#noah x will

[onyx-collective]

The most unique Jane Austen adaptation film has ever seen 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

[jestersnotebook]

the fix that makes me feel

Ship: Noah Sebastian x Will Ramos

Content warnings: Dirty talk (slight degradation); Noah wears red lace panties; bruises; implied video of Will masturbating; oral sex (kind of); undernegotiated kink; scratching knife play (cutting panties; an accidental cut; intentional cutting of a shape); anal fingering; rimming; spit as lube; unprotected anal sex; mild blood play (not responsible or advisable). Consensual kink but not safe or sane.

Summary: Will finally gets to make Noah bleed.

Word count: Approx. 4,700

Author's note: This is part of the Sex In Your Violence 'verse. I'm not really worried about writing this universe chronologically, but this one does take place after the first official entry. It's also entirely @malice-ov-mercy's fault. Will is kind of scattered at some points, but I didn't edit that out/smooth transitions within scenes because it felt more fitting for Will this way. Title comes from "</code>" by Motionless In White. Divider by @/saradika-graphics.

There was something so fucking intoxicating about the way Noah would spew his denials like he believed them, even as he relented and relented and relented. A single half-step backwards devolved into Noah yanking Will with him into a free-fall triggered by desperate, filthy need — and the whole time, he’d swear he didn’t want it. At least until he had Will beneath him, or Will’s fingers all but down his throat, or they were actively fucking; then, Noah’s protests would die away, and Will would get a glimpse of him, not that mask he wore to protect his projection of normalcy.

Nothing about Noah Sebastian was normal.

Will was entranced. He pestered Noah constantly, and many of the gestures went unacknowledged, but there were times when he managed to do something just right and got what he wanted. Like tonight, when Noah showed up for Lorna Shore’s show like it was no big deal at all. Despite Will having (mostly) kept his big mouth shut for once, his bandmates kept giving him looks, but Will just grinned back each and every time.

“You know this is going to be everywhere by tomorrow morning,” Noah muttered, audibly unhappy, and his neutral expression was definitely twisting at the edges toward something bitchy.

That earned a loud laugh from Will, something untailored and unrestrained. No one in the crew threw a glance his way for the sound, used to his emotions always being expressed in such big and unapologetic ways, but Noah still glanced around as they walked as if he expected staring. “Yeah, well, you’re not supposed to be on social media anyways, are you?” Will teased. “Besides, what are they gonna say? Bad Omens singer Noah Sebastian was backstage for a Lorna Shore show? They’re not gonna know anything.” To Will, there was nothing to worry about. Not that much every really rattled him to begin with.

Noah made a face but didn’t retort, simply followed Will into the green room and leaned back against the wall beside the door like he was prepared to bolt. He kept his hands in his pockets, body language the epitome of at ease to the point he almost appeared disinterested — but the way those near-black eyes followed Will as he bounced around the room told a different story. 

Will’s bandmates were somewhere else, likely because they knew something like this would happen, which meant there was plenty of privacy when he sauntered back toward Noah, smirking and sizing him up. “You look like a fuckboy,” he announced, finally able to place the specific kind of impression that Noah’s clothes gave him.

“What?” Noah blinked, glanced down at himself. A hoodie, sweats that seemed about two inches too short, and then the greatest offense of them all: gray socks under slides. “They’re just clothes.” He sounded faintly puzzled, and the brief glimpse of surprise Will got seemed so much softer when compared to the furrow to Noah’s brow that reappeared moments later.

The waistband of Noah’s sweats were loose enough for Will to hook his fingers under, though he resisted the urge to just pull them down completely. There might have been the time for a pre-show blowjob, but he wasn’t going to risk fucking his voice up and pissing off his bandmates. As the digits wiggled under the fabric, Will opened his mouth to retort something stupid and mindless, but the words died on his lips, already forgotten at a texture against the tips of his fingers that he wasn’t expecting.

It took Noah a moment to realize why Will had fallen silent. His expression shuttered even further, long fingers wrapping around both of Will’s wrists but not yanking his hands away yet. “Not a fucking word, Ramos,” he started, though Will’s name was drowned out by, well, words from Will.

“Are you wearing lace? Are they panties? Is Noah Sebastian wearing lace panties?” And, oh, for all the restraint and composure Noah demonstrated in daily life, he was certainly flushing now. Will bared his teeth in a ravenous grin, leaned in and up. “What color are they?” he asked, watching the way Noah licked his lips.

Noah’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “Fuck off.” His grip tightened on Will’s wrists, but he didn’t pull Will away fast enough to avoid Will snagging one of the strappy parts of the panties between two fingers and yanking it up just enough to glance down and catch a glimpse of a violent crimson. 

And then Will’s hands were suddenly in the air next to his head, Noah’s grip tight enough to threaten the beautiful blue and purple of bruises if he squeezed just a little harder, as Will himself barked a laugh. “Did you wear some slutty little panties to a concert just in case the lead singer would fuck you afterwards?”

Oh, and how that pissed Noah off. He was definitely leaving bruises now, even if they were shallow enough to fade quickly; Will hissed through his teeth, grin not wavering, as Noah leaned in so close they were almost kissing. “Shut your fucking mouth, Will,” he hissed, all scalding anger in dark eyes.

Will snapped his teeth and waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe I will fuck you, Noah. Even if I gotta hold you down to do it.” Oh, and the flicker in Noah’s gaze at that. He almost chased that interest, pressed the point until he earned a squirm or a shudder, but was interrupted by a knock on the green room door.

“Go on in ten,” Austin called in. “Clothes on and dicks up, boys.” And then there was silence, presumably because he’d walked away, leaving Noah glaring at the door and Will snickering.

The show passed by in a blur. Despite his usual tendency to live fully in his moments on-stage, all Will could think about was Noah and those panties. He kept seeing flashes of red in his mind, and his brain very helpfully supplied all of the different designs that Noah could be wearing. Most of them were a sheer kind of lace, allowed for a nice view of Noah’s cock, and he could only imagine how it’d strain the fabric once he was hard.

Noah didn’t appear to be faring much better. He wasn’t stage-side when Will finished up the set, but it was easy enough to find him — lurking in a deserted corner in a manner way more dramatic than Noah seemed to realize. Will didn’t bother to glance around before crowding him, but Noah’s eyes flicked about to assess the risk of standing so close, even if Will didn’t touch him. Not yet, at least; he just lingered close, noses nearly brushing for how Noah slouched and the way Will stretched up. Will wasn’t short by any means, but Noah always made him feel that way. 

That fact made it all the more satisfying to get Noah on his knees, though it had only happened once so far.

Will slipped a hotel keycard into Noah’s pocket. “I already texted you the hotel and room number before the show. You didn’t reply but I figured you got it.” When Noah gave a curt, stiff nod, Will grinned. “You’re gonna hurt my feelings one day, ignoring me all the time.” He snapped his teeth and smirked, pulling away and bouncing off to go find his bandmates without a single parting word thrown Noah’s way.

Unsurprisingly, Noah made it to the hotel room first. Much more surprising was the fact that Will got a photo — he opened it while chatting with Adam, and he damn near dropped his phone at the sight. “I, uh, gotta go,” he announced abruptly, ignoring the eyeroll and comment offered by his bandmate. “Sorry you can’t get laid, loser, but I gotta go get some ass.” A fully inadvisable statement to make, given Will and Noah weren’t close to public or, hell, even official, but the words slipped free regardless.

As Will drove, he found himself imagining the panties Noah had sent a generous glimpse of: thumb hooked in one sweatpant pocket, tugging them down enough to give a good view of the fabric that decorated his hip. It wasn’t anything explicit, but the visual of that intricate lace design had Will fantasizing about the feeling of it against his tongue.

By the time Will stepped into the hotel room, the lights were on and Noah was on the bed. He was shirtless, tattooed skin on display, and leaning back against the headboard. His sweatpants were riding low on his hips but still on, and he was palming a blatant bulge in the front as he peered at his phone. 

“What’re you looking at?” Will chimed, kicking his shoes off with enough force to send one flying a bit further than intended. He started to wiggle out of his clothes, too worked up for much fanfare, and kept glancing at where Noah’s hand was working idly.

Noah didn’t bother looking away from his phone screen. “That video you sent me the other day. You shouldn’t have your face on screen, by the way,” he added, and then his eyes finally flicked to Will — dark, deep brown staring at him like Noah wanted to peel back his skin and climb into his ribs.

Will laughed. “Dude, people would recognize my tattoos anyways. Besides, I figured you’d like watching my eyes roll back.” Once he was in nothing but his briefs — which felt kind of boring now — he made his way over to the bed, standing at the foot of it and grinning something feral. “You didn’t tell me you liked the video. I would’ve sent you more if you had,” he commented.

That earned a soft snort from Noah. “You sent it in the middle of the afternoon. I wasn’t going to reward that shit.” He raised his eyebrows when Will grabbed at the ankle cuffs of his sweatpants, attempted to tug on them. “Are you trying—“ He sounded more exasperated than annoyed, tossing his phone aside and shoving his pants down to his knees. He lifted each foot in turn so Will could remove them completely, for once not offering a comment.

The sight was even better than Will had expected. The sides were strappy, suggesting a thonged back, and the front of it had a cut-out in the shape of a downward triangle that gave him a hint of neatly trimmed hair. Noah’s cock, half-hard, clearly didn’t fit, and it made Will wonder how he’d managed to keep it contained earlier. It curved upward beneath the fabric, held down and adorned in red lace except for the tip, peeking out of the fabric and swollen.

“Jesus, Noah,” Will breathed. “You really are a slut, huh? I bet you got hard putting them on.” He lingered a moment and then hurried back to his pants — it took a moment to find them — to grab his pocket knife; it was tossed haphazardly on the bedside table, and then Will was clambering on the bed until he was face to face with Noah’s groin. 

Noah’s hips twitched as Will got close enough for his breath to fan against scantily-clad skin. “I didn’t wear them for you,” he retorted, as if the very thought was ridiculous. He glanced toward the knife, bared his teeth in a gesture that was equal parts discomfort and something Will would have called interest. His eyes found Will again very quickly when Will’s tongue pressed flat to his cock, dragged slowly up the underside of it.

Will groaned louder than Noah did — the feeling of lace, delicate and textured, against his tongue; the warmth of Noah’s cock; the way he could feel it twitch. All of it had him hardening, hands shoving Noah’s thighs apart to rake his nails down his inner thighs with no warning. The harsh sting and bright red lines earned him a swear and a snapping up of Noah’s hips, and Will just grinned up at him. “You should let me really hurt you sometime,” he mused, tongue flicking over the exposed head of Noah’s dick.

“I’m not—“ A growl, a rocking of hips that Noah clearly tried so hard to stifle, one hand moving to fist Will’s curls as the other dropped his phone to the side and grasped at the sheets. Noah yanked hard enough to move Will’s head, grinding his barely-clad erection against Will’s cheek and temple. He set a rhythm quickly, tug-tugging erratically as he watched with a dark, rapt attention.

Nails dug in to the sensitive inside of Noah’s thighs again, clawed down harsh enough to earn a keen, a clenching jaw. “Not what? Not into me hurting you? I can feel that you like it. You’re humping my fucking face, how could I miss it?” He turned his head as best he could with Noah’s tight grasp, tongue once more finding its target. He laved over the lace sloppy and desperate, making a mess because it was fun.

When it became clear that Noah was losing himself to the sensation but still clutching on to something, Will pulled back; it took effort, and he needed considerable force to remove his mouth from where Noah had it shoved against his groin. “Let me go, Noah,” he laughed, tugging on Noah’s wrist. When Noah didn’t, he laughed louder. “Hey, freak, I’m gonna make you cum really fucking hard if you’ll just stop trying to rip my hair out.”

Noah clearly resented that word, bristled as freak left Will’s lips, but he did let go of Will’s curls. He seemed to draw all his limbs in a bit as he watched Will, attention sharp and focused and hot; he didn’t say a word as Will grabbed his pocket knife, flicked it open, twisted it a bit to admire the glint of light on the metal. “What are you doing?” he finally rasped, fingers pressing to his own lower stomach and twitching — probably with the urge to touch his leaking cock, the spit-soaked lace straining over it.

“You didn’t spend too much on these, did you?” Will asked, even though they certainly seemed expensive. He sat on Noah’s legs this time, pinning them down with his weight across Noah’s lower thighs, and held up the knife for Noah to see. “Isn’t it pretty?” His words came out as little more than a purr. “Just imagine how pretty it feels, too,” he added, breathless now.

Whatever protest Noah had forming on his lips — pointless, a waste of time, more of those denials that did nothing but amuse Will — died there, half-shaped, as Will lowered the blade to hover it over Noah’s hip. The very tip of the blade, sharp side down, just barely ghosted over the curve of that soft bit of flesh there, traced the shape of it. There was nowhere near enough pressure to draw blood, but the sensation sent gooseflesh blooming across Noah’s skin.

Will laughed loudly, uninhibited, and turned the knife to press the flat of it firmly against Noah’s skin. “I fucking love the way it looks against your skin.” He stared down at the sight for a long moment, a feral grin on his lips, and then flicked his gaze up to Noah to find the other singer’s head lifted to stare as well. “You want me to cut you?” he asked, eagerness leaking into his voice. The nails of his free hand clawed at Noah’s stomach just to feel it clench beneath the sharp sting.

Noah’s jaw flexed with the effort of keeping a sharp little retort inside — or, maybe, he was fighting back a request, a plea, encouragement. “Fuck off, Will. I’m not asking you to do that shit.” His eyelashes fluttered when Will twisted the blade back around, sharp end dancing its way to the top strap of his panties. He jerked up into the briefest increase in pressure, caused Will’s knife to nick his skin despite a lack of intention by Will.

The filthy little whine Noah let out at the sight of his own blood made Will’s dick throb. “You sure about that, Noah? You sure me making you bleed wouldn’t have you leaking for me?” He resisted the urge to press the knife deeper, dig it far enough into skin to make crimson swell and spill; instead, he snagged it beneath that first strap, gave just enough pressure to slice through it.

“You’re buying me another pair,” Noah muttered, head flopping back onto the pillow beneath him. His eyes scrunched shut as Will trailed the knife tip over the lace of his panties, face flushed and lips parting as Will followed a swirl, outlined one of the flower shapes in the pattern. 

The effort resulted in Will’s weapon mere centimeters from Noah’s cock, and Will paused, waiting for a protest, a demand that Will move it. Instead, Will watched as Noah’s body undulated a bit, like it wasn’t sure how to express Noah’s need. Spurred on by the movement, he dragged the flat of the steel down the underside of Noah’s cock, snickered at the choked-off noise Noah made in response.

Will couldn’t stop himself from talking as he teased in a manner most sane people would interpret as a threat. “You act like I’m some weird psycho freak, Noah, but what does this make you? I’ve got a knife to your cock and you sound like you’re gonna bust a nut.” He glanced up just in time to catch Noah’s eyes opening, a glare shot his way with cheeks dark enough to undermine the severity of the look.

“Just fucking— do something,” Noah hissed through clenched teeth. He growled low in his throat as Will sliced through the panties a few inches from Noah’s cock, the fabric splitting in such a satisfying manner beneath that sharp edge. The other side was cut as well, and Will lost himself for a moment in reducing it to scanty little slivers of lace.

Once Will had full access to Noah, he ghosted the blade along Noah’s inner thigh, delighted at how both of Noah’s legs spread to give Will better access. Fingers found his hair again, clutching tightly enough to sting, and Will dropped the knife somewhere close, blade flicked shut, as he slapped at Noah’s thigh, making sure his palm made contact with the scratch marks from before. “Roll over. On your knees.”

Noah looked thoroughly annoyed by the orders. “I’m not—“ he started, chest puffing up a bit.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Noah? Do you want the lead singer to fuck you like the slut you are?” Will challenged, head cocking as best it could with Noah’s vicelike hold on his curls. He flashed his teeth in a manner full of barbed delight as Noah released Will’s hair, muttering insults as he turned over to get on all fours.

Despite his irritability and resistance, Noah surprised Will by dropping onto his elbows and arching his back a little to present himself, dick hanging heavy and hard and very distractingly. “You better hurry up,” he snapped over his shoulder.

Will didn’t need further encouragement, mouth finding Noah’s hole. His tongue made quick work of soaking him, spit dripping down Noah’s crack and Will’s chin as he tongue-fucked Noah open. He slurped on his own fingers, fully convinced Noah would try to bite the digits off if Will offered them to suck, and then pressed two of them in.

It was clearly a bit too much at once for the way Noah momentarily tensed and hissed. But then he was relaxing, seemingly with some effort, and it was enough for Will to finger him open. It clearly wasn’t quite enough, and Will leaned down to lap at the rim stretching out around the digits, slicking him as best he could. There wasn’t enough patience to be found to search for lube, so it would have to do.

Noah groaned and pressed back a bit, repeated little movements in search of something more. “Can you just fuck me?” He sounded breathless, impatient, a little strained.

“I need to find a condom first,” Will announced, managing to sound like he’d only just remembered but grinning like a cheshire where Noah couldn’t see. He kept fingering Noah, though, crooked his fingers and brushed over a spot that made Noah jerk a little. The movements stilled abruptly as Will added, “You’re gonna have to wait.”

A single moment of silence. As Will started to pull his fingers out, Noah followed him with his hips. “Just fuck me,” he demanded again, a bit more force audible in his words now. “Don’t get smug about it, jackass. You just take forever to find shit.” He glanced back at Will over his shoulder, licked his lips. “Will.” Just that, just Will’s name, but the heat to it convinced Will to abandon common sense. Not that it was ever fully present in him.

Will spit on his hand, slicked himself as best he could with such a lack of patience present; he grabbed Noah’s hip with one hand, fingers curling to press nails to flesh as his other hand guided his cock to Noah’s hole. He teased the entrance for a brief second — just long enough for Noah to start to bristle — and then slowly, slowly pressed inside. With how tight Noah was around him, Will was fairly certain he hadn’t stretched Noah enough, but all the man did was groan something demonic and filthy and drop his head.

The rhythm Will set was sloppy but deep, moving slowly to savor the feeling of Noah’s walls squeezing down around him with each thrust of his hips. He kept one hand guiding Noah back to meet his movements, the other moving to claw down Noah’s back — right down the big, colorful tattoo adorning the slightly sweat-slick skin there.

Noah hissed and arched his back away from the sting. “F-Fuck off,” he panted, even as he writhed a little bit.

“Just admit it,” Will started, thrusts slowing to small little rocks of his hips as he leaned over to the side, free hand reaching, “you get off on this. Not just hating me but still letting me fuck you, but the pain. And I bet it’s nowhere near enough, either. You’re probably desperate for more. Do you jerk off thinking about it?”

The blade glinted something enticing in the light as he flicked it open. His thrusts sped up a bit, grew firmer; Noah seemed to need a moment to adjust before he could retort, though his tone was acidic when he did. “You want me to say that? That I fuck my fist thinking about making you all bloody?” The slight waver to his voice undermined how scathing his tone was, though, and it earned a snort from Will.

Will trailed the very tip of his blade down along the curve of Noah’s spine. He watched Noah go completely still beneath the faint sensation but didn’t stop his own movements. “Yeah, I do. And you probably cum to the thought of me making you cry.” He licked his lips, stared down at the bare patch of skin on his lower back that his eyes had snagged on.

As the flat of the blade pressed firmly against the undecorated flesh, Noah’s hips jerked. “Are you going to use that?” he asked, breathless. Will couldn’t tell if it was a genuine question or a taunt — either way, the result was the same: a twist of the blade, the sharp edge against pale skin. The noise Noah made then was more whine than anything, and Will swore he could see his body tremble.

“Yeah, I am. I’m trying to figure out what I’m leaving,” Will mused aloud. “Just a line feels boring. But a W feels cliche.” He laughed abruptly — and loudly — at a sudden thought that he didn’t hesitate to indulge.

Noah’s response twisted into a deep-pitched moan as Will added just enough pressure behind the blade to part skin, to make blood swell. The thrusts stilled so Will could focus, but Will was thrilled that Noah seemed to subconsciously rock himself back and forth on Will’s cock as crimson spilled and spread. A shift to his weight made Will pause, glancing to find Noah had a hand on his own dick now, and then he was lifting the blade, moving it to start the second curved line.

Once Will was pleased with the result, he leaned forward to wipe the blade clean on Noah’s cheek, dragging one flat side and then the other along his skin. “You look beautiful like this,” he remarked, flicking the knife shut and dropping it aside. One mark would be enough for now, would satisfy him. Especially when he straightened and realized he’d smeared blood along his own stomach.

“W-What did—“ Noah’s hips stuttered as Will started moving again, fucking him hard and harsh without warning. “What—“ He growled the same way he would on stage, back growing taut.

Will’s thumb pressed at the little heart he’d cut into Noah’s skin, earning a hiss and another blooming of bright, striking red. “What, Noah? Cat got your tongue?” he purred, feeling Noah clench down around him. “God, you’re gonna cum from this, huh? Gonna blow your load because I cut you up?” A slap of his palm to the cut, earning a sharp, wordless exclamation. “Freak.”

And that was all it took. Noah snarled and came, jerking himself through it and clenching down so tightly around Will that Will’s eyes rolled back in his head for a moment. When he could see straight again, Noah was starting to twitch under Will’s unrelenting thrusts — and while Will would have loved to torture Noah, fuck him into an overstimulated mess, he was moments away from his own tipping point.

So he smeared blood across Noah’s lower back as best he could, pulled out, and jerked himself hard and fast. He grunted and came over tattooed skin, stroking himself until he whined low in his throat. And then he collapsed directly on top of Noah, panting and sweaty — after spreading his cum around with the flat of his palm.

Not that Noah wasn’t tacky with perspiration too. He muttered something obscene in Will’s direction, a vague threat Will didn’t believe, but Will just bit his shoulder and then smirked against the shell of his ear. “You wanna know what I left?” he asked, voice pitched husky.

Noah’s breath caught, wiggling ceasing for a moment. He didn’t answer verbally, just turned his head to glance back at Will. A moment of eye contact, a clenched jaw; Noah nodded once, stiff and short, but that was all Will needed.

“I left a heart,” Will informed Noah with a crooked grin. “It’s cute.” A pinch to the cut skin and then Will was scrambling up and away, snagging the knife as he went. “You should clean that, by the way.” He flopped down on the other bed, limbs sprawled, and leered at Noah as the taller man sat up.

There was an odd blend of emotions briefly present on Noah’s face — and then his expression went blank. “Why the fuck did you leave a heart?” he asked, though there was a weariness to his words that suggested he didn’t actually expect an answer. His breath was still heavy and shaky, and he sat on the bed for a moment clearly regaining his composure.

Rather than head to the bathroom to clean himself up, though, Noah moved for his clothes. He pulled them on, seemingly uncaring that he was still bleeding or even that he had cum on his back, and shot Will a sharp look for the full-bodied laugh the question earned him. “Why not? Isn’t it romantic?” Not that anything about them was traditionally romantic — though Will would argue that slicing someone up was about as actually romantic as someone could get.

Noah flipped Will the bird as he searched for his phone, not even sparing him a glance. “You’re as romantic as roadkill,” he muttered, shoving his feet in his shoes. “I shouldn’t have fucking come.” That was clearly said to himself, an attempt at logic and reasoning that was far too late to change things. He flicked the hotel keycard Will had loaned him at Will’s head, and then he was out the door.

It would have meant something if not for the way he’d glanced back over his shoulder, dark eyes locking and lingering for far too long before he left.

Tag list: @dodgersnotebook, @ami-gami, @desperatetype, @dominuslunae, @malice-ov-mercy, @fadingangelwisp, @sable-fable Join my tag list here!

[silvertons]

FIRE ISLAND (2022) dir. Andrew Ahn

[ilyarozanovtappinghisface4ochki]

The fact that Will says “I don’t think monagomy is for me” just to point out an old gay couple slow dancing & say that’s what he wants?

Iconic.

[jestersnotebook]

I fell awake in the glimpse of your wonder.

Ship: Will Ramos x Noah Sebastian

Content warnings: Discussions of gender identity, exploration, and terms, as well as pronouns; implied misgendering/transphobia (none “on screen”); gender dysphoria, vague references to body shape; brief mentions of food (specifically candy, popcorn, and butter, with Noah teasing Will about the amount of butter he puts on their popcorn); anal fingering; dirty talk; masturbating; biting; 18+, MDNI. No specific terms are used for Noah’s genitals; verbs used are “rubbing” and “fingering/thrusting.”

Summary: Vignettes of Will and Noah loving each other as Noah explores her gender.

Word count: 4,277

Author's note: Will uses he/they pronouns. Noah starts the fic using he/him but switches to she/they pronouns. You can find, just below the cut, a little disclaimer about the language used. As a trans person, this was a delightful little thing to write. I wrote it all in two long morning writing sessions (yesterday and today), and I've only read through it completely twice, so there could still be typos. I just really wanted to share it before I went into work this morning. Title comes from "Cupid" by Xana, dividers are by @/saradika-graphics.

Note about language, identity, etc.: Noah and Will are both nonbinary in this fic. Neither uses the term specifically, but that is the closest descriptor they share. Noah is trans femme, Will is trans masc. Both are okay with being referred to as a woman (Noah) and a man (Will), but neither identify fully with that term. The way that Noah discusses her gender is not intended to undermine or invalidate the reality of binary trans identities. Trans women are women; trans men are men. Noah having a complicated and nuanced relationship with their gender is not meant to challenge these facts. I view language as a tool, not a mandate. Though I relate strongly to Noah’s portrayal in several aspects, I am not an AMAB individual, so I will always defer to those with lived experience. If anything in this fanfic feels disrespectful, invalidating, or unkind toward trans women and trans femme individuals, I would greatly appreciate that being communicated. That being said, I sincerely hope this brings someone any modicum of joy — particularly another trans individual. I’m sharing this with lots of love and always in solidarity.

Shopping with Will was always an experience. He knew that someone had to possess ungodly amounts of patience to tolerate the way he moved through a store — they wandered through the aisles with no real purpose, they would dart off if something caught their eye, and they would start up conversations with the most random people if the whim struck them.

Noah was one of the few people who seemed to enjoy the aforementioned experience. He wouldn’t stick too closely to Will, but he kept an eye on him (which was smart, because Will tended to get in trouble if left unsupervised). He would step in if conversations with strangers got too long, but mostly he’d lurk in the background and scroll on his phone, occasionally chiming in with witty one-liners.

Today, though, it seemed Will wasn’t the only one who’d lost sight of the fact that they had come into the store for ramen. It was shitty store-brand ramen, Americanized and cheap, but it would have to do. Will had planned on talking their partner into getting some extra little things to make the ramen special as well, but the two had only made it a few aisles down when Noah got distracted.

Maybe Will had started it. He had seen a kid wearing a shirt from one of his favorite metal bands and had stopped to talk; they were having an enthusiastic conversation with the child, parents observing with visible amusement, and glanced up to find that a very conspicuous man that towered over six feet tall had somehow snuck off.

“Did you see where my partner went?” Will asked the parents. “This tall—” Reaching far too high above his head to be realistic, really. “Long hair down to here—” The place they indicated on their body was at least a more accurate length. “Real pretty?” And maybe that detail wasn’t necessary, but Will felt it was always important to mention.

The mother laughed and nodded, pointing off in a direction that Will did his best to hold on to. “They went that way,” she offered. A pause, a nudge of her child’s shoulder. “Tell the nice man goodbye.”

Will snorted. “Nice, loud, whatever works. See you, kid. Chill chatting with you.” They grinned and took off, moving far too quickly for traversing a store and nearly taking out an elderly person’s motorized cart (he would have probably ended up more injured than the cart, but he liked to think highly of himself — maybe too highly).

It wasn’t hard to find Noah. He was ridiculously tall, after all, and he cleared the clothing racks with half a foot (at least) to spare. He glanced up at the sound of Will shouting his name, offering a roll of nearly-black eyes and a fond smile that fought its way onto his lips. “Did you have a nice conversation?” Noah asked fondly, eyes lingering on Will’s face before drifting back to the clothes he was looking at.

“Yeah. Kid knew their shit,” Will answered easily. “I know what we’re listening to on the drive home, by the way. Hey. Don’t groan at me. You always get to choose the music.” Not that Will minded; Noah usually had good taste. “What’cha looking at?” It was a little difficult to hook his chin on Noah’s shoulder, and it involved stretching up onto his tip-toes to do so, but he managed it, peering curiously.

Noah’s long fingers were fiddling with the fabric of a dress. It was an almost-nervous sort of thing, somewhat thoughtful in how the pads of the digits rubbed against it, and the black played an interesting contrast with Noah’s pale fingers and the ink that decorated them. “Dunno if I’m really looking at it,” he muttered, as if there was any other explanation for it.

Will reached around Noah to twist the hanger, getting a better look at the dress as a whole. “This neckline is for someone with a lot more cleavage, but it might actually be long enough for you,” he mused, thoughtful as he squinted at it. “You wanna grab it?” They asked the question without any real thought, offering it carelessly and casually.

It seemed to be an unexpected suggestion, though, because Noah went completely still. For a second, Will was convinced he had forgotten that he needed to breathe. “I don’t need a dress, Will,” he finally said, voice a little quieter, a little tenser.

That earned a snort from Will, who stepped around Noah to grab the dress and drape it over his arm, hanger and all. “Doesn’t matter if you need it. It matters if you want it.” And, clearly, there was enough of a desire here for Noah to get hung up on it, so that was enough of an answer for Will.

Noah looked vaguely flustered, brushing long strands of hair from his face and frowning at Will. “We were here for ramen,” he argued, and Will swore the man was trying to pout at him. 

“Oh, fuck! We were!” Will grabbed Noah’s hand and took off, dress still over his arm, to get the damn food before either of them got distracted again. And, maybe, they hoped that rushing through the rest of the store would prevent Noah from wiggling out of getting the dress.

(That latter goal was, in fact, a success.)

Noah hadn’t expected to like the dress as much as he did. He stood in front of the mirror balancing precariously against his bedroom wall, tugging on the fabric like he could change the way it fell from his hips if he tried hard enough. Will had been right: the neckline suggested a chest that Noah didn’t possess, but the dress fell about halfway down his thighs, so that was technically long enough. 

He didn’t always hate being so damn tall, but sometimes Noah resented it. Now, Noah’s gaze kept getting caught on little details in the way the dress fit him, the way his body looked in it. The dress itself was cute, and there was something joyful that warmed his chest at the sight, but his attention was also drawn to the ways the dress was clearly made for someone with a curvier figure.

A sigh, soft but frustrated, and Noah brushed his hair back from his face. He took a step back from the mirror, contemplated his reflection, and then lifted his chin a little. It felt odd to intentionally adjust the way he was standing, but Noah managed to stand in a way that shifted his hips, made them look just different enough to settle the discomfort in his gut. Mostly.

But then there was a flash of pink curls, and Will was standing behind him, arms wrapping so tightly around his waist that Noah huffed. “Hey, beautiful,” Will greeted, leaning to the side to peer at Noah’s reflection. They gave a little squeeze, grinned from ear to ear. “I like the dress.” There was a question tacked on in the way Will met Noah’s gaze in the mirror and raised his eyebrows: did Noah like it too?

The question was expected but still one Noah was nervous to answer. He took a slow breath, looked at his own reflection again; after a pause, he nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted, and there was a hint of something sheepish to the words.

It was hard to focus on the odd mix of shame-relief-fear-joy-euphoria that tumbled around in his ribs, though, when Will had that mischievous look on his face and fingers were toying with the bottom hem of Noah’s new dress. “Would it break your heart if I got you out of it for a bit?” they asked, already lifting it a little. “You know how I get when I see your thighs.” As if Noah could ever forget how much Will appreciated every glimpse he got of any bit of Noah’s body.

Noah laughed even as he felt his body react to the heat in Will’s words, the way his partner was already halfway to undressing him. “I think you can make the heartbreak up to me. Maybe. If you try hard enough,” he informed Will, as if challenging Will in that respect was ever a wise decision. Well, it was, depending on how one looked at it.

Will had been expecting the conversation for a while. Noah hadn’t been subtle about it, though he seemed to think he was. The biggest clue had, of course, been the way Noah repeatedly asked Will how he’d known he was trans. When did you know for sure? How did you know? It was always some version of those questions, though the tone had shifted over time from a vague kind of curiosity to a sort of pressing urgency.

The answers Will offered were basically the same every time, but they tried to offer new insights. Clearly, Noah was going through something, and Will wanted to help. He hadn’t really had anyone to share their own experiences with him in person when he was growing up; it had all been internet stories and online forums where people talked about how they felt and what they were doing about it. Trans people had existed back then, of course. Trans people had always existed. But Will hadn’t known any other way to find them.

So when it was clear that Noah was contemplating his gender, Will decided to do everything they could to help. He never pushed or really initiated any conversations — he didn’t want to rush Noah — but he made sure to speak more about his own experiences. They would mention, offhandedly, some moment of gender euphoria. Even this far into his transition, a dozen years on testosterone and half a dozen past top surgery, he still marveled at the little moments of affirmation.

Noah brought it up at an odd time. They were marathoning an anime that was, frankly, a pretty big letdown compared to the manga, and an episode had just closed, the tone-deaf end credits song blasting out a few notes before Noah paused it. Will could sense in the way that Noah shifted his weight, sat up and twisted, put distance between them, that the conversation would be happening now.

It felt rude, though, to act like it was something he’d known was coming, even if it was. So Will just sat up a little too and raised his eyebrows. “What’s up, babe?” he asked Noah, wanting to reach for contact but refraining. Instead, they fiddled with a plug, tilted their head.

“I wanted to talk to you about something kinda serious.” That kind of start ot a conversation was ominous, sure, but Will wasn’t the type to panic that easily. It probably helped that he knew what Noah was going to talk about, too. The curious but calm look offered made Noah frown, seemingly vaguely perplexed, but then he took a breath and pushed on. “I think I’m trans. Or—” He paused, considered his next words. “I’m definitely not cis.”

Will waited a moment, then another, but Noah never continued. In fact, Noah was looking at Will as if expecting something from him. “Okay. Not cis. Got it.” He smiled, something dimpled and easy. “Hell yeah.” The enthusiasm in the words was probably a bit much, but Will was genuinely thrilled that Noah had spoken up.

Noah laughed softly, a little incredulous. “I’ve been thinking about pronouns. I’m not . . . I don’t think I’m a woman. Well, not entirely. Not all the time?” An annoyed sound, and it was clear that Noah was about to get frustrated. For someone who had such a way with words, Will could imagine fumbling them or lacking the vocabulary to describe something would be annoying. Hell, it’d piss Will off.

“Focus, Noah. Pronouns. Labels can come later, if they come at all. You can just be Noah, you know. I’m trans masc, yeah, and calling myself that feels good, but you don’t have to pin yourself down as one thing now or ever. People who say you gotta choose a label and stick to it are full of shit,” Will rambled, and part of him caught the irony in telling Noah to focus and then getting lost himself in a tangent.

It seemed Noah had caught it as well. “We’re terrible at staying on topic.” When Will made a face, Noah just laughed again, airy but a little less taut. “I want to try she/her and they/them. I’ve tried them both out in my head, and they both feel good, I think. But no one’s said them out loud yet, so I guess we’ll see. I’m worried that it’s going to feel weird,” she added.

Will nodded. “I mean, it felt weird for me at first. Even though I knew I was a he/him, then a he/they person. The first time someone used different pronouns for me, even though they were the right ones, it felt weird. It doesn’t mean they’re wrong. Hell, it can be weird and good. That’s basically me, isn’t it? Weird and good?” Maybe a joke wasn’t the most appropriate thing to offer in this situation, but he wasn’t quite sure how else to loosen the tension lingering in Noah’s shoulders.

Noah did relax a little, and Will watched as they fidgeted with their hair before tucking it behind their ear. She had on one of those round pairs of glasses she put on for streams sometimes, and Will watched as she needlessly adjusted those as well. “As long as you know that I’m not, like, just a woman, that there’s more to my gender than that, you can call me a girl, by the way. Well. A woman, I guess. I’m an adult.”

Despite the urge to make a joke about calling Noah a female, just to get a cringe out of them, Will managed to focus on the topic at hand. “Okay, so, beautiful woman on my arm now. Got it. Are you my partner still, or do you want to be my girlfriend?” he clarified.

There was a pause that suggested Noah hadn’t been expecting the question, though Will wasn’t sure why it would have caught her off-guard like that. “I mean,” they started, “whatever you—” She blinked at the look Will gave her, sighed. “Fine, okay, I’d prefer girlfriend.” It was offered almost reluctantly, though Will couldn’t quite pin down why they’d be hesitant to offer that.

It didn’t really matter, Will supposed. He still gathered her in his arms, kissed all over her face -- gentle little brushes of lips, insistent and peppered everywhere until Noah devolved into laughter and squirming. “Got it. And does my girlfriend want to be called something else now too?” they asked, offering the words between little pecks to the tip of Noah’s adorable nose.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Noah started, and their lisp was a little thicker as they spoke now. “I think I still like Noah. I still want to be Noah, you know? I didn’t know if that was something people did, but I don’t want another name.” Her nose crinkled a little at the thought (or maybe the kisses Will kept offering the feature).

Will shrugged, the hands at Noah’s back wandering a little now. Yes, it was a cheeky thing, but he did it absentmindedly, not really thinking about it. “It doesn’t matter what other people do. It’s your gender, Noah. You can get as funky with it as you want,” they assured Noah, sealing their words with a firm kiss on the lips.

Noah knew she was being indecisive. It started as a genuine inability to choose, but now they were doing it to be annoying (mainly because Will was in that odd spot of still finding it all amusing while also growing visibly exasperated). While they waited in line at the movie theater, she had mused on what type of candy she wanted; at the counter, they confidently ordered sour worms, and Will had given them a look before ordering popcorn and sodas for both of them. 

As he went to pay, though, Noah chimed in again. “Actually, can I get the clusters instead?” she asked, just blinking at Will when he gave her an incredulous look. There was a pause as Will and Noah looked at each other, leaving the cashier to frown and glance between the two of them, and then Noah smirked when Will gave in.

“Fine. Girlfriend gets what girlfriend wants. Can we swap those gummies out for the clusters for her? Sorry, dude,” Will apologized. He kept talking (that was what Will did, after all) but Noah wasn’t quite listening by that point.

All Noah could really focus on was the fact that Will had called her his girlfriend. In public. And the person behind the cash register hadn’t asked questions, hadn’t given Noah or Will an odd look, hadn’t argued. It had been as simple as Will’s girlfriend being fickle. Noah was Will’s girlfriend.

She had even be worried about going to the movies dressed like this. Noah hadn’t drastically changed their wardrobe since coming out to Will, finding it a combination of nerves as well as a tendency toward more comfortable and familiar clothing. It didn’t usually bother her, but she’d been a bit self-conscious about it today: the sweatpants and anime t-shirt had felt like the best option until they’d been in public and around other people.

(Will never had anything to say about Noah’s wardrobe choices — except, of course, their unfortunate tendency toward slides with socks. Will thought that was horrific, thanks.)

But Noah wasn’t dolled up, had no makeup on and had her hair loose, and this person had accepted that she was Will’s girlfriend. By the time they had processed that it had actually happened, Will was trying to balance everything in his own arms and hands, and Noah suddenly moved to catch a cup of soda. “You could have asked for help,” they sighed, trying to save the mess that was threatening to erupt.

“I did. You just blinked,” Will argued, though he didn’t sound angry. Once they had sorted out who was carrying what so that nothing hit the floor, the two drifted off to the side; Will worked on dousing their popcorn in extra butter, and Noah watched him go absolutely nuts with the dispenser. She laughed when he turned and presented her with the final product like he was proud of some brilliant creation. 

Noah’s voice was teasing as they asked, “Do you want some popcorn to go with that butter?” She let herself be pulled in by a hand with more than a little butter on it, allowed Will to steal a kiss that set her stomach fluttering in the best way. “We’re going to be late for the movie if we make out in the lobby,” they pointed out, though they weren’t necessarily opposed. Getting Will to sit still through a movie would be a task in and of itself, after all.

Will stuck his tongue out at Noah and grabbed the soda he’d sat down. “Fine. I’ll behave until we get home.” And then they winked, sealing that remark with a cheeky little promise.

Learning all of the little nuances of Noah’s body had not taken Will very long. It helped that they had always been inclined toward slurking off into bed together whenever they had the chance, but Will was also exceptionally attentive. Despite being absentminded in daily life, Will took pleasure and joy in noticing the little details when being intimate with Noah.

Will knew all of the places on Noah’s body that would give, even a little, under gentle squeezes. He knew where they had softer bits, and his hands always drifted to those places, especially now that Noah was exploring and coming into her gender. Perched on Noah’s lap, Will allowed their hands to roam without restraint, finding the spot on her sides that he could squeeze. His other favorite spot to knead was Noah’s inner thighs, but he couldn’t reach those at the moment, so he settled for fondling her hips as they made out.

It never took long for Noah to get breathless. Will was a voracious person in general, and that came out in the way he kissed: heated, claiming, thorough. They always wanted more, and they were gentle in taking it, but they also had no hesitations about doing so. As they rocked their hips together, Will twined fingers through Noah’s hair and pushed it back out of their flushed face. “Can I get you off?” Will asked, a little short on air himself when he finally pulled away from the kiss.

Noah laughed softly. “I mean, can you?” she teased, head tipping back the instant she realized Will was moving to her neck. They gasped, tensed, and then relaxed with a sigh as Will bit down on the side of their neck, hips rocking with a bit more fervor now.

“Smartass.” Will pressed a quick kiss to the faint mark he’d left and then pushed at Noah’s chest. “I’m gonna take that as a yes, by the way,” they added, glancing up at Noah as she laid back on the bed. With how their hair billowed out around them on the pillow, Noah looked vaguely angelic — or would have, if not for all the tattoos and the wicked glint in their near-black eyes.

Another laugh, a nod of Noah’s head. “I mean, I guess I’ll allow it,” she teased, even as her own hands went to shove her pants down.

Will smirked right back at Noah, getting their pants and underwear the rest of the way off. Her shirt was still on, but Will just rucked it up a little to expose the bottom of her stomach and then allowed his hands to settle on her inner thighs. A soft, appreciative groan rumbled in Will’s chest as they squeezed and fondled the softness there, eyes drifting up Noah’s body to find her staring down at them.

“You forgot the lube again,” Noah remarked, reaching a long, long arm over to snag it from the bedside table. 

As Will took the lube, he made a face. “In my defense, we never know what we’re doing. We don’t need lube when I bottom,” they pointed out, giving a slight wiggle. He popped the cap, drizzled more than enough to slick his fingers (and spill it all over the sheets, at which point he ignored Noah griping at him for it), and then leaned down to kiss at Noah’s thigh.

Noah always took him so beautifully. Her back arched up off the bed a little as one finger slid in, and the noise she made was perfect. As Will worked them open, Noah’s mouth stayed parted in a soft O, kiss-flushed lips parted and tongue peeking out to occasionally wet them. It was around the time that Will had slid in a second finger that Noah’s sounds became airier, more desperate, and her hands twitched at her sides.

Will nipped at soft, pale skin. “Are you going to rub yourself for me, Noah?” he asked, smirking against their quivering flesh. “I want you to cum on my fingers, baby.” A punctuating thrust of fingers, a crook of them to find the bundle of nerves that made Noah wail.

“You know, you could do it,” Noah muttered halfheartedly, already moving to start touching themself. Her hand was trembling a little as it moved, and Will got distracted by watching, to the point he almost forgot to retort.

When they remembered what Noah had said, though, Will couldn’t keep their response internal. “But I like watching you take yourself apart. I like seeing a pretty girl touch herself for me,” he replied, voice a touch raspier with lust now. They could tell Noah was getting close, and they wanted nothing more than to watch her make a mess.

A few thrusts into their own hand and Noah was throwing their head back, throat bobbing with a hard swallow. “I’m gonna—“

Will bit down on Noah’s thigh hard enough to make her jerk. “Look at me when you cum,” he ordered, delighted when they immediately complied. Eyes locked, Will grinned, and Noah fell apart on his fingers at the next thrust, now three digits and something so fucking wonderful for both of them.

Feeling Noah clench down on Will’s fingers gave them an aching sort of desire to really feel her cum on them, but this would have to be enough for now. And, god, wasn’t it everything? Seeing Noah so vulnerable and shaky, knowing they trusted him with all of themself? Even outside of how hot it was to finger her until she shuddered into euphoric pieces, there was a vulnerability here, a willingness to expose herself to Will and trust him to understand and love and accept all of her.

Once Noah had been eased down from that peak and Will had wiped his hand on the sheets (some more griping from Noah was ignored), Will laid down next to Noah and pulled them into his arms. They pressed countless kisses to Noah’s face, murmuring praise and sweet things between each, until she dissolved into laughter and shook her head.

“You’re ridiculous,” Noah informed Will, voice all soft and fond as she nuzzled his dimpled cheek. 

Will twined fingers through Noah’s hair, tangled their legs up together despite the fact that Noah really did need cleaned up. “Too bad you fell in love with me, huh? Now you’re stuck with me,” they remarked, sounding vaguely smug about it.

Noah tilted and turned her head so the two of them were making eye contact. “I think I can put up with you for the rest of our lives,” she allowed.

One blink. Two blinks. Processing. “The rest of our lives, huh? I’m not a foster boyfriend?” Will finally asked, but the lightheartedness of the joke was a bit undermined by the surprise faintly audible in the words.

“I’m keeping you forever, Will.” And Noah sealed it with a kiss.

Taglist: @deathblacksmoke, @dodgersnotebook, @concretejunglefm, @ladyveronikawrites, @syntheticklove, @ami-gami, @fadingangelwisp Sign up for it here!

[jestersnotebook]

Wrath, forevermore, and mercy with Noah and Will, of course.

From this meme (temporarily not accepting)!!

Plot twist, Jester wrote something twisted and fucked up with The Boys[TM] for Malice.

This is kind of in the same universe as the last one I did with these two, so similar content warnings apply. It's dark and fucked up; there's possessiveness, a brief description of cutting/bleeding, a knife being used for the aforementioned bit, and unhealthy relationship dynamics. Be mindful, take care of yourself, etc.

(Also, typed very quickly and only read through twice; apologies for typos, but I'm suddenly inspired to clear out my ask box.)

Noah might have been angry, but he was never malicious without a reason — and, really, justified as it was, his wrath seemed more poised and exact than vicious and clumsy. He knew Will was used to being on the other side of the blade, to Noah on his back and bleeding at Will’s behest, but there were certain things that Noah just would not, could not tolerate.

In his opinion, Will should have seen this coming. He should have known that Noah was not inclined toward sharing; he should have been aware that such an act would spark the type of fury in Noah that could only end brutal and bloody. Will always cooed about how much he adored Noah, promising to keep him close forevermore as he etched another scar into Noah’s flesh; it felt foolish of him to make such a misstep in light of those words.

Because there was no possibility in Noah’s mind that Will had been lying. Will had been nothing but honest from the beginning, even about things he shouldn’t have confessed to. Will wanted to keep Noah, had marked and claimed him in every way imaginable, but perhaps Noah had made a mistake by not returning the favor before now. Maybe Will had acted out because Noah hadn’t etched a mark into his flesh in turn. Such an oversight was an easy one to fix, though.

So here Will was, face sleep-flushed but eyes wide and alert. Noah had woken him by shoving him onto his back and straddling his waist; Will had been groggy at first, blinking blearily up at him, but the glint of light on a familiar blade had caught his attention and jerked him into alertness. He looked confused but far from scared — if anything, Noah was fairly certain he could feel Will half-hard beneath him already, just from the faint trailing of the knife down his bare torso.

“I’m not going to punish you,” Noah mused, tilting his head. There was no warning, just an increase in pressure, a splitting of flesh and a swelling of red. “This is a gift, because I love you. No . . .” His eyes dropped to watch the letter he was carving blossom and bleed; black eyes flicked up to meet Will’s, and he smirked. “It’s a mercy.”

[silvertons]

FIRE ISLAND (2022) dir. Andrew Ahn

[silvertons]

FIRE ISLAND (2022) dir. Andrew Ahn

I didn't think we were arguing. So, let me win.