and lick it. You groan like crazy as you're completely drained. 

"Let me milk every last drop," Wonyoung says, massaging her feet on it and letting a few sparkles of semen come out and fall on her belly. "Greay work, you're such a good boy," Wonyoung says as she praises you, who can't even think straight after she showed how much of a ball drainer she was.

And just like that, Daah opens the door.

"What the fuck is that?" Wonyoung's older sister asks. "Daah, I can explain," you say, using the default statement. "Not sure you can explain fucking my sister for 30 minutes; I saw everything," Daah replies.

"You were there the whole time?" you say, confused. "Yes, behind the door, you're so stupid, but I get it; she's young and hot," Daah says.

"Sister I think I can compensate for being a cheating slut," Wonyoung says. "Not sure how," Daah replies. 

"Well, your boyfriend said yesterday was the first time she came in your pussy," Wonyoung says. "That's right," Daah said. "Well, has he ever fucked you in the ass?" Wonyoung asks.

"No, I'm scared of even trying," Daah says. "Well, I can teach you, sister, let's go to the shower," Wonyoung says.

Wonyoung and Daah line up their tall, naked bodies for another round of sex. You put your cock in your girlfriend's ass for the first time. And she struggles.

"AHHHHHHH," Daah screams, not ready for your massive cock in her ass.

"Well, sister, it looks like you'll have to follow my lead," Wonyoung says.

"You're such a naughty girl, Wonyoung," Daah says, handing your cock to her younger sister for a 2nd round.

"Watch me, learn from the best; look how easy it is." Wonyoung brags as your full length goes in her ass without even a peep.

"How does she even do that? I guess she's indeed a one in a thousand years girl," Daah thinks to herself. And she's right.

"Come taste it," Wonyoung tells her sister, as you quickly bust inside her asshole.

"Wow, that's delicious," Daah says, tasting your cum.

"I think you're finally ready; I can go now."

[rainrot4me]

My Muse - Halloween Special

Summary: What if the Creepypasta characters were real life killers idolized the same way horror movie slashers were? Kids dressing up as Ghostface or Pennywise? More like kids decorated as Jeff the Killer or Slenderman! You chose to dress as your favorite mass murderer, Ticci Toby- and, oh, how he couldn’t get enough of it. He had never seen someone look so good in his goggles.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Vaginal, fluff and smut, fluff, vaginal fingering, handjobs, use of a condom, slight stalking, slight obsession, praise, alcohol, slight bullying, Jeff being a big brother, slight miscommunication, slight panic attacks, decompression, Toby is obsessive but we knew that, first time?

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 12k

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! This work is based off of @h3llw1’s request made a while ago that I felt fit perfectly with a good spooky special! I will tag the request! Please be responsible and have fun tonight and this weekend!

Find the original request for this story here!

“Wait, so… Who are you dressed up as, again?”

You shuffled the goggles off of your eyes, pushing them onto your forehead and messing into your hair, turning back to your friend.

“Toby Rogers- y’know, that kid who burned all those houses down? Serial killer, dude.” You smiled awkwardly, turning back to your vanity mirror and pressing the makeup brush against your cheek, trying to recreate the infamous cheek gash in the image you had pulled up. You were almost done, detailing the fake teeth at the corner of your lips. “Was really obsessed with him in middle school…”

“Oh, right.” Your roommate, Avery, rolled her eyes, curling the strands of her hair into big voluptuous rolls, making sure each piece looked nice under her hat. She was supposed to be Strawberry Shortcake, you think, it was hard to tell with how little she was wearing of the actual costume. It was really more of a bikini topped off with a strawberry hat.

“You’re still planning on going to AJ’s party, right?” She chirped, flipping the curling iron off and lying it on the counter, reaching back to grab her phone. You paused, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror- your costume really wasn’t the ‘AJ’s party’ type. You turned around in your chair, a little overwhelmed with how messy your bedroom floor was, but promising yourself you would clean it up later tonight.

“Uh, sure- If you guys are still going.” Avery tapped away at her phone, your own lighting up with text messages to your group chat sent by her. You were waiting on the rest of her friends, some people she had become close with in her classes.

It would be fun… you hoped.

“Oh, they’re here.” Stepping out of your room, you followed her to the front door, making sure your makeup looked good in the mirror. Standing on your front step, the rest of the group was there, chittering their excitement as Avery swung the door wide.

You stood awkwardly as they all hugged, complimenting each other on their matching costumes- the other two girls were supposed to be Orange Blossom and Blueberry Muffin, but they more or less matched with Avery’s.

They each had a guy with them, the tallest one wrapping his arm around your roommate’s shoulder, the Ghostface costume he had on making her all giggly. You cringed, fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie you had stitched to look like Toby’s, the stripes on your sleeves were the hardest part.

“Oh! This is my roommate [Y/N], she’s gonna come with us tonight.” You nodded, giving a small wave as they all turned to you. Brushing your hair behind your ear, they all smiled sweetly, but you could tell they were a little put off by the outfit you were wearing.

“Ah, what’re you dressed up as?” The Ghostface guy chuckled, shuffling his mask up to get a better look. 

“Oh- uhm, Toby Rogers? Like, that serial killer. Yeah.” None of them had a clue, you could see it in the weird glances they cast at one another. Avery waved them off, jingling through her keys to pull the door shut and locking it behind you. “We should get going, I don’t wanna miss anyone.”

Nodding, everyone began to walk down the hallway of your apartment building, the guys carrying six-packs of beer under their arms. Sighing, you followed behind, taking the fabric mask from under your chin and pulling it over your mouth.

You would try to have fun tonight, you swore it.

-

“Listen, kid, if you don’t hurry up I’m leaving you here.” 

Jeff crossed his arms, a scowl on his face as he watched poor Sally try and adjust her costume. Toby shoved him, kneeling beside her and reaching back to tie the little bow around her waist, casting a nasty look at the killer.

She was dressed as Annabelle, the creepy dress splattered with fake blood, making the real blood pooling from her forehead look like nothing more than some face paint. Her hair was tied into two neat little braids, Nina’s doing. Sally turned to look at herself in the reflection of EJ’s truck- Jeff had stolen it for the night, claiming he wasn’t going to walk all the way into town just for some candy. She finally nodded, holding her little basket tight in her hands.

This was her first Halloween, with Jeff of all people, so she was a little anxious. The killer, on the other hand, found this holiday to be his favorite. He could waltz the streets of the small town closest to the mansion, hood down and everything, snagging as much candy and compliments as he wanted. People really admired his ‘makeup.’

Toby decided to tag along this year, curious to see all the costumes and jack-o-lanterns. He really loved this night as a kid, he wanted to make sure it was good for Sally, too.

“I’m ready now.” She hummed, skipping forward to wrap her hand around Jeff’s hoodie sleeve, the killer rolling his eyes as he began to walk. Toby followed behind, admiring the decorations and darkly colored leaves littering the ground, a surge of excitement coursing through him. It felt just like one of those older scary movies, the sun dipping just low enough to cast an orangish hue across the clouds, kids running around giggling and screaming, parents tossing out candy left and right- he missed this feeling, what it was like to be normal.

He was older now, officially ‘candy handing-out’ age. He used to relish these days, promising that he would dress up for Halloween until he was sixty- now he had much more important things to worry about than what costume he was going to wear. If only his younger self knew how much of a genuine horror his life would become.

“C’mon, twitch, I ain’t waitin’ on you, too,” Jeff called, snapping Toby out of his trance as he watched kids race across the road, some mother yelling about being careful. He nodded, pushing his mask up over his nose, shimmying his goggles off of his forehead and over his eyes. He was still too paranoid to go outright, the covers made him feel more secure, like fewer people’s eyes were boring into him. He felt that swell of anxiety, having to remind himself that people would be far more concerned with Jeff’s look than his. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he took a deep breath- he had to calm down.

He wouldn’t lose himself tonight, he swore it.

-

“Wh- What’d you get?” Toby helped carry Sally’s basket, the thing nearly overflowing with how much she was getting, everyone was loving her costume. They were nearly done with this neighborhood, but Jeff heard some kids yelling about a Baptist church’s trunk-or-treat, and he was more than excited to show up somewhere holy. It was getting late, the sun almost nearly disappeared, so Toby knew it was almost time to wrap things up.

“Lots’a chocolate. Jeff keeps stealing the good stuff, though.” Glancing up, the killer was popping a tiny box of nerds into his mouth, tossing the cardboard onto someone’s yard when he shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve got like, six more of ‘em- you’ll be fine, squirt.”

It was turning out a lot better than Toby had thought, the brunette’s worries nearly washed away as the night grew more crowded. Jeff had spotted some middle-schooler dressed as Slenderman, the killer nearly doubling over in laughter as Toby hauled his phone out to take a picture. The brunette had forgotten just how popular their boss really was, more of an internet spectacle than folklore now. A meme? Yeah, his big scary boss was a meme. Tim and Brian were going to get a crack out of it. 

Teenagers were out now, older kids walking in packs with their friends, not so much worried about getting candy as they were trying to hide the alcohol they were carrying. Toby had forgotten just how much different Halloween was when you got older- girls dressed in skimpy outfits of cartoon characters, guys trying to play cool as some movie slasher chasing everyone around, and then you had the ones who just didn’t dress up at all. It was weird.

“Damn, when did Strawberry Shortcake lose the baker getup and start wearing lingerie?” Jeff snickered, crossing his arms and nodding towards a group across the street. Toby scanned them, the orangish tint of his goggles obscuring them, but he could easily make out who the killer was talking about. He gave the rest of the pack a once-over, their outfits more or less the same as guys clung to their hips, flirty little touches as they all walked.

He almost missed it though, the one in the middle of the group, unaccompanied. Jeff must’ve seen it at the same time because he was slapping Toby’s arm like crazy.

“Oh fuck, isn’t that supposed to be you?” Toby shoved his goggles off of his face, ruffling them into his bangs just like how you had them, looking utterly bored as your group quickly began to get out of his eyesight. The brunette looked down at himself, wearing that same hoodie that every popular image depicted him in, the stripes on his sleeves the telltale sign. There was no mistaking it, you were dressed up as him.

The brunette didn’t know how to feel, didn’t even really know what to say as Jeff’s teasing went unheard beside him. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, couldn’t stop his hands from flexing and fidgeting with utter excitement.

He had to get a better look at you.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Jeff yelled across the road, Toby shoving the candy basket into the killer’s hands and jogging in the direction your friends were going.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later! Don’t wa- wait up!”

He disappeared into another block, Jeff letting out an exasperated sigh as he took Sally’s hand. “C’mon, kid. We’ve got some Baptists to freak out.”

-

It was already loud inside the house, music thumping against the walls as people tried to shout to hear one another. 

You hung against the wall of the living room, sipping slowly on whatever alcohol-filled punch they were serving in the kitchen. People were spilling out everywhere, the front yard just as busy as the rest of the rooms of AJ’s house.

It was barely even 9 PM, but nearly everyone from your school was here, familiar faces passing by with glances or cheesy small talk. Avery and her friends had disappeared into the crowd near the speakers, couples dancing and talking with one another, the pulsing neon lights, cheers following every finished game of beer pong, and the atmosphere heavy with vodka and laughter. It was nice, a little overwhelming, but nice.

You could feel the buzz in the back of your head, the tipsy dizziness you held making it a little easier to relax, the music swaying your hips gently.

You couldn’t see through the crowd, but Toby rested his shoulders back on the wall across from you, tapping his fingers across his thigh as he surveyed the crowd. He didn’t even have a drink, awkwardly trying to pretend like he was supposed to be here amongst the buzzed-out college kids.

He had followed you there, staying a comfortable distance behind your group and out of your curious eyes. It was hard not to notice the way your eyes lingered on the houses you passed, smiling at the kids who ran by, and pointing out the overzealous house decorations. You really stood out from your group, a sore thumb from the rest of them. 

What was he doing? Why was he even here? Following some girl because she was dressed as him? Toby knew he was popular, Ben reminding him every time some new post went up on the internet trying to debunk his whereabouts. It didn’t bother him, with his job came weirdos who idolized him- he had just never seen it in person before. 

It really was surreal. 

“Oh my god.”

Toby shot up, straightening as he looked to his side, panic sweeping over him.

Lost in his thoughts and the rush of the party, he hadn’t noticed you pushing to his side of the room, shuffling past to get back into the kitchen for more of whatever you were drinking. You had your mask tugged down under your chin, the facepaint on the left side of your cheek standing out against your flushed cheeks. You even had torn tissue paper to make it look realistic- God, he was going to freak out.

Holding your hands out, you look down at yourself and then at him, comparing your almost identical outfits with a bright smile. “Nice costume, man.” 

Of course, you were cute. He was trying to register you, eyes flinching across your sweet face smiling up at him.

Toby teetered, shoulder flinching just enough to make you glance, but not enough to take the excitement away from your face. He also realized he was just staring and not saying anything- “Oh! Yea- Yeah, hah-” The cool metal of his mask pressed against his cheeks, staring oddly at the fabric one you had.

“Oh damn, you’ve got like- the legit facemask. I just got mine from Spirit, it’s pretty crappy.” You laughed to yourself, holding the solo cup awkwardly in your hands, fidgeting with the lid. Toby immediately regretted his decision, wracking through his brain for some way to get out of here- he forgot how painful small talk was. “I didn’t know anybody else even knew who Ticci Toby was.”

God, that nickname. The play on words was supposed to be funny, but its holder didn’t think it was all that humorous. He smiled at you anyway; there was just something about the way you said it, all giddy.

“Ah, yeah. Mine’s pre- pretty old.” He was fidgeting again, unprepared for how you snuck up on him. “I, uhm, tried my best. Haven’t re- really dressed up in a while.” You complimented him heftily, pointing out the ‘fake’ dirt and blood stains across his hoodie, the great quality of his goggles, and even how he got his makeup to that weird milky-gray skin color. To you, it was just a very well-done costume. 

“No, I get it. I don’t usually go all out like this,” Looking down at yourself, you put on sort of a blush, nervous chirping about how niche it was. Toby couldn’t help but smile. “I just have always really loved his story, so I wanted to make one of my last Halloween’s memorable, y’know?” Ah, candy-handing-out age. A million thoughts ran in the brunette’s mind, but he found himself relaxing again, shoulder pressed onto the wall as you rambled. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one who likes him.”

With you, this close, cheery little features continuing to blab on about the rest of the small details of your own costume, he couldn’t help but find himself listening so intently. A fan? Is that what you were? It felt weird to think about it like that, but the brunette found himself blushing at the thought of an admirer.

“-And I fringed the bottom of his hoodie with a lighter. It was hard to get it to look right, but I really liked how it came out. Y’know, for like him burning his house and stuff- I thought it was a nice detail.” Toby was nodding along, surprised by the little burn holes near the pockets of your lookalike hoodie, the attention to detail far more than he was expecting. “That’s really cool, uh-”

“[Y/N].”

“Uh- Toby.” Was that going to give it away-

“Even got the name down too, huh? Man, I see why you dressed up as him- you fit everything to a T.” He relaxed, your obliviousness laughable, but also a heavy relief.

People brushed by, bumping into both of your shoulders and shimmying their way through. You refocused again, pointing back over your shoulder with a shy smile. “Would you, uh, wanna get some more to drink? I was going anyway-”

Woah- You were inviting him to hang out longer? He was about to refuse, come up with some weird excuse to get back to Jeff and Sally, but the way you gleamed up at him, flashing lights and overstimulating music, it felt so odd.

He was going to let himself give in. He was wearing a ‘costume’ after all, so why not play up the act and enjoy himself a little bit? Slender would have him out running these woods by tomorrow, so why not just take the night and at least pretend like he was still a normal kid? Like all those bad things never happened, being a proxy never happened… He was just a kid who grew up, spending Halloween how normal teenagers did now. Yeah, he was going to let himself have this one night if nothing else.

Toby nodded, pushing off of the wall as you led the way, pushing through the mess of wildly dressed people into the kitchen. Behind you, now, Toby could see the way you still stood out amongst everyone, odd glances being cast in your direction. Just like him, almost, a freak in a sea of hateful eyes. You get it.

“I don’t really know what this stuff is, but it tastes pretty good.” You laugh, flipping the nozzle of the jug holding whatever concoction was mixed with red Kool-Aid, pouring some into two cups. You handed it to Toby, the brunette awkwardly swirling the liquid around with a nervous stare. You giggled at him, wrapping your hand around the sleeve of his hoodie, and guiding him out the back door and onto the patio.

The atmosphere was much calmer than inside, the muffled thumping of whatever song was playing giving a nice rhythmic atmosphere as you sat on top of the stairs leading out into the backyard. You both watched friends and couples dare each other to jump into the pool, the chilly autumn air guiding you to believe the water wasn’t much warmer. Toby sat next to you, mask still snug on his face, revealing nothing for your curious mind.

“So, Toby, what’re you doing here?” You sipped lightly on the drink, contrasting flavors of vodka swirling in the fruity punch, the sting of alcohol making you cringe. Toby hesitated, still tapping his fingers on the side of the plastic cup, trying his best to calm his rushing nerves.

“Uhm- well, y’know… Halloween par- party stuff…” Even though you had taken notice of his stutter ages ago, you forcefully ignored it. You knew better than anyone about nerves, you didn’t want the poor guy to feel any worse about it. Still, his answer made you laugh.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you?” You smile as he shakes his head, leaning back to glance up at the sky, the moon hanging bright and casting a milky glow across the clouds. Toby really enjoyed it when it was like this, made it easier to see where he was going at night. “That’s alright, I don’t really belong here, either.” You enjoyed the moon because it was pretty. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“How come?” Toby leaned back, too, kicking his legs out as he relaxed, easing into the conversation. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I only came because my roommate invited me, I didn’t really want to come. These things aren’t really my deal.” You took another sip, Toby taking in every inch of your face, studying every detail as you spoke. “I would’ve much rather gone trick-or-treating. I guess we’re all a little too old for that now, though, huh?”

The breeze ruffled your hair, wrapping your knees in tight against your chest as the air chilled you. Toby caught himself admiring- it was almost like you were wearing his hoodie, the top just a little oversized on you- he could imagine it. “Nah, I used to love it. Wish it wasn’t we- weird to go when you got a certain age like there’s a time lim- limit on when you can ask for candy.” He smiled, flinching his leg a little.

Toby felt his phone buzz in his back pocket, leaning over to dig it out, flipping the screen up to see a text message from Jeff.

“wtf r u?????” “party. dont wait up.” “😡🖕🙄”

Just to make sure, Toby shared his location with the killer, flipping his phone off and shoving it back into his pocket.

You gave him a sideways glance, smacking him on the shoulder playfully. “You haven’t even drank anything- at least try it. It’s not all that bad.” Clearly, considering you were throwing the cup back to finish off presumably your second glass.

Toby awkwardly cupped his hand onto the metal of his mask, sliding it down below his chin. Thankfully, he had remembered to get EJ to redo the bandages on the corner of his mouth, the gaudy wound becoming irritating to deal with. He wishes it was just cool makeup like yours.

Taking a sip from the cup, he cringed, brows knotting as he shut his eyes. “God- That’s like- straight vodka with fru- fruit syrup- Fuck-” It burned his tongue, your laughter so sweet beside him, resting your hand on his shoulder. He made a funny face, fake gagging on the terrible thing.

He sat straight when you gasped, cupping your hands onto his cheeks and turning his head forcefully. His instincts kicked, hands flexing to grab at you, to slam you down across the pavement below- 

Until you were rubbing your thumb across his bandages gently, flattening out the ends that had become soiled with dried blood. Toby forced himself to relax, his heart thudding in his chest with adrenaline. No one usually got this close- touched him- unless they were clawing for their life. It was like a whiplash, having to condition himself differently for your ignorance.

“Dude, no way you’ve been hiding these all night! Fuck, even these look real- how in the world are you so good at dressing up?” You were taking in every detail of his face, assuming the scars across his lips and cheekbones were merely good makeup skills or a talented friend, Toby trying his best not to freak out with you this close.

You seemed to notice it too, because you were snapping your hands back, eyes blowing wide-

“Shit- sorry- I get real excited about these things… The drinks probably aren’t helping either.” You chuckled, awkwardly sitting back and tucking your knees against your chest, silently cursing yourself for making him uncomfortable with your weird obsession. Toby noticed it, immediately catching the switch-up in your attitude.

Holding his palm out, he levels it in front of you, catching your attention. “I’ve, uhm, got the weird hand bandages, too.” He sheepishly smiled, watching as you slowly lit up again, taking his hand between your own.

“No way…” You picked at the medical wrap clinging around his hand, little bandaids and medical tape snugged tight around his fingers to hide the terrible bite marks and scars he had given himself, that gaudy proxy symbol etched into his flesh. He wanted to compliment your makeup, to say something about how realistic it looked-

Until you both heard a piercing scream from across the patio.

“Tyler!”

Snapping your gaze to the noise, you watched as a tall jockey guy hauled a tiny blonde girl over his shoulders, taking two heavy steps before he jumped into the pool, dragging her along with him. Toby was concerned but was quickly caught off guard when you began to laugh, slapping his arm.

“Avery! Are you okay?!” The other girls on the side of the pool knelt down beside the water, reaching their arms out to help the poor girl back onto solid land. They quickly had a towel wrapped around her, and the guy, Tyler, hopped up onto the side, high-fiving the similar-looking guys accompanying them.

You were still laughing, Toby smiling even when the girl came over to the steps, hurriedly trying to get back inside.

“Ah- [Y/N]? Who’s this?” Your roommate gave Toby a once-over, casting a sideways glance as she noticed you both were wearing the same outfit.

“Uh, This is Toby- we’re dressed as the same thing, see?” You were all cheery, smiling up at her even as she dripped water everywhere. Toby recognized them now, the skimpy group you were walking with, the ones who left you alone almost immediately after getting to the party. You tried to act like it didn’t hurt you, but the brunette had seen it all, catching every time you longingly stared at them through the crowd- the way you still did now.

“Right… Well, I’m glad you guys found each other,” You could hear the sarcasm in her voice, her friends hanging behind her and giving you both funny looks, whispering to one another as she talked. Toby knew you noticed it, too. You were pressing your knees against your chest again, shriveling up into yourself. “Look, we’re leaving. Probably going to finish the night out at some bars if you want to head on back to the apartment.”

You began to nod, giving Toby a half-glance of defeat, taking your empty cup in hand as you began to stand up.

“Uh- Ac- Actually, we’re going trick-or-treating. So, don’t wa- wait up.” Toby stared daggers into the girl, unapologetically snagging your hand in his as he stood, taking his cup in hand. Avery watched him with a sour look, glancing back and forth between you two before stepping up the rest of the stairs. “You two have fun, then. Freaks.”

She definitely said the last part louder than she meant to, because her friends were giggling as they trailed behind her, quickly scuttling into the crowded house. You rolled your eyes, trying not to let it show, but the pang in your chest was heavy.

Toby looked at you, took a firm grip on the solo cup, and closed his eyes. You watched with bright eyes as he chugged the rest, throat burning as he groaned, crushing the cup in his fist and tossing it behind him. You smiled, forgetting that your hand was still tucked neatly into his as you both raced off the patio, pushing through the fence gate, and climbing out onto the road. The street lights were on now, kids dwindling as houses stopped handing out candy, but Toby was determined to get you some.

“Are we actually trick-or-treating?” You laughed, Toby dragging you along with him, pulling his mask back up and over his nose. “Dude, we’re like, totally too old for this stuff, now-”

“And? Just cause I’m older doesn’t me- mean I stopped loving candy.” He hollered. You clung against his side, the breeze pushing through your hair and giving your nose a cute little blush, eyes bright with excitement as you gripped his hand tighter. You tugged your own mask up, shimmying your plastic goggles off of your head and over your eyes, completing the entire look. Toby stalled, heart whirling in his chest as you raced down the sidewalk, excitement buzzing in the air.

Jeff was going to kill him, but it would be worth it.

-

“Trick or treat!”

You held out a plastic Walmart bag, the thing nearly busting with how many pieces of candy it was holding. You both had meant to stop five houses ago, but when you somehow wound up in the nicer neighborhood four blocks over, you couldn’t pass up the full-size candy bars they were giving out.

The tipsiness was really hitting now, you both holding onto one another as concerned glances from parents dumping the rest of their candy into your bag. You always hated those obnoxious people who laughed or talked too loud in public, but now, you found yourself doubling over, cackling at the mean comments Toby was dishing out to little kids’ costumes.

“Tha- That’s supposed to be Spiderman? Yeesh.” It wasn’t even that funny, but you nearly hit your knees from lack of air, laughing so hard that your chest was hurting. Toby’s eyes were heavy, neck jerking and body twitching from the overstimulation, his cheeks a rosy color from the swirl of alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Okay, okay,” You raised up, catching your breath as you leaned against his arm, the rusty smell of his cologne surrounding you. “I think if we get any more- hic- we’re gonna be picking all of it up off the ground.” You pointed at the sack, the plastic stretching and threatening to bust out everywhere. Toby nodded, reaching in and snagging a Hershey’s kiss, popping the sweet chocolate into his mouth. You acted offended, holding the bag close as you both laughed.

The streets were nearly empty now, most of the houses’ lights being turned off and decorations unplugged, the only sign of activity from cars driving by or random groups of kids racing back home to review their hauls. You could feel your own room calling to you, your intoxication pulsing sleepiness into your mind.

Toby noted when you yawned, taking that as a silent sign that the night was ending, preparing to part ways with you. He nearly reached back into his pocket, going to give Jeff a call to come pick him up.

“Wanna go back to my place?”

He paused, your heavy eyes grinning up at him.

“Uh- What?” He could feel himself blushing. Was it just the vodka? He hoped so.

“Well, I ain’t gonna eat all of this by myself. Besides, I’m not trusting myself to get back without crashing out in a bush somewhere.” Toby laughed, rolling his eyes as you waited for his answer, shifting your weight nervously. You smiled when he nodded, your arm quickly wrapping around his and dragging him down the rest of the street.

Reaching over, he took the bag of candy from your hands, stuffing it under his arm. You walked slowly, taking in the dulled-out character inflatables and oversized skeletons in people’s yards, pointing out the Spirit Halloween animatronics that you found so cool. He couldn’t help but find himself staring, encapsulated with you. You found such beauty in what everyone else found offputting, admiring what even he would call strange.

“You’re so weird.” He huffed with a grin.

You glanced up at him, rolling your eyes. “You like it.”

Toby couldn’t find a good answer, turning his attention back to the street lights out front. He did like it. 

“So, I never asked about you- Like, really. What do you do when you’re not wearing the best Toby Rogers cosplay ever?” Toby glanced at you, stalling out mentally as he tried to come up with something.

“Uh, I travel a lo- lot. Kinda like an on-call thing. Uhm… Yeah.” You nodded along, but the brunette wasn’t entirely sure you were hearing what he was saying. You were just looking at him, eyelids hanging low as you took in every detail of his face. He smiled, reaching his free hand to tug your mask down under your chin, your sly grin hidden underneath.

“Tell me abo- about you, [Y/N]. What is Ms. Rogers doing when she’s not ob- obsessing over me?”

Toby paused, a dead stare into your eyes as he choked on his words. He slipped up- Did you notice, would you care? He could feel the panic rising in his chest, jerks twinging at the back of his neck, anxiety swelling-

“Woah, easy tiger-” You’re giggling, pushing the strands of hair that fell in your face when you did an unbalanced little bow. “Didn’t know I was in the presence of such a celebrity.”

Toby was already relaxing, shoulders untensing faster than they wound, trying his best to settle his shaky hands. “But, I don’t know. I’m in between jobs? School?” You fidgeted with your hands, your arm still wrapped tightly around his. The weight was comforting. “I’m only still here because it’s where I grew up, but I don’t know what I’m doin’ now…” Your stare was distant, fidgeting with the fabric of his sleeve as you talked. 

He was about to say something, trying to muster up some affirming speech that Tim used to tell him when things got rough. But you were tugging him off of the sidewalk, skipping towards some apartment complex building. “We’re hereee…”

He followed you through the neat hallways, the stout smell of clean and tacky air fresheners strong on the brightly colored carpet. Toby didn’t know if he had ever been in a place so nice, dozens of doors lining everywhere you went, feeling like he could get lost if you weren’t dragging him into an elevator.

Pressing your floor button, he leaned back against the brassy walls, your hands rummaging through your pockets and hauling out a set of keys. Cute little keychains were hooked onto the loop, reaching back into your pocket for your phone, swiping across the screen.

“Here, smile-” You were leaning back against him, holding your hand high in the air to take a selfie, Toby grinning goofily up into the camera. Looking over the picture, you smiled, never moving off of his shoulder as the elevator took you up, Toby’s heart soaring much higher.

-

“How many of those are you going to eat?” You gasped, tossing another Skittles wrapper onto your floor, adding to the mess that you swore you were going to clean up.

Alternatively, you were lying on your back, laid out on your even messier bed, stuffing your face with possibly the most unhealthy amounts of sweets. Toby sat on the floor, his back pressed against your footboard, rummaging his hands through the sack and tossing pieces up to you. 

He looks really good in just a t-shirt, you thought, catching yourself staring at his toned shoulders.

“As many as I want.” He grinned, popping another jawbreaker into his mouth. Your twin pairs of goggles and masks lay scattered on the floor, hoodies bunched at his feet. Toby was in bliss, the sweet smell of your perfume and clothes soaked in all around him, pieces of you everywhere he looked. Posters of your favorite bands, corkboard full of keychains and polaroids, even your wall-mounted TV playing some older murder mystery documentary. He loved how normal it felt, how comfortable, and different.

In his mind, he could see you going through the motions every day, the boy longing for even just a taste of that. In the way you admired his weirdness, he admired your normality. Same worlds, different perspectives.

“I’m officially cutting myself off until Christmas.” You huffed, climbing off of the bed and staggering to your vanity. Toby watched as you fiddled through your makeup, popping open the box of makeup wipes and taking one out. Pushing your hair behind your ears, you began to wipe the design on your cheek off, rubbing the wipe over your eyes and cleansing your skin of the fake deep-set eyes. The brunette was lost, mesmerized by how your rosy cheeks looked so sweet in the warm light of your bedside lamp, eyes brighter than ever.

Sitting off your chair, Toby sat up a little when you grabbed another wipe, kneeling next to him. “Your turn.”

He stuttered, glancing from your now-clean face to the wipe in hand, nervousness creeping up in his throat. The wipe was cold, pressing it against his as you tried to clean him off, Toby watching through worried eyes when your face started to contort, confusion heavy in your features. “Dude, like, none of this is coming off. What kind of makeup did you use?”

“Hah- Uh, the good stuff, y’know?” He could tell you weren’t convinced, scrubbing just a little harder on his cheekbone until the grayish skin became littered with red irritation. You sat back on your heels, cupping the side of his cheek with your free hand, running your thumb across the skin under his eye. Toby flinched, your other hand coming up to cup the other side of his head, eyes tensed in focus. 

Fuck, here it goes.

“This isn’t makeup, is it?”

Toby cringed, refusing to look you directly in the eyes. His fingers flexed, the outline of his pocketknife pressing against his leg, a silent reminder. He didn’t want to do it, God, he silently begged not to, prayed for you to brush it off so he could get out of here. The room felt so small now, your closeness becoming increasingly irritating the longer you stared.

But the brunette knew that if you reacted how everyone else did, with panicked screams that would have your curious neighbors come knocking, he knew what he would have to do. Even someone as awestruck as you couldn’t keep him from the inevitable.

He clenched his jaw when you dropped your hands, parting your lips like you wanted to say something, but getting tangled in your own thoughts.

“[Y/N]. I’m- uhm- I’m him, okay?”

You just kept staring, “I get it, your costume was good- okay? I don’t-”

“No, I’m not- Jeez,” He slid his hand up the side of his thigh, finally forcing himself to look at your confused face, eyes snagging onto every detail. “I’m Ro- Rogers. Like- Toby, Toby Rogers… I’m Ticci Toby.”

Tapping his heel on your carpeted floor, the brunette waited, collecting every twitch of your eyes or shaky breath that you took. He was ready for the yelling, the panic, taking calculated measurements in his head of just how many steps it would take for you to get to your bedroom door. He had done it a million times, ended someone’s life a million times. He would force this time not to be different.

His hand flexed around the indent of his pocketknife, ready to flip the metal open as you sat up onto your knees.

Your hands moved slowly, following the same motion you had been making all night, but this time it was more meaningful. Toby flinched as your warm fingertips brushed along his jaw, wrapping gently around his cheeks as you said nothing, the brunette trying to keep the floodgates of panic from cracking open in his mind.

That’s when he felt your fingernails picking at the bandage on his cheek, pinching the edge, and slowly, carefully removing the sterile cloth underneath, the fabric spotty with dried blood. Toby let his eyes shut, his facial wound now on full display, slowly ticking the seconds of silence by in his mind, relishing in the fleeting feeling of his ‘normality.’

He was a fool to ever think he could have something so nice-

“The pictures on the internet do not do you justice.”

The rush came to a stop, eyes slowly flinching open as he looked at you, his brows knitted in confusion. “What?”

“There’s these pictures on Twitter, really blurry, but still- of you. They don’t make this thing look half as cool as it really is.” As if to confirm it for yourself, you brushed your thumb across the edge of his skin where the flesh broke off in torn tissue and exposed the side of his gums. You watched to see if he would flinch, carefully pressing the softness of his cheek to watch the skin stretch and move- it was real.

Toby watched as you sat back, setting your hands down in your lap. It was strange how the brunette found himself missing the warmth of your touch, already.

“Toby… Toby… How the fuck did I not see it sooner?” You repeated his name over and over, rolling the syllables off your tongue and stapling them in your mind. “How did I not notice? I’ve seen your face a million times.”

Toby could barely register any of it, his heart thudding a mile a minute as you carried on like everything was normal, more angry with yourself for not noticing it was him than anything. It was almost a blur as you scooted forward, leaning in close to wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him in so gently. 

He could feel himself melt, hand unraveling from his knife as the panic dissipated, the sweet, lovely smell of your perfume heavy in his nose. He had to be dreaming, he thought, slowly coaxing his hands around your back and pulling you in closer, forgetting the last time he had even had a hug at all.

But then it ends all too quickly, your hands pushing back on his shoulders, a panicked look in your eyes.

“I must seem insane.” And then you’re standing up, running your hands through your hair, pacing back and forth across the messiness of your bedroom. Toby shakes his head, standing off the ground, reaching out to you. “I’ve been going on and on about you all night- I must seem so psycho and crazy. This is so embarrassing- What the fuck?” 

He’s grabbing your arms, pulling you back over to the foot of your bed, and sitting you down, an exasperated smile on his face. He was so worried about you freaking out or becoming terrified that he completely forgot who you were. You had been rambling about him all night, unknowingly complimenting the boy right to his face, and Toby was scared you wouldn’t like him. Just like how you’re worried about looking crazy, embarrassment flooding your face as you hide your palms in your hands.

“[Y/N], lo- look at me.” He tugs your hands away, sitting beside you on the bed, leaning down so you’re forced to look at him. You nervously hold his gaze, face so red and flustered, he’s smiling at you like a little kid. “It’s cute.”

And then you’re flopping back onto the bed, screaming into your hands as Toby laughs, running his hands through his hair.

Is this what it’s like? Teenagers hiding out in their rooms, casting sheepish glances at one another all night until one of them cracks, everything flooding out. He should be taking a priority, getting the hell out of your room and out of your life before he gets mixed up with something he can’t pull himself away from. But the flirty touches, teasing, and everything else that got him here clouds his judgment.

Then you’re sitting back up, scooting closer, and throwing your arms around his neck, abandoning every thought he was just brushing over in his mind. He holds you close, your face hiding in the crook of his neck, taking uneven, steady breaths as you try and rationalize it all, before giving up. “I’m sorry, Toby.”

And now it’s his turn to be confused, leaning back to look you in the face. “For?”

“Everything. The things even I couldn’t have controlled, the things that made you this way- Nobody’s probably ever told you before, so I will: I’m sorry. I’ve studied your story so many times, went over every detail, ran your perspective in my dreams- but even still, I can’t possibly imagine.”

The brunette can’t feel pain, he doesn’t understand the cut of a knife or the sting of a bullet. But the pang that snags in his chest, this heavy weight that feels like all the pain he's ever missed out on- that hurts worse than anything. But looking into your eyes, his hands planted firm on your skin, the solid weight beside him- It’s like it's all never even mattered in the first place.

For the first time in his life, he’s being seen. Viewed as more than just a weapon.

Screw the different perspective, screw the polar opposites, he’s in the here and now. It doesn’t matter if he’s been pretending tonight or his entire life, right now is real. He’s not going to lose it.

“Ca- Can I kiss you…?” It’s nearly a whisper, his voice so quiet and nervous as he leans forward on your bed.

You glance from his eyes down to his lips, heart thumping so loud you’re scared he might be able to hear it. You nod anyway, blinking slowly as you hold his gaze. “Y- Yeah.”

Toby brings his hand up nice and slow, cupping the side of your cheek as he leans in, fingers trembling against your skin. Your hand reaches to cup his, warm fingers relaxing atop his, a satisfying weight that has the boy swooning. Then you’re leaning in, too, slowly fluttering your eyes shut.

And then your lips touch, and everything just holds for a moment.

All the rush of the night, the nervousness, the excitement, it stops for just this one second.

You’re leaning into his touch, soft lips pressed firmly against his rough ones, slowly twinging your jaw to coax him deeper. He feels like he’s melting, skin so hot to the touch when you reel him in, your free hand snaking up the backside of his neck and into his messy curls.

He groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss and leaning back, breathing heavily. Your face is so flushed, cheeks a deep vermillion that makes Toby smile a little, grinning as he still cups your cheek. Your fingers brush through his hair, coaxing his head into your hand with such gentle touches. It’s so sweet, so calm, a complete turn from what the brunette is used to.

He knows pain, and rough, and cold- but you- there’s only sweetness, and caring, and warmth behind those eyes. He wants more of it, to feel more of it, he has to have it- to have you.

It doesn’t hit him what just happened until you’re giggling in front of him. Then that hold snaps, his conscience rushing back into him, and he’s leaning back further-

“I’m so so sorry- Oh my god- I don’t kn- know what I was thinking- I- Gah- I’m so sorry-”

“Toby.”

“If I should go- or- Oh, my god- I’m sorry- I should-”

“Toby.”

“I’m just so-”

And then your hands are wrapped into his hair, pushing forward until your lips collide, hurried, loud kisses that have the brunette spiraling, eyes fluttering shut again. There’s that warmth, your body leaning in to press close to his, arms wrapping around his neck, he thinks he might pass away.

You pull back, taking a deep breath as Toby collects himself, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He’s a mess, brain running a mile a minute, his body having a hard time catching up as he twitches and jerks. 

Throwing your leg over his, you straddle his thighs, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck and holding him close. He’s swallowed by the sweet smell of your perfume, resting his chin on your shoulder as he wraps onto your back, heart thumping against your chest. He finds the thoughts flooding, dissipating the more he breathes, disappearing into this blanket of quiet.

“You alright?” You whisper, brushing your fingers through the back of his hair, his skin tingling with your touch. He hums low against your shoulder, running his fingers up and down your spine, the touch making you sigh. He could live forever in this moment, could die happy right here.

But when his fingers mindlessly dip a little too low, brushing your lower back right above the waistline of your jeans, Toby mewls at the way you grip onto tufts of his hair. It’s abrupt, a reaction, but he feeds into it anyway. He brushes that spot again, right above your tailbone, and you’re taking a deep, shaky breath against his neck. He likes that a lot.

Gently, he tugs the hem of your shirt up, just enough to see a peak of your skin. You pause, hitching a breath when you feel his cold fingers wind up under your shirt and press against your back.

“Toby-” He promises he’ll stop if you ask him to, making sure you know that- but you’re shaking your head, gripping onto his arm as he pushes his hand higher, snaking his fingers along the bony press of your back. You let out a low groan, quiet, but just enough to have Toby aching for more. He stops when his fingers brush the strap of your bra, dipping back down to caress the curve of your skin, studying every detail you’ll let him get.

“You’re so pretty…” He whispers, the dull lamp glowing across your flushed face making him blush, your body relaxing against his hold. Your noises are like a drug, he wants to hear them over and over, the softness of your voice so intoxicating. But more than that, he wants you. If this is all he gets, he’ll cherish it for the rest of his days.

Wrapping an arm around your back, he’s flipping you over, pushing you up to the center of your plush bed and towering over you. “Toby…” He drinks in your sweet gasps as he intertwined his lips with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were with a swipe of his tongue across your lower lip. Toby’s hands wandered the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to rub your waist. It’s so greedy, so hurried and eager, but doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out.

Your fingers run through his curls, following his head as he moves off your lips, slowly pressing a trail of gentle, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. You’re gasping, running your hands across his shoulders, digging your nails in when he kisses just above your collarbone- but then he’s sitting back, pushing up and off of you with a worried look.

“Fu- Fuck, I’m sorry-” And then you’re sitting up on your elbows, a concerned look on your face. “I’m not be- bein’ myself tonight- I don’t know what’s wrong. Shit, [Y/N], I’m sorry-”

“Toby, it’s alright-” You laugh, pushing up to sit in front of him, reaching out before he takes your wrists in his hands, holding them down.

“No- I just, never do any- anything like this- It’s like I can’t stop-” Even through his apologies he’s staring at your lips, that hunger pooling in his chest for another sweet taste.

“You’re telling me I get to kiss the boy I’ve had a crush on for years, and he’s worried about not being able to stop?” Exasperation was heavy on your face, it’s almost laughable how much playful irritation was in your voice. Toby caught that last part though, the words going straight to his head.

“You gotta crush on me?” He smiles, redness tinting his cheeks. He’s still holding your wrists, your eyes slowly widening as the heat settles on your face.

“I, uhm- Well, you see-” You’re scrambling for words, the cheesy smile on Toby’s face not helping your case at all. “I mean, I thought it was kinda obvious. I dressed up as you for Halloween, man.”

He doesn’t let his conscience weigh him down anymore, pulling your hands to wrap around his neck before he pushes you back down onto the bed, swallowing the sweet taste of your lips against him. He can still taste the sourness of the candy you were eating on your tongue, too. He licks at the plush of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck- he probably won’t.

You’re a giggly mess, spreading your knees for him to slot between them, his muscled arms wrapping around the small of your waist. “And I’ve nev- never seen someone be able to pull off my go- goggles so well.” He prays you won’t be able to feel the bulge he’s sporting, but when your legs wrap around his hips, he loses all hope.

Your stomach flutters, tingles across your skin as he’s back on your neck, little nips and kisses that have your back arching off of the comforter, arms tightening around him. He would kiss you forever, marking every inch of your skin with a delicate brush of his lips, he could waste his time like that forever. You wrap your legs around Toby’s waist to pull him closer, feeling the outline of his cock. He grinds against you, letting out low groans at the snag of your clothed core. Both of you knew it- he needed you so badly.

But then you’re pushing your warm hands up the back of his shirt, fingers scorching across his toned muscles and scratching your nails into his skin. You push the top off of his shoulders, up and over his head before throwing it to the side, glancing down at the slim but strong figure looming above you. Scars adorn his skin, long gashes or scattered fragments of bullets that have clipped him, not to mention the littered cigarette burns all down his abdomen. He finds it disgusting, blemishes that he can’t stand to look at.

But you’re tracing them with your fingers, rubbing your thumbs across the blistered burns that made him sick, taking in every inch of him. And smiling. Was it possible to fall in love this fast?

“They’re disgusting.”

“They’re so cool.”

He can’t muster the words to fight you as you’re reaching deeper, pushing your hands further down his torso to snag onto his jeans, reaching for his belt. Toby’s body comes to a rushing halt, his heart beating so hard, the feeling of his cock finally getting the attention it wanted.

His hands rest on either side of your shoulders, a dark shadow over you as you slowly undo his belt, unbuttoning his jeans hastily. Hands dipping past the band of his boxers-

He was big- so mouthwateringly big. Flushed a deep shade of pink at his tip, pulsing in your hand so comfortably- every part of Toby was so endlessly pretty to you. He was gasping, eyes trained on how your fist slowly moved, so hot and heavy in your grasp as you pumped him at a steady, methodical pace. “Ah- Shit…”

Glancing back up to you, your face is so red, lips parted as Toby takes your jaw into his grasp, forcing you to look up at him before he bullies his tongue past your lips, little groans slipping past. Your back arches into him as his hands snake up your shirt, parting from your lips only to push the fabric over your head, capturing your kiss quickly again. He thinks he can manage, thinks he can keep his composure- but then your thumb runs over his slit, precum dribbling out onto your finger, and he's moaning into your mouth like he's never been touched before.

He hasn’t, not like this, not this gentle.

“[Y/N]- Oh God-” You’re biting his bottom lip, fingers clenched tight around the swollen head of his cock and pumping gently, his hips twitching and jerking for more. He pushes off of you, the breathless flush of your face so pretty under him, but then he’s glancing down.

And, fuck.

Your tits sit so pretty in your bra, blushed skin laid out beneath him as shaky hands reach to unbutton your jeans, jerky fingers quickly tugging them down your thighs and onto the floor below. And then he can’t believe how he's gone this long without you, or how he'll be able to survive another night if you’re not with him. 

Where you admire his blemishes, he admires your perfection. Not a nasty knife scar or bullet nip anywhere on you, skin so soft and warm, his cold hands running across your smooth hips. “Gorgeous.” It’s the only thing he can think to say, but it doesn't do you any justice.

“Let me- Can I touch you? Pl- Please-”

You don’t answer, just rising up off of the bed to reach behind your back, unclipping your bra so seamlessly as it falls off your shoulders. Toby nearly moans when you toss the fabric to the side, chest rising and falling with shaky breaths, tits so round and heavy- so pretty.

Falling to your side, he’s holding you close, one leg draping over his bony hip as he shimmies his jeans off. Your legs spread wide, hands gripped tight into the softness of his curls as rough lips wrap around your nipple. You’re gasping, skin fluttering with every touch across your abdomen, cold fingers slowly trailing down just below your belly button. He stays there, tongue pressing flat across your nipple as the pads of his digits line the hem of your panties, teasing as you buck your hips up, silently begging for him to go lower.

The brunette’s fingers were now rubbing against your folds through your panties, causing you to jerk at the friction. He playfully nipped at your collarbone before glancing up at you through heavy eyelids. “My turn, pretty girl.”

“Toby- hah- Yeah-” His free hand wraps behind your back, cradling you into his side as he pinches at your unattended nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers. He smiles against your tit, a long sigh of relief when you feel his fingers break past the line of your panties.

His fingers dip into the warm folds of your cunt, dipping down to collect your arousal on his digits, messily swiping across your plushy lips. You’re already soaked just from kissing, Toby popping off of your nipple to snag your lips, kissing you hungrily as you pant into his mouth. His fingers circle your clit, the nub pulsing and jerking at his touch, hips rising and falling as they chase the sensation. “Jesus- You’re soaked.”

Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub, you gasp, heat so prominent on your cheeks. “Don’t worry, I go- got you.” He’s unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor nipples, or soaking his tongue in the warmness of your mouth, lips glistening with his saliva. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You’ve never been touched like this before, and Toby didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your gummy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. You cry out, breaking from his kiss and giving him a good excuse to snag back onto your tit, gently biting on your reddened nipple.

He’s pumping his fingers rhythmically, curling them in a way that has your eyes fluttering shut, fingers tugging his hair so hard it makes him groan at the pressure. His digits glisten in the low light, hand stretching the fabric of your panties He’s hitting that little spot each and every time., looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your nipple, lips wrapped tight around the skin.

“Sh- Shit, Toby-” You groan, grinding your hips down as he stuffs his fingers all the way to the knuckle, the two middle digits spreading and pressing against your walls, coaxing your legs to spread wider. His palm bumps against your clit, holding his hand there to press firm against the bundle of nerves, your jaw hanging loose when he leans up to go in for more kisses. He is all over you, barely able to breathe as he ravages your skin, fingers bullying their way deeper until you can feel yourself gushing across his palm. The noises are so lewd, the schlick, schlick of your wet cunt taking him back in, walls clenching around his thick fingers. You can’t stand it, can’t take it anymore-

Toby can see it in your face, in the way you stop kissing him back to let out a long, guttural moan that has him in bliss. His fingers beat faster, fucking your swollen cunt open as his unattended cock throbs and leaks against your thigh, begging to replace his fingers.

“S’good Toby. Fuck. Right there- Don’t stop.” And then your arms are wrapping around his head, cradling his face into your neck as you fall apart on his fingers, pussy gushing and practically dripping with your orgasm. You think maybe you see stars, or it’s just the freckles on the brunette’s skin when he captures your lips, drinking up every moan you feed him.

His cock is wilting, throbbing, and twitching against your leg as you finally settle out, breathy groans that have you both staring at each other through heavy gazes. He slips his hand from your ruined panties, pulling your knee up higher to spread your legs more as he slides the fabric from your hips and tosses them somewhere unseen, taking his cock in his soaked fingers. 

Your breath hitches at the way he drags his swollen head teasingly across your slit, pooling your slick on his achingly hard tip, smearing your juices with his cockhead as he pumps himself lazily. It’s so torturously good, his face disappearing into the crook of your neck as he gently nibbles your burning skin. “Need you so bad, Toby.” You breathe out, nearly panting. “Co- Condom. In the nightstand-”

Despite wanting to feel you, really feel you wrapped around him, he kisses just below your jaw before rolling over. Fishing for a condom in your drawer, he misses you sitting up, fresh orgasm giving you a rush of need as you watch him haul the packet in between his fingers.

Because then you’re pushing his shoulders down onto the bed, straddling his thighs as you snag the condom from him, quickly tearing open the packet. Toby watches with excitement, hands reaching to cradle against the sides of your thighs, fingers digging into your plush skin when you slowly slide the latex down his throbbing length. It’s snug, but thin, able to feel every pulse of your cunt as you take the base of him in your hand, swiping his tip along your folds, wetting himself. It was all the preparation you were going to give yourself because fuck Toby needed to be inside your pussy right now.

Then you feel like you’re being split apart- Toby’s cock was slowly pushing up into your warmth as he presses through the first ring of muscle. Before you can overthink, you’re nudging your hips down gently. So agonizingly gentle that Toby has to stop his hips from riding off the bed. And you can do nothing more than let out barely-audible whispers of his name as you seat yourself on his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. “Ah- Hah-”

You feel so full. So drunk off of the delicious burn of your pussy, hands resting on his chest as he watches you. 

You’re so nauseously tight, gripping his length in a way that had his eyes rolling back, fingers digging red marks into your skin. You’re both breathless, eyes clamped shut and bodies shaky when your hips finally meet his, so utterly full of him. Toby can’t even find the words for it.

That’s when you hear voices from outside your closed bedroom door, Avery and her friends returning from whatever drunken night they had, loud as ever.

In a panic, you push your hands over Toby’s mouth, the brunette’s hot breath fogging against your skin as he smiles, waiting patiently as they all file into Avery’s room, voices slowly dwindling out. Meanwhile, you’re pulsing around him, cunt clenching as you’re forced to wait.

But eventually it's all clear, palm slowly letting off of his mouth, a teasingly smile plastered on his face. You roll your eyes, quietly laughing as you steady yourself, pushing your knees further against his sides. You’re pulling your hips up eagerly, achingly fucking yourself at a slow, sensual pace. His tip kisses your cervix as you roll your hips sensually against his, making sure you feel every vein and twitch against your tight walls.

“Y’looked so beau- beautiful tonight. So pretty dressing up as me.” Toby gasps, running his hands across your thighs, up the sides of your waist as you dig your knees into the mattress. It sends shivers down your spine, ones that go directly to your clit as you lean forward, pressing your chest against his. Sweaty forehead meeting his, he leans up to meet your pitiful kiss, hips still pushing back as your clit rubs against his abs.

Surprised moans get choked in his throat as you rock your hips back and forth, pulling all the way up till his furiously flushed tip is teasing your sloppy hole, slick glistening on his length, just to nudge yourself down again, relishing in that full feeling. 

Wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, he massages the plushness of your ass, smiling to himself when you wrap your arms around his neck and hide your face into the crook of his neck. “More, Toby.”

“O- Okay…” He breathes, bending his knees to get a better angle, the divot of his cock pressing against that sweet spot and making you mewl. The weight of you on top of him is so satisfying.

Toby starts up a satisfyingly good pace, thrusts get deeper and deeper until he finally buries his cock into you as deep as it could go. Throaty groans spill out of his mouth, he looks over and kisses your forehead gently, taking in every moan and whine you muffle into his neck. “Oh- hah! Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

Even if his body was exhausted, he couldn’t feel it. All he could tell was that your cunt was gripping him so hard his jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth as he fucked himself up into that sweet warmth. “So good- Oh, feels so good-”

“Oh god. Toby, right there-” You gasp out in pleasure, starting to move in shallow thrusts that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, the curve of his cock knocking that swollen sweet spot over and over, each thrust more prominent than the last. You bounce your ass back on him, meeting every thrust that he delivers so deep into the swell of your pussy, clit aching and throbbing as it rubs against his hard abs. “You’re so- doing so good, baby-” He huffs.

Feeling that very familiar coil in your abdomen, you mewl, “Toby- I’m gonna-”

But then his thrusts halt, hands reaching further up your back to hold onto you tightly, sitting both you and him up as he crawls up onto his knees. He’s got your weight in his arms, cock still nestled so deeply inside of you as you wrap your limbs around him, leaning in to kiss along his jawline sticky with sweat.

He gives up thrusting now, hips rutting and grinding into you in a way that has you moaning deep and long, cunt throbbing with the ache for release. He’s in so deep- so full. 

Kissing against your rose cheeks, he looks at you with fucked-out eyes, trying his best to ride out the last of this moment as he feels his gut pool with warmth. His arms reach around your slender back to dig his nails into the unblemished skin, holding you as close as he physically could. It felt so perfect. Your hips grind back to meet Toby’s, thighs trembling as they cling to his hips. “Shit, [Y/N], I think yo- you were made for me.”

And then you’re capturing his lips, breathy moans as you feel him throb inside you.

“Close?” 

“Mhm…” He sighs, leaning down to kiss along your shoulder.

You grind your hips deeper, chasing that heavy feeling that builds in your gut, clinging onto whatever you can grab of his skin, brushing your hands up into his hair and pulling. “Hngh- Toby. Inside- ” You whimper, overstimulated, and your senses filled with only the brunette, you finally cum, riding it out on his deep thrusts. “Oh, fu- fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna cum, my pretty girl- Hngh-” He moans out as your pussy clenches down on him, finally tipping over the edge as well.

You feel Toby cum in hot spurts into the condom, rasping your name over and over as if it was the only word he knew. He collapses onto you, careful not to crush you with his full body weight as he pants against your neck, slowly tugging himself from your gooey warmth.

As you both come down from your highs, he quickly removes the condom and hugs your sweaty body closer to his, kissing along your neck and up to the corner of your mouth. Eventually, he climbs off of your bed, searching your messy floor for his boxers, tossing you his t-shirt which you happily pull on. 

He fishes new panties from your dresser- quietly spazzing out at all the different colored bras and matching bottoms you had to choose from- and tugs on his own boxers.

Every movement after that is laced with exhaustion, tired, sticky bodies shuffling under the covers as you cling to his side, breathing in his smell like it’ll be the last time you do. He’ll make sure it’s not.

Flipping your lamp off, the only glow is from your TV, dim lights reflecting off of your still-rosy skin. He takes every moment to kiss along your cheeks, brushing your hair from your face, and cradling your body tight against him. He doesn’t really remember how you coaxed him into taking off the wrap on his hand- with the false promise that you would change the soiled bandages out tomorrow- but you do, unraveling the fabric until that horrific proxy symbol contrasted against his pale skin. A mark, a reminder of who he was returning to when the sun rose tomorrow.

He promised to let himself have tonight, but he knew that tonight wasn’t going to last forever.

But then you’re bringing his hand to your lips, placing a sweet, deep kiss right at the center of his palm. And he melts. He wasn’t lying when he said he thought you were made for him, the sour look on his face disappearing when he was cupping your cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to kiss against your skin.

You kissed against the scar on his cheek, soft lips on jagged flesh, and he knew.

You spend the rest of the night fishing stories from him, things he promised he would never tell, but find your reactions just too good at the mention of Masky and Tim. Your obsession seemed to run deeper than him, but he was your favorite.

-

Toby would have never felt the dip in the bed beside him, or the fingers that messed in his hair, but he did feel the fist that clenched onto his jaw much harder than you ever could’ve.

“Rise and shine, twitch.” Jeff, in all of his ugliness, sat on the edge of the bed, teasingly patting Toby’s cheeks. The brunette sat up, pushing the killer off of him and out of the bed, hoarse little chuckles erupting as he felt you stir next to him.

“How the fuck did you get here?”

“Front door, duh. You sent me your location last night, remember?” Toby noticed through your open bedroom door that your front door was swung wide open, the killer smiling with satisfaction, but his face slowly dropped when he saw you slowly sit up.

“Toby? Wha-” You see Jeff, Toby ready to reach out and clamp your mouth shut, prepping for a terrified scream. But then you’re sitting up, Jeff awkwardly glancing back and forth between you two as your lips part. “No way.”

Toby should’ve known better.

Because then you’re bombarding the killer, sitting on the edge of the bed, and studying every detail of his face, fangirling, of all things. Toby smiles, laughing to himself as you banter on and on about newsletters and obscure websites, Jeff casting you concerning looks as you recount his entire backstory. 

-

It’s well into the afternoon by the time Jeff finally pushes Toby to leave, barking about how he was supposed to have him back hours ago. The killer would never admit it, but they were only there that long because he enjoyed hearing someone harp on how good of a killer he was, complimenting him like he had always wanted.

Jeff’s already in the truck waiting as Toby kisses your face, kissing against your hands as fear courses him, fear that this will be the last time. But then you’re grabbing his phone, typing in your number, and sending yourself a text. A promise.

“For whenever you want to stop by ;)”

Followed by your address.

And then he’s back on the road, Jeff harping on and on about how ‘you weren’t that bad’ or ‘if Toby wasn’t careful he’d snatch you up.’ He couldn’t hear him though, too busy studying every detail of the photo you had sent him, the two of you smiling half-drunk in that elevator. It was already his wallpaper by the time they made it back to the mansion.

And he was already making plans on how he could sneak away tonight to come see you.

God, how he loved Halloween.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

Happy Halloween!

[absolutely-esme]

Amity Park is different

Amity Park has a local superhero.

He's great. He works hard to protect his town. That said, Amity's local hero is a teenager. The people he relies on to help and support him are teenagers. The town's superhero defense is a handful of kids figuring things out on their own.

They do good, but sometimes the people of Amity have to be prepared to lend a hand or hold their own for a bit. That's just how life is under these conditions. Communities come together and support each other. It's fine. People adapt. Life goes on. They're really doing quite well.

A class from Amity Park visits a museum in Gotham on a field trip. They get caught in an unfortunately timed Scarecrow attack.

Scarecrow should have known better than to activate the fight or flight responses of a group of Amity Parkers.

The gas canister drops and discharges. The field trip group explodes into action.

A pair of Football players quickly overturns a table and use it as a shield as they charge the goons with the most firepower. Cheerleaders toss each other into the air for aerial attacks. Nerds turn objects from a nearby Janitor closet into a surprisingly effective trebuchet with astounding speed. One girl utilizes impressive martial arts skills.

A boy with Black hair and blue eyes flits about the battlefield pilfering and disassembling weapons with a shocking degree of efficiency as a Goth girl follows him around and bludgeon anyone who attempts to make a grab for him with a stand that had been holding up a rope barrier, and a boy in a beret lays down cover fire by launching pencils out of a makeshift bow formed from a binder and rubber bands with a startling degree of accuracy.

The teacher flits around pulling kids out of the path of attacks they hadn't seen, stowing any injured behind cover, and giving foes solid thwack on the noggin when the opportunity arises. He actually ends up knocking out Scarecrow himself.

The statement "We're not trapped in here with you. You're trapped in here with us," is repeated several times by different people.

When the Bats or police arrive, they have to carefully pull the feildtrip group off of the unfortunate rogues.

It takes a while to get the antidotes administered, but they do eventually manage. The class remains in defensive formation the whole time.

When the kids finally calm down enough to give statements, they mostly just say that Scarecrow gets what he gets for deliberately activating Amity Parkers' fight or flight responses. After the antidotes take effect, the class seems unfazed and goes about their business as soon as the authorities allow.

Some other visitors to the museum upload videos of the event online with titles like "the one class that was prepared for a field trip to Gotham" and "What kind of place is Amity Park, and why haven't I heard of it before?"

It doesn't take long for people to edit the videos to set the fight to music. Popular song choices include Ballroom Blitz, Bring 'em Out by Hawk Nelson, and the "we like to party" song from the six flags commercial.

Now the Bats are investigating Amity Park (and why they haven't heard of it before).

[wilwheaton]

The GOP wonders why young people (and others) don't want to vote for them. Some wise scribe assembled this list.

1.) Your Reagan-era “trickle-down economics” strategy of tax breaks for billionaires that you continue to employ to this day has widened the gap between rich and poor so much that most of them will never be able to own a home, much less earn a living wage.

2.) You refuse to increase the federal minimum wage, which is still $7.25 an hour (since 2009). Even if it had just kept up with inflation, it would be $27 now. You’re forcing people of all ages but especially young people to work multiple jobs just to afford basic necessities.

3.) You fundamentally oppose and want to kill democracy; have done everything in your power to restrict access to the ballot box, particularly in areas with demographics that tend to vote Democratic (like young people and POC). You staged a fucking coup the last time you lost.

4.) You have abused your disproportionate senate control over the last three decades to pack the courts with religious extremists and idealogues, including SCOTUS—which has rolled back rights for women in ways that do nothing but kill more women and children and expand poverty.

5.) You refuse to enact common sense gun control laws to curb mass shootings like universal background checks and banning assault weapons; subjecting their entire generation to school shootings and drills that are traumatizing in and of themselves. You are owned by the NRA.

6.) You are unequivocally against combatting climate change to the extent that it’s as if you’ve made it your personal mission to ensure they inherit a planet that is beyond the point of no return in terms of remaining habitable for the human race beyond the next few generations.

7.) You oppose all programs that provide assistance to those who need it most. Your governors refused to expand Medicaid even during A PANDEMIC. You are against free school lunches, despite it being the only meal that millions of children can count on to actually receive each day

8.) You are banning books, defunding libraries, barring subject matter, and whitewashing history even more in a fascistic attempt to keep them ignorant of the systemic racism that this nation was literally founded upon and continues to this day in every action your party takes.

9.) You oppose universal healthcare and are still trying to repeal the ACA and rip healthcare from tens of millions of Americans and replace it with nothing. You are against lowering the cost of insulin and prescription drugs that millions need simply to LIVE/FUNCTION in society.

10.) You embrace white nationalists, Neo-Nazis, and other groups that are defined by their intractable racism, xenophobia, bigotry, and intolerance. You conspired with these groups on January 6th to try to overthrow the U.S. government via domestic terrorism that KILLED PEOPLE.

11.) You oppose every bill aimed at making life better for our nation’s youth; from education to extracurricular and financial/nutritional assistance programs. You say you want to “protect the children” while you elect/nominate pedophiles and attack trans youth and drag queens.

12.) You pretend to be offended by “anti-semitism” while literally supporting, electing, and speaking at events organized by Nazis. You pretend to hate “cancel culture” despite the fact that you invented it and it’s basically all you do.

13.) Every word you utter is a lie. You are the party of treason, hypocrisy, crime, and authoritarianism. You want to entrench rule by your aging minority because you know that you have nothing to offer young voters and they will never support you for all these reasons and more.

14.) You’re so hostile to even the notion of helping us overcome the mountain of debt that millions of us are forced to take on just to pay for our post K-12 education that you are suing to try to prevent a small fraction of us from getting even $10,000 in loan forgiveness.

15.) You opened the floodgates of money into politics via Citizens United; allowing our entire system of government to become a cesspool of corruption, crime, and greed. You are supposed to represent the American people whose taxes pay your salary but instead cater to rich donors.

16.) You respond to elected representatives standing in solidarity with their constituents to protest the ONGOING SLAUGHTER of children in schools via shootings by EXPELLING THEM FROM OFFICE & respond to your lack of popularity among young people by trying to raise the voting age.

17.) You impeach Democratic presidents over lying about a BJ but refuse to impeach (then vote twice to acquit) a guy whose entire “administration” was an international crime syndicate being run out of the WH who incited an insurrection to have you killed.

18.) You steal Supreme Court seats from democrats to prevent the only black POTUS we’ve ever had from appointing one and invent fake precedents that you later ignore all to take fundamental rights from Americans; and even your “legitimate” appointments consist of people like THIS (sub-thread refuting CJ Roberts criticisms of people attacking SCOTUS' legitimacy).

19.) You support mass incarceration even for innocuous offenses or execution by cop for POC while doing nothing but protect rich white criminals who engage in such things as tax fraud, money laundering, sex trafficking, rape/sexual assault, falsifying business records, etc.

20.) You are the reason we can’t pass:—Universal background checks—An assault weapons ban—The ‘For the People/Freedom to vote’ Act or John Lewis Voting Rights Act—The ERA & Equality Act—The Climate Action Now Act—The (Stopping) Violence Against Women Act—SCOTUS expansion.

21.) You do not seek office to govern, represent, or serve the American people. You seek power solely for its own sake so you can impose your narrow-minded puritanical will on others at the expense of their most fundamental rights and freedoms like voting and bodily autonomy.

22.) Ok, last one. You are trying to eliminate social security and Medicare that tens of millions of our parents rely on and paid into their entire lives. And you did everything to maximize preventable deaths from COVID leaving millions of us in mourning.

Source: https://imgur.com/gallery/e8DBZLH

[inkskinned]

i have spent a few days listening to the music you like. you have a tattoo of the band's logo on your ribs. you got it when you were still kind of a kid. my first tattoo was a bird instead. i did the math - we got our first tattoos in the same calendar year. isn't that kind of cool.

my mom loves hallmark movies, so i grew up thinking love would look like a firework. it feels like one, after all. it's just that my house wasn't safe. i thought love was a weapon, could be pointed at your eyes. could lose a finger to it, or teeth. my father used to say passion is everything. i thought that meant constant fighting was a good thing. i thought that meant love looked like a week of bickering, because it was worth the the weekend's boombox apology. i thought quiet love was boring. i thought love had to blot out everything, compel the body and the mind like puppetry. i thought love looks like ruining your own dinner table - but at least you set a feast.

but love looks like a scarf. your hands smoothing it down my chest, being sure each of the edges are tucked in, worried about my asthma attacks being cold-activated. i race you while i'm wearing heels, you hold my hand to guide me downhill while walking my dog. we dance in my living room to waltz of the flowers, i show you how to hold your arms in proper ballet port de bras. you write a song about looking out of my window while the snow falls. i ask you to text my friends back while i'm driving. you play dj in the front seat. somewhere on route 93, we start murmuring about secret things.

oh. there is a difference between peace and dispassion. it was never that i feared quiet, it's that i didn't know what safe felt like. i liked the chaos because it was familiar, not because it was kind. i think i used to fear the word wife. i didn't like the idea of long, lonely days and being yelled at for small things. i didn't like the idea of sacrificing my one beautiful life.

you meet my friends and make a point to learn things about them. we both get excited about the other person's passions. you read my book for hours, squinting at the small words. i try to understand basic guitar information. we talk for four hours on the phone while i string together a garland. we talk for six hours while you write a poem. i save a pintrest tip for the summer about making paper kites. i plan us a week-long trip to maine, map out my favorite places for an eventual hike. you fall asleep on the ride home, and i turn down the radio so it won't wake you up. your quiet hands fold over mine.

when i look up, the stars are brighter. how carefully you've woven gold into the corners of my life. when i move, i feel some part of my soul reflected back onto you.

oh, love is not a net. it's a blanket.

[sooniebby]

Thinking about hate sex between two band members from rivaling bands… using Korean bands because they’re the only bands I know well enough. Bottom male reader.

Anyway, you being apart of a new band that’s climbing on the charts. It’s not overnight success but it’s success any band would pray for in the Korean music market.

Things float well for the first five months until your band is invited to perform at a university’s festival. While there you come across someone you didn’t want to meet.

Your ex boyfriend. Well, ex fuck buddy.

It’s immediate anger when you first see him with his band. When you two notice each other, you immediately make fun of him, wondering why a band as popular as his is playing a small college festival.

Until he says that one of his band mates is an alumni of the school. Embarrassing…

The rest of the night is spent with glares and crass insults. Your band mates were confused the entire time, having never seen you act so childish before. Even his own band mates looked fed up with his antics.

When performances were over, all of the acts got to mingle with the college students. You almost immediately went home until one of your band mates dragged you to at least have one drink.

It was fun for a while. You had your arms wrapped around your band mate’s neck as he tilted your head back, feeding you a shot. His hand gripped your chin as your hands dug into his shirt. It would look oddly intimate to anyone else but you were a bit too drunk at this point to care too much.

Besides, you weren’t that big of a public figure yet to care about your image. You felt your band mate’s hand trail down your back to rest on the curve of your ass as he giggled. You returned the giggle, smiling up at him.

“More?” He asked, though you had to ask him to repeat a few times before you could understand him over the loud DJ.

When he pulled away to go grab another shot, you felt an arm grasp your arm and tug you away. You yelped, trying to fight against the grip of the other person, fearing you somehow got a saesang so early in your career until the street lamps illuminated your attacker.

Fucking…

It was just your ex.

You stopped fighting him and just followed, rolling your eyes. You didn’t notice that you were whining the entire time until your back hit the back of a storage closet, the door slamming shut. Your vision was a bit blurry as the lights were flickered on and there stood your ex boy—ex fuck buddy.

“Wha..? I was just about to get another shot fed to me! Move man…” You moved forward but was slammed right back into the wall. It practically knocked you sober as you glared up at him.

“Dude what the—”

You didn’t get to say anything else as he pressed his lips against yours, pressing you hard against the wall. You couldn’t kiss back as he took total control of the kiss. Your hands reached to push him away but he easily pushed them away, slamming them against the wall as well.

His hands trailed down to your hands, sticking them inside as he grabbed a handful of your ass. Your strangled gasps filled the storage closet as you tried to keep your voice down. You tried to cuss him out.

“Stop? Why should I when you’re pulling me closer?”

You glanced down at your hands to see them gripping at his shirt, tugging him forward. A flush of embarrassment washed over you as you tried to come up with a lie but he reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing your head back.

His eyes narrowed as he stared at your face, taking you in while you felt your cock twitch in your boxers that felt too tight now.

It felt like a blink of an eye when you were suddenly pressed against the wall on your stomach as he shoved your pants down. You whimpered but did nothing to stop him as he ate you out.

You almost wondered why you even broke up with him when his tongue was this good… until he pulled away just as you were on the edge of an orgasm. Your eyes watched him with eye wides as he stood up and stared at you with a wide smirk.

“You can take care of the rest, right?” He asked, his lips moving into a slight snarl as his eyes narrowed. “Or maybe call that band mate of yours. You were practically on his dick earlier.”

With that he left, slamming the door shut behind him. You stared at him shock as you fell to your knees.

That fucking dick…

What the fuck was his problem?!

Thinking… if enough of yall are curious.. to expand this into a full fic. I actually might just do it anyway but would love to know if you guys are interested

Tag list: @tehyunnie @the-ultimate-librarian @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life25 @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @smellwell @flurrina @tomoeroi @rhetorical-conscience @remdayz @star-3214 @mooncarvers-world @love-kha1 @cherry-blossoms-187

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, handcuffing

fem reader

Think about being a bleating little bunny hunted down by two big bad wolves…

Your fear tastes so good – layered thickly in the air – so sweet in their mouth it’s almost painful how hungry it makes them – seeped and soaked and stained on the bed where they keep you collared and leashed for their own personal use.

You drive them both wild with your aroma and all your cute little struggles where you try so adorably to shove them away and crawl out of their reach. It’s never any use, and yet you still try despite being so stupidly small beneath them – so tiny it only takes one of their hefty hands to have you completely overpowered.

But they’re as sweet as they can be – as sweet as your smaller body allows them to be when it so obviously isn’t meant to take their thicker fatter meaner cocks in its petite little holes – prepping you on tongues and big fingers until you’re as loose as you get before stuffing you with something that’s always going to be too big for you.

They have to tie your hands to something – where despite them being fruitless in their effort, they can become bothersome to leave free – often attaching them to the loop in your collar, so you keep them to yourself all cutely while they mark you with their fangs – making you into a pretty artwork with coarse fingers rubbing your perky little nipples into sore nubs.

You’re really just too cute; it’s cruel – looking up at them with those adorably big eyes and that button nose wrinkling on each little sniffle when you beg them to let you go. Lop-ears sadly framing your face – so soft in their hands and so sensitive it makes you bite your lip all preciously each time they give them a little nibble.

You sob under their touches – knees shaking – as one of them laps at your clit with a bearded chin tickling your puffy pussy-lips, gnawing some on the swollen flesh while slurping your hole. His thick and eager tongue paints through your slit again and again and again on an unrelenting repeat – similar to the eager tail whipping behind him – swallowing all your juice down – growling ferally at the maddening taste while your thighs sweetly tremble around his jaw.

Your other predator bites on the plump of your ass, leaving spotted rings in his wake. Cupping your buttcheeks – fully fitting in the palms of his mighty paws – he cards his claws into the fat and spreads them wide open for an attack on that pretty tight little ring hidden between them. You always whine so sweetly for him – your cute fluffy cottontail doing a little dance while he circles your rim with his tongue – warning you of what’s to come later in the day when he’s finally had the taunt hole fully stretched and as ready as it gets to take his fat knot.

He moans into you while thinking about it – about your cute bunny butt swallowing his meat and being blown full of his thick creampie. Going livid at the mere thought alone – his cock bobs impatiently against his happy trail while he forces restraint upon himself – knowing how if he tries splitting your poor little butt on his pole now, he’d most likely tear you in two.

Instead, he amuses himself by prodding the pretty hole with the tip of a very special golden carrot – fresh batteries turning your rim numb while he slides ring after thicker ring inside you until you close around the tuft of golden leaves at its end. Tugging on his cock impatiently, he places his head – fluffy pointy ear-down upon your belly – listening to the drums echo inside you as he turns the vibrations up high enough to feel it through your skin. 

Of course, he wants to make sure that his precious little bunny is prepped and ready before subjugating you to a good butt-fuck – being kind enough to satisfy himself with your mouth until then – making you cry and choke around his thickness, swallowing his cock down your tight throat until your little nose burrow in the dark curls around his base – watching the pretty furrow between your brows beg for air as your eyes roll back and turn white with desperation.

He lets you suck his balls as mercy once you’ve choked him down long enough – to the point you’ve lost your pretty voice – gripping one of your lop ears, he holds it tightly by the base – thinking there's nothing cuter than spitting on your chubby bunny-face while you dizzily comfort yourself by nuzzling his sack so sweetly. 

Your pussy is left alone after it’s made swollen by a handful of orgasms, but not before the abuser slaps his handiwork with a grin. He wipes his chin off your slick, then grabs your other free ear – messaging the softness as he pulls your mouth off the other’s sack and onto his cock – fucking the pocket of your cheek while you sob from their rough handlings – fearing they might just tear your poor ears off.

They both stand above you as you kneel for them by their feet, lolling your teary lips against their heavy balls – groaning as you give them all sloppy, open-mouthed kisses as they fight for space in your tiny mouth – telling you to beg for the cum stored inside while you slide you pink little tongue over them until they drip with your drool. Then, making your lip and mouth the spine of their shafts, sliding both fat manhoods between your plump lips until making you take one head at a time, licking the slit clean of slaty precum.

But more than childsplay with their cocks on your cute face, they like propping your other two holes – make you moan and cream on them – entirely obsessed with fucking you full of the two of them – pushing in so deep, they have you screaming and shaking in uncontrollable spasms as you clamp down hard around them.

It feels extra sweet when they fuck you at the same time – feeling the other through the wall separating the holes – timing their thrusts – pushing in until completely sheathed down to the base, bottomed-out with their knot swelling up inside you, pumping you full of hot cum before sloshing out – leaving you panting and twitching.

Both holes fluttering around their absence – they inspect them to see how good they have your little bunny-holes stretched – grinning at the sight of both entrances gaping for them as though they can’t wait to be taken by their big dicks – both chuckling deeply when seeing how much of their cum your tightness pushes out before they fuck it right back inside you again – completely mesmerized by the big belly bulge the two of them are making in your tiny body – taken and riveted by the thought of breeding you despite knowing that it would be impossible for you to carry either of their pups. 

None of it keeps them from emptying the full value of their balls inside you for the umpteenth time – both of them slobbering at your neck while messaging you with big hands on your tits and hips, hissing out carnivorous desires your feeble constitution doesn’t understand before they sink their teeth down hard into the soft flesh of your vulnerable neck – claiming you as both their pretty little prey and silly little mate.

BNHA – EndMight, EndHawks, BakuDeku, KiriBaku, DabiHawks, ShigaDabi

JJK – Toji x Shiu, SatoSugu

HQ – Miya twins

DS – DouAka

HxH – HisoIllu