seven years pt. 3: maybe tonight [ex-boyfriend!noah]
Noah finally musters the courage to try, hoping it’s not yet too late to get you back.
Ex-Boyfriend!Noah x F!reader
Content warning: yearning, angst maybe, smut (penetrative sex: p in v)
Word count: 5.2k
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
A/N: Here's the overdue 3rd part. Apologies that (1) this took 2 months to finish, (2) I prioritized this over the other one (had a hard time finding the motivation so yeah✌🏼), and (3) this might not be what you expected. Thanks for reading! :D
Disclaimer: This story has the same premise as the wonderful @mid-omens' Blister. Any similarities or resemblances you might find in the scenes, character portrayals, etc. are purely coincidental.
'right here, now, no second chances, maybe we'll finally get it right' / The Summer Set
Noah found himself standing outside, feet frozen in place while he clutched his jacket in one hand a bit too tightly, expecting you’d be cold having stayed in the chilly night air for a while. He was ready to drape his coat over your back, knowing how easily you’d start shivering even at the slightest breeze.
You had been sitting on one of the stone benches by the garden, enjoying the quiet, away from the chaos that had started to unravel inside the ballroom. Unfortunately, the said chaos you had been avoiding was now quietly standing a couple of steps from you, careful not to breathe too loudly, as if you were a street cat that he was afraid to scare away.
Noah took a deep breath before coughing lightly– nervously– to get your attention.
It was impossible to miss how your exposed shoulders stiffened at the sound.
You could easily recognize that sound as if it were part of your daily on-repeat playlist. It was something you wished your ears did not grow too familiar with.
Your back slowly straightened, suddenly getting self-conscious with the uninvited presence now invading your personal space.
You dared not look, not wanting to assume anything despite the obvious, not wanting anything from someone you knew could chip your walls even by just breathing next to you.
But your ex-boyfriend was bold enough to try.
Noah didn't give you a chance to ignore him as he approached and gently covered your back with his suit jacket. His fingertips inadvertently grazed your skin, making you flinch.
The strong notes of his cologne activated your olfactory nerves and brought back bittersweet memories– ones that you had been trying to bury for two years now.
“Hi.” His voice was barely above a whisper, yet you heard it loud and clear as if the acoustics of the outdoors adjusted just for this particular moment.
His thoughtful gesture gave you no choice but to gently look up— eyes not fully meeting his— and respond with a sheepish smile that did not quite reach your eyes.
“Can I join you?” He asked. There was neither a stammer nor a hint of hesitation in Noah’s voice, which surprised the man himself because deep inside, his heart had been pounding like Folio’s double kick bass in one of their song breakdowns.
You only hummed in response, still not daring to meet his gaze.
“You look good,” he said under his breath as he carefully sat down, making sure to leave a comfortable distance between you. “You look… beautiful.”
“Thanks,” you replied curtly, feeling your cheeks warm up while your hands went cold.
You darted your eyes quickly at him for a second, and it was then that you noticed his fingers softly tugging at his tie and shirt collar as his nose scrunched in annoyance.
“Still not comfortable wearing a suit, huh?”
Noah froze in his seat like a deer caught in the headlights.
Because for one, he never expected you to talk to him right away, let alone break the ice. Not willingly, at least.
“Oh… Yeah, you know me,” he nervously chuckled, the sides of his eyes creasing as a smile grew on his face. “I have a very special relationship with my hoodies.”
You snickered. “Tell me about it. At some point I knew you loved those hoodies more than me.”
Noah snorted, not believing his own ears.
He had sworn he approached you full of nerves, afraid you might chuck your heels at him for what had happened inside the ballroom, yet here you were, voluntarily throwing him a joke as if it were not your first time talking to each other after two long years.
Hearing your soft laugh made the dormant butterflies in Noah’s stomach go wild. Your receptiveness alone already felt like a breakthrough— like he was finally cracking the walls you had long protected yourself with.
And he couldn’t help but stare in awe.
A smirk slowly tugged at the corner of his lips as he took in the playful roll of your eyes, the way your cheeks crinkled as you tried to control yourself from laughing too comfortably around him, the way you bit your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling way more than necessary, the overall glow you were radiating as you started to relax around him…
And for the nth time since you broke things off, Noah questioned himself once again.
How the fuck could he ever let someone like you slip through his fingers?
How stupid could he have been for leaving you and that pretty smile behind while he went on living his dream– the same dream that you had helped build?
“I’m sorry.”
Noah could no longer stop himself from blurting the words out.
The smile you had been trying so hard to suppress slowly faded. You had seen this coming all night, but your breath still hitched when you heard the words slip past his lips.
Noah carefully uttered your name, letting out a sharp breath as he continued, “I’m sorry… not just for tonight, b-but for everything.”
Your lips pressed into a thin line as you nervously turned to look at him. You studied his face, only to find gloom in his gaze that had been holding two years' worth of regret and yearning.
For a second, your mind went blank.
Why now?
Not knowing what to say or how to respond, you could only blink at him as the sinking feeling crept back into your chest.
Two years had passed, and you couldn’t really see the point of his apologies.
“I– I know this is long overdue, but I–”
“Noah… please don’t,” you cut him off before he could even make his case.
“What?” He whispered.
“It’s been so long… what difference does this make?”
His stomach dropped.
‘A lot,’ he wanted to respond.
A lot, indeed, because not a day passed that Noah Sebastian Davis, the only guy you had given your heart to for 7 years, did not want to try again.
“It’s been two years, Noah,” you whispered as you heaved out a sigh, fingers now absentmindedly picking at the button of his jacket.
“We’re…” You continued, swallowing hard. “We’re moving on.”
Neither of you spoke.
Noah could only keep staring at you, his jaw ticking as the finality in your words echoed in his head, piercing through the little hope he had in his heart.
How stupid could he be, thinking he was still gonna get his happy ending after everything?
You averted your gaze from him and returned to staring at a random lamppost by the pavement.
Noah blinked. Looking away, he found himself chuckling as he dragged a hand across his face.
“O-of course… yeah. I… I understand.”
You bit your lip to prevent it from quivering. You refused to let him see how much those words had affected you– how much effect he still had on you.
Because the truth was, you had never moved on, no matter how hard you tried to make yourself believe otherwise.
But you couldn't risk getting your hopes up only to have your heart broken again.
…Right?
With your shoulders slumped, you let the quiet envelop the two of you as you tried to make sense of the situation, and perhaps find a way to escape. For sure, Nick would understand if you left without saying goodbye.
Too bad, your ex was persistent.
“So… how have you been?” Noah asked– casually, for that matter, as though you did not just shut him down.
“Noah…”
You watched him finally loosen the tie around his neck and unbutton the collar of his shirt, a soft groan leaving his lips.
“What? First, I’m not allowed to say sorry, and now I can’t even ask how you’ve been? Come on…” He tittered, a soft laugh sounding tentative. He was extra cautious now, hoping he didn't get too cocky and officially scare you away.
You couldn’t help but chuckle, lightly shaking your head at his beaming face.
“I’ve been… good,” you gave in, a small smile forming on your lips as you tipped your head. “I still work in the same agency, been promoted recently.”
A smile tugged at his lips.
“I got another cat last year. Tony was looking for a playmate, so I picked another one at the shelter.”
Noah snorted at that. “Let me guess– Ezekiel?”
You giggled, a little bit too loud, not even trying to hide the blush forming on your cheeks. “Yeah…”
He looked at you funny, laughing under his breath as his heart warmed.
After all this time, you were still the same dorky girl he fell in love with 9 years ago.
“How about you? I heard you’re headlining arenas now… Mr. Rockstar.”
“Pft, rockstar.” Now it’s Noah’s turn to blush. He huffed out a laugh as he ran his fingers through his hair.
“No need to be modest now,” you said. “That’s the dream, right?”
“Yeah,” he replied, glancing at you as he rubbed the back of his neck. “But I couldn’t say I don’t miss the old times… when things were not this overwhelming yet.”
You knew where he was going with this, but you just let him this time.
“Like, I know I wanted this, but I wanted the quiet too… Why can’t I have both, right?”
You hummed in agreement, both of you quietly chuckling.
And before you could even give a proper response, Noah once again caught you off-guard.
“I missed you,” he declared, his voice softer this time.
You squeezed your eyes shut. “Noah, stop-”
“I know,” he interjected. “I know I don’t have the right anymore. I… I just needed you to know that.”
He gave you a faint smile.
“And hey, for what it’s worth, I meant what I said earlier… I’m really sorry for everything.”
Your eyes softened, and then slowly, you found yourself smiling back at him.
Because despite everything, you did understand.
You always did.
A comfortable silence engulfed the two of you.
For a moment, you were transported back to your tiny LA apartment, sitting on your small couch– happy and content, getting lost in the familiar warm, deep calm of each other’s eyes.
For a little while, your gaze lingered, yearning for something you knew you could no longer have.
Then Noah, impulsive as he was, ruined the moment with the most random question.
“You hungry?”
You smirked, eyebrows raised, trying not to laugh at him. “What?”
“Do you wanna grab a bite? The downtown plaza’s not too far.”
“I don’t know, Noah…”
“Come on, for old times’ sake?” He wiggled his brows at you. “There are tacos…”
You playfully rolled your eyes at his insistence, feeling something flutter in your stomach.
“Fine… For tacos.”
“For tacos,” he echoed, smiling cheekily as his eyes did not miss the blush creeping back into your cheeks.
Neither of you even bothered to remember the ongoing festivities at your friend’s wedding reception.
And deep inside, you were glad.
Because you might not want to admit it, but after two long years, your heart had finally felt at home.
-
It didn't take long for you to leave the wedding venue, not thinking about the friends you left behind.
You had allowed Noah to walk beside you for two blocks until the nostalgic aroma of meat and pico de gallo wafted out of a small Mexican food truck parked in a corner– the same kind of food truck that you two used to feed your broke asses seven years ago.
So here you were, laughing as you both excitedly devoured your $3 pollo asada like it was from a Michelin-starred restaurant. You sat in a plastic chair by the truck like the old times, and neither of you cared how out of place you looked in your shiny dress and heels paired with Noah’s dress shirt and pants.
“This has got to be the best meal I’ve had in a while,” you mumbled as you chewed, moaning as the familiar taste hit your tongue. “God, I’ve missed this.”
Noah snickered, amused that your carefree self had come out for just a piece of hard shell taco.
“When did you last have one of these?”
You swallowed nervously, avoiding his curious eyes like it would help you dodge the question.
“It’s been… too long,” you answered sheepishly before deliberately taking one last big bite so you’d have an excuse not to elaborate.
Your ex did not have to know you had been staying away from these food trucks ever since you broke up because they stupidly reminded you of him and the life you were supposed to have together.
“You got something… here,” Noah chuckled, pointing at the side of his lips.
And as if on instinct, he reached for your chin and used his thumb to wipe the sauce off the corner of your mouth.
No second thoughts, like it was still a normal thing he was allowed to do.
You froze in place; the world around you slowed down. And given how his finger lingered, you didn’t have to ask if he also felt the same way.
You saw his Adam’s apple bob before he continued rubbing the pad of his finger against your skin.
And time definitely stood still because the next thing you knew, your ex-boyfriend was carefully moving his knuckles to graze your cheek– movements seemed slower and calculated, as if he was testing the waters before diving in.
“Noah… what are you doing?” You whispered, feeling your heart starting to race with the familiar warmth of his soft hand against your cold skin.
“I… I don’t know,” Noah stammered, murmuring as his mouth went dry. He blinked slowly, eyes softening, never leaving yours as he watched you involuntarily melt to his touch.
Looking like you had always wanted this.
Like you were finally allowing yourself to take back what was once yours.
Then things happened in a blur.
Noah did not waste any more time as he boldly leaned in and closed the gap between your lips.
Your breath hitched, eyes widening as your hand instinctively found its way to his chest, debating whether to push him away or grab onto his shirt to pull him closer.
Sensing your hesitation, Noah softly moved his tongue to part your lips, making you gasp against his skin. You had all the chance to pull away, but you found yourself leaning into him instead, choosing to savor what you knew had always belonged to you.
Your chest tightened.
And you let out a sigh of relief as you finally allowed yourself to close your eyes and surrender to what your heart had always wanted.
For once, you let your brain and its trepidations shut off and do what you thought was right.
Just this time, you told yourself.
Because the way your lips slotted perfectly together felt like finally coming home.
A home you wished you could have again.
A home you knew you could have again.
“Do you wanna go back to my place?” Breaking your lip-lock for a moment, Noah breathed against your skin, dragging his long fingers to tuck strands of hair behind your ear.
Before the rational part of you could even take over, you nodded in agreement, pressing your hungry lips to his once again, afraid he was gonna disappear on you– like he used to– if you didn’t get to have him close.
Noah could only smile into the kiss.
For the first time in two years, he was certain there was hope up ahead for him. He just needed to play his cards right.
-
Noah’s place was way bigger than the one you used to share.
Unlike your old apartment, his current interior screamed hotshot frontman Noah Sebastian: floor-to-ceiling windows, off-white walls with minimal decorations, a spotless living room with an L-shaped deep grey couch and black rug, a sleek entertainment center where some of the band’s accolades hung in the backdrop.
You wanted to look further, to take in more of his bachelor’s pad, but your ex had other plans.
As soon as you heard the front door shut, big footsteps made their way to you, in an almost unnecessary hurry. Noah wrapped his arms around you from behind, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your sweet scent that had always made his spine tingle.
“Fuck, I missed you so much…” he mumbled, eliciting a soft moan from you as you squeezed the tattooed arms resting on your waist.
He brushed your hair to the side, and his lips started placing tiny kisses along the column of your throat, another involuntary moan escaping your mouth as his big hands gently roamed around your stomach over the thin fabric of your satin dress.
“Noah…”
He spun you around, not giving you a chance to plead or talk. Lazy eyes stared into your dark, dilated pupils before he resumed the kiss he had started at the taco truck, his lips devouring yours hungrier and more desperate this time, as if it were his last meal on earth.
With one hand gripping your waist and the other cupping your jaw, he carefully moved you towards the hallway, to where you believed his bedroom was.
And in the blink of an eye, the two of you were kissing in his king bed– two starved bodies pressed together, chests heaving, hands all over each other.
Your name escaped Noah’s mouth like a prayer as his hands slowly pulled down the straps of your dress, letting the fabric pool around your hips. He muttered a curse when you unclasped your bra, immediately bringing his lips to your collarbone and down to the valley of your breasts.
He discarded his own shirt in the process, and it didn’t take long for him to bring his attention back to your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipples one at a time, his tongue swirling around the hardened peaks, teeth playfully biting before giving them one last peck as he moved further down south.
All while you just whimpered underneath him, one set of fingers running through and clamping onto his overgrown hair, while the other clenched around his soft black sheets.
“Baby, you’re so beautiful,” Noah whispered in between peppered kisses on your stomach. Slowly, his hands tugged the rest of your dress down, pulling it completely off you. “So fucking gorgeous.”
When you were left with just your black lace panties, Noah sat on his knees and started unbuckling his belt.
You couldn’t help but moan wantonly at the sight: his broad frame towering over you, a sheen of sweat highlighting the tattoos that decorated his upper body, his happy trail that disappeared into the fabric of his slacks… into the bulge of his pants that was seemingly mocking you of how much– and how big– you had been missing out on the past two years.
Emboldened by the tingling feeling between your thighs, you propped yourself on your elbows, one hand moving towards his still fully clothed member.
“Noah…” You gave him a gentle squeeze, earning you a hiss from your ex as you helped him with the button and the zipper of his pants. And as soon as he freed his cock and you wrapped your hand around his thickness, the three words that you had been dying to tell him all night finally escaped your swollen lips.
“I missed you.”
Noah froze for a second, his dark eyes softening as he felt his hard cock twitch, warmth blooming in his chest.
As if trying to confirm if he were not hallucinating, he leaned down to cup your cheek and capture your lips in another searing kiss, your bare chests rubbing together.
Your hand squeezed his throbbing member, carefully moving it up and down, moaning at the feeling of the familiar vein that protruded on the underside and at the precum coating his mushroomed tip.
“I need you to have you,” you whimpered against his lips. “Please, Noah…”
“I’m all yours, baby,” he sighed, his own hand replacing yours on his cock, moving his shaft toward your entrance. “I’m always yours.”
He pushed the fabric of your panties aside and started coating himself with your own arousal.
You moaned in anticipation and pulled his lips back against yours. As your tongues moved in sync, you wrapped your legs around his waist at the same time Noah started pushing inside you.
A gasp fell from your mouth at the pressure of his intrusion, eyes closing as you savored the delicious stretch of your pussy– something that you had long been wanting to feel again with him.
With one deep thrust, Noah was completely inside you– throbbing as your walls clenched hard around him.
He didn’t move for a moment, huffing out a breath as his forehead met yours. He placed feather-light kisses on your cheeks, to your jaw, and down to your neck where he focused on your sweet spot that he knew like the back of his hand.
As he sucked on your soft skin, he started dragging his cock along your walls, carefully moving in and out, as if he was memorizing the feeling of being wrapped around your warmth.
“You feel so good, baby… so fucking tight,” he grunted against your bruising skin before picking up his pace. “You’re always made for me…”
The lewd sound of skin slapping and your pussy squelching with every push and pull of his hips filled the bedroom along with your shared moans and grunts, intensifying as Noah started pounding fast, his fingers trailing to where you were connected to pinch your sensitive bud.
You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you felt your eyes watering at the overwhelming sensation, feeling the all too familiar buildup in your womb.
You were no saint. You had slept with two different guys after you broke up with Noah, and now you could finally confirm that no one could still come close to this stupidly tall tattooed rockstar who happened to be your first love.
Not when you’re already convulsing underneath him with just a few thrusts…
Not when he had your toes curling hard in every slam of his hips, in every graze of his tip against your cervix…
And most of all, not when you could no longer deny the love you still have for him after all these years– safely kept deep inside your heart, just waiting for its rightful owner to come back.
As if reading your thoughts, Noah whispered the following words that made your world stop.
“I love you… I’ve never stopped loving you.”
Your heart ached as you blinked back tears that had started pooling in your eyes.
Despite knowing you felt the same way, a voice in the back of your head was telling you to run.
A stray tear trickled down your face. You pressed a soft kiss against his neck while Noah continued with his movements, muttering strings of curses against your hair.
In a matter of seconds, his thrusts started to falter, hips stilling as you felt his cock pulsate. Grunting in your ear, he slammed into you one more time as his warm load spilled deep inside. The feeling itself sent you over the edge as you tried to squeeze your thighs shut around his hips. The knot in your belly finally snapped, a warm gush mixed with his release, coating your ex-boyfriend’s throbbing cock.
Neither of you moved for a while, catching your breath, basking in the feeling of your hearts beating in sync against each other’s heaving chests.
Then Noah slowly pulled out, making you wince. Your mixed fluids seeped out of your sensitive hole as you let yourself sink into his mattress.
“You okay?” He smiled, placing a quick kiss on your lips as his fingers brushed the hair off your forehead.
Nodding, you softly hummed as you returned his smile.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmured before getting out of his bed.
Sitting up, your eyes followed his naked form walking to what you could assume was his ensuite bathroom.
As he disappeared from your sight, you leaned against his headboard, hugging a pillow against your bare chest as you took the time to examine his bedroom.
Your eyes trailed along the walls that displayed the framed Bad Omens records that used to adorn your old apartment— with a new addition from their latest EP. Some of his anime figures and funko pops were displayed in a corner glass cabinet, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at the sight of his beloved katana hanging off the wall beside it.
Some things really didn’t change.
And perhaps only a few things about him did, because as you turned your attention to his bedside table, your eyes stopped on something familiar.
Too familiar that a wave of memories immediately came crashing over you.
Your heart skipped a beat.
You didn’t have to squint to clearly make out the wallet-sized photo enclosed in a small black picture frame resting beside his digital clock.
He still kept it, after all this time.
The colors were not as vivid as they used to be. Despite the protective frame, its edges showed signs of wear and tear, having traveled with its owner across states and countries, to hotels and tour bus bunk beds.
It was the old photo of the two of you that Noah used to keep in his wallet, claiming it was his ‘good luck charm’, even taping it on the corner of his gaming PC throughout the COVID quarantine.
Two pairs of young, innocent eyes stared right back at you.
It was you and him at Chain Reaction 9 years ago– on the very night he confessed his feelings like a school boy. With long hair cascading past his shoulders, Noah was dressed in his favorite black turtleneck, sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing off his tattoos. You stood close to each other and he had one of his long arms awkwardly draped around your stiff shoulders– both of you smiling shyly at the camera, a tinge of pink evident on your cheeks.
You remembered this moment like it was yesterday.
It was impossible to forget Folio’s mischievous smile when he snapped this photo after the guys literally pushed you and Noah towards each other, claiming that he needed to ‘document the moment Noah Sebastian finally grew some balls’.
You remembered Noah pulling you aside before that, away from the patrons chatting and smoking– away from his nosy friends who were all throwing him identical shit-eating grins. The setting was nowhere near romantic, yet you could never forget the way you had giggled when you noticed how red your lanky friend’s ears had gotten as he stammered the words ‘I like you’ with no preamble of any sort, asking you to a movie date that coming weekend.
You remembered the big smile on his face when you sheepishly told him you liked him too and agreed to go on that date.
You remembered him driving you home that night and the way he played with your fingers before finally intertwining them with his for the first time.
You remembered him kissing you on the cheek as he walked you to your door.
You remembered your first date and the ones that followed.
You remembered how you started to look forward to coming into work, knowing he was just right across the street, ready to pop in and make your day.
You remembered all the ways he had made you smile, the way the world around you disappeared every single time he was around.
You remembered how the tattooed lanky goof Noah Davis had slowly become the most important person in your life.
You remembered falling in love.
You remembered the promises he had made– from the superficial ones such as taking you to a nicer restaurant and buying you expensive gifts as soon as the band took off, to the ones that actually mattered.
You remembered him keeping those promises, among so many others– even going the extra mile when Bad Omens was no longer just a band making screaming noises in Nick Folio’s garage.
But you also remembered when Noah started breaking one… then another, and another…
You remembered when he had stopped trying.
And god, you remembered the constant dread that gnawed at you on the daily, the voice inside your head telling you you would never be enough.
You remembered being on the verge of losing yourself, trying so hard to bring back someone who had long given up.
You remembered the hurt most of all.
Silent tears ran down your face without you even realizing it. Only when they started dripping into your heaving chest did you snap out of it, a painful realization dawning on you.
After everything, how could you still be so stupid?
You squeezed your eyes shut, taking one long, deep breath. And with trembling hands and quivering lips, you climbed out of your ex-boyfriend’s bed and hurriedly searched for your clothes.
What got into your head to even think this was a good idea?
Despite your wobbly legs and the apparent soreness between your thighs, you slid into your dress, hands awkwardly pulling on the straps.
And just when you were tightening the strings around your waist, the bedroom door opened, slowly revealing Noah in a fresh pair of white boxers– a bottle of water in one hand and a familiar faded shirt on the other.
A big smile was plastered on his face, but his lips were slowly anchored down as he was greeted by your tear-stained face and the way you were seemingly rushing to get dressed.
Noah felt his stomach drop.
“Baby… are you okay?” Worry laced his voice.
Wincing at the endearment, you didn't even bother answering and kept fixing your dress instead.
Noah muttered a curse as he sat carefully on the edge of the bed, his heart racing as his eyes followed your movements. He badly wanted to reach out, wrap you in his arms, and tell you you’re gonna figure things out together, but the way you refused to even meet his gaze was telling him otherwise.
“D-did I hurt you?” He asked, a little too quietly, hearing your sniffles.
He tipped his head back, closing his eyes as his chest was once again filled with familiar dread.
His friends’ words started replaying in his head.
What’re you so afraid of?
What’s the worst thing that could happen?
What’s there to lose anyway?
This– this was what was at stake the whole time.
And as you stepped toward the door without even looking back, Noah knew he was right.
Standing up, he slowly tugged at your elbow before you could even reach for the handle. Your name slipped out of his lips– cautious, pleading for the chance that had already started to dissipate.
For a while, neither of you dared speak, as if you already knew what was to come next.
His friends were wrong this time…
Because when you finally broke the silence, the words that quietly left your mouth were daggers to his aching chest.
Because apparently, Noah Sebastian still had a little bit more left to lose.
“This shouldn’t have happened, Noah… I’m so sorry.”
Months had passed in the quiet way months do when life is full.
The European tour dates were already locked in. Posters had started circulating online. Noah had spent long afternoons in the studio with the guys going over set lists and travel logistics, and the house had slowly filled with the low-level preparation that always came before a long stretch of shows. You had taken on more of the merch side again this cycle, sorting inventory spreadsheets and checking sample runs of new designs between school drop-offs and the ordinary rhythm of days with Kara.
You had been careful not to say anything yet.
The symptoms had started small. A heaviness in the mornings that felt different from ordinary tiredness. A faint, persistent queasiness that came and went without pattern. The way certain smells suddenly sat wrong in your stomach. You told yourself it could be stress. The tour planning. The way your body sometimes reacted when the seasons shifted. You told yourself a dozen reasonable things because the alternative felt too big to name out loud before you were sure.
You did not want to hand Noah hope only to take it back.
So you kept it to yourself, moving through the days with the same careful smile, the same routines, while the quiet possibility lived under your skin like a second heartbeat you were not ready to acknowledge.
That afternoon the house was warm with late light. Kara sat cross-legged on the living room floor beside the low table you were using for merch work, a spread of markers and paper around her. She was drawing what she had confidently declared would be the new tour poster, complete with a very large bee wearing sunglasses and holding a tiny microphone. You sat on the couch above her with your laptop open, scrolling through product mockups and noting sizes that needed reordering. The soft scratch of her markers mixed with the distant, muffled sound of Noah’s guitar from the home studio down the hall.
“Mommy, look,” Kara said, holding up the paper. “The bee is the lead singer now. Daddy can be the backup bee.”
You smiled, the expression automatic even as another slow wave of nausea rolled through your stomach. “He’s going to love that. Very accurate casting.”
She grinned and bent back over the page, tongue caught between her teeth in concentration. You tried to refocus on the screen. The numbers blurred for a second. The smell of the permanent markers suddenly felt sharper than it should have. You swallowed, breathing carefully through your nose, and reached for the water bottle on the side table.
The nausea did not pass.
It deepened instead, rising fast and mean, turning the edges of your vision slightly soft. Your mouth watered in that warning way you remembered too well from years ago. You set the laptop aside too quickly. The movement made the room tilt.
“Mommy?” Kara’s voice sounded farther away than it should have.
You stood. The floor felt uncertain under your feet. You took one step toward the hallway and then another, one hand reaching for the wall as the sickness surged harder. Your shoulder caught the edge of a small side table. The vase on it wobbled, tipped, and crashed to the floor in a bright, ugly shatter of ceramic and water. Flowers scattered across the hardwood.
You barely registered the sound. The bathroom was only a few more steps. You made it through the door, dropped to your knees, and lost the fight with your stomach in a hard, shaking heave.
Behind you, footsteps came fast down the hall.
“Y/N?” Noah’s voice, sharp with alarm. “Hey—what happened?”
You heard him stop in the doorway, heard the soft curse when he saw the broken vase, then the quicker steps as he came into the bathroom. His hand landed gently between your shoulder blades, warm and steady.
“I’ve got you,” he said, quieter now. “It’s okay. Breathe.”
You stayed folded over the toilet for another moment, eyes watering, one arm braced against the seat. The worst of it eased in small degrees. Noah reached past you to tear off a few sheets of toilet paper and pressed them into your hand without comment. You wiped your mouth, flushed, and sat back on your heels, still trembling faintly.
When you finally looked up at him, he was crouched beside you, close enough that his knee touched yours. His eyes moved over your face with careful intensity, taking in the pallor, the way you were still breathing too carefully, the faint sheen of sweat at your hairline.
Neither of you spoke at first.
The possibility sat between you in the small bathroom like a third presence. Months of quiet trying. The hope he had carried so carefully. The symptoms you had been hiding. The way your body had just betrayed every attempt at secrecy.
Noah’s voice, when it came, was low and rough around the edges.
“How long?”
You swallowed. Your throat felt scraped. “A little while. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew.”
His hand came up to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing gently along your cheekbone. He looked like he was holding himself very still.
“You should have told me,” he said, but there was no real anger in it. Only worry, and something deeper, brighter, barely contained. “Even if you weren’t sure.”
“I know.” Your voice came out softer than you meant it to. “I just… I didn’t want to give you something that might not be real yet.”
Noah let out a slow breath and leaned in until his forehead rested against yours. His eyes had gone bright.
“It might be real,” he whispered.
Behind you both, small footsteps approached and then stopped near the broken vase.
“Mommy?” Kara’s voice was small. “The flowers fell down. Are you sick?”
Noah pulled back just enough to look toward the doorway, his hand still steady on you. “Mommy’s okay, bug. She just felt a little bad for a minute. Can you go get Bee and wait for us in the living room? We’ll clean this up and come find you.”
There was a short pause, then the sound of Kara’s feet retreating, followed by her voice calling for Bee in the other room.
Noah turned back to you. His free hand found yours and held on.
“We’ll take a test,” he said quietly. “Whenever you’re ready. Today, tomorrow, whenever. But I’m here. Whatever it says.”
You nodded, eyes stinging. The nausea had eased into a dull, unsettled residue, but the weight in your chest had shifted into something sharper. Hope. Fear. The sudden, overwhelming sense that the months of quiet trying might already have become something more.
Noah helped you to your feet carefully, one arm steady around your waist. In the hallway the broken vase still lay in pieces, water darkening the wood. He guided you past it toward the living room, where Kara was already explaining the situation to Bee in serious tones.
The possibility followed you down the hall, no longer hidden.
It lived in the space between your bodies now, acknowledged and breathing, waiting for the moment you would finally give it a name.
You sat on the edge of the couch for a few minutes while Noah quietly cleaned up the shattered ceramic and wiped the water from the floor. Kara hovered nearby with Bee under one arm, watching both of you with the sharp attention of a child who knew something important was happening even if she did not fully understand what. When Noah came back, he crouched in front of you, hands resting lightly on your knees.
“Do you want to take one now?” he asked, voice low enough that only you could hear. “We still have a couple in the bathroom cabinet from last month.”
Your stomach was still unsettled, but the worst of the nausea had passed. What remained was a thinner, sharper feeling: fear braided tightly with the kind of hope you had been trying not to feed too openly. You looked at him for a long second, taking in the careful way he was holding himself, the brightness already gathering at the edges of his eyes.
“Yes,” you said. “I want to know.”
He nodded once. He did not smile yet. He simply stood and offered you his hand.
In the bathroom, the air still carried the faint leftover scent of sickness. Noah opened the cabinet, found the small box, and set it on the counter without ceremony. You took the test out with hands that were not entirely steady. Neither of you spoke while you followed the instructions. The quiet between you felt thick, almost ceremonial. When you capped the test and laid it flat on the counter, Noah’s fingers found yours immediately, lacing through them and holding on.
Three minutes had never felt so long.
You stood side by side at the sink, shoulders touching, watching the small plastic window like it might change its mind if you looked away. Noah’s thumb moved slowly back and forth across your knuckles. His breathing had gone shallow. You could feel the tension running through him as clearly as you felt it in yourself.
At first the window stayed blank.
Then, slowly, the lines began to appear.
Two of them.
Clear. Dark. Unmistakable.
For a second neither of you moved. The reality of it seemed to arrive in pieces rather than all at once. You felt Noah’s hand tighten hard around yours. When you finally looked up at him, his eyes were already wet.
“Yeah?” he whispered, as if he needed to hear it confirmed out loud.
You nodded, the motion small and stunned. “Yeah.”
The sound he made was quiet and broken at the edges, half laugh and half something closer to a sob. He pulled you into him without another word, arms wrapping tightly around you, face burying in the curve of your neck. You held on just as hard, fists curling into the back of his shirt, the test still lying on the counter behind you like evidence of a future that had suddenly become real.
“I love you,” he said against your skin, the words rough. “I love you. I love you so much.”
“I love you,” you managed, voice shaking. Tears had already started slipping down your face. “We’re really doing this. It’s real.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, both hands coming up to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed the tears away even as his own continued to fall. Then he kissed you, deep and full of everything the last months of quiet trying had carried. You kissed him back, smiling against his mouth through the tears, the relief and the joy and the residual fear all tangled together into something almost too large for the small bathroom to hold.
When you finally broke apart, Noah rested his forehead against yours, breathing hard.
“Kara,” he said softly. “We should tell her.”
You nodded. “Together.”
You found her in the living room still sitting on the floor with her drawing, Bee propped carefully beside the paper. She looked up the moment the two of you appeared, eyes narrowing slightly at the unmistakable evidence that both of her parents had been crying.
“Why are your faces wet?” she asked bluntly.
Noah let out a watery laugh and sat down on the rug in front of her. You followed, lowering yourself carefully beside him. He reached out and tugged her gently into the space between your knees so the three of you formed a small, uneven circle on the floor.
“We have something to tell you, bug,” he said. His voice was still thick, but steady. “Something important.”
Kara looked between the two of you, sensing the weight of the moment. “Did someone break another vase?”
“No,” you said, smiling through the fresh sting of tears. You brushed a curl back from her face. “Do you remember when we talked about the possibility of a little sibling? About you being a big sister?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes.”
Noah took her small hand in both of his. “It’s happening. Mommy’s going to have a baby. You’re going to be a big sister.”
For a second Kara simply stared. The information seemed to need time to land. Then her whole face lit up in stages, the realization blooming across her features until she was grinning so widely it looked like it might hurt.
“For real?” she demanded. “A real baby? Not just a maybe?”
“For real,” Noah confirmed, laughing even as another tear slipped free. “A real baby.”
Kara launched herself forward, throwing her arms around both of your necks at once with so much force that the three of you nearly toppled sideways onto the rug. You and Noah caught her between you, holding on tightly as she wriggled with pure, unfiltered excitement.
“I’m going to be the boss big sister,” she announced against your shoulder, already breathless with plans. “I can show them the pool and Sir Stomp and the bee song and how to make Daddy do the raspberry kisses. And they can have the space in my toy circle. I already left it open. I knew it. I knew it.”
Noah pressed a long kiss to the top of her head, then another to your temple, his arm still locked around both of you. You closed your eyes and held on, the living room full of the sound of Kara’s happy chatter and Noah’s quiet, disbelieving laughter and the steady thrum of your own heartbeat.
The test still lay on the bathroom counter down the hall.
The European tour dates still waited on the calendar.
But right now, on the living room floor, the three of you were already becoming four, tangled together in a messy, tear-streaked, joyful knot of arms and declarations and future plans spoken too fast for anyone to fully keep up with.
Noah looked at you over the top of Kara’s head, eyes shining, and mouthed the words again without sound.
I love you.
You mouthed them back.
And for the first time in months, the hope no longer felt fragile.
Summary: Bestfriend! Noah gripping your thighs, fucking you on the bathroom counter at a party because you both get horny when you drink and it “solves the problem”
Content Warning: Drinking/Intoxication (both parties consent), p in v penetration, creampie
Masterlist Taglist
18+ MDNI
Music vibrated the frames on the walls as you shuffled through the mingling groups throughout the house. You didn’t exactly want to be here, dragged along by Noah, but the drinks you’d thrown back had settled nicely. You felt warm and light, giggling at every bad joke the man across from you said as he droned on about his band. The guy went and got you another drink, popping the can open and extending it in your direction.
“Thank you soo much,” you said, placing a hand on his firm bicep and gripping slightly. Before you could even take the can from him a hand gripped your wrist and tugged you away without a word.
"Hey…" you started, pouting, but he was already steering you toward the kitchen. "It was just getting entertaining."
Noah poured two shots and slid one to you. "Not trying to ruin your night," he said, voice low over the bass. "I just needed a distraction. There's this girl. Groupie type. She's fucked half the house already and now she's circling me like I'm next on the list."
You knocked back the shot, the burn settling warm in your chest. "So you came to cockblock me instead?"
"I came to save us both from bad decisions," he said, but his eyes dragged down your sundress, lingering on the way it clung to your thighs. "Though you look like you're already making one."
You leaned against the counter, feeling the alcohol buzz through you. "And what's that?"
"Standing here looking fuckable while some asshole talks about his guitar collection."
Noah stepped closer, his hand brushing your hip as he reached for the bottle again. "We should go upstairs. Sober up before we do something we'll regret." The way he said it didn't sound like he meant it. His fingers stayed on your hip, thumb tracing a slow circle through the fabric. You could smell the whiskey on his breath, feel the heat radiating off him.
"Upstairs," you repeated, and the word hung between you.
Noah's grip on your hip tightened. "Yeah. Before I do something stupid like bend you over right here."
Your fuzzy brain struggled to process his words. “What?”
He grabbed your hand and tried to pull you towards the staircase but you dug your feet into the floor. “Nooah.” You said in protest, failing to stop the giggle that bubbled from your chest.
“Y/n…” he said, mocking your tone, “c’mon, we’re both drunk and horny. We fuck each other. Solves the problem, no?”
“I mean… yeah? But you’re my-”
“Best friend? Yeah. That's what friends are for, sweetheart.” Noah said, squeezing your cheeks together between his fingers playfully.
You gave in, letting him lead you toward the stairs. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was the attraction to Noah you had shoved down for years, but this seemed like a great solution. He led you up the narrow staircase and you followed along, your hand still in his and the other grasping his forearm for stability. He tested the locked handles of each door, muttering a low for fucks sake before pulling you into the bathroom and locking the door behind you.
“How romantic” You mocked.
“Purely transactional, baby.”
For a second you both just stood there, breathing hard, the party muffled below. Then Noah's hands were on your waist, lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing. Your dress rode up your thighs as he stepped between them, and his mouth found yours in a kiss that tasted like liquor and sent white hot pleasure straight to your core.
"This is, by far, one of my best ideas," he muttered against your lips. His hands were already pushing your thighs apart, fingers digging into the soft flesh.
"Shut up and kiss me," you breathed, and he did, harder this time, his tongue sliding against yours while his hips pressed forward, letting you feel exactly how hard he already was through his jeans.
Noah’s hands continued kneading at your thighs, spreading them wider, as your hands traveled down his chest to the button of his jeans. You fumbled with the zipped and tugged at the waist of his underwear, trying and failing to take his cock out.
He pulled away slightly, just enough to help you. “You’re lucky I’m just as needy right now or I’d think you’re a desperate little slut, huh?”
You stuck your tongue out at him in reply and he smirked.
Your head fell back in a sigh as he thumbed your clit through your dampened panties, tugging them to the side. He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed in, his breath hitching at the tightness. He pushed into you slowly, grabbing your thighs again and hooking them over his hips. You inhaled sharply when he bottomed out, pleasantly surprised at the stretch and fullness from him.
He began to move, each snap of his hips made your ass slide against the smooth surface, your short dress bunched around your waist. "Fuck," you gasped, nails scraping down his back as he drove into you with hard, punishing thrusts.
Noah's grip tightened, thumbs pressing bruises into your skin. "This what you needed?" he growled, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Your pussy clenched around him, wet sounds filling the small room with every thrust.
You nodded frantically, tears welling in your eyes; not from pain, but from how fucking good it felt after the tension downstairs, the alcohol melting away all of your inhibitions making you desperate for touch. Your mascara started to run, streaking down your cheeks.
Noah froze mid-thrust, his expression shifting from lust to concern in an instant. "Shit. Baby, are you okay?" He started to pull out, one hand coming up to cup your face. His thumb started to brush soft strokes, wiping a tear from under your eye. "Did I hurt you? We can stop-"
Your palm slapped over his mouth before he could finish, your other hand fisting in his shirt to yank him closer, his innocent eyes going wider. Through the tears, your eyes burned with need.
"Just fuck me harder," you demanded
Noah's pupils blew wide. The hesitation vanished, replaced by something darker. He grabbed your thighs again, yanking you to the very edge of the counter so your ass hung off, and drove back into you with brutal force. The new angle made his cock grind against that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
"Fuck..yes…" you moaned, legs locking tighter around his waist. He fucked you like he was trying to break the counter, each thrust punching a gasp from your lungs. Your tears kept falling, but they were mixed with moans now, your body shaking as he pounded into your dripping cunt.
"That's it," he rasped against your palm, the words muffled. "Take it. Take all of it."
Your head fell back against the mirror as he leaned down, biting at your neck while his hips snapped relentlessly. The party raged below, but all you could focus on was Noah's cock stretching you open, the wet slap of skin, the way his fingers dug into your thighs like he never wanted to let go.
The alcohol had left you opening yourself fully to Noah as he fucked you better in a bathroom at a house party than anyone had ever fucked you before. You felt your release building fast, not caring about the soap dish that dug into your back with each of his thrusts.
Noah’s thrusts became shorter and more desperate. He leaned his weight over you on the counter as you clung to his shoulders for support.
“Fuck baby, tell me where you want it and tell me fast,” he gritted out.
The last thing you wanted was to move and interrupt his devastating pace, so close to your own release as well.
“Inside.” You sighed breathlessly.
“Like..like in yo-”
“Yes Noah, inside me” you asserted, a frustrated groan behind it.
He cupped your cheek in one hand, resting his other on your hip, staring at your blissed out face with a dazed look in his eye. Your release washed over you. You leaned forward, pulling his t-shirt between your teeth to muffle your cries as you came around him, tightening again and again around his cock. You could feel him grow painfully hard and heavy within you right before he stilled his hips, buried completely. He bucked his hips gently as he spilled inside you, groaning with each movement.
He stayed deep inside of you for a moment as the two of you caught your breath. He studied your face, gently brushing his thumb over your bottom lip before pulling you into a soft kiss. You both jumped when someone knocked aggressively at the door and shook the handle.
“C’mon any fuckin minute now” an angry voice rang through the door.
Noah quickly pulled out of you and moved your panties back over, gripping your waist to help you off of the counter. He tucked himself back into his jeans and hastily zipped them back up as you smoothed your sundress. You looked at each other and let out a nervous laugh before Noah reached to unlock the door. He opened it and stopped short at the sight of the girl who had been after him earlier.
“Noah?...y/n?” She questioned.
He smiled awkwardly at her and the two of you made way for her to enter the bathroom. She slammed the bathroom door behind her, and you covered your mouth to hide the laughter.
You and Noah began walking towards the stairs while you pulled out your phone to assess your appearance. Lip gloss smudged around your lips (and Noah’s), mascara streaked down your face, your face was flushed and red from making out.
“Noah, we have to get a ride home.” You insisted.
“Already? It’s barely midnight.” He protested.
“Noah… I can’t even sit down. I have your cum dripping down my thighs..”
He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and turned to you, pulling you in by your hips.
“Now don’t say things like that or I’m gonna have to pull you right back in that bathroom.”
“You better hope I don’t regret this tomorrow.” You said, shaking your head and laughing.
Author’s Note: And here we have 2/4!!! Two fics in a day?!?! Thank you @somebodyels3 for sharing your thots and taking this to the next level 😍 See you soon with Ruffilo and Jolly XOXO Lila
The studio smelled like old coffee, cable plastic, and the faint metallic tang of overworked amps. The air was warm from hours of running equipment, and the low hum of the monitors mixed with the occasional soft click of a cooling fan.
Noah sat on the worn leather couch in the control room, elbows on his knees, a half-empty water bottle dangling from one hand. The leather had cracked in places from years of use, and he could feel the uneven texture under his palms whenever he shifted. Through the thick glass he could see the live room still lit, the drum kit gleaming under the overheads, Jolly’s guitar resting against a stand where he had left it after the last take. A cable snaked across the floor near the bass amp. They had been at it for hours, tightening a bridge section that kept losing its punch, arguing over a vocal harmony that still felt slightly off no matter how many times they layered it. Eventually the energy in the room had shifted into that late-session quiet where the music temporarily took a back seat to everything else.
Jolly was the first to drop into the chair across from him, spinning it once before settling with a soft creak of the wheels. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back, watching Noah with open curiosity. Folio followed a moment later, dropping onto the other end of the couch with a low groan. His drumsticks were still tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, and he pulled them out only to tap them lightly against his thigh out of habit. Ruffilo leaned against the edge of the console, arms crossed loosely, one ankle hooked over the other. He had that calm, steady look he got when he already sensed something was sitting heavier than usual on Noah’s shoulders.
“You’ve been somewhere else all day,” Jolly said eventually, his voice not unkind. “Even when the takes were good. You’d nail a part and then just stare at the wall for a second like you weren’t fully in the room. What’s going on?”
Noah let out a slow breath and dragged a hand down his face. The stubble on his jaw scraped against his palm. For a moment he considered brushing it off, saying he was just tired, that the song wasn’t sitting right yet, that his head was simply foggy from too many hours under fluorescent lights. But the weight under his ribs had been building for days, quiet and persistent, and these were the three people who had watched him grow up inside this band. They had seen him at his most reckless and his most broken. If he could not say it here, he was not sure where he could.
“Y/N and I are trying,” he said quietly.
The room went still in a different way. The ordinary background noise of the studio seemed to fade for a second.
Folio’s eyebrows lifted. Ruffilo’s expression softened almost immediately, the corners of his mouth turning down in quiet understanding. Jolly leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, giving Noah his full attention.
“Trying as in… another baby?” Jolly asked, careful with the words.
Noah nodded once. “Yeah. We decided a little while ago. We went to the doctor, ran some tests, everything looks good on paper. So we’re trying.”
A beat of silence passed. It felt warm rather than awkward, the kind of quiet that comes when people are giving space instead of filling it too quickly.
“That’s big,” Folio said, his voice low. He turned slightly on the couch so he was facing Noah more directly. “How are you feeling about it?”
Noah stared at the water bottle in his hands, turning it slowly between his palms. Condensation had left a faint ring on the knee of his jeans. “Hopeful. Scared. Both at the same time, constantly. I keep catching myself thinking about it in the middle of random shit. Making coffee in the morning. Driving Kara to school. Sitting here trying to write a bridge that refuses to cooperate. It’s just there. Under everything. Like a second pulse.”
He swallowed, then kept going. Once the first words were out, the rest came easier, as if some internal valve had finally loosened.
“I missed so much with Kara. All the early stuff. The first real smile, the first steps. The nights Y/N was up alone when she was sick or teething or just wouldn’t sleep no matter what. I got the stories. I got the videos. I got the secondhand versions of everything, and I held onto them like they could somehow make up for the absence. But I wasn’t there. I didn’t get to feel her weight on my chest those first weeks. I didn’t get to panic over a fever or learn the exact sound of her cry. And some days that still sits on me harder than I know how to explain. It lives under my ribs and doesn’t move. So the idea of getting to do it from the beginning this time, of being there for all of it, feels huge. Like something I honestly did not think I would ever get the chance at.”
Ruffilo nodded slowly, his arms still crossed but his posture less rigid. “That makes sense. You’ve talked about that before, in pieces. I can see why this would hit deep.”
“But,” Noah added, looking up at them now, needing them to hear the next part clearly, “even if it doesn’t happen, they’re enough. Y/N and Kara. They’re more than enough. I need you guys to know that, this isn’t about fixing anything or filling some hole I think exists. I love the life we have. I love being Kara’s dad. I love walking through the door and having her run at me like I’ve been gone for years even if it’s only been a few hours. I love the way Y/N looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. If another baby never comes, I still get to keep what I’ve already got, and that is everything. I’m just allowing myself to hope for more. That’s all. Hope feels dangerous sometimes, but I’m doing it anyway.”
Jolly was quiet for a moment, then offered a small, crooked smile that reached his eyes. “You’re allowed to hope, man. You’ve earned that. After everything it took to get here, you’re allowed.”
Noah huffed a soft, almost self-conscious breath. “Yeah. Still feels fragile as hell. Like if I look at it too hard it might disappear.”
Folio shifted on the couch, the drumsticks tapping a slow, absent rhythm against his knee. “How’s Y/N handling it?”
Noah’s expression softened further. “Better than me, I think. Or at least differently. She’s scared too. She went through the early part alone once already, and that kind of memory doesn’t just leave. But she’s in it with me. We’re doing this together, on purpose. That part feels solid in a way a lot of other things never have. She’s the reason I even get to want this. If she hadn’t let me back in, if she hadn’t trusted me with Kara after everything, none of this would exist. Not the house, not the mornings with pancakes, not the chance to try again. I don’t take that lightly. I don’t think I ever will.”
The three of them let that sit for a few seconds. The studio lights hummed softly overhead. Somewhere in the live room a piece of gear clicked as it cooled.
Then Ruffilo spoke, his voice even and steady. “So where does that leave the band?”
Noah had known the question was coming. He had been turning it over in his own head for weeks, late at night and in the car and in the quiet moments after Kara fell asleep. He looked down at his hands for a second before answering.
“I want to keep doing this,” he said honestly. “Writing. Touring. Making records with you guys. It’s still a huge part of who I am. I’m not looking to walk away from it. The music still matters. You three still matter. But I also don’t want to miss things again. Not with Kara, and not if we do end up with another kid. I want to be present. I want to be the dad who shows up for the school stuff and the sick days and the random Tuesday afternoons when she just wants to talk about butterflies and bees for twenty minutes straight. Not just the one who FaceTimes from a bus between soundcheck and doors.”
He looked between them, needing them to hear the full shape of what he was trying to say.
“I’m not asking for anything specific right now. I’m not saying we cancel tours or rewrite the whole structure tomorrow. I just need you to know where my head is. The band matters. You guys matter. But my family has to come first in a way it didn’t always before. If that means we get more selective about the runs we do, or we build in longer breaks between cycles, or we figure out ways for me to be home more without the whole machine falling apart, then I want to have those conversations. I don’t want to wake up five years from now and realize I repeated the same mistakes with a different child. I can’t do that again.”
Jolly leaned back in the chair, the leather creaking under him as he considered. His expression was thoughtful rather than resistant. “We’ve all watched you change since Kara came into the picture. It’s not a surprise that this is where your priority is sitting. Honestly, it would be weirder if it wasn’t. You’ve been different in the best way. More grounded. More careful with your time. We noticed.”
Folio nodded, the drumsticks finally still in his hands. “We’ve been doing this long enough to know seasons change. We’ve already adjusted before when things got heavy or when life got complicated. We can do it again. The music doesn’t disappear just because the way we make it shifts a little.”
Ruffilo pushed off the console and uncrossed his arms, letting them fall more loosely at his sides. “You’re not the first person in a band to want both, we’ll figure it out. Just keep talking to us. Don’t go quiet and try to carry the whole thing alone like you used to. That version of you doesn’t work anymore, and we all know it.”
Noah felt something in his chest loosen at that. Not completely. The hope and the fear and the old grief were still there, braided together under his ribs. But the tightness eased enough that he could take a fuller breath. These were the men who had been in vans and shared hotel rooms and fluorescent green rooms with him for years. They had seen the worst versions of the lifestyle and the best ones. They had watched him fall apart and slowly put himself back together. Hearing them meet him without resistance, without defensiveness, meant more than he could cleanly put into words.
“I will,” he said. “I promise. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
Jolly tipped his chin toward him, a small, genuine smile on his face. “And for what it’s worth, I hope it happens for you. The baby. You and Y/N deserve that. Kara does too. She’d be a hell of a big sister.”
Folio lifted his water bottle in a small, wordless toast, the plastic crinkling softly. Ruffilo simply nodded once, solid and certain, the kind of nod that carried weight without needing extra speech.
Noah sat back against the couch, letting the quiet settle again around them. Outside the control room glass, the instruments waited under the lights, patient and familiar. Somewhere across the city, Y/N was probably helping Kara with something ordinary. Homework spread across the kitchen table, or a snack negotiated with serious six-year-old logic, or the endless gentle back-and-forth of bedtime. The hope was still there, fragile and persistent under his ribs. So was the love for the family he already had. So was the future of the band, still being written one careful conversation at a time.
For now, that balance felt possible. Not easy. Not simple. But possible.
He reached for his own water bottle, took a long drink, and exhaled slowly. The cold water grounded him a little.
“Alright,” he said after a moment, a tired but genuine smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Enough of my existential crisis for one night. Somebody cue up that last take. I want to hear the harmony again before we all start getting too sentimental.”
Jolly snorted and spun the chair back toward the console, fingers already moving across the trackpad. “There he is. Thought we lost you for a second.”
Folio pushed himself up from the couch with a theatrical groan, drumsticks tapping against his palm. “Sentimentality is only allowed after we fix that bridge. House rules.”
Ruffilo was already reaching for the mouse, a faint smile visible at the edge of his mouth as he pulled the session back up on the main screen. “You heard the man. Harmony. Then we can all go home and pretend we didn’t have feelings in the studio.”
Noah huffed a quiet laugh and leaned forward, elbows on his knees again, eyes on the waveform blooming across the monitor. The session moved forward, the familiar rhythm of listening and adjusting and trying again settling back over the room.
after watching like 85 noah streams I feel like i know so much random shit about that man
I love random stuff that comes up! Like, "this is my favorite food", "this song/album is my current fav", "I played this sport as a kid" etc.
I have watched a couple of stream here and there but rarely have the patience and even more so to watch whole streams. 🙈 Anything on the top of your head you wanna share? ☺️
these are probably all things you guys already know, but this is what i could think of rn:
• he went to a bmth listening party and really liked amo
• he had an electric scooter, he used it to go to davis' house, but crashed into a sign and returned it
• if he had a dog, he’d name it malice
• he used to do 3D modeling for a living
• he doesn’t like dressing up for halloween; he puts on something slightly fancy and says he’s a waiter at a Japanese restaurant
• he was friends with Gino (ex-dayseeker) and they used to talk every night
• he saw billie eilish but didn’t want to bother her, so he didn’t ask for a picture
• when they come back from tour, they play the shire theme from the lord of the rings in the van
• he has a GED
• he’s watched and is a fan of the vampire diaries
• fans have asked him to sign their boobs, and he refused
• he said klaus from the umbrella academy inspired his fashion
• he can’t write in cursive
• he was interested in learning how to do makeup
• his favorite color is red
• Malice used to be called Vomit
• they were denied a house because apparently the neighbors saw them and decided they didn’t like them
• he doesn’t believe in ghosts but does believe in aliens
• a guy once mistook him for a woman and hit on him
• he vaped on stream and, judging by his reaction, it seemed like it was his first time
• someone asked him if he knew Stain the canvas and he said no (😠)
• when he was 14, he had braces for like a month and then got them taken off
• he wanted to do weekly covers with Jolly and had plans to cover Aurora, but they never ended up doing them
• he wanted to release some songs on his own as a side project but never did
• he once camped in his own backyard in a tent
• he had a crush on yennefer from the witcher
• he said the only reason he’d ever shave his entire head would be if he decided to tattoo it
• he wanted to do streams where he’d read books out loud, but i don’t think he ever actually did them
• he used to talk a lot about having nightmares, especially about his career failing. once he said he dreamed that he went grocery shopping and, when he came out, someone had stolen the van
• he tried to learn swedish for jolly
• Someone stole his shoes at a venue
• he and his friends once tried to stop a guy who was getting violent with his girlfriend, but the guy pulled out a gun
• when he was little, he used to carry around a picture of jackie chan and tell people he was his dad
• he had a few short periods where he was vegetarian. he wasn’t interested in becoming fully vegetarian, he just liked alternating between periods of eating meat and not eating meat
• in a video game, he chased down an npc to beat him up after he said something racist
• he used to light candles with a spaghetti noodle on fire
• one of his first concerts, when he was 14, was bmth, architects, and oh sleeper
