concrete decisions

[takeme1st]

SECOND SKIN - TEASER

Sooo... Since 2S got way, way more attention than either me or @copper-locks could've ever imagined... We decided to give you two teeny, tiny teasers. Thank you again for hyping us up! We're very nervous but also very exited. We so hope you'll like it. All readers POVs will be written by Daisy, all Noah POVs by me. See you Friday! :)

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Taglist 2S: @mrslumi @platespaghetti @choillysblog @itsfarbettertolearn @sleepycactus-omens @the-feral-specter @darkphoenix626 @bridemassacre @bassvivz @eclipseeetop @heavilyfadingpower @nixsxxx @shayseeker @dominuslunae @fandomfucker @givemesomethingbeautiful @branika182 @anything-morethan-human @idwtmoney @runningincircl3s @coasttocold @lowergroundfloor @gayfiretruck @leosunshine @pinkpunkdynamite @thedeathofpeaceofmymind @dyingtol0ve @chipotlebagnoah @peace-of-mind-is-less-than-never @beartoooth @theanarchymuse95 @chey-h @mushrumink @dress-a-blade-up-in-red @kenjipepsi1 @itsfarbettertolearn @siina-art @punkprincess1999 @coolglitterfart @r3prise @v1per1ne @jayunbroken @badtishomens @mypsychoticimagination @evrythngistkn @spookypeachpitt13 @icybansheesoul @ethelsbaby @amelia-acero @v1per1ne

[sorrowsofsilence]

evergreen: 11 ~ n.s ~

[18+ MDNI] xfem!reader | words: 6.8k | warnings below the cut

Everyone came back to the forest pretending it was just another evening at the river; though Noah knew better, and by the time the house appeared through the trees, so did you.

tropes: childhood friends to lovers / boy next door, reckless summer nostalgia / summer romance, mutual pinning & idiots in love, breaking into abandoned-ish houses (lol), sex with feelings

part one | part three

warnings: (three parts - smut in part 3) - explicit language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of ghosts / the paranormal, some smoochin'

note: Hi, lovelies. I am so sorry it took me so long to get this out. When I wrote part one, I had a complete outline and plan for what I wanted, but I had such a hard time writing it in a way that felt right. I literally rewrote this part four different times and was getting so tired of it because I just hated every draft- but as I’ve forced myself to finally finish the last few days I realized it’s because I felt like I had to still keep it in two parts. However, I didn’t want to rush this fic. It’s a very personal one, and only two parts didn’t do this justice, so there will now be a part three so there aren’t 11,000 words on one part lol. I am sorry that the awaited smut will indeed be coming in the next part and that you’ll need to wait a smidge longer. With that said, part three is drafted and just needs to be edited, so should be out by the end of the week and not almost two months later… :,)

By the time seven came, the ring from Noah’s Slurpee cup had dried into a faint circle on your nightstand. You heard the ringing of a bike bell coming from the driveway, and outside, the Crescent glowed warm with the evening light.

Noah stood at the edge of your driveway with one foot propped on the pedal of his bike, his head tilted down at his phone until he felt you looking, then lifting his eyes to your window.

His smile grew the moment you turned around, pretending you hadn’t been staring, and you grabbed your phone before you could think about it any further. By the time you reached the driveway he had placed his device back into his pocket and was leaning over his handlebars, acting like he had been waiting ages.

“It’s about time,” he sighed, rolling his shoulder back in faux exhaustion. “I was starting to think you were making me look stupid out here on purpose.”

“You did that to yourself when you rang your bike bell like a twelve-year-old.” You tossed him a look as you opened the garage with the keypad on the side panel.

Noah glanced down at the bell, then flicked it once with his thumb.

You stared at him. “Are you done?”

“No.” He grinned, dinging it again. You groaned but held a smile, missing the way his own turned softer at the sight of yours.

Your bike was where you had left it years ago, leaning against a pile of cardboard boxes and an old plastic basketball hoop that was covered in dirt and scratches. The tires were a little dusty, the rubber handles peeling. Noah watched as you tugged it free, the whir of the bike chain faint as you walked it beside you.

“When’s the last time you rode it?”

You glanced down at the bike, then back at him. “The bike, or a dude?”

Noah’s eyebrows lifted as he snickered smugly, watching you swing your leg over the seat. “I obviously meant the bike, but it’s interesting you needed that clarification princess.”

“You asked a vague question,” you replied, rolling your bike with the tips of your toes to the keypad, closing the garage. You then turned to him with a frown.

“I asked about the bike,” he said, eyes bright. “You’re the one who made it dirty.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again when nothing decent came out. Noah’s smile only got bigger.

“Oh, don’t look so pleased,” you said, pushing off before your face could get any warmer.

His laugh followed as he rolled after you, leaving the rumble of the garage door behind.

For a little while, neither of you said much. Noah rode beside you at first, and every now and then, his front tire drifted slightly ahead of yours before he eased back without being asked. You always used to complain when he “left you behind”, even when he never really went far enough to lose you. He would never admit out loud that he always liked making you chase him, relishing in the small huff of annoyance you gave when you caught up, just to know he was the one who had actually secretly slowed so you felt like you won.

Though it was never much of a secret when you knew all along. So when he slowed, you thought about how some habits, even through the essence of time, did not know how to die.

At the end of the Crescent, where the sidewalk cracked around the roots of an old poplar, the road bent toward the newer houses.

Noah glanced over his shoulder once, then turned his handlebars toward a narrow opening between two back fences where the grass had been worn flat from years of kids cutting through. The path was easy to miss if you did not know it was there, hidden behind a leaning cedar and a rusted chain link gate.

You slowed, pressing your brakes. “We’re still taking this way?”

Noah stood on his pedals, already disappearing into the break between the fences. “You always did.”

As the houses disappeared behind you and the trees grew thicker, the forest held the smell of summer. The earth was sweet, heavy, from the leaves baking softly in the sun. Pine and sap, along with the waft of warm bark, swelled through a soft hymn of bugs dancing through blades of tall grass that brushed your tires. As you inhaled deeply through your nose, relishing in the smell of nostalgia, you couldn’t help but watch the way Noah rode ahead.

He was taller now, needing to duck beneath branches with half a second to spare; and although the first one missed him, the second waiting beyond it did not.

The branch hit Noah square in the face, causing him to bark out a sound, his bike jolting over the uneven trail. He looked back at you once more before his front tire bumped over a root.

“You good?” you called, already laughing.

“I’m fine. That thing barely got me,” he shouted, running the back of his inked hand over his forehead.

“I dunno, looks like you lost to a tree,” you yelled back, swatting a few mosquitoes out of your face.

You stuck out your hand, letting the bushes skitter across your fingertips, the various shades of green fluttering over the skin as you passed. The trail ahead widened near the end of the bend, and Noah’s old brakes squeaked sharply as he eased just enough for you to catch up.

He glanced over at you then, noticing the quiet that emanated around you, his mouth already pulling around a comment. But whatever he had been about to say fell from his face when the front tire of his bike caught on a rock beneath the dirt.

“Jesus, Noah,” you laughed, watching him jerk the handlebars straight and hold himself with one foot, shoe dragging through the earth. “Maybe if you stopped staring at me, you’d actually ride straight.”

He blew a strand of hair out of his face, his smile flashing before he turned forward again. “Maybe if you stopped being distracting, I’d have a chance.”

It was hard to hide the flush that climbed onto your cheeks and ears, so you looked away before he could read into it. For a while, you focused on the path instead of him, noting the way the grass grew thicker and the bird song grew louder.

As the ground gradually sloped downward, you recognized the narrowing trail where the dirt became softer, the air cooling a few degrees as the trees opened wider ahead. The echo of the river grew louder before revealing itself at the end of the path, your chest tightening around the memory of it.

You caught glimpses of the shallows first, then the moss-dark stones and the fallen log still resting near the bend. For one second, you expected the water to welcome you back, falling back into step, not only through memory.

Though when Noah stopped and leaned his bike against the same tree he always had, you couldn’t help but realize how shallow the river had seemingly become.

“Why does it look so much… smaller, now?”

Noah followed your gaze to the water. For once, he did not answer right away.

The river moved over the stones in that same rush, but it no longer seemed wide enough to swallow you. To the left, the round pocket you had built as kids still sat cupped inside its crooked ring of rocks, somehow intact after all these years; but now it was small and bare, with only a few minnows swirling through the clear water without purpose.

“I think we got bigger,” he said finally.

You looked over at him, only to find the way he watched the current held the same longing you felt along your chest.

“That’s stupid.” Your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

Noah shrugged. “It’s unfortunately the answer.”

And as you glanced back at the river and the log and that stupid little stone pool that stubbornly survived- your shoulders fell.

“Why did we have to grow up?” you asked, and Noah barely heard you over the sound of the water.

“I don’t know,” he said, making you turn, tracing his eyes with your own. “Sometimes I hate that we did.”

You watched his mouth open and close, clamping over words he did not seem ready to give. His stare moved over your face, catching the way your brows twitched in question at his hesitation, before he dropped his gaze to the ground. Noah’s jaw worked once more to chew back the question. Though he let it slip anyway.

“Did you ever want to stay?”

The way you sucked in a breath gave him the answer.

Noah looked up slowly, and you wished he hadn’t. You wished he had kept his eyes on the dirt so you could pretend the sound of the water had swept away the question before you could have heard it. “Noah,” you whispered, almost apologetic.

His lips twitched, but there was no humour behind it. “Sounds like yes.”

It was easier then to look back at the river than it was to look at him. “I did,” you admitted. “For a long time, I really did.”

Noah’s voice softened. “Then why didn’t you?”

You swallowed down the words you couldn’t say. Because staying would have meant wanting things you were too scared to name, and leaving had felt easier than standing next door to him every summer and pretending your heart did not trip every single time he smiled at you. You had been seventeen, and then eighteen, and then gone; which wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? Grow up and then… leave?

You only shrugged, eyes fixed on the current. “I had to start my life.”

Then it was Noah's turn to look away before you could see the way his eyes sank in vulnerability, his hands now resting inside his pockets because at least then he could cover up and hide even just a small part of himself.

“You had one here,” he stated. “With the boys and your family.”

He shrugged his shoulders, though there was nothing careless about it or the way he now looked down at the ground as he toed away at a loose rock in the dirt.

“With me.”

It was unfair the way your heart ached from his words. You turned to face him, yet he remained poised towards the river, licking his lips and lifting his head to stare out across the bend, as if you weren’t there.

Sucking in a nervous breath, you laughed faintly. “I think that was the problem.”

Noah’s brow pulled together slightly, and you hated the way he looked like he understood just enough to be hurt by it.

“I mean,” you continued quickly, “aren’t we supposed to do that? Leave and go figure out who we are away from everything we used to be?” Away from you, you did not say.

Noah finally turned, not just his head but his whole body, facing you with what now felt like confrontation.

“Did it work?” he asked. “Do you feel any different than you did then?” And although he did not say what he truly meant, because he did not ask if leaving had made you forget the shape of summers with him- or if another city or another man had been enough to make your heart stop reaching backward, you knew.

So Noah continued to stare, waiting to see if you would lie.

“No.” You whispered, breathing another moment before letting the words go. “I’ve only gotten older.”

Noah's face twitched. It was small, barely more than the pull of his brow, and his mouth parted around a breath he was not ready to take. For once, he did not look like he knew what to do with you. “Trees,” he said softly.

You opened your mouth, but whatever you might have said was swallowed by the bushes rustling behind you. Jolly crashed through the brush from the left with a plastic bag hooked around his wrist, and you screamed high-pitched with fear as you jumped back, letting go of your bike.

The swede screamed at the sound, bag swinging around as the cans clattered together, and Noah stumbled backward, hand clutching his chest. “Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with me?” Jolly yelled, eyes wide as he gasped. “She screamed first.”

“You came out of the trees!” You snapped breathlessly, sighing in relief that it was just Jolly.

Folio appeared behind him, pushing his bike through the bushes with a cider in his hand. Ruffilo laughed, snorting heavily as he ducked beneath a branch.

“I told him not to jump out.” Ruffilo tried to hide his smile as he looked between you and Noah. “But now I’m kinda glad he did.”

“To be fair, I didn’t jump,” Jolly argued, huffing out a breath, “I merely emerged.”

The weight of Noah’s stare lingered at the side of your face as you kneeled to pick up your bike, gripping the handlebars. Both of you pretended that your racing hearts were only because Jolly had decided to crawl out of the woods. When you finally risked a glance, Noah looked away too quickly, dragging a hand through his hair.

Folio took a slow sip from his cider, eyes moving between the two of you with interest. “So,” he said, swallowing. “Are we interrupting something, or...?”

“No,” you said too quickly.

Noah answered at the same time. “Shut up.”

Jolly’s eyes widened with delight as Ruffilo stepped around a patch of mud near the bank.

“Anyway, before this becomes whatever that was, change of plans,” Folio said, crushing his can and tossing it into your bike basket.

You looked at him. “We just got here.”

“Exactly,” Jolly said, “And the vibes are off.”

“The vibes?” Noah repeated, still a little breathless.

Jolly gestured broadly toward the river. “Look at this place. It’s depressing now.”

“It is not depressing,” you said, though your voice gave you away.

“But it is, though. We got here early,” Folio explained, shifting his bike against his hip, “and Jolly started talking about how the log looks tiny now, which made Ruffilo say it’s probably because we’re adults, which made Jolly spiral about taxes and dental coverage and how he pulled something in his back last week just because he sneezed.”

“I almost died, and that's a fact,” Jolly said solemnly.

Noah’s mouth twitched despite himself, some of the tension loosening from his shoulders. “So what, the river hurt your feelings?”

“Yes,” Jolly said, pointing at him. “Exactly. Thank you for understanding.”

“So where are we going instead?” you asked.

Jolly’s grin returned slowly, which should have worried you. Folio looked far too pleased as he swung one leg back over his bike. Ruffilo, however, immediately sighed because a part of him had already regretted leaving his house.

Noah noticed, and his head tilted, eyes narrowing. “No.”

“Yes,” Jolly countered.

“No, what?” you asked, eyes darting between them.

Jolly only smiled wider at that, pushing his bike back toward the trail. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

By the time the trees thinned again, before the house had fully appeared through the leaves, you already knew.

“No,” you mirrored, the word weak.

The clearing opened gradually, the trees loosening around the trail until long grass brushed everyone’s legs, and the Miller house came into full view at the far edge of the clearing.

The white siding had gone grey with age, and even the thistles were tall enough to scrape your calves, sprouting through the dirt around the porch, which now sagged in the middle. One of the front windows had been boarded from the inside, the wood warped with water stains, while sheets of plastic hung behind the others, shifting in the breeze.

It looked just as abandoned as you remembered, even with the signs of renovation showing through, the sight of it making your heart kick heavily against your ribs.

Folio spread his arms. “Yes.”

“Be for fucking real,” you groaned, not even trying to hide the whine that slipped into your voice. “You think this abomination is better than the river?”

Jolly turned toward the house. “What? No better time to find the woman in the window than at the ripe age of twenty-five!”

Noah glanced at you, and you looked away too quickly, pretending the upstairs window had stolen your attention first. It was easier to fear the ghosts.

He made a quiet sound beside you, not quite a laugh, and you frowned. “You’re thinking about it, aren't you?”

Noah’s smile deepened as his hand found the small of your back, warm through the thin fabric of your shirt as he nudged you closer to the house. “What, the getaway ride?” His eyes flicked to the upstairs window, then back to you.

Your face warmed before you could stop it. “Noah, I swear I saw her.”

He did not laugh right away. His smile softened, caught on the memory of when you were twelve, hands twisted into the back of his shirt, knees bumping against his bike frame as you screamed at him to go faster. You had been so worried that something was chasing you, and he had been laughing so hard he nearly tripped you both into the curb.

He then looked down at himself, a proud hum vibrating from his chest. “Well,” he said, easing his hand from the small of your back, “I can protect you now that I’m big and strong.”

You blinked at him. “Great,” you muttered. “I’m sure the ghost is terrified.”

Noah’s tease was gentle beside you. “She should be.”

Folio yelled from ahead, “She’s been dead for a hundred years.”

“Then she’s had plenty of time to hear about me.” Noah cupped his hand over his mouth and called toward the upstairs window, “I’m not afraid of you.”

The plastic behind one of the upstairs windows ruffled against the wood in a papery shift where the breeze caught and dragged it lightly against the frame. Your eyes snapped toward it, and you stepped toward Noah so quickly your bike tipped sideways from between your hands.

You were close enough now that your shoulder brushed his, and he stilled beside you for only a second before turning to look down at your grip. A smug smile curled from the corner of his lips, though beneath it, you felt the way his arm tensed. His breath had caught quietly, and when your fingers shifted against his skin, his pulse jumped beneath your thumb.

Noah’s gaze moved from your hand to your face, his face still teasing except for the part of his eyes that had gone too warm. Jolly and Folio were snickering ahead, but you ignored it, too embarrassed by where your hand was and how fast Noah’s heart seemed to be answering.

Ruffilo, who had been quiet for too long, exhaled through his teeth. “Can we not yell when we are literally about to trespass?”

Leaving your bike behind in the trees, you followed the boys toward the porch. The house looked worse the closer you came to it, stripped down to wood and chunks of siding.

“So, no one lives here anymore?”

Folio shook his head as Jolly reached the front door and wrapped a hand around the withered handle. “Nope. Someone bought it and started renovating. It’s entirely gutted right now.”

The door rattled in its frame as Jolly pushed against it once, the old wood complaining without opening. He huffed out a sigh and stepped carefully across the splitting porch, pausing whenever one creaked too loudly beneath him.

“They thought it would be fun to sneak in and take a peek,” Ruffilo said, his mouth flattening as he watched Jolly move toward the front window.

“Thought? Like, past tense?” Folio echoed, already following.

“Yeah, because I still think,” Jolly corrected.

Lingering at the bottom of the porch steps, your eyes moved over the mismatched boards and the plastic taped behind the windows. The gap beneath the front door was dark, dust and old leaves collecting between the grooves.

Noah stepped up beside you, his arm brushing yours. “You good?” he asked quietly, and you nodded.

You looked toward the window just as Jolly slid it upward, the wood scraping against the wood, making Ruffilo wince. Jolly froze halfway through, eyes wide, one hand still shoved beneath the frame until the window gave way all at once, jerking open with a sharp crack.

The Swede immediately grinned, turning back toward the rest of you with triumph before ducking his head inside. He climbed through, his long limbs lanky and awkward as he caught himself on the other side. Folio followed with less grace, laughing under his breath when his shoe knocked against the frame, and Ruffilo stood on the porch for one long second before finally sighing and climbing in after them.

Placing your hands on the chipped sill, sawdust pressed into your palms when you leaned forward. Inside, Jolly had already moved deeper into the front room, his voice echoing strangely through the gutted space, and Noah placed himself behind you.

“Here,” he said softly. His hands found your waist, warm through the thin fabric of your shirt. You sucked in a breath, hoping he didn’t hear the sound as he helped hoist you through, lifting your body as you pulled.

Your knee caught on the sill and Noah’s grip tightened.

“Careful, Trees,” he murmured, voice slipping beneath your skin.

“I’m trying,” you whispered, and it came out less annoyed than you wanted. With an awkward push, you made it over the frame and stumbled into the house, landing on the dusty floor with both hands out to steady yourself. Noah followed right after, ducking through the window, fingers braced on the sill before his sneakers hit the floor behind you.

The smell of sawdust and earth gathered thickly inside the house, mixed with old wood and the dry, chalky scent of drywall. It clung to the back of your throat as you straightened, brushing your palms against your shorts and leaving pale streaks behind.

Everything inside had been stripped down to the bones of the place, the walls open with exposed studs. The floor was scattered with old leaves, littered with pieces of torn plaster. Sheets of plastic hung in various places from the ceiling, dripping down through every doorway and hallway, turning the last of the evening light hazy and orange as the outside light bled through.

Noah brushed dust from his hands, and as you watched, you could still feel the phantom pressure of his fingers still resting at your waist, even though he had already let go.

You shifted forward before the feeling could show on your face, reaching into the plastic bag to grab your own can as Jolly, Ruffilo and Folio opened another.

Jolly wandered farther into the living room, phone light raised, even though there was still enough light to see. The beam swept over a peeled strip of wallpaper, a ladder leaning against the far wall.

“This is significantly better than the river.” He said, voice echoing through the hollow room,

Folio tipped his can toward the ceiling, squinting up at the exposed beams. “Yeah. Kind of cozy.”

“Nothing about this is cozy,” Ruffilo muttered, and even though you would’ve hummed in agreement, you barely heard them.

Your eyes had already found the staircase, a shiver running down your spine. Half the banister had been removed, and the remaining steps climbed into a darker pocket of the house where the orange light did not quite reach. Somewhere above, plastic shifted as another breeze cast through any cracks; the sound, though small, was enough to make that old childhood fear crawl up your throat.

Noah, to your dismay, had been watching you the entire time.

“Still scared of the upstairs?” he asked quietly.

You shot him a look. “No. I’ve grown up…”

His eyes remained careful, fixed on your own. “Yeah. You told me.” Then, his mouth turned with knowing. “Doesn’t mean much changed.”

Staring at him with the awareness of the way he looked at you, daring you to follow, made you swallow thickly. His smile stayed small, but there was less teasing in it now.

“Prove it, Y/N.”

The sound of your name in his mouth made the room feel even more barren than it physically could be. Only the boy next door could take something as stupid as a dare and make it about something else entirely.

“Fine,” you said, because backing down would have been worse, and Noah’s nod made it harder to breathe.

Folio went first, one hand sliding along the wall where the banister had been removed. The stairs groaned beneath his weight, each sound loud through the hollow house. Ruffilo followed after him, quieter now, as Jolly took the rear.

You stepped onto the first stair, which caused the wood to dip beneath your foot, Noah close behind you. His breath was quiet at your back, his steps matching yours as the orange light from the living room below grew into a dusk grey above. It was warmer on the upper landing, dust coating the air with the smell of stale drywall.

The old fear curled around your stomach, but so did something else when Noah then threaded his fingers through yours.

You looked down before you could stop yourself, watching his hand find yours in the dim light. The boys ahead had lowered their voices to whispers, as if the darkness only welcomed softer things.

“Noah,” you whispered, and he only looked ahead, his thumb brushing once against your knuckle.

“Proving it,” he murmured.

It was hard not to think about the way his fingers fit between yours perfectly, as if they were furious they had to wait so long, or the way he held you without teasing or tugging just to see what it did to you.

At the top of the stairs, the hallway opened into a larger bonus room stripped bare like the rest of the house. Folio lifted his phone, sweeping the flashlight across the room.

The beam caught on a rolled-up rug, tucked against another ladder placed just below the attic. A tin bucket of tools sat against a withered door, propping it open, as more plastic drapes coated the walls.

“Okay,” he whispered, quieter now. “This is actually creepy.”

Every pair of shoes crunched against the torn floor, the sound of a nail skittering and rolling across the wood ringing through the quiet hall when Ruffilo kicked it by accident.

Jolly raised his own phone light, grin returning even though his voice had dropped. “Helloooo, window woman.”

Ruffilo stood near the top of the stairs, arms tight around himself. “This is such a bad idea. If someone is outside, the sun is setting so fast they’ll be able to see us through the windows.”

As if the spirits had heard him, a pale sweep of headlights cut through the plastic of the front bedroom.

Everyone froze, your hand squeezing Noah's before you could think. The light moved slowly over the room, casting shadows along the walls, making the exposed studs throw long, thin lines across the floor.

Folio lowered his phone first as Jolly glanced at the group, and Ruffilo whispered a rushed, “Turn them off.”

Every flashlight went dark as Jolly cursed under his breath.

“Why would you manifest that shit, man?”

The sound of tires crunching over gravel grew louder as the car approached the house. No one moved as the house held you all in place, the hum of the engine echoing through the walls. Another beam of light dragged over the plastic, brighter this time, and the floorboards beneath your feet glowed faintly before falling back into shadow.

“Move,” Ruffilo hissed.

Panic broke through the room all at once. Jolly grabbed Folio by the sleeve and stumbled toward the hanging sheets of plastic, both of them slipping and crashing into the ladder. It fell to the floor with a metallic clatter, loud enough to make Noah swear under his breath.

Ruffilo ducked toward the back bedroom as Folio and Jolly followed. You were about to join them before Noah’s hand tightened around yours.

“This way,” he breathed, pulling you with him.

You stumbled after him through the dark, your shoulder brushing exposed insulation. Your free hand caught briefly against a nail as he guided you toward the withered door at the side of the room. The tin bucket that had been propping it open scraped against the floor when Noah kicked it aside, and the sound made both of you freeze.

Outside, the engine idled, and Noah pulled the door open just enough for you to slip through.

The room beyond was smaller than you expected, narrow, yet tall, with stacks of baseboards piled on the torn carpet. Noah stepped in after you and eased the door mostly shut behind him, leaving only a thin strip of grey light cutting across the floor.

Neither of you breathed until the car door slammed outside.

“Shit,” you looked around, pulling your hand from Noah’s to peek outside the window.

It faced the backyard, the plastic taped over the glass turning everything outside blurry, even with the night sky that shone through. Peering underneath one warped corner where the tape had peeled loose, you caught a glimpse of Folio’s face appearing in another upstairs window.

A man’s voice carried from outside, sharp enough to cut through the walls, and Folio’s head disappeared.

“Hey!”

Your stomach dropped, and Noah immediately pulled you from the plastic, pressing your back against his chest and into the closet. Leaning against the wall, he looked over your shoulder toward the yard as a flashlight beamed up from the ground towards the house.

“Stay down,” he breathed as you sank against him, feeling the press of his heart as footsteps crunched below.

Somewhere in the house, something clattered. There was a curse, followed by Jolly’s voice that sounded falsely deep and more polite than he had ever been.

“Good evening, sir.”

You pressed a hand over your mouth. Noah’s fingers found your waist on instinct, steadying you as both of you froze in the room.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” the man called.

Another clatter followed, and then there was a scream, which was certainly Jolly.

“Get out of there, you little shits!”

“We’re just… looking around?” Folio offered, and you heard the door below open and close, rattling the floor beneath your feet.

Ruffilo’s voice cut in, strained but controlled. “Hey, yeah, we’re leaving. I’m sorry. We know this was stupid.”

“You think?” the man snapped. “This is private property.”

Jolly cleared his throat, yelling at the man who stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “In our defence, the mosquitoes are pretty bad outside. And you should probably put up more signs.”

“Jolly,” Ruffilo hissed, earning a snicker from Folio. The three of them shuffled down the hall, stopping just outside the door you were hidden behind.

Noah’s breath moved unevenly against your hair, almost a laugh, but he swallowed it down before it became a sound.

The man said something you couldn’t make out, lower this time. Ruffilo answered, his voice steadier.

“It’s just us. We promise it won’t happen again.”

Noah’s fingers dug gently into your waist as you tensed against him, realizing they were right outside the door. Ruffilo, Folio, Jolly, and whoever the man was, all close enough that one breath could give you away.

You could hear Jolly breathing too loudly in the hallway as the man’s flashlight cut beneath the crack of the door, a thin white line dragging over the floorboards and stopping just short of Noah’s sneakers.

Noar’s forearm tightened around your middle, making you feel every place his body met yours. Your hands rested on his, and the longer you were pressed against him, the harder your pulse skipped.

“Downstairs,” the man ordered, and there was a shuffle of movement.

Folio’s voice drifted past the door, fading away as they descended. “For the record, I agree that the signage was unclear.”

“Shut up,” Ruffilo whispered.

Both you and Noah stayed in place until the front door slammed shut, locking in place. Their muffled voices carried from outside.

Noah’s fingers loosened but didn’t pull away, giving you enough room to move if you wanted to, but you didn't.

Outside, Jolly said something that made the man bark back at him, but the words blurred beneath the rush of blood in your ears. You shifted carefully to turn and make space where there was none, but the closet was too narrow. Your hip pressed back against him, your body fitting too close to his, and Noah made a low sound in his throat before he could suppress it.

“You okay?” You said quietly, already trying to step away.

His hand tightened once more to keep you there a second longer, which was when you felt the heat of him and the tension below his waist that was unmistakable proof he wasn’t as unaffected as he had pretended to be.

Your breath caught, and he knew you realized, every part of him careful.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

As the voices below retreated and the car engine turned on again, you should have stepped forward. Instead, your fingers settled over his knuckles, and you let your body press further against him.

“Trees,” the nickname almost sounded like a plea- your head turning enough to feel his lips brush your temple.

And although you no longer needed to stay in the space of the closet, you did, turning carefully so your shoulder brushed the wall until your chest was against his. You stopped when facing him in the dark, nowhere left to look except at the curve of his lips.

It was hard to see the expression on his face while hidden in the shadow, but as his hand rose to your jaw, thumb brushing the dip of your chin, you had a pretty good feeling about where his own eyes lay.

“Tell me no.” Noah’s breath fanned your face, and you shook your head.

His thumb stilled beneath your chin. “Y/N.”

The sound of your name left your chest tight, and for a second, you heard the river again, his voice asking if you had ever wanted to stay.

“I won’t leave this time.”

You rose onto the tips of your toes, and his hand cupped your cheek as he bent toward you, fingers vibrating beneath your jaw, and the recognition of his nerves made a breathy laugh escape your lips.

Noah, who had always grinned smugly in your driveway while trying to make you nervous. Noah, who had stolen your phone and teased you until your face burned. Noah, who always seemed so very sure of himself… here, in the dark, he was shaking- careful until the very second your mouth found his.

At the press of your lips, he did not dare move, as though afraid one wrong breath might make you pull away in regret. But when you pushed harder against his mouth and when your fingers curled into his shirt, kissing him like you had been waiting just as long, his composure broke.

His breath broke hungry against your mouth. As his hand slid from your cheek into your hair, he tugged at the strands, his mouth deepening the kiss in an ache you felt in your knees. All you could hear was the pounding of your heart as his lips were no longer careful.

Noah exhaled because he had been holding his breath for years, the fingers gripping your waist tightening as he pulled you as close as physically possible.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud as you spun, and he followed with a hand bracing beside your head to keep from crushing you into it. The movement made the baseboards shift near your feet, and you both froze for half a second, mouths still touching as a breath caught between you.

Outside, the man’s voice carried faintly through the walls over the sound of his car, and you pulled away slightly, just for Noah to brush your lips.

The brunette let out the quietest laugh against your mouth, the sound sending warmth down your arms and across your stomach.

“Shh,” you scolded, though you were the one who had kissed him again.

His mouth curved beneath yours for a moment until the smile disappeared into it. You felt him everywhere, the press of his chest and the warmth of his palm at the base of your neck, the tremble still hiding in his hand every time he touched you.

You had imagined kissing Noah before, dozens of times.

At seventeen, you dreamed of the heat of your backyard with that fire pit smoke clinging to his shirt and his knee brushing yours beneath the table. At eighteen, when he crossed his bedroom window shirtless, albeit on purpose, but a sight that had left you wanting him out loud. Even now, older and supposedly different, you had imagined it in brief, humiliating flashes every time your eyes met his.

Yet, you had never imagined him shaking.

Your hands slid up his chest, fingers catching in his shirt as you pulled him down, earning another sound he tried to swallow. Noah held his forehead against yours as he briefly pulled his mouth away.

“Fuck’s sake.” He almost sounded hurt, a tone of disbelief ringing through the words.

Your fingers tightened in his shirt, meeting his gaze. Your eyes adjusted to the dark, barely able to make out the frustrated lines of his face.

“What?”

Noah shook his head once as his hands slid around your back, one resting low on the curve of your spine while the other held your shoulder blades.

“I thought it would feel different,” he whispered, pulling you toward him as he stepped out of the closet.

Your breath caught. “The kiss?”

“You.” He swallowed, his thumb brushing once at the base of your spine. “I thought that maybe if it ever happened, moving on would feel easier.”

You barely breathed. “And?”

His mouth hovered near yours, not touching.

“It doesn’t.”

The words sat between you, close enough to feel against your lips. All you could do for a long moment was stare at him and the shadows of his face in the dark room. He still held you close, and your fingers loosened before curling into his shirt again, lost in thought.

“No, it really doesn’t.” You agreed.

You reached for him first, fingers sliding into his hair. And when you kissed him again, it was slower, heavier, relishing the taste of his mouth that moved in an agonizing longing you had never once known before. Noah’s tongue pressed slowly along your bottom lip, the sensation making the room tilt beneath your feet.

His lips tried to learn what years had stolen from him, for possibly he could make up for every lost summer both of you had spent pretending not to want this.

Your back met a wall once more before you realized you had even moved, the unfinished drywall leaving a dust of white on the back of your shirt. Noah followed the motion but stopped himself before his weight could press too fully into yours, and even then, he was careful.

The fingers you threaded through his hair ran down the back of his neck, pulling him, and the small distance he had left between you disappeared. The line of him pressed against your thigh, and he let an unsteady breath slip between your mouth as the house creaked somewhere behind the door.

Noah’s mouth dragged from yours only far enough to breathe. “We should stop,” he said quietly, but his thumb brushed the skin beneath your shirt, tracing the waistband of your shorts.

“Do you want to?” You whispered, catching the shift of his jaw as he scoffed a laugh.

For a second, you thought he might lie. You almost wanted him to, if only because one of you should have been sensible enough to remember the dust in your lungs, the hollow house around you, and your friends probably waiting somewhere in the treeline for you to escape.

When his ocher eyes lifted to yours, the moonlight casting through the plastic-covered window told you everything you needed to know.

“No,” he said lowly, “Not even a little.”

“Okay,” you replied, his breath catching as your hands lowered to his shorts. Mirroring his fingers, you skimmed his waistband, dipping the tips of your fingers between him and the elastic.

He kissed you harder this time, his hand fully sliding beneath the edge of your shirt. His palm was warm against your waist as he slid it up your back, your stomach pulling tight as he roamed his hands over your skin fervently.

You arched into him without meaning to, and his mouth left yours with a moan, dragging along the corner of your jaw instead. The kiss he left there was open, aching, and hungry as you let your fingers slide a little farther beneath his waistband.

Noah’s hands tightened at your back as he breathed your name in warning, but you only smiled. For all the teasing and cocky grins he could always muster, nothing smug lingered on his face now.

“Let’s go home.” He murmured, dragging his teeth gently down the curve of your neck before pressing a string of kisses back up, stopping only once he reached your mouth. “I need you, but not here.”

You nodded, mouth against his once more before he pulled away, lips brushing your ear. “In my bed,” his words rushing ever lower in your stomach. “Where I can take my time with you.”

tags: (Join/leave my taglist here) (apologies if they are not updated!)

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[sorrowsofsilence]

evergreen pt. 2 // more tags <3 (I haven’t looked at my taglist form in a while so I apologize if any are incorrect!)

@moostress19 @buttercupbabyyy @tosoundlessdarkistare @lowergroundfloor @bridemassacre @shackoflove @ineedrelief @jeiswife @worldofashton @mrslumi @mekuiikore @mitchhbitch @IceBansheeSoul @theanarchymuse95 @branika182 @sleepycactus-offering @death-ofpeace-ofmind @Concretedecesions @lilspeckofdarkness @dsireland86 @nocturnalserpentenchanter @tellmehowdoesittaste @mushrumink @itsfarbettertolearn @nikki-plum @givemesomethingbeautiful @lifeirreverent @toertchen @tizisnewsflash @mapsychoticimagination @sunmoon-star @takeme1st

[runningincircl3s]

VELVET

sugardaddy!noah x reader

part eight

masterlist ☆ wc: 11.5k ☆ chapter warnings: NSFW at the end, (noah's in nothing but a mask... however, the actual smut scene itself is 4k words and wouldn’t fit into this chapter so it is linked at the end!)

i’m so so happy with this chapter! it was so fun to write, and i’m just so proud of it!!

・┈・୨୧・┈・

You didn’t really know what to expect after agreeing to this kind of relationship, but things were still normal. If anything, life seemed more peaceful. There weren’t pages of rules suddenly handed over to you or expectations to suddenly be obedient to him. Instead, it was just little things. 

When work really overwhelmed you again on Wednesday, you didn’t spend the drive home pretending to be fine. You climbed into Noah’s car, shut the door and before he could even ask, you let out a long, tired sigh. 

“Today was awful.” You told him, and he simply reached over and took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He frowned, and simply just getting that off your chest already made you feel better. 

When you got back, Noah sent you upstairs to shower and change into something comfy before dinner, and when you came back down the stairs he called you into the kitchen. 

“...Come here.” He said, holding his arms open for you. 

You crossed the room and let him pull you against his chest. He held you for a long moment, his hand gently rubbing against your back. 

“Wanna tell me about it?”

So you did, you told him all about the espresso machine breaking, and how all the oat milk had gone off, and how you had to go into the bathroom and cry for fifteen minutes. 

He had a great solution to it. He told you that after dinner he would make you both a hot chocolate, you’d go up to bed and put on a movie or TV show and cuddle. If you wanted him to use his fingers or his mouth to switch your mind off before going to sleep then he would… but an hour into the movie, he looked down at you cuddled up to his chest, and you were already softly snoring. 

On Thursday, he came to visit you at work, which was a surprise. He didn’t tell you he was planning on coming in, but you smiled the second you saw him hold the door open for an elderly lady before stepping in. 

He was dressed casually today, wearing a pair of black joggers and a navy hoodie, with a black baseball cap on his head. The moment his eyes found yours, a little smile appeared on his lips. Not enough that anyone else would notice, it was just for you. 

“Well,” Tom smirked, leaning against the counter, “You didn’t tell me Mr Millionaire was coming in- ow!” 

You elbowed him, telling him to behave. He shook his head, but grinned to himself as he wandered away to wipe down one of the tables. 

You were still serving another customer, so while you made their cappuccino, you wondered how you were supposed to act? Do you treat Noah like he’s just another customer, or like he was Noah?...

Your Noah. 

You mentally winced at yourself, don’t start thinking like that. 

But then you handed the drink over, the customer paid, and Noah stepped up to the counter next, resting his forearm against it. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” You replied, trying to stop the shy little smile spreading across your face- though he noticed it anyway. 

“So…” He began softly, and your eyes widened a little as you waited for him to continue, “You gonna ask what I want?”

You chuckled, feeling your cheeks start to heat up. 

“I already know what you want.” You smiled. 

“Good girl.” He said casually as he reached for his wallet, making you feel a little dizzy. You reached for a cup, trying not to let it show how it affected you. 

“Anything else?”

“Hm…” He pretended to think, “Well, I hear the barista’s pretty cute.” 

Your heart fluttered for a second, but you tried to shake it off. 

“So what brings you here?” You asked as you began grinding coffee beans. 

“I was nearby.” He shrugged. 

“No you weren’t.” You smirked. 

“Fine…” he sighed, “The coffee's better here than the cafe by my place.” 

“Oh yeah? Is that all?"

“Mm, and I wanted to see you.” 

Your hands stopped just for a second, before continuing. 

“I’m heading to Davis’s after this, we’ve got to sort some stuff before tour, since it’s only a couple weeks away.” 

You nodded your head. 

“You not getting him a drink?”

Noah scoffed. 

“He still owes me for lunch a couple days ago. If he wants coffee he can get one himself.” 

You smiled to yourself, and began to work the espresso machine. Noah watched you, it really fascinated him, the way you knew exactly what to do, how you remembered regulars’ orders and gave all your customers that little smile, even on days where you felt like shit. 

“You’re good at this.” Noah said, while you were staring into the distance waiting for the espresso machine. 

“Hm?” You glanced over at him. 

“You’re good at your job.” 

You smiled. 

“Thank you.”

Then, the elderly lady he’d held the door open for shuffled over beside him. 

“Oh!” She smiled at you, “Is this your boyfriend, darling?”

Your eyes widened. 

“Uh…” 

Before you could answer, Noah spoke. 

“Not yet.” He smirked, “I’ve still got a lot to prove.” 

The woman laughed. 

“Well, I’d say you’re doing rather well, dear.” 

You felt your face burn again, while Noah stood there looking rather pleased with himself. 

“I’ll take that.” He smiled

The lady picked up an extra sugar for her coffee with a cheerful smile before wandering away, and you looked back up at Noah. 

“You enjoyed that.” 

“Maybe a little.” He smirked, then you slid his coffee across the counter. 

“Here.” 

He took it with a grateful smile. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

Your stomach flipped, and you almost forgot what you were typing into the machine. 

“Noah, I’m at work!” You hissed under your breath. 

“What’s the issue?” He asked, looking entirely innocent, “You’re my baby everywhere.” 

“I’m trying to be professional.” You said, trying not to smile as you looked up at him over the counter. “Your total’s 4.60.”

“I thought you were going to give me employee discount.” He smirked. 

“You don’t work here.” 

“I could.” 

“You’d last about ten minutes.” You scoffed, making him chuckle as he tapped his card against the reader. 

The machine beeped, and a big approved appeared on the screen. Then when the tip option appeared, you didn’t think anything of it. You assumed he wouldn’t tip above the minimum, now you’re living in his house rent free, now he’s flown you to Paris and bought you countless amounts of things. 

“You don’t have to tip me, Noah.” 

“I know.” He said simply, before tapping the ‘custom amount’ option. 

You didn’t look. You turned around with a huff, and before you knew it, the machine beeped again. 

Tip: $100

“Noah!” You hissed. 

“What?” He smirked, “You look pretty when you’re working.” He said as he picked his cup back up, “Have a good day, sweetheart. See you at six.” 

And before you could even come up with an argument for that, he turned around and left. 

…

By the time Friday evening rolled around, you already noticed a change in yourself. You felt lighter than you had in months, so clearly Noah’s plan had worked, and this was helping. 

Noah had been working in the studio, though he told you he'd stop at 9 so you could both cuddle in bed and put something on the TV.

“Baby?”

You looked up from where you’d stolen his corner of the sofa, not expecting to see him for another hour.

“Hm?” You hummed. 

“Tommorow morning,” he leaned against the doorway, reminding you just how fucking tall he was, “I need you to pack an overnight bag.” 

“What for?” You asked. 

“Well, you got through the week, didn’t you? I said I had a surprise…” He smirked, “We’re staying in a hotel for the night, and make sure you pack something you’d wear to a concert.” 

“A concert?” Your curiosity peaked. 

He just smiled, and slowly shook his head. 

“I’ve already said too much.” 

“Noah-” 

“We’re leaving just after lunch. And no, I’m not telling you where we’re going… just trust me. You’re gonna love it.” 

He seemed pleased with himself as he pushed himself off the doorway and headed into the kitchen, grabbing a drink before disappearing back into the studio. You heard the door click shut, and a cheeky smile spread across your face. 

You had an idea… 

After a few minutes, Noah was back at his desk, headphones around his neck as he tapped away on his keyboard. He barely had time to look up before you wandered into the room. 

“...Hi.” 

He smiled, looking up at you. 

“Hi.” 

Without saying a word, you walked over and carefully settled yourself in his lap, looking down at him with your most innocent smile. His hands found your waist, and he looked up at you, a little taken back by your sudden confidence. 

“Well,” he smiled, “This is nice.” 

You tried not to giggle, and instead combed your fingers through his soft hair. 

“I need something.” 

“I gathered.” He leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs a little more so you were more comfortable as his thumbs brushed over your hips, “What can I do for you?”

You rested your hands on his shoulders, tilting your head sweetly as you asked,

“Can I borrow your credit card?”

His eyes widened. 

“...My credit card?”

You nodded your head, and he just looked at you for a moment, almost like he couldn’t believe what you had just said. 

“You know, we’ve been doing this for so long…” a lazy grin spread across his face, “And I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words come out of your mouth once.” 

You chuckled, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger.

“Well, I was thinking about going shopping tomorrow morning, before we leave. Y’know, get a new outfit for the mystery concert…”

“Of course, baby. What time should we go?”

You shook your head. 

“Nuh-uh, you’re staying here.” You smirked, poking his chest. “I wanna surprise you with something.” 

He studied your face for a second. 

“Should I be worried?”

“No.” You bit back a smile. 

“Should my bank account be worried?”

“...Maybe a little.” You smirked, and he chuckled. 

“You’ve become suspiciously comfortable spending my money all of a sudden. You argued with me for twenty minutes in Paris when I wanted you to buy those diamond earrings.” 

You shrugged, trying to look casual. 

“You told me to stop feeling guilty” 

“I did.”

“So…” You smiled sweetly. “…I thought I’d be a good girl and listen.”

“…You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” He smirked, his hands rubbing your hips.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Liar.” He smiled, but still reached into his pocket for his wallet, before sliding the black card between your fingers. “There’s one condition.”

You looked up expectantly.

“I want you to spoil yourself. There’s no limit on that card, so I don’t want you buying cheaper versions of things or knock offs. I want my girl to have the best, and nothing less.”

“Yes sir.” You giggled.

He leaned forward to kiss your forehead.

“I trust you.”

You smiled to yourself as you tucked the card safely into your pocket. If only he knew exactly where you were planning to take it… 

… 

The next morning, Noah let you take his car to go shopping. He had a few things he had to do at home, so he didn’t mind staying behind. He kissed you goodbye at the door and told you to take your time and buy whatever you wanted.

But he had no idea where you were about to step into...

You’d never been to a physical sex shop before. You’d bought a vibrator online a couple of years ago, and it had been fine- discreet packaging, no awkward eye contact. But this time, you had to go into the store.

You wanted to surprise Noah with something new, something you could both enjoy. He’d mentioned wanting to try toys with you, and the thought had been living in your head ever since.

You felt more excited than nervous when you pulled into the parking lot, but then you walked through the door...

The shop was bigger and brighter than you expected. The hot pink walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of toys in every possible shape, color, and size. Your eyes widened as you took it all in.

To your left was a whole wall of dildos- realistic ones with veins and balls, vibrating ones, thrusting ones, even double-ended ones. Some were monstrously large, others curved in ways that made you blush just by looking at them. Next to them were displays of butt plugs in every size, some made of metal, some of silicone, some with pretty sparkly jeweled bases. 

Further down the aisle were vibrators- wands, bullets, rabbits, suction toys that promised to “make you squirt”, though you scoffed at the thought of it, thinking yeah right. There were even fucking machines on display in the back corner, intimidating metal contraptions with attachments that scared you a little, making you swallow hard as you looked away.

The lingerie section was just as overwhelming- tiny lace sets that barely covered anything, latex sets that covered everything, crotchless panties, babydolls, leather harnesses, and bodysuits with cutouts.

You felt your cheeks burning hotter with every step. A couple browsed the BDSM section nearby- nipple clamps, paddles, ropes, blindfolds, and something called a “spreader bar” that made your stomach flip. Everything felt so… explicit. So shameless. You weren’t even sure just what type of toys Noah would want… or where to even start. 

You stood frozen in the middle of the vibrator aisle, clutching the strap of your handbag over your shoulder. A woman walked past you holding a box with a massive purple dildo on it and a big bottle of lube like it was no big deal. You suddenly felt so out of place... so innocent.

God, I wish Noah was here, you thought, your cheeks burning. He would’ve known exactly what to pick. He would’ve stood behind you, whispering in your ear which toys he wanted to use on you, teasing you about how wet you were getting just by looking at them.

Instead, you were alone, flustered, and trying not to stare too long at a suction toy that promised “intense clitoral orgasms.”

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to pick up the safest option to start with- a simple wand vibrator. The same kind you’d seen before in porn, and much bigger than the bullet you owned a couple years ago. You could already imagine Noah holding it against your clit while he fucked you, and your thighs pressed together in the middle of the store.

You quickly grabbed it and headed toward the register before you could overthink it any more, your face burning the entire way.

… 

By the time you finally got home, pulling onto Noah’s driveway, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy over what was sitting in the black bag in the passenger seat. Before getting out of the car, you tucked the bag into your handbag so nothing looked suspicious… then you made your way inside. 

“Noah?”

“I’m upstairs, baby!”

You slipped off your shoes, carefully hung your jacket up with his, and headed upstairs. His bedroom door was already open, and as you stepped inside, you found him kneeling on the floor with a suitcase lying open on the bed. Clothes were folded into neat piles, there were a couple pairs of trousers, t-shirts, his toiletries bag…

“You’ve started packing without me.” You frowned.

He glanced over his shoulder, smiling.

“I got bored waiting.”

“I’ve only been twenty minutes!” You chuckled. 

“Mm, it was a very long twenty minutes.”

You laughed, walking over before leaning down to kiss the top of his head. He hummed happily at the affection before pulling one of his drawers open. Inside, were neatly folded up pairs of black, grey and white Calvin Kleins. He took a couple pairs… but then something caught your eye. 

Tucked towards the back of the drawer, was black fabric, but this didn’t look like another pair of underwear. You screwed your face up, tilting your head. 

“…What’s that?”

Noah paused.

“What?”

You pointed into the drawer.

“Behind your boxers.”

He followed your finger, then smiled to himself. 

“Oh… that.”

He reached in and pulled it out, and you watched it unfold into a black ski mask. 

“Noah..?” You chuckled, in disbelief, “Why do you have a mask in your underwear drawer?”

He laughed, smiling at it fondly. 

“It’s not for robbing banks.”

“Well, that would explain a lot.” 

He shook his head, still smiling.

“It’s one of my old stage masks.”

You stared at it.

“…Your what?”

“Mhm.” He turned it over in his hands. “I used to wear it on stage a couple years ago.”

“No…” You looked between the mask and him. “…You did?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

He laughed.

“I just thought it looked cool.”

You reached out.

“…Can I?”

He handed it over without hesitation, and the first thing you noticed was how the fabric was incredibly soft. You noticed it said BAD OMENS around the neck, and you tried to imagine him wearing it on stage… 

“I don’t think I can picture it.” You said, looking up at him. 

“Wait a sec.” He grabbed his phone from the bed. “I’ll show you.”

A few taps later, he was scrolling through his band's instagram account, and after a moment, he turned the screen towards you. 

“There.”

Your eyes widened.

“…Holy shit.”

It was him… standing under bright stage lights, dressed in all black, with the mask covering his face. You could tell it was him because of the tattoos, and the black tank top. But he didn’t look like your Noah...

You looked at the photo, then back at the man kneeling comfortably on the bedroom floor in a faded old t-shirt, carefully folding up his underwear to pack in his suitcase.

“I can’t believe that’s you.”

He smiled.

“I’ve changed a bit.”

“A bit?” You looked at the photo again. “This is just crazy.” 

Noah chuckled, then you handed the mask back over to him. 

“So…” You said, drawing out the word as a smirk spread across your face. Noah immediately recognised that look, and he rasied an eyebrow.

“What?”

You tried your hardest to keep a straight face.

“Have you ever worn it in the bedroom?”

He looked a bit taken back. 

“Excuse me?”

“The mask...”

He laughed, shaking his head, almost looking a little shy.

“…No.”

“No?” You looked back down at it in his hands with disappointment. “…Wow. What a waste.”

“A waste?” He laughed, “Baby, I spent years wearing that thing on stage.”

“And apparently nowhere else.” 

He shook his head, still chuckling. Then you glanced up through your lashes.

“But would you…?”

He paused.

“…Would I what?”

“Wear it in the bedroom?”

His eyebrows lifted, and for a moment he was quiet. Then he leaned back on one hand, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Maybe…” He nodded, “It just depends.” 

“On what?”

His smile turned teasing.

“…Who’s asking.”

Heat rushed straight to your cheeks.

“You know who’s asking.”

“No I don’t.” He teased. 

“There’s only one other person in this room.”

“Hm.” He pretended to think about it. “You want me to wear this in bed?”

A smirk spread across your face.

“...Maybe.” 

He held your gaze for a moment before his expression softened.

“Huh. Good to know.” He nodded casually, before turning back to packing. Then he added, “You’ve become awfully confident this week.”

“Have I?”

“Mhm.” He smiled, “The woman who used to refuse to spend my money went shopping with my credit card this morning, and now-”

“Do you wanna know what I bought?” You grinned, interrupting him, and his face softened again. 

“I thought it was a surprise?”

You shrugged. 

“I’m awful at surprises,” you said as you sat on the edge of his bed, reaching for your bag. “Here.” 

You handed the black plastic bag over to him, and he curiously took a peek inside. 

“Oh, baby… what do we have here?” 

Noah reached into the bag and pulled out the box. When he saw the picture on the box, and realised there was a wand vibrator inside, his eyebrows rose slightly and a warm, delighted smile spread across his face.

“Wow…” he said softly, turning the box over in his hands. “You really went out and bought this?”

You nodded, cheeks warming under his gaze.

“I remembered you said that toys were something you’d like to try with me,” you said quietly. “So… I thought we could take this to the hotel tonight.”

Noah’s expression softened even more. He set the box aside and gently pulled you down into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

“You went into a sex shop by yourself,” he smirked, sounding both impressed and incredibly fond. “My sweet girl did that for me?”

He kissed your forehead, and you couldn't help but giggle.

“We’re gonna have so much fun with this tonight, princess,” he said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I can already picture how pretty you’re going to look when I use it on you.”

You smiled, feeling heat rush between your thighs- then suddenly, you pushed yourself up off of him. 

“I guess I better start packing then.” You smiled, and Noah nodded. 

“I don’t know how much you plan on taking,” Noah began, “But there’s still plenty of room in my bag.” He nodded towards the suitcase on the bed. 

“Thanks,” you said, looking down at him, then your smile became a little sheepish. “…Would you help me?”

Noah looked up at you.

“Help you pack?”

You nodded.

“If… that’s okay.”

“Of course it is.” He said soflty.

You rubbed your hands together nervously.

“Thanks. I know it probably sounds silly...”

“It doesn’t.” He shook his head, suddenly sensing the shift in your mood and body language, “Talk to me, baby. I can tell something’s bothering you.”

You let out a small sigh before sitting back down beside him on the edge of the bed.

“I always get stressed packing, it doesn’t matter if I’m going somewhere for one night or one month, I always get so overwhelmed.” You admitted. “I worry I’ve forgotten something important… then I pack extras just in case… then I convince myself I’ve packed too much…” You laughed quietly at yourself. “Then I end up unpacking everything and starting again.”

“How many times?” He asked. 

“…Usually three or four.”

He smiled sympathetically.

“I wondered why it took you so long to pack for Paris.”

“You noticed?”

“I notice everything.”

Your cheeks warmed.

“I just…” You looked down at your hands, feeling slightly nervous. “I thought…”

He waited patiently.

“I thought maybe…” You smiled shyly. “Since we’re doing this now…”

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Could this be something you take care of for me?”

The smile that spread across his face was ever so gentle.

“Sweetheart.” He reached over, taking one of your hands in both of his. “Of course. I’d love to.”

You felt yourself relax before he’d even done anything.

“You would?”

“Mhm.” He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you for telling me how it makes you feel.”

Your shoulders seemed to drop all by themselves, feeling the anxiety slowly melting away. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” He said, his voice calm but still certain. Making you feel like he knows what he’s doing, everything's under control. “I’m going to ask you a few questions.”

You nodded.

“What are we doing tonight?”

“We’re going to a concert.”

“And tomorrow?”

“I think we’re coming home?”

“Yes,” he nodded with a little smile, “So that means one night away.”

You nodded again.

“That means we don’t need to prepare for every possible situation, do we, baby?”

You laughed, watching him rise to his feet. 

“…I do tend to do that.” You confessed. 

“I guessed.” He smirked, leading you into the guest room, where you kept everything you salvaged from your apartment. He reached for your suitcase from the closet- one that he bought you in Paris because the one you brought was overfilled- and he lied it down open on the bed. 

“I’ll tell you what to pack. If you think of anything else, then tell me. If you panic or can’t decide whether you need something or not, I’ll make the choice for you.” He smiled, “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, chuckling quietly, “You make it sound so simple.” 

“That’s because it is.” He smiled. “And once I’ve zipped this suitcase up,” he looked into your eyes. “…We’re done. No checking or unpacking. If you suddenly think of something when we’re in the car, then we can stop off somewhere and buy it.”

“…Really?”

He nodded, reaching for your hand.

“I promise you, sweetheart.” His thumb brushed gently across your knuckles. “One forgotten toothbrush has never ruined a weekend.”

He then dropped your hand and gently tapped the suitcase.

“So it seems my first official job as your dom,” he looked at you with a playful smile, “Is packing this bag. And your first job as my submissive is to trust me when I say we’ve got everything we need.”

For a moment, you simply looked at him. Then you nodded your head.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” You smiled.

He leaned over and kissed your forehead.

“Good girl.”

Those words made your heart feel warm, and Noah smiled to himself before setting his hands on his hips. 

“Right then, let’s start packing.” He pointed towards the wardrobe, “Concert outfit first.”

You turned towards the wardrobe, searching through your clothes.

“I don’t really know what to wear.” 

“That’s okay.” He walked over beside you, “What are your options?”

You reached for a couple of hangers.

“I was thinking maybe this?” You held up a black dress. “But then I thought maybe jeans with a nice top would be better… remember that top you bought me in Paris? The leather one that laces up in the front?”

You were already reaching for the top.

“But maybe it’s too much…”

“Sweetheart.”

You stopped talking, and he gave you a gentle smile. 

“Remember your job.”

“…Trust you.” You nodded. 

“Good.” He looked at the clothes in your hands before taking the black top from you. “I think you should wear this.”

“Yeah?” 

He nodded his head. 

“This and those jeans you like, the comfy ones. I think that’d be pretty.” 

You smiled to yourself. 

“Yeah? I was thinking about that, but I don’t know if it’d be appropriate, I don’t know what kinda concert-”

“Trust me, baby. It’ll be perfect.” 

You nodded your head, and he neatly started to pack them. 

“There… now, pyjamas.” 

You nodded and reached for a comfy oversized tshirt, and a pair of shorts.

“And underwear!” You noted, before opening the drawers while Noah politely turned his attention to the suitcase instead.

“How many?” You called over your shoulder.

“How many nights are we staying?”

“One.”

“So?”

“…Two pairs?” You asked.

He smiled.

“Perfect.”

You grabbed two before pausing.

“…Or maybe three.”

He looked over.

“Why three?”

“Just in case.”

“What emergency requires a third pair of underwear?”

“You never know what might happen, Noah!” You chuckled, reaching for a third pair, then a couple pairs of socks, then handed it all over to him to pack. 

He folded everything with such care, then looked up at you again.

“Toiletries next. Toothbrush, hairbrush, perfume, deodorant… what else? Skincare?”

You collected all those things, putting them into a wash bag before handing them over. 

“Hair tools? Make-up?” He asked.

You looked at your overflowing make-up bag.

“…Do I need all of this?”

He peered inside.

“I’m not qualified to answer that.”

“I’ll bring it all, just in case.” You chuckled.

When the toiletries were packed, he zipped the little wash bag shut before placing it neatly beside your clothes, then he looked around the room.

“Anything else?”

You instinctively began scanning every shelf, every drawer, every possible thing you might have forgotten. Then your brain started doing exactly what it always did.

What about…? Did I…? Should I…?

Noah noticed your eyes darting around, and his brows furrowed. 

“Hey.” Your attention returned to him. “What are you doing?”

“…Just checking.”

“For?”

“I don’t know.” You let out a tiny laugh, before quietly confessing, “My brain’s doing the thing...”

“I can tell.” He stepped closer until he was standing in front of you. “Look at me.”

You did.

“You’ve got your outfit, your toiletries. You’ve got your phone.”

“Mhm.”

“I’ve got chargers in my bag.”

“…Okay.”

Your shoulders relaxed.

“We’re staying one night. And if we somehow discover we’ve forgotten something… then we’ll just buy it.” Then, without another word, he reached down, and zipped the suitcase closed. “There.”

You stared at it.

It was done. Normally, this was the moment you’d immediately unzip it again. Check every pocket, count your socks. Wonder if you needed another hoodie. Instead, you looked at Noah.

“That’s it?” You asked. 

He smiled.

“Yep.”

You took a slow breath in.

“…Okay.” A smile of pure relief spread across your face. “I’ve never packed for a trip without feeling stressed before.”

Noah walked over, cupped your face in both hands and kissed your forehead.

“That’s because this time, you didn’t have to do it by yourself.”

…

The drive passed far quicker than either of you expected it to, though neither of you complained. You stopped asking where he was taking you two hours in, and just decided to relax. He let you play your music as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel while the other reached over to rest on your thigh.

Every now and then you’d pass a sign, and you’d immediately start trying to guess the destination in your mind again… trying to figure out what concert was being held nearby… 

But before you knew it, a couple of hours later, Noah pulled into the underground car park of a beautiful hotel in the middle of the city. He parked up, then got out to open the passenger door. 

You climbed out and offered to take your suitcase from him, but he shook his head, insisting on taking the bags up to the entrance. 

And wow… it wasn’t as fancy as Paris, but it was still so elegant.

“This is…” You couldn’t put it into words. 

“Nice?”

“A little bit nicer than nice.” You chuckled. 

“I hoped you’d like it.” He grinned, "I've stayed here a couple times before."

Inside, the lobby was beautiful. There were marble floors that reflected the warm light from big chandeliers overhead, fresh flowers decorated almost every table, and the entire place smelled like fresh linen and a touch of something floral... probably from the flowers.

The receptionist greeted you both warmly as you checked in, before handing Noah the room key. Then, as you stepped into the elevator, you found yourself leaning lightly against his shoulder.

“Tired?”

“A little. I think it’s from the drive.”

“Being a passenger princess is hard work,” Noah teased, “We’ve got plenty of time before we leave tonight if you want a nap.”

“I might.” You said, then he kissed the top of your head.

"C'mon then."

The room was even more beautiful than the lobby. The big windows overlooked the city, and a king sized bed sat in the centre of the room, with the most comfy looking white bedding.

There was a little seating area by the window with a small table, on which sat some fresh flowers. Beside the seats was the door to the balcony. 

“…This is  amazing!”

Noah set both suitcases down at the bottom of the bed. 

“It’s alright.”

“‘Alright?’” Your eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

He shrugged innocently.

“I’ve stayed in worse.” He smirked. 

You laughed.

“You’re so spoiled, Noah.”

“Hey, I tour for a living.” He chuckled, before straightening up, “Still wanna have a nap, baby?”

You thought for a moment, before shaking your head. 

“I think I’m okay. I know it’s still pretty early… but I’m so excited, I just want to get ready now.” 

He smiled.

“That’s okay,” he nodded towards the bathroom. “Want to shower first?”

You looked towards the enormous bathroom before looking back at him, a little smirk on your lips.

“…Together?”

His lips curved into a soft smile.

“If you’d like.”

“Oh, I’d like.” You grinned. 

…

You spent most of the shower simply talking, laughing, washing each other with gentle hands. 

There wasn’t anything sexual about it, not even when he ran his soapy hands over your breasts and down to your ass. You melted into his touch, and he did the same when your fingers worked the shampoo into his hair. 

Noah stepped out first, wrapping a towel around his hips before handing one to you. After you stepped out, you stayed in the bathroom for a few more minutes. Noah took another soft towel and gently started to dry your hair, then you took it from him, and made him bend down as you ruffled the towel against his hair, making it fall all over the place.

Afterwards, Noah disappeared back into the bedroom, tugging a clean black tshirt over his head while you reached into the closet for the fluffy white robe. You decided it wouldn’t make sense to get dressed yet, since there were still a few hours before you had to leave. 

So instead, you dug through your suitcase for your makeup bag and hair dryer, since you always preferred your own. Then, all of a sudden you heard the sound of a phone buzzing. You instinctively looked over to check if it was yours, but it wasn’t. It was Noah’s. 

“Huh.” He said as he looked at the screen. 

“What?”

“I just need to take this.”

“Everything okay?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, answering it before opening the balcony door. “Hey...”

The door slid shut behind him, muting most of the conversation. You tried not to listen in, you tried to concentrate on your makeup… but you could still make out some of what was being said.

“…Yeah…”

It’s not like you were trying to listen. 

“…Tell Oli I said thanks for sorting me out tonight.”

Your hand froze halfway to your eyelashes.

Oli?

There couldn’t be that many Olis Noah knew. So you tried to ignore it. 

“…It’s not even really for me…”

Your curiosity won, and you looked towards the balcony door.

“No… it’s for someone special.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your tummy fluttering at his words. Someone special? You? A hundred different possibilities raced through your head, Oli, concert, someone special…

You slowly lowered the mascara wand onto the dressing table. There was only one Oli you could think of- and only one concert you had mentioned to Noah… and it suddenly started to make sense. 

He was taking you to see them now, because he’d be away on tour when Bring Me were playing in your city. Your heart sank a little at the thought of Noah having to leave in a couple weeks- but you couldn’t linger on it too long, as he continued talking outside.

“…Yeah, she still has no idea.”

A grin spread across your face before you could stop it. He was definitely talking about you.

“…I owe you one, man.” He paused, then let out a laugh, “Yeah… okay, I’ll see you in a bit.”

The call ended, and your eyes widened. See you… in a bit?

Your brain immediately started putting pieces together, and your stomach fluttered.

There was absolutely no way…

You hurriedly picked your mascara back up, trying to look as though you’d never stopped getting ready, and a second later, the balcony door slid open. Noah stepped back inside, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Everything alright?” he asked casually.

You looked at him through the mirror.

“Mhm.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” You popped the p. 

He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

“…You’re smiling.”

“I’m always smiling!”

He folded his arms, a suspicious smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“…How much of that did you hear?”

You widened your eyes innocently.

“Nothing!”

“Uh huh.” He nodded his head slowly, like he didn’t believe you. 

“I was doing my makeup.”

“Were you now?”

“I was.”

He took a slow step closer.

“So you definitely didn’t hear any of that?”

“Well, I might’ve heard… a name.”

“And?”

“And…” You smiled sweetly. “…I still have no idea where we’re going.”

That wasn’t entirely true anymore, you weren’t completely certain, but you had a feeling that Noah’s surprise was about to rock your world. (*get it? bmth reference? heh)

…

“You ready?” Noah glanced over as you slid your rings onto your fingers.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time.

Your black jeans fit you perfectly, your chunky boots peeking out just enough at the bottom. The leather lace up top you’d picked with Noah earlier sat perfectly, showing just enough skin to make you feel confident and sexy without feeling too exposed. Necklaces were layered around your neck, rings decorated almost every finger, and your hair fell exactly how you’d hoped after spending nearly an hour styling it.

You actually felt cool, and very pretty. 

Noah looked stupidly hot as always. In all black, as always. He wore his black jeans with the cut outs, that made you bite your lip wherever he turned around and wonder what’s he doing with all that ass? He wore his black boots too, with his fitted black tshirt beneath a lightweight jacket.

Then, as you stepped towards the door, he reached for his favourite sunglasses, putting them on despite the evening sun beginning to set, followed by a black baseball cap that hid most of his hair.

Once he was ready, he reached over, taking your hand.

“C’mon. The cabs waiting for us.” 

It was only a short drive to the venue from the hotel. You were going to argue, and tell Noah you could’ve just walked… but you weren’t sure just how easily recognisable he’d be to the fans if you were going to see a band he has toured with in the past. 

So instead, you sat tucked against his side in the back seat while city passed by the window. And when you looked outside, you noticed the streets were getting busier. There were groups of people dressed in black band shirts, all walking in the same direction.

Your heart began beating a little faster, and when you looked back at Noah, you could tell he was trying very hard not to smile.

The taxi finally stopped outside a huge arena, and you climbed out first, completely astounded by just how many people were lined up outside. Instead of joining the enormous queue, though, Noah gently placed a hand on the small of your back, and kept his head down as he led you away. 

“This way.”

You frowned.

“But the entrance is over there.” You pointed. 

“Not ours.”

“What do you mean?”

He simply smiled.

“C’mon. You'll see.”

He led you around the side of the building, where there were no crowds, and it seemed strangely quiet. A large metal security gate stood ahead, and before you even reached it, one of the security guards smiled.

“Hey, Noah! Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”

“Hey, man.” Noah nodded, taking his sunglasses off.

The guard unclipped the barrier to let you through.

“Good to see you again.”

“You too.”

He knew the security? Shit, were you still underestimating this guy?

You followed Noah through the gate, trying not to look completely bewildered, but then another member of staff approached almost immediately.

“Oh, yhere you are.” She smiled. “Thought you’d be here a little earlier.”

“We got a little held up.” Noah explained.

“No worries.” The staff member looked towards you and smiled. “You must be Noah’s plus one.”

Your eyebrows lifted.

“…Uh…”

Before you could answer, Noah smiled and nodded his head.

“She is.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

She handed Noah two laminated passes attached to black lanyards. He slipped one over his own head before turning towards you.

“Head down for me.”

You obeyed, and he carefully lifted your hair out of the way before placing the pass around your neck. His fingers brushed lightly against the back of your neck as he adjusted it, making you shiver.

“There.”

You looked down, and were met with the bold letters reading, ALL ACCESS and your eyes widened.

“Noah?”

He just smiled.

“What?”

“I…” You looked back at the pass. “…All access?”

“Yep.”

Your heart started racing again, but he took your hand, and started to lead you as if he knew this place like the back of his hand. 

“This way.”

The two of you walked through another set of doors, then another. The corridors felt endless, people hurried past carrying guitars, lighting equipment and flight cases. Someone walked by wearing a headset, speaking into a radio, and another person nodded at Noah as they passed.

“Hey, man.”

“Hey.”

It felt busy, but rather organised. You even found yourself moving a little closer to Noah as everything rushed around you. 

“Nervous?” He asked softly, his hand coming around to rest on your hip. 

“A little.”

He smiled reassuringly.

“I’ve got you.”

You nodded.

“I know.”

He gave your hip a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m just wondering… I was gonna go find some of the guys, just to say hi, see how things are going. You can come with me if you want, I don’t mind at all, or if you’d rather we just go find our seats-“

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Not knowing how to say it without sounding ungrateful. 

“Can I be honest?”

He smiled immediately.

“I’d rather you always were.”

You laughed quietly, looking down at the floor.

“I'm just starting to feel a little anxious.”

His expression softened.

“Too many people?”

“A little. It’s just a lot… and,” You rubbed your thumb against your lanyard. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

“You won’t.”

“What if I do?”

He tilted his head.

“What are you imagining?”

You let out an embarrassed laugh.

“I don’t know… saying something stupid. Tripping over. Passing out.”

He chuckled.

“I don’t think you’re going to pass out.”

“You don’t know that! I’ve never met people like this before!”

He raised an eyebrow.

“People like what?” He asked. 

“You know…” You waved your hands, trying to find the right word. “Rockstars?”

His eyebrows lifted.

“…Baby.” He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“What?”

“You live with one.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re different.” You smirked.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

You thought about it for a second.

“I forget you’re famous.” You said, and he smiled to himself. “I just see… Noah.”

For a moment, he looked strangely touched by that. Then you sighed.

“And besides, I know Motionless are opening tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve always had a tiny crush on Ricky.” You confessed with another gentle sigh. 

Noah slowly turned his head towards you, staying completely silent for a moment before asking,

“Ricky?”

You nodded innocently.

“The guitar player?” He asked.

“That’s the one.”

He stared at you for another second before letting out the most dramatic sigh imaginable.

“I bring you backstage, I organise this big surprise…” He placed a hand over his heart. “…And you’re thinking about another man?!”

“I’m not thinking about another man! I said I used to have a little crush.”

“Oh.” He nodded gravely. “That’s much better.”

“It was years ago! I haven’t even listened to them since… pfft, 2018?”

He looked unconvinced.

“I don’t know…”

You nudged his arm.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m devastated, baby." He frowned dramatically, pulling you in closer to him until you were chest to chest. 

The teasing eased the heaviness that had settled on your chest, and you felt yourself breathe a little easier- which Noah clearly noticed. 

“Better?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Good.” He nodded down the corridor. “C’mon, let’s go find our seats.”

You took a couple of steps before stopping.

“Actually...”

He turned back.

“What?”

“If you want to go and say hi to everyone… I don’t want you feeling like you can’t just because of me.”

“I wouldn’t.” He insisted

“I know.” You smiled. “But you’ve got friends here. People you probably haven’t seen in months or years.”

He looked at you carefully.

“Then what would you do?” He asked.

“I could just…” You shrugged. “…Wait in the seats?”

His eyebrows drew together.

“By yourself?”

“I don’t mind.”

“You sure?”

You nodded.

“I don’t know anyone here, not personally.” You laughed quietly. “And I'd feel a bit awkward just… standing beside you while everyone catches up. I’d feel like I’m in the way.”

He was quiet for a moment, then he stepped closer, frowning. 

“You’d never be in the way, baby. They’d all be happy to meet you.”

“I know.” You shook your head. 

“But?” He raised an eyebrow, and you let out a long sigh.

“I think I’d be more comfortable if you just… got to be Noah for a little bit without me. Go be a guy with the rest of the guys!”

He looked at you with a softness that almost made your heart ache.

“I appreciate you thinking about that.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “But I’m not leaving you on your own”

His thumb brushed gently across your cheek, and you shook your head. 

”You’re not.” You said, “You don’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what are you doing?”

He smiled, then nodded as if to say okay…

“I’m taking my girl to her seat,” His hand found yours again. “Then, if you’re happy and settled with a drink and some snacks…” A playful smile tugged at his lips. “Then I’ll disappear for ten minutes, say hello to everyone, and come straight back.”

“…Ten minutes?” You smirked. 

“I promise.”

“You won’t get caught talking?”

“I probably will, but I’ll tell them someone’s waiting for me.”

Your stomach fluttered.

“Someone special?” You teased, remembering what you had heard over the phone. And he smiled without a hint of teasing this time.

“Exactly.” He kissed your forehead, “And if I see Ricky back there, I’m telling him-”

“No, Noah!” You laughed. “You’re not telling him anything!”

“What? He deserves to know that he missed his chance.” Noah grinned.

“Oh my god...” You shook your head. 

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself now. Then you let him lace his fingers through yours, and he led you further down another corridor then up some stairs, then down another corridor. You had no idea where you were being taken to, but eventually, you ran into another member of staff, who smiled the moment he recognised Noah.

“Evening, Noah.”

“Hey.”

The staff member scanned both of your passes before pushing the door open.

“Enjoy the show, man.”

“Thanks.”

You stepped through the door first, and immediately gasped.

“Wow…”

The room was beautiful. It wasn’t enormous, but there was plenty of space. In the middle of the room was a leather couch, and behind it was a table already laid out with drinks and bowls of snacks. Then you stepped over to the balcony, where there were seats that overlooked the stage. 

“Is this just for us?” You asked, and Noah nodded his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he took in how amazed you were at something that felt so simple to him. 

You held onto the railing as you looked over the balcony.

“No way...”

Thousands of people were slowly filling the arena below, and you couldn’t believe how close the stage was. 

“Noah,” You turned to him, your eyes wide. “This is incredible.”

“I thought you’d like it.” He said simply. 

“I thought we were gonna be somewhere at the back.”

He laughed.

“Not a chance… it's better here. Better view, better seats, more privacy.” 

You didn't know quite how to express your gratitude, besides a simple,

“Thank you.”

He shrugged almost bashfully.

“I wanted tonight to be special.”

“It already is…” You smiled softly... then you suddenly reached for your bag. “Oh! I should get a picture for Tom!” You grinned as you pulled your phone out of your bag. 

“Want me to get one of you?” He asked, and for a moment you thought about it… then you shook your head. 

“No.” You grinned, “You need to be in it too.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Me?”

You nodded your head. 

“Besides the dirty ones on your phone, I don't think we have any pictures together.”

He chuckled.

“Fair point.”

He wandered over, and crouched down a little as he stood beside you.

“Ready?”

“Yep.”

You lifted your phone again, stretching your arm out.

“Smile.”

“I am smiling.”

“You don’t look like it. Smile harder.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically before softening into a genuine smile.

“There… perfect!” 

You grinned at the screen, taking a couple pictures, and just as you went to press the button a third time, you felt soft lips press against your cheek.

You put your phone back downa nd instantly tapped on the photo, and felt your cheeks start to burn. It looked quite romantic, his lips on your skin, your smile, his eyes closed, the lights from the arena behind you. 

“Send those to me.” He said as he straightened up and gently tapped your hip. “We look cute.” 

You stared at it for another second.

“Yeah…” You smiled to yourself. “We do.”

You quickly sent the picture to Noah, deciding you won’t tell Tom until after it’s over. So you slipped your phone into your bag, and when you looked back up, Noah was already watching you with that soft look on his face. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmm…” You narrowed your eyes, unconvinced. 

But he just smiled. 

“I was just wondering if you’re still okay with me disappearing for a few minutes.”

You looked around your little private box again- at the sofa, the drinks and snacks, the stage… and you smiled. 

“Yeah, of course.”

“You sure?”

You nodded your head, and he gently pulled you closer. 

“If at any point you want me back, just text me.”

“I will.” You smiled. 

“And if Ricky somehow finds his way up here, tell him to back off.”

You burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, Noah.”

“I need to cover all possibilities, baby.” He smirked, then leaned down and kissed your forehead, his arms wrapping around you. “I won’t be long.”

“I know.” 

He gave you one last squeeze before stepping back. 

“I’ll make sure I’m back before the lights go down.”

“That’s okay.”

He gave you one last smile, then he turned and disappeared through the door. Then after it clicked shut behind him, you were left alone in a private box in a huge arena…

You slowly turned back towards the stage, just trying to take it all in. The crowd was growing by the minute, the seats were starting to fill out, and the sound of chattering filled the silence Noah left behind. 

You smiled to yourself.

This was your life now.

A month ago, you were worrying your landlord was going to kick you out because you were behind on rent, you’d been counting tips at the end of every shift, wondering if you’d have enough left over after bills to treat yourself to takeout. And now, you were standing in a private suite at a sold out arena, with an all access pass, all because… you weren’t really sure. Was it because he liked the way you made his coffee, was it because he felt sorry for you… or was it deeper than that?

You shook your head, trying to shake the thought away, knowing Noah wouldn’t want you to think that. So instead, you put your bag down on the couch and picked up a water bottle, and waited for Noah to come back. 

…

The first opener was amazing, you had never heard of them before, but you were blown away. God, you’d forgotten how much you loved the feeling of being at a show. 

You found yourself nodding along, not knowing any of the words, your drink forgotten on the little table beside you as Noah silently watched you more than he watched the performance.

“You like them?”

“Yeah, they’re so good!”

“I thought you would.”

Between the songs he’d tell you little things about the bands, “They’re from Australia”, “They’ve been touring nonstop”, “I wrote with their guitarist a couple of years ago”, “I’m in a group chat with the vocalist…” 

You’d look at him in awe every single time.

“You just know everyone.”

He laughed.

“It’s a small world.”

Noah teased you relentlessly while Motionless were on the stage, every time Ricky did something he’d make a comment, “Hey, did you just see what your boyfriend did?”, “Isn’t your boyfriend such a great singer?”, “Fuck, I wish I was as talented as your boyfriend.” 

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow, or groaning dramatically. But he loved seeing you react, he couldn’t help but laugh. 

Then eventually, the giant backdrop changed, and it’s like the stage grew bigger. Crew members walked out with more equipment and started putting things into places. You leaned over the balcony railing, watching it all happen. 

Then, after a little while, the lights all went out again. The suspense made you giddy as you squeezed Noah’s hand. 

“Oh my god!!” You yelped, then music began playing, and after another moment… “There they are!” 

Noah looked over at you just in time to see the biggest grin spread across your face.

“Happy?”

“So happy!” You beamed. 

The entire show was just unbelievable, you didn’t have a better word for it. The lights and the visuals, the crowd singing along to every word. Even from your private balcony, you could feel the energy radiating off the audience below.

You were even dancing and singing along, which made Noah smirk. 

“I didn’t know you knew all the words.”

“I know enough.” You laughed. 

Then, a few songs later you found yourself leaning on the railing, watching the mosh pit.

“You know, I actually saw them once before.” You said as you sat back in your seat.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm, a few years ago.” You said, then hesitated before adding, “With my ex.” 

Noah’s expression stayed calm.

“How was it?”

You snorted.

“Well, it was going really well…” He already knew from your tone that there was a story coming. “…Until he decided jumping into the mosh pit was a brilliant idea. He got into a fight, and came back with a bloody nose because apparently somebody shoved him.”

Noah stared at you for a moment before shaking his head.

“…Fucking idiot.”

You burst out laughing.

“I know! That’s what I said.” 

Noah just shook his head. 

“You go to a concert where everyone’s pushing each other… then gets angry because someone pushed him?”

“That’s just the kind of person he was.” You sighed. “I remember spending most of the night worrying about him.”

Noah looked at you for a second, then he gently brushed his fingers against yours.

“I’m glad tonight’s different.”

“So am I.” You smiled. 

Another song came to an end, and you caught Noah glancing towards the side of the stage, then checking the time on his phone. 

“…Hey.”

“Hm?” You looked up. 

“I’ve just got to disappear for a minute.”

You frowned.

“Now?”

“I’ll be right back.” He smiled reassuringly. “I promise.”

You looked at him curiously.

“…Is everything okay?” You asked. 

He just nodded your head and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Yeah. Enjoy this one.”

Then without another word, he left again. You frowned when the door shut behind him. That was weird… 

Your mind immediately betrayed you. Was it because I mentioned my ex? Did I upset him? You shook your head. Don’t be ridiculous.

Still, you couldn’t help but glance towards the door every few moments. He’s taking his time, you thought. Another song finished and he still hadn’t returned. 

It’s probably nothing. He might’ve just got stopped by a fan, if anyone recognised him. But your attention was brought back to the stage again when Oli stepped up to the microphone. 

“Alright…” The crowd quietened. “We’ve got a little surprise tonight.”

The crowd wooo’d so loud before he even finished his sentence, and you grinned, wondering what it could be. 

Then your face dropped as a figure dressed entirely in black stepped out.

Your heart stopped, and the crowd screamed so loudly, but you couldn’t hear a thing. 

Because Noah just walked out on to the stage with a microphone in his hand. 

You stumbled as you rose to your feet to get a better view. Oli walked over with a huge grin, throwing an arm around Noah’s shoulders before saying something into the microphone that was lost beneath twenty thousand people screaming.

He hadn’t left because he was upset. He hadn’t left because of your ex. He’d left because he was about to walk onto one of the biggest stages in the country, and didn’t even think to let you know?!

You couldn’t stop smiling. He looked so fucking good out there, and he completely blew you away with his singing and screaming… he was really good. 

You didn’t feel like you were in your own body while he was performing, it all felt like a dream, until the door to the suite opened a couple of minutes later.

Noah stepped inside, slightly out of breath, a little flushed from the performance, his hair messier than before. He barely had time to smile.

“Hey, baby-”

You rushed across the room in three quick steps, and your hands caught either side of his face. Then you kissed him, hard. Full of adrenaline and excitement- you could still hear the crowd as he laughed softly into the kiss, one arm wrapping around your waist to steady you.

When you finally pulled back, you were almost breathless. 

“That.” You pointed a finger at him. “…Was the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t act humble, Noah.” You narrowed your eyes on him, “You walked out in front of thousands of people… and you looked like…” You searched for the words before simply giving up. “…You looked like a rock star!”

He couldn’t help but smirk.

“I am one.”

“Oh, shut up.” You shook your head, making him laugh. “Here I was thinking you left because I upset you-”

His expression softened immediately, and interrupted you. 

“What?”

You paused for a moment, chewing on your lip. 

“When you left, I thought maybe it was because I mentioned my ex… I thought I annoyed you.”

His face fell.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His hands found yours. “Not even for a second.”

“I know that now.”

…

There were only a few songs left, and somehow each one felt better than the last. And now, every time Oli wandered near the side of the stage, you’d grin to yourself.

“You were just down there…” You whispered to Noah halfway through another song.

“I know.”

“It’s still so crazy to me.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Noah smiled, patting your thigh. But you didn’t think you ever would. 

When the final song ended, confetti cannons exploded over the crowd, and for one last time, the crowd went crazy. You found yourself clapping until your hands hurt, and as the lights slowly came back up, you turned to Noah.

“This might’ve actually been one of the best nights of my life.”

His smile softened as he stood up, offering his hand to you. 

“I’m really glad.”

“Thank you.” You said after a moment, and he squeezed your fingers.

“I wanted to do something special… and after the week you’ve had, I hope it was worth it.”

“It really was.”

The two of you lingered there for another minute, watching as thousands of people slowly began filing towards the exits.

Your ears were ringing, and your heart was racing, yet you felt like you could run a marathon with the adrenaline that was coursing through you. 

“So,” Noah smiled as he picked up his jacket. “You ready to head back to the hotel?”

You nodded your head. 

“But I’m way too awake to go to bed anytime soon.”

He laughed.

“Yeah, I don’t think either of us are sleeping just yet.”

Still buzzing with adrenaline, you walked hand in hand, following him back through the quiet corridors, the echoes of the concert still ringing in your ears.

You left through the back, the same way you came in, and there was already a driver waiting to take you back to the hotel. And even in the back seat of the car, you were still buzzing, and you couldn’t stop talking. 

“I still can’t believe you did that.”

Noah smiled to himself from beside you in the back of the cab.

“I know.”

“No, seriously.” You laughed. “I thought you were annoyed, then suddenly you’re on the stage!?”

He chuckled.

“Was I good though?”

You laughed, resting your head against the seat.

“Yes! And oh my god, you were so hot.”

He looked sideways at you over the top of his sunglasses that he slipped back on before leaving. 

“Still thinking about that?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

His smile widened.

“I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me like that before.”

“Can you blame me? I didn’t know you sounded like… that!”

He frowned playfully.

“…That?”

“You were screaming and growling! And doing those… those monster noises!”

He burst out laughing.

“‘Monster noises?’”

“You know what I mean!”

“Yeah, I do those.” He he chuckled. 

“I had no idea!”

He couldn’t stop smiling now.

“Well, you’ve never asked.”

“I didn’t know there was anything to ask! I always thought you’d like to keep me and your work separate…”

His face softened. 

“Why’d you think that?”

You shrugged, not really wanting to talk about that right now, after having such fun tonight. So you decided to change the subject. 

“I was wondering, when you go on tour…”

“Yes?”

“Can I…” You hesitated. “…Can I come and see you at a show?”

“You just did.” He smirked. 

“I know, but…” You smiled shyly. “I wanna see one of your own shows. I know I’ll be working most of the time, but if there’s ever one near enough-”

He reached across the seat and took your hand.

“Sweetheart.”

“Hm?”

“It’s already sorted.”

“…What?” You asked. 

“You’re on the guest list, there’s a couple dates where you’re not working, so I sorted it out.”

“You already planned it?”

“I haven’t booked plane tickets or anything yet because I didn’t know if you’d want to come out and see me… but yeah.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest.

“So if you want to come” He squeezed your hand. “There’ll be tickets waiting for you.”

You stared at him.

“You really thought about all of that?”

“Of course I did.” He said like it was obvious, like there had never been another option. “I want you there.”

You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt.

“I’d love that.” You said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

…

By the time you reached the hotel, neither of you had really come down from the adrenaline. You were still giggling in the elevator, replaying moments from the show, teasing Noah about how you’ve never heard so many women squeal the way they did when he appeared on the stage. He simply rolled his eyes, and teased you back just as much, making comments about Ricky again. 

Them the elevator doors opened, and you wandered down the corridor towards your room. You waited just outside the door as Noah patted his pockets down for the key card, before holding it open for you. 

And the moment the door shut behind you, you kicked your boots off with a groan.

“Why do my feet hurt so much if we were sitting for most of it?”

“Was it worth it, though?” Noah smirked. 

“So worth it.”

Then you glanced down at yourself. Your leather top was sticking to your skin, the necklaces were starting to feel claustrophobic and you rubbed at your eye, completely forgetting about your makeup. 

“I feel disgusting.” You groaned. 

Noah chuckled as he tossed his cap onto the dresser.

“You’re still beautiful to me, baby.” 

You side eyed him as if to say yeah right. 

“I think I need a shower.”

“Then take a shower.”

You looked up.

“You’d be okay with that?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” He walked over, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Go, take your time, sweetheart.”

“You don’t mind waiting?”

“I’ve got nowhere else to be.” He smiled, kissing your forehead.

You smiled back at him.

“…Okay. And when I get out,” a little cheeky smirk spread across your face, “Do you think we can test out that new toy?”

Noah smirked, sitting back on the bed. 

“Of course we can.” He spread his legs out slightly. 

You nodded and reached for your little wash bag before disappearing into the bathroom, already looking forward to washing away the sweat and makeup from the evening.

As the door clicked shut behind you, Noah let out a quiet breath and smiled to himself. Tonight had gone exactly the way he’d hoped… but you didn’t know he had one last surprise in store. 

You showered in peace, not rushing yourself as you washed off the sweat and makeup, until you finally felt clean. 

You stepped out and reached for a towel, wrapping it around yourself before turning to the sink to do your skincare. You could picture Noah on the bed already, laying back in just a pair of grey sweats or black shorts, scrolling on his phone or switching through the channels on the TV. 

You were smiling to yourself, thinking about how nice the evening had been, then you pushed open the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom. 

Then you immediately stopped in your tracks. 

Holy shit.

In front of you, on the bed, Noah was lying there completely naked. Well, completely naked besides the black ski mask that was pulled over his face, leaving only his eyes and mouth visible. 

His tattoos were on full display across his body, standing out against the white bedding. One arm was tucked casually behind his head, looking so relaxed and confident… while his other hand held the wand vibrator you had bought this morning. He was slowly dragging the rounded head of the toy along the length of his thick, hard cock that rested against his lower stomach. 

Fuck, he looked so powerful, and almost a little intimidating…

The moment he noticed you in the doorway, his eyes met yours through the mask, and a slow, predatory smirk tugged at his mouth. You felt your breath catch, you couldn’t even think straight as heat flooded between your thighs. 

At first, Noah didn't move. He just kept slowly dragging the vibrating head along his cock, and down to his balls, watching you with dark, hungry eyes. 

“Hi, princess,” he said, his voice low and a little teasing. “Took you long enough.”

He gave his cock another slow stroke with the toy, letting you watch it drag over every inch of him. The way he was was touching himself so casually while wearing nothing but the mask made your stomach flutter, and you swallowed hard, trying so hard to stop your head from spinning. 

Noah tilted his head a little, his eyes dragging over your body.

“Drop the towel, sweet girl,” he said softly, but there was no mistaking the command in his tone. “I want to see you.”

You stood there for a second, your heart racing, your brain turning to mush- and Noah’s smirk just grew.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now, baby. You bought this toy for me… so I could use it on you. Come here and get on the bed.”

He spread his legs a little wider, making the view even more obscene- his hard cock, the buzzing vibrator, the mask, the tattoos, all of it on full display as he waited for you.

“I’ve been thinking about this since you handed it to me earlier, I can’t believe you went out and got this without me even having to ask…” He said, before a low groan slipped his lips. “Now get on this bed and let me show you how I reward my good girl.”

continue...

・┈・୨୧・┈・

taglist: @lowergroundfloor @mrslumi @mapsychoticimagination @meddleabout2 @astronoids @pipidoll @bartxnhood @dominuslunae @stardustsirenmelody @haileebluee @curse-bearing-hips @vintagemisery---blog @noahsstrawberry @shuiguans @fadingintothegrey @mushrumink @hayleylatour @death-ofpeace-ofmind @r3prise @novainpolaroids @eclipseeetop @leosunshine @miss570 @ami-gami @sleepycactus-omens @innerconnoisseurhologram @theservantbones @my-perfect-weapon @bassvivz @sullyselena @iamnotyourstoperceive @givemesomethingbeautiful @itsfarbettertolearn @enbytarin @overmydeadbodysblog @yabagoobieberg @museonfilm @wormm-mom @bridemassacre @lifeirreverent @montgomery-929496 @dead-astrid @gayfiretruck @death-core-fairy @icybansheesoul @acatatonicpeace @flowery-mess @siina-art

[bartxnhood]

BAD DECISIONS | N. SEBASTIAN

.ᐟ chapter seven: a call for help.

series m.list

paring: boxer!noah x fem!ballerina!reader

summary: you and noah continue to grow fond of each other. yet, his past has a funny way of sneaking up on you.

6:34pm

seattle, washington.

pain has a funny way of becoming background noise.

like the hum of a refrigerator or the faint buzz of city traffic. always there, always just tolerable enough to forget until it isn't.

you’re out the door pretty quickly, bag slung over your shoulder, hair tied in a low bun. your spine tugs the way it always does. like someone's hooked their fingers around it and pulling with every ounce of their being.

you wince and shift your weight, trying not to limp.

"off to the studio again?" the voice is familiar. warm. a little weathered.

you turn to see mrs. jean peeking out of her apartment, wearing her floral housecoat and a pair of fuzzy slippers. her gray hair is twisted into a clip, and she's holding a cup of something that smells like hazelnut.

you smile, tucking a strand of her behind your ear. "just for a few hours."

she squints at me over the rim of her mug. "you don't look like you should be teaching kids how to leap around. you should be resting"

you laugh softly. "you try telling them no."

mrs. jean steps into the hall, lowering her voice like she's telling a secret. "you know, my amelia used to do ballet. lasted two weeks. she hates the way the tights fit."

you grin. "that’s fair."

she pauses, eyes softening. "you're walking like my eddie did after his surgery. you in pain, sweetheart?"

you swallow. you hate how easy it is for older people to see through your facade. maybe because they've lived too long to waste time pretending.

"some days are worse than others," you say.

she gives you a knowing look and presses her warm hand to your forearm. "you're determined, i know. but don't overwork yourself."

"i'll try."

"good girl," she says, and disappears back into her apartment without another word.

rain never seems to stop in seattle. it was always under a constant misty fog on the days that it didn’t rain, but you always expected gloomy days.

you were starting to appreciate it.

sure, it’s rained in new york but this was a different rain.

but maybe you just looked into things too deeply since moving.

you’re practically soaked as you enter the dance studio. the younger girls are already in the hallway putting their regular shoes on and their coats.

“miss l/n!!” they all cheer, huddling around you.

you’re beaming, smiling ear to ear and laughing softly. a warmth spreads in your chest as they all look to you with wide, glittering eyes. “hello ladies” you wave to them.

“did you all behave well for missus anderson?” you ask them. “yes maam!” they all answer in unison.

parents are entering the building, filing on one by one to pick up their daughters.

“good. now go on! listen to your parents!”

you hadn’t been to the studio in a while. too may extra shifts at the diner and trying to juggle college and other stuff.

the older girls begin flooding in, all warm smiles and laughter. they carry themselves with a kind of grace you’re envious of.

so full of life, health, and happiness.

something you’ve lost touch of.

“evening ladies!” your voice rings in the background. you’re in front of the mirror fastening your ballet slippers.

“evening!” they call back, falling into position.

you stand, ignoring that sharp pain shooting down your leg. you clasp your hands in front of your frame, “are you all ready for this evenings class?” you ask, beginning to strut around the girls.

“yes maam!” they say in unison.

“good! let’s refresh our memory with pilé in first, second, and fifth!”

for an hour, uou don't think about anything else. just the rhythm. the counts. the corrections.

but by the end of class, the sharp ache behind your ribs has returned. you sit on the bench near the cubbies while the girls gather their things, massaging the base of your spine, counting your breaths.

parents begin to flood the lobby, finding their children and signing them out. "bye y/n!" a few of the girls bid farewell, their smiles brighter than anything you’ve seen before.

"bye! i'll see you next time"

you stand and walk to the door, peering out. “don’t forget to practice at home!” you say to them. then, you retreat back inside to gather your things.

as you sling your duffle bag over your shoulder, you look out the large window in the reception area.

noah.

he's outside, leaning against the brick wall across the street, a cigarette between his fingers as he blows smoke from his mouth. his hair is messy and damp — like he just finished a run or something. but, his attire suggests something else. a grey blue washed jump suit, his name on the left side just above a pocket with a few pens. a mechanic jump suit.

you blink.

did he come here on purpose? how did he know you worked here? in a moment of seconds, your mind is flooded with too many thoughts.

when he notices you watching, he lifts his hand in a silent greeting, like he's trying not to scare you off. cautious like, hesitating.

you finish closing up the studio and throw on your jacket. then, you finna step outside.

he straightens, stepping away from the wall. “sorry” he starts.

"didn't mean to spook you."

"you didn't." you stop a few feet in front of him and cross your arms across your chest.

a pause.

he rubs the back of his neck. "i just got off work. saw you from the window. thought id say hi"

you don’t say anything at first, only offering a smile and a curtsy nod. “i thought you were a security guard” you question.

noah feels his neck burn with embarrassment, he was caught in lie but he tries to play it off. “i do, only part time. usually at night” he clears his throat.

you notice the oil and dirt underneath his finger nails as he finishes off a cigarette. you decide not to press further, you also work two jobs so it isn’t uncommon. “i get it” you nod, shifting weight to try to relieve the pain.

“didn’t take your for the dancing type” he adds.

you can’t help to chuckle, looking down at your feet. “guess i’m just full of surprises.” you shift again, the pain was just getting worse by the second.

noah notices, and out of habit he offers the cigarette to you. “need a puff?”

you shake your head, “no, thanks. i’m not the type” you hold out your hand refusing.

noah nods, taking another drag. “you heading home?” a trail of smoke.

“yeah, finally.” you roll your shoulders back.

“let me walk you” noah offers, dropping the cigarette to the ground and stomping it with his boot.

“you don’t have to.”

he shakes his head, “i want to.”

you fall into step together as you head back toward the building. noah doesnt pray, he doesn’t bombard me with questions. he just walks quietly beside you like you’ve done it a hundred times.

"you always this quiet?" you ask after a block.

he glances at you, hands stuffed in the pockets on his mechanic suit. “yeah. always scared of saying the wrong things.”

"do you usually?"

"mhm. usually."

you smile despite yourself. "sometimes it’s better to say the wrong things."

he huffs a breath of laughter, like he wasn't expecting that. "alright then...." he pauses, occasionally kicking rocks as he walks. “i think you’re very interesting.”

you laugh, “interesting?”

he nods, biting back a smile. “yup. i can’t figure you out.”

“maybe i don’t want you to” your raise your brows, to glance at him.

now, you’re closing in on the apartment building. “oh cmon” he playfully bumps shoulders with you.

you grin, looking down at your feet. “you’re not much of an open book either” you say, accusing him in a teasing tone.

you watch him tense, jaw ticking before cracking a smile. “mhm guess i am” he shrugs. “means you’ll just have to try harder” he presses.

you grin, looking away again as you enter the apartment complex. he’s holding the door open for you. you didn’t expect it.

you both begin up the stairs. he’s about a half step in front of you. you’re trying to catch up, but the pain is only growing and getting worse. your lower back burns, the searing sensation is blooming both lower and higher.

you reach for the wall, feeling your legs wobble.

“whoa.. hey. you good?” his hands are already hovering over your body. ready to catch you.

you nod, squeezing your eyes shut. maybe if you just ignore the pain it’ll go away. it has to..right? “fine” you say, inching to take another step. but you feel your leg almost give out.

you feel his hand grab your bicep, preventing you from falling backwards. “i got you” noah mutters and helps you upstairs to your floor.

9:35am

seattle washington.

the next morning feels heavier than usual.

you move slower, dragging yourself from the warmth of your sheets, wincing as your spine protests every stretch. the dream you had the night before lingers.

a stage, the bright glare of lights, applause that never quite reached you. you wake with your cheeks damp, the ghost of music still playing in your head.

you lean against the counter as the morning sun floods your apartment. for once, it wasn’t a foggy morning. it was nice out.

coffee helps. sort of.

so does moving through the familiar motions: hair pulled into a bun, textbooks shoved into your tote, notebook tucked under your arm. the days all blur together now between school, shifts at the diner, and the studio. but lately, noah has threaded his way through those days too. like a shadow you never expected, never invited. but don't quite mind having there.

you lock your apartment door, and the hallway is quiet except for the faint sound of a television from mrs jean's place. she’s watching her morning shows again. for a moment, you let yourself imagine knocking on her door, sitting down at her little kitchen table, letting someone who reminds you of family fuss over you.

but you dont. you don't want to need anyone. you dont want that feeling of disappointment again.

classes drag like they always do when you attend in person seminars. your back aches against the stiff plastic chairs, and by the time you’re finished with lectures, the sky outside has already begun to gray. seattle is good at that. swallowing daylight early, leaving you wondering if the sun ever really rose at all.

by the time you’re walking home, you feel brittle. the cold bites at your cheeks, and my tote digs into your shoulder. you try not to think about last night.

noah had helped you back to your apartment. he practically carried you the rest of the way to the second floor. he let you lean all of your weight against him, he didn’t complain once or act like it was a problem.

he just wanted to help.

your apartment was dark, your free hand frantically searched for the light switch.

noah already closed the door behind him with the kick of his boot. “where do you want to go?” he asks.

“sofa is fine” you grit through clenched teeth.

noah is careful with his hands. he’s hyper aware of where and how he touches you. he doesn’t want you to hurt you further, but he also doesn’t want you thinking he’s a pervert or anything.

as soon as your back hits the soft, worn in, cushions of your sofa you feel some of that pressure dissipating. finally, you can breathe.

“thank you, noah.” you say, forcing a smile. your hand stays in his forearm as he crouched down in front of you.

“anytime” he says, looking up at you now.

this was the first time you saw him so close. you noticed the freckles dusting his cheeks, the specks in his eyes surrounding his irises. and the scars some old, some new, that littered his face.

he was actually quite beautiful.

he breaks the silence, “can i get you anything?”

you shake your head, “no. i’m fine. i just need to sit for a while.”

he’s reaching into the pocket of his jump suit, pulling out his phone. “do you have your phone?” he asks.

you stare at him for a moment, before hesitating. you reach into your duffle bag and pull out your phone and unlock it.

noah takes your phone and starts typing in numbers. then, he calls your phone from his and then saves his number in your phone.

“call me if you need anything.” he hands your phone back.

you stare at him like he just smashed your phone.

he doesn’t falter. “i mean it. anything.” he repeats.

you nod, your mouth opens to say something. but nothing comes. you just stare at him.

you blink, “right. yeah. no problem” you manage.

10:45am.

you wake up the next morning, later than usual. but you don’t move for a while. relishing in the heat of your heating pad resting against your lower back.

you’ve already called out most of this week. and you know it’s your own fault for not taking better care of yourself.

you had been slacking on your own physical therapy while picking up extra shifts at the diner, and not warming up properly before teaching a dance class.

maybe you were beginning to give up your dreams after all.

inside your apartment, diesel barks faintly through the wall. low, excited. noah must be home. you hesitate, almost tempted to check on him, but stop yourself. you tell yourself not to get attached, not allow yourself to grow too close to him.

judes warnings still ring in your ears.

but you can’t help yourself.

noah had been so gentle towards you, he looked out for you without you even realizing.

you didn’t know what was happening.

later, you heat up leftover soup and force yourself to eat while flipping through your notebook. half the words blur together.

you don’t get much studying done lately. your mind in too many places to just focus on one thing.

you hadn’t heard from jude in a while, she took the liberty of covering all of your shifts while training the new hire-on. you loved her for that. you knew she didn’t have to, but that’s what friends are for.

you were reaching for you phone, hoping she had updated you at all.

that’s when you seen it: three missed calls from ‘mom’.

your chest tightens. you haven't called her back in weeks. each voicemail is the same. concerned, clipped, a little sharp at the edges. "call me back, y/n." like you’re still sixteen and just broke curfew.

you stare at the screen until your soup cools.

then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you hit "call back."

she answers on the second ring. "y/n." relief floods her voice, quickly smoothed over by restraint. "finally."

"hi, mom."

there's a pause. "have you been ignoring my calls?" not a question.

"no, ma."

"i don't know how many times i have to remind you that ignoring me doesn't make me stop worrying."

guilt prickles hot against your skin. "i wasn't ignoring you. i just... needed space."

she sighs. "space from what, honey? from the people who care about you? from your family?"

you press your hand to your forehead. "no. from everything else."

her voice softens. "you sound tired."

"i am."

she hesitates. "i wish you would just come home. you don't need to be out there by yourself. especially with your back. especially after everything—"

"i can't, mom." your voice cracks sharper than you mean it to. "i can't just... go back and pretend like none of this happened."

the silence on her end says more than any words could.

finally, she exhales. "alright. but promise me you're being careful. please."

you close your eyes. "i promise. i’ve got people here who are looking out for me."

you hang up, but the heaviness lingers, thick and suffocating.

you don’t let yourself cry, you have cried in a while and you didn’t plan to start now.

8:35pm.

you had given up on all your assignments a long time ago. textbooks sprawled out at your feet. notebooks full of scribbled out ink and half erased sentences. you had reached a max level of burnt out.

the tv was playing low on a rerun you had turned on for some background noise but you eventually found yourself growing tired the more you read. eventually, you accepted defeat.

currently, you’re curled up on the sofa with a blanket haphazardly over your thighs, heating pad from your bedroom wrapped around your back.

you’re half asleep, just now finding a comfortable position.

the pain never leaves, the ache never subsides. it gets better in some positions, but you always know it’s there.

at the sound of knocking, your eyes peel open with a quiet grown following.

there’s a feeling more hesitant knocks and you’re finally on your feet walking to the door.

swinging it open, you find noah on the other side of the door with his signature black attire. his hands are already in his pocket, he’s rocking on his heels like he’s anxious. at his feet, diesel sits, sitting all pretty.

“noah, hey” you said softly, rubbing the corner of your eyes.

you know you must look insane, your hair wasn’t done, you were in your favorite lounge clothes that were just a bit too big on you.

he replied through tight lips, “hey” he pauses, then, “y’okay?”

you nod, chasing a yawn. “yeah, jus tired.”

noah nods, guilt creeping up his neck as he prepares himself for to ask for another favor. “i’m sorry to bother. i just” he begins, shoulders tense. “i was wondering if you could watch diesel again for a few nights? i’ll pay”

a tired but genuine smile forms on your face, “of course, noah. don’t worry about it.”

you see his shoulders drop with relief. “great, thank you. so. much.” you watch as the corner of his lips slightly tic upwards into a smile.

“of course.” you nod. “would you mind if he stays over here with me? i’ve got so much schoolwork to catch up on”

noah nods, “yeah whatever you need to do. i won’t be around much, i’ve picked up some extra shifts” he lies again. maybe you knew too but chose your own sanity.

“perfect” you smile, looking down to the dog. “hi bud” your voice goes higher when talking to him, his tail immediately starts wagging and takes the few steps to be closer.

“key is still under the mat, you know where everything is” he bends down to scratch diesel behind the ears. “bye buddy, be good for y/n.”

he stands, smoothing out his black jeans. “i’ll see ya later” he nods towards you then hes turning on his heels disappearing down the hall.

you make yourself comfortable again, diesel finds home on the sofa at your feet, curled against your body.

it was nice, you enjoyed the company. sharing space, even if it was dog.

you already went to noah’s apartment to get his dog food, bed, and toys. you made a corner for diesel in your bedroom, one room that had the least amount of furniture. but, he chose to sleep next to you.

the hum of the tv provided a nice background noise that lulled you to sleep once again, and you were almost out. peacefully.

knock knock. bang bang.

the knock startles you.

your head shoots off the pillow, your look towards the hallway. diesel does the same. he’s on high alert, muffled barks already leaving his throat.

another knock. louder.

diesel is off the couch, he’s halfway across your apartment, barking louder now. grumbling in his chest behind every charged bark. a threat to anyone on the other side of the door.

“easy” you stand, padding across the apartment barefoot. your stomach twists as you reach the door, pressing your eye to the peephole.

It isn't noah.

a man is pacing outside, one hand raking through messy black hair that falls just over his forehead. He's tall, wiry but tense, tattoos cover his arms and neck similar to noah. he looks like he hasn't slept in days. his jaw flexes as he turns, dark eyes flicking up and down the hall like he's expecting someone to ambush him.

he knocks again. "c'mon, noah. open up."

you pull back, feeling your heart racing.

and then suddenly, it's his knuckles rapping against the wood.

"hey." his voice is rough, carrying down the hallway. "open up man"

you dont answer his request, but your hand is on the doorknob. knuckles turning white.

"look, i know you’re here," the man continues, impatience threading through his tone. "just need a word man." he shifts his weight, running his hand through his hair again. back and forth. back and forth.

you’re shaking, diesel is at your feet still growling through the door. “not here.” you announce through the door. you scramble to find your phone.

the pounding on the door resumes.

your hands shake as your open your contact app, frantically searching for noahs number.

the mine rings twice, and on the third he finally answers. “y/n?”

your heart is beating in your ears, diesel barking loudly. “noah, thank god.”

noah grips his steering wheel. “y/n are you okay?”

you hesitate, biting down on your lip. “someone has been banging on my door asking for you.”

noah can hear the muffled noises through your end. “what?” he mutters.

he’s already looking for a place to turn around.

“noah, i don’t know what he wants but i don’t think it’s good.” you press a feee hand on your door, afraid he will bust it down.

“okay, listen to me.” noah begins, turning around on the highway. “go to your room, take diesel, and lock your bedroom door.” he says. he already knows who it is. even through the muffled voices on the call. his past always found him.

“i’ll be there in fifteen.” he assured.

“right..okay..” you say, calling for diesel to follow.

“it’s okay, y/n. i’ll be right there, just hold on.”

taglist: @sallyba3 @lacy1986 @maximumplaidjudgezonk @sister-sebastian @sundamariis @anything-morethan-human @keerysfreckles @babylonbrooke @concretedecisions @branika182 @r3prise @meddleabout2 @itsfarbettertolearn @thalhyia @lowergroundfloor @leosunshine

[bartxnhood]

bad decisions | M.LIST

☾⋆｡ paring: boxer!noah sebastian x ballerina!fem!reader

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

summary: an ex ballerina finds herself wrapped in the opposite side of the life she imagined for herself. she had her life paved out since middle school, she had everything in favor for her and was on her way to new york. but when she had a career ending injury she has to rethink her career path and goes back to college to navigate her life in the city.

intrigued by the neighbor, she finds herself in a whirlwind of trouble.

noah sebastian, the neighbor in apartment 15b. a troubled man who was trying to fix his wrongdoings. growing up in the wrong crowd leads him to sixteen months in jail. he's on his way to clean up his act and get right with his life, but when old friends and habits return, he's back where he started.

boxing started as a way of keeping fit, but then it turned into more than just that. it became addictive, he was good at it and it was clear. he never lost a match.

but what happens when he finds out there's more than just boxing? what if his past haunts him? what if he discovers that maybe, just maybe that the girl in apartment 14B could save him?

*CONTENT WARNING: swearing, violence, crimes, abuse, blood, gore, etc. the themes in this book are pure fiction and made up. this book does not represent the members of bad omens, palaye royale, or black veil brides in anyway shape or form.

*BEFORE YOU READ: i am not a medical professional, i do not know all the terms for boxing or dancing. i am sure there will be some inaccuracies so please disregard them.

prologue • character introductions • one: the diner. • two: a total gentleman. • three: making it homey • four: the recital • five: petsitting • six : the argument. seven: a call for help

eight: coming soon

nine: coming soon

ten: coming soon.

more coming soon…..

[bartxnhood]

hi guys! it’s me again!!

i know i’ve promised a lot of works between writing bad decisions BUT!!! i deleted chapter 8, currently rewriting and shall post soon.

i promise i see all the requests in my inbox and i AM working on them!!! i’ve been trying to write between work and my life lol. soon!!! it will all be out and i will start on a regular schedule again!!

i love you all so much!!

[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 - 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

Pairing: noah x reader (pirates au)

Series summary: Stuck in a life you don’t want, your only way out is a deal with a pirate, and that’s how your journey on a ship of outlaws toward a new life begins.

Series mastelist

You woke before Noah.

At first you didn't move, the cabin was dim, and for a few seconds you simply enjoyed the warmth beneath the blankets and the distant sound of the sea outside.

Then, you turned your head slightly, seeing the man lying in your bed was still asleep.

The sight of him like that still felt strange in the best possible way. During the day Noah was rarely still. He was always doing something, fixing something, giving orders, arguing with somebody, worrying about something he pretended not to worry about.

Sleep took all of that away.

His dark hair was completely disordered, falling across his forehead in every direction imaginable. It had grown a lot over the last few months, and now it almost touched his shoulders.

The blankets had slipped low during the night, leaving his shoulders and part of his tattooed chest uncovered, and one arm rested lazily across the mattress between you.

You slowly sat up against the headboard, pulling the sheets slightly higher around yourself.

For several minutes, you simply looked at him.

You found yourself studying details of his face once again: the shape of his nose, the way his eyelashes cast shadows against his cheeks, the faint freakles on his skin, the tiny lines near his eyes that were more visible whenever he laughed but still there.

It was almost unfair how beautiful he was. You wondered if he had any idea.

Your fingers absentmindedly found the shell resting against your chest, turning it gently between your fingers while you continued looking at him.

You were so distracted that his voice nearly made you jump.

“I know you're staring.”

You blinked immediately.

His eyes remained closed.

“You were asleep”, you said.

One eye opened, “You've been looking at me for at least five minutes.”

A little laugh escaped you, “Maybe.”

The second eye finally opened as well, and Noah looked up at you with the slightly confused expression of someone who had only just remembered where they were. His voice was still rough with sleep, quiet.

“That's honestly a little scary.”

You tilted your head.

“I was appreciating the view.”

He let out a tired breath and slowly pushed himself upright, rubbing a hand through his already ruined hair and somehow making it significantly worse.

You couldn't help laughing.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You reached forward before he could object and placed both hands gently against his face.

Noah fell quiet immediately.

His skin was still warm from sleep, and you could feel the slight roughness of his jaw beneath your palms. For a moment you simply looked at him.

“What?” he asked again, although this time his voice had become softer.

You smiled.

“You're very pretty.”

His eyebrows immediately lifted.

“Pretty?”

“Very.”

“I don't think that's the word pirates are supposed to hear.”

“Too bad.”

He looked genuinely offended.

“Handsome. Dangerous. Mysterious. These are acceptable.”

You considered it seriously.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. You're pretty.”

He shook his head slightly.

“I've truly lost all authority.”

“On me? You never had any.”

That made him laugh quietly.

The sound was still soft from sleep, and something about it made you love it even more. He looked younger like this, sitting beside you with messy hair and tired eyes, no captain, no responsibilities, no crew to take care of, simply Noah.

You moved one hand upward, trying to flatten some of the strands of hair falling over his forehead, looking at him for a moment longer after that.

He leaned forward then, resting his forehead briefly against your shoulder. A few seconds later his lips brushed gently against your skin, first your shoulder, then your neck, the kisses soft and absent-minded, as though he simply wanted to be close to you.

You felt his hand find yours beneath the blankets.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Outside, somewhere above the deck, you could hear footsteps and distant voices, someone was already working, someone else was probably arguing over breakfast. Life aboard the ship had started again hours ago, but neither of you seemed particularly interested in joining it yet.

Noah still sat close beside you, his cheek resting against your shoulder, while his fingers remained intertwined with yours beneath the sheet. Every now and then his lips brushed your skin absentmindedly, as though being close to you had become something natural, something he did without thinking.

And as you looked down at him, at his messy hair and his sleepy expression, you suddenly felt something settle quietly inside you.

You were so happy you had stayed.

Not just because of him, although he was certainly part of it, but because you had finally allowed yourself to choose.

You thought back to that night on the beach, to the lights of Saint Marlowe waiting for you only a few steps away. You had truly believed that walking into that city was what you were supposed to do. It had been the sensible decision, the respectable one, the life everyone would have expected you to want.

And yet the moment you had turned around, the moment you had run back toward Noah, something had felt right in a way very few things in your life ever had.

The crew certainly seemed to think so.

When the two of you had returned to the ship together that night, hand in hand and both looking far too happy to hide it, the reactions had ranged from relief to complete lack of surprise.

Davis had looked at both of you for approximately three seconds before announcing, “Finally.”

Jesse had apparently lost money.

Jolly had won money.

And somehow several members of the crew had confessed that they had been betting for months on whether you would eventually kiss each other, without knowing you had already done it.

Nicholas had only shaken his head and said, “This took much longer than I expected anyway.”

You had been horrified.

Noah had looked deeply offended.

The memory still made you smile.

Apparently the two of you had not been subtle at all.

This was your place.

Not because you had nowhere else to go, not because you were trapped, not because of duty, but because this was where you wanted to be.

With Noah.

With the crew.

With the open ocean around you.

You thought about mornings like this one, waking up beside him.

You thought about the mornings when he woke first and disappeared for a while, only to return a short time later and lean over you with a little smile.

“Wake up.”

“No.”

“There are dolphins.”

Your eyes would open immediately.

“There are?”

“Yes.”

“And you waited?”

“No. I knew you'd kill me if you missed them.”

And of course you always followed him onto the deck, still half asleep, while he stood beside you watching the water because he knew exactly how much you loved seeing them.

You thought about the afternoons spent practicing with swords alongside the others until your arms hurt, laughing whenever Noah offered completely useless advice from the sidelines.

You thought about evenings sitting together on deck while the sun disappeared beneath the horizon.

About arriving somewhere new every few weeks.

Seeing new cities, new islands, new markets, new people.

You had loved traveling long before you had met him.

You had loved maps and the ocean and distant places before you had ever stepped onto the Specter. Perhaps that had always been part of you, you simply had not realized that this life could belong to you too.

Noah finally lifted his head slightly, studying your expression.

“What are you thinking about?”

You looked at him.

At his tired eyes.

His cute hair.

The way the morning light touched his skin when he stoop outside.

And you smiled.

“Nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes immediately, “That's usually a lie.”

You laughed softly, “Just that I'm happy.”

Something in his expression softened, he reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Me too.”

Outside, someone shouted Noah's name from somewhere above.

Neither of you moved.

A second later another voice yelled that the captain was being lazy.

Noah closed his eyes.

“I suddenly understand why many people become hermits and not pirates.”

You laughed.

“They'll survive five more minutes.”

“That's what I keep telling them.”

He leaned in again, his lips brushing your shoulder once more in a quiet, lingering touch, before he lifted his gaze to you and kissed you properly on the lips.

It was slow and warm, like you both knew you had all the time. When he pulled back, he moved, guiding you down with him until your back met the bed and the blankets gathered around you in soft folds.

He followed immediately, careful not to put his full weight on you, one arm braced beside your head while the other stayed around your waist, keeping you close.

You let out a small breath of laughter against his shoulder, half surprised, half entirely not, and he gave you that faint, tired smile again, the one that always looked like it belonged to him more than the sarcastic grins ones ever did.

You just stayed there for a moment, feeling his breath against your skin.

Eventually, your hands moved without thinking, sliding up to his shoulders, then to his arms, and then further along his back as he settled more comfortably above you.

Your fingers found his tattoos first, tracing them slowly, following the dark ink as it curved over his skin.

Noah didn’t stop you. He didn’t tense or pull away. If anything, he seemed to relax more, and you loved that.

“You have too many of these,” you murmured after a moment, your fingers pausing briefly over a line of ink near his ribs.

He let out a small, almost sleepy sound. “Not enough. I have some spaces left.”

You shook your head faintly, continuing your slow tracing, moving instead to a faint scar along his side that was partly hidden beneath another tattoo, your fingertips lighter there without you even consciously deciding to be gentle.

“How did you get this?” you asked quietly.

His eyes flicked down for a second before returning to your face. “I remember this one. It's from a fight in a port, around two years ago.”

Then he shifted your hand slightly, guiding it a few centimeters away, to another mark higher up, thinner, older.

“But this one… I don’t,” he admitted after a moment. “I have many, it's hard to remember how I got all of them.”

You didn’t press. You just nodded, your thumb brushing lightly over it once before moving on.

There were others he told you about without hesitation, brief explanations spoken against your shoulder, while some he genuinely seemed to have forgotten how he got.

Your fingers continued wandering slowly across his skin, following the lines of ink and the faint marks hidden beneath them. Most of the scars were small, almost invisible unless you knew where to look, softened by time and partially concealed by tattoos.

Then your fingertips paused.

There was another scar on his chest, slightly higher than the others, close enough to his heart that your hand instinctively became gentler as you traced it. It wasn't particularly large, just a pale line that cut through part of one of his tattoos.

“You remember this one?”

He nodded.

“Yeah.”

For a moment he was quiet, his fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair while he looked somewhere past you, toward the ceiling.

“We found a slave ship. It was a few years ago,”

You stayed quiet.

“There were dozens of them below deck. Men, women, children. Most of them had been there for weeks. Some were sick. Some couldn't even stand.”

Your hand remained against his chest.

“We attacked them.”

“What happened afterward?”

“We freed all of them. I still remember one little girl stealing food from our kitchen all the time during the travel.”

You smiled faintly.

“I assume Davis cried.”

“He absolutely did.”

You laughed softly.

Noah's eyes lowered for a moment.

“It was one of the few times I felt like we had done something that actually mattered.”

“That was a good thing to do.”

He was quiet, and after several seconds he spoke again.

“I wish we did it more often.”

You looked at him, and he was staring toward the ceiling again, his expression thoughtful.

“There are routes. Ships people know about. Everybody knows some of them exist.”

He swallowed.

“I've always thought about trying to track them down. Find more ships. Stop them.”

His fingers absentmindedly brushed against yours.

You didn't know whether recent events had brought these thoughts back to him or whether he had always carried them with him. Perhaps it had always been there. Perhaps seeing his past so closely again had simply reminded him.

Either way, you understood immediately that this mattered to him.

“We can work on it.”

He blinked.

“What?”

He turned his head slightly toward you.

“We have maps,” you continued. “We could collect information when we stop somewhere, work on it, I don't know.”

Your fingers gently tapped against his chest.

“If these ships follow certain routes, then routes can be found.”

For a moment he simply looked at you.

“You'd help me with that?”

You looked almost offended.

“Obviously.”

He gave you a little smile. “Alright... thank you,” he said quietly.

For a while neither of you said anything else. The sounds above deck had become louder now, footsteps crossed overhead, somebody laughed, and somewhere Davis was almost certainly shouting at someone for eating too much breakfast.

And then something suddenly occurred to you.

“Oh.”

Noah blinked. “What?”

You turned your head toward the small bedside table.

“The drawing.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“What drawing?”

You had almost completely forgotten about it. After returning to the ship that night, after deciding to stay, after the crew nearly celebrating your return, you had unpacked your few belongings inside the cabin that now belonged to both of you. Bryan's drawing had ended up inside the drawer beside the bed and had remained there ever since.

You stretched one arm toward the table, opening the drawer and searching through the small collection of folded clothes, loose papers and random objects that had already somehow become shared possessions.

“There it is.”

You carefully unfolded the paper.

Noah shifted slightly beside you as you held it between both of you.

For a moment he simply looked.

The drawing had survived perfectly. The pencil lines still captured that afternoon on deck, your hand reaching upward to steal his hat while both of you smiled without realizing somebody had been watching.

Noah stared at it for several seconds.

“…Bryan did this?”

You nodded.

“He brought it to me the night before Saint Marlowe.”

His eyes moved slowly across the page, and he seemed genuinely impressed.

“This is awesome.”

“He has an incredible amount of talent.”

Noah nodded slowly.

“I look amazing, I'll have to thank him.”

You immediately pointed toward the hat.

“Except for the hat.”

He looked offended.

“The hat is fine.”

“The hat is terrible.”

He glanced at you.

“You're still doing this?”

“Yes.”

“It has been weeks.”

“And it remains an ugly hat.”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head.

“You are genuinely the only person on this ship who dislikes it.”

“Because apparently I am the only person here with functioning eyes. Or the only one who is not scared to tell you the truth.”

He pointed toward the drawing.

“Look at me. I look like a proper captain.”

You rolled your eyes, and there was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

“It's nice seeing that moment from someone else's perspective.”

“He drew you looking very fond of me.” you said.

Noah glanced at the picture once more.

“That's because I am.”

Before you could answer, voices suddenly echoed from above.

“CAPTAIN!”

Noah closed his eyes.

A second later: “NOAH!”

He sighed.

“I think they might need me.”

“You think?”

You laughed as he finally sat up properly, very reluctantly.

The blankets slipped lower as he stood, revealing his shoulders and the tattoos covering his back and arms, and you found yourself watching him without even trying not to.

He stretched slightly, still waking up, before reaching for his clothes that had been abandoned across various parts of the cabin the previous night. He pulled his shirt on first, slowly fastening the buttons while his hair still fell into his eyes. Then his belt. His coat.

You sat against the pillows simply watching.

He eventually noticed.

“Appreciating the view again?”

“Exactly.”

Noah shook his head, though he was smiling.

Once he had finished dressing, he crossed the room toward you again. He leaned down, one hand resting against your cheek as he kissed you softly, slowly.

When he finally pulled away, another shout came from outside.

“CAPTAIN!”

“I'm coming!” he yelled back.

A pause.

Then quieter, to you: “Unfortunately.”

He turned toward the door, and then stopped, noticing his hat was sitting on the nearby chair.

You watched him look at it, then at you, and you already knew.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

He picked it up and placed it carefully onto his head.

The expression he gave you afterward was almost entirely serious, except for the small smile threatening to appear at the corner of his mouth. He stood there with his hands at his sides as if waiting for your judgment.

“See? It looks good.”

You couldn't help but laugh again.

“I'll convince you eventually.”

“We'll see.”

He opened the door.

Sunlight spilled into the cabin from outside, along with voices, sea air, and the sound of the ship continuing forward toward somewhere far.

“Try not to miss me too much while I'm gone.”

“I'll do my best.”

He grinned, then he disappeared onto the stairs leading to the deck, and the door closed behind him.

For a few moments you remained exactly where you were, the blankets still warm, Bryan's drawing resting beside you, the shell against your chest, and the sound of Noah's voice already carrying faintly from somewhere above.

Your real adventure had only just begun.

Noah taglist pt 1: @mushrumink @sullyselena @buttercupbabyyy @pathion @pipidoll @missduffsblog @vibecops @myexistencesucks @overmydeadbodysblog @margocos-blog @heyitsjay316 @sallyba3 @bartxnhood @lacy1986 @iamamatus @dream-machine-love @amoursims @suessmausnici @whimsicaldiamonds @imyourliquor-youremypoison @punkprincess1999 @bored-rato @thepeoplesblog @dxthrone @illmakeyousaywow @xmads-omensx @sikowitzbitch @tosoundlessdarkistare @sadbitchenergy @flowery-mess @anything-morethan-human @lekyswixexx @english-fucker @follow-me-down-to-wonderland

shbto tags: @novainpolaroids @enzocoquette @lifeirreverent @shobolanya @crystallizedtime @mushroommelody1 @leosunshine @takeme1st @thepurpletrain2groovycity @lookinalittleblue @thefountainn @platespaghetti @v1per1ne @chipotlebagnoah @caitlin-mnsn

[somebodyels3]

will you spend the night? and maybe your life with me

pairing: Jesse Cash x reader, heavy on alluding to Noah Sebastian x reader word count: 9.1k warnings: you keep falling into bed w an emotionally unavailable Noah. very much a main theme of this fic. there is plenty of angst for this reason. sexual content. oral (f receiving). fingering. multiple orgasms (f receiving). Jesse eats it from behind (facesitting). showering together. some cock on clit action. reader is trying to get Jesse to give into temptation. he doesn’t. (he is stronger than I.) blue balls. (sorry, Jesse.) the following work is rpf. reader discretion is advised. 18+ author’s note: new series just dropped! buckle in for the ride. this is not the last you’ll see of Noah, and that’s all I’ll say on the matter ;) I’ve always got something up my sleeve. playlist is linked in the title if you yearn for more hurt ❤️‍🩹

thank you to my light, my life, my wifey @broken0mens for always being down to read anything I’ve written <3

you hug your knees to your chest, your head resting on your arm as you watch Noah gather his things. clothes haphazardly shed around the room, wallet, keys, his phone on your dresser,.... he balances on one leg as he tugs his pants back over his boxers.

you try—unsuccessfully—to push down the flare of attraction you feel in your core as his shirtless form bends to grab his tank. his shoulders are broader than they used to be, his recent gains evidenced in the way muscle shifts under his skin as he moves. it’s unfair, really—how good he looks. almost as unfair as the way he’d peeled that same tank top off earlier, effortless and practiced in that way fuckboys somehow perfect.

he can’t help but smirk when he notices you looking. “you’re staring,” Noah says lowly, tugging his zipper up.

“can you blame me for enjoying the view?”

he grins and leans in to graze his lips across your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin a little more than playfully as he murmurs into your ear, “you always make this part harder than it needs to be.”

“then why go? you could always stay…”

Noah sighs, letting his chin rest on your shoulder. if you didn’t know him better, you’d almost think he regrets it, but this conversation always ends the same way, the two of you stuck in the same argument on repeat every time he has to leave. “you know why.”

and you do. this was supposed to be casual. no strings and no feelings.

except he just uses it as a shield. an excuse not to have to deal with the aftermath. 

you wrap your arms tighter around yourself, like you can hold in whatever is cracking open inside your chest. 

you told yourself you could handle it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

he never stayed. he never held you until you fell asleep. never cleaned you up or gave you soft words of affirmation. there was only ever the sound of the door closing behind him.

it never felt like you were more than a readily available way to blow off steam, a distraction. it was never about being intimate but about needing a body. you’re not special. you’re only one of countless girls Noah could choose from, and they’d all fall into bed with him without a second thought. 

Noah doesn’t so much as spare a glance back over his shoulder before he’s out the door, and that about sums up the state of your relationship. or lack thereof. 

a single, solitary tear falls down your cheek, and you stay, unmoving, until you can finally muster the energy to force yourself up and into the bathroom.

when you look at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognize the sad, broken person staring back at you. the circles under your eyes seem to have gotten darker. your hair is a disheveled mess, and your lips look bitten raw from where Noah attacked them earlier.

you turn on the water and step into the shower, letting the hot water cascade down your body.

it doesn’t make you feel any less dirty.

you could scrub yourself raw, and you would still be able to feel his touch on your skin. that’s not even the worst part. the worst part is knowing you’ll keep coming back for more. 

you hate yourself for it. hate the way your knees go weak whenever he looks at you with those doe eyes of his. how he could ruin you without even trying. most of all, you hate the way your body betrays you so easily, how even a single touch from him sets every nerve alight.

he’s like a drug of the most dangerous kind, your addiction, and you’re hooked.

you hate that you’d let him use you, and you have, over and over again. hate that you still want him so badly, that a part of you will always crave him no matter how badly you get hurt. and you hate the fact that the memory of him is going to linger on your skin for days, and the only thing you can do is cling to the sheets and pillows and the traces of his scent left behind.

you hate that even as he hurts you, you still love him.

if Noah called tomorrow, you’d answer. if he showed up at your door, you’d let him in without hesitation.

you love him too much to learn otherwise.

you check the time. 1 am.

you’re dialing Jesse’s number before you can think too hard about it. he is, after all, the one person who’s consistently had your back through everything, even if it’s complicated by his years-long friendship with Noah. Jesse had never minced words about his disapproval of how Noah treated you and the fact that it made him an ass, not when they were living together as roommates and not now when he’s since moved out, still always quick to defend your honor and forever on your side, his best friend be damned.

what you haven’t realized is that Jesse’s fierce protectiveness stems not just from platonic concern, but from feelings he harbors for you that you’re somehow shockingly dense about.

it only takes three rings before you hear a sleepy “hello?” on the other end of the line, and you suddenly feel guilty for waking him, but as he clears his throat, you can already picture him pushing himself up to lean against the headboard, his curls a mess. it’s too late now.

even just the thought of what you’d called to get off your chest has you sniffling again, tears trailing down your cheeks. “Noah just left,” you manage to get out amid sniffles.

the fatigue in Jesse’s voice vanishes in an instant, replaced by worry. he knows you all too well, and he knows how this goes. you didn’t call just to tell him that. you’re upset, and he’s the only person you could think to call. the only one who gets it.

he sighs softly on the other end, and you hear the sounds of him getting up and shuffling around, throwing on a sweatshirt.

you imagine him pacing in the hall, a moment’s notice from being on his way to you as he asks quietly, “are you okay? do you need me to come over?”

“I’m a mess,” you say, like that should be reason enough for him not to.

Jesse scoffs quietly. “don’t be an idiot. I’m coming over.”

the line goes quiet for a few seconds, and you know he’s slipping on his sneakers and grabbing his truck keys. “I’ll be there in twenty. hang tight, alright? I’m on my way.”

when he lets himself in, you’re wrestling with the sheets, stripping your bed frustratedly. Jesse appears in the doorway, and you just say sadly, “they smell like him,” before he’s bundling them in his arms and into the laundry.

the two of you remake your bed in silence with a fresh set of bedding from your linen closet. a familiar dance.

Jesse doesn’t say anything about the good set of underwear you’d worn specifically for Noah shed on the floor, or the faint red marks across your throat, like someone had been nipping at your skin.

“I hate his cologne,” you say bitterly, collapsing on your back into the mattress. 

what you hate even more is how it makes you want to take a bite out of Noah every time. how it somehow gets into everything. sheets, pillows, even rubs off on your clothes. 

Jesse snorts at that, making you smile faintly. 

the two of you lie side by side, his shoulder brushing yours as he stares up at your bedroom ceiling. he turns his head to study you for a moment. 

it hurts him to see you this way. to see you treated this way.

“you love that overpriced bullshit cologne of his.”

you huff softly at that, not quite landing a sharp jab to his ribs with your elbow. Jesse snickers. he catches your arm and intertwines his fingers with yours, giving your hand a squeeze.

he looks back over at you, and when you meet his eyes, the expression on his face is so unbearably soft that it makes your chest ache. he brings your joined hands up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles that makes you shiver.

“I hate it… I hate that I love it. that I love him,” you admit quietly.

“yeah,” Jesse murmurs sadly. “I know.”

he’s probably the only one in the world who really does. 

he’s been your friend and your confidante. he knows everything. every detail, every late-night confession, every time you’ve sworn you were done, only to fall right back into the same cycle. he knows how deeply you crave a man who has only ever known how to use you.

for Jesse, your suffering at the hands of his so-called best friend has been something of a personal torment, forced to watch Noah break your heart while being silently in love with you for years. like being stuck in a time loop where he’s doomed to witness an inevitable car crash he can’t derail. over and over again. 

“he’s never going to love me back.”

you’re past the point of tears now. it’s a numb sort of melancholy, dwelling on this gaping hole in your chest, but it demands to be felt.

you feel Jesse’s hand leave yours as he rolls over onto his side, pulling you gently against him and into the crook of his neck.

you’ve spent many a night clinging to him like this, crying yourself to sleep on his chest. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his arm wrapping around your back comfortingly.

“I’m sorry.”

“I deserve better.”

“damn right you do.”

“why couldn’t I love someone else? anyone else? someone easy… someone who’d love me back with their whole heart… someone like you.” you frown.

you hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud.

Jesse swallows hard around the lump in his throat and closes his eyes. hearing you say that hurts, because he’d give you the damn world if you let him, cherish you in a way no one else has, but you remain stuck on someone who fails to recognize your worth. and the heart wants what it wants.

none of it matters if you don’t choose him.

“it won’t always be like this.” he doesn’t say what he’s thinking. that you’re never going to get over Noah if you keep falling back into bed with him. “you should get some sleep.”

“stay the night?”

he knows he shouldn’t, but when it’s you asking, he’d find a way to lasso the moon.

“yeah,” Jesse agrees. “...what is it anyway?” 

“what’s what?” you mumble, already drifting.

he pulls the blanket over your shoulders. “...why him? why do you keep going back? what is it about him?”

his voice isn’t angry, just tired, like he’s worn down from watching you break over and over.

“would you believe me if I said his massive di—”

Jesse groans and immediately clamps a hand over your mouth, shooting you a ‘be serious’ look.

besides, live with someone long enough and chances are you’ve seen them naked. he isn’t exactly packing anything that you can’t get elsewhere.

“you’re ridiculous. and I’ve seen his dick. does it have magical properties? try again.”

“fuck if I know. we want what we can’t have, right?”

isn’t that the truth? Jesse’s heart constricts painfully.

“you’re worth so much more than crumbs, y’know,” he murmurs quietly, voice full of emotion. you deserve the whole damn bakery.

knowing he’s right isn’t the problem. try telling that to the traitor in your chest.

“do you talk about me?”

“what do you mean?” Jesse asks cautiously, though he suspects he knows. 

“you and Noah… does my name ever come up?”

there’s a flicker of guilt on Jesse’s face as he shifts uncomfortably. “yeah… sometimes,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. 

“do I want to know? …nevermind.” you drop it, not giving him a chance to elaborate. you know you’re putting him in a tough position. “I know I’m not the only one.”

Jesse winces, and his silence says more than enough. you know you have no right to be jealous, but you also know what Noah gets up to on the road. Jesse’s been witness to the girls that come and go from the tour bus.

he’s never said as much, but you know you’re responsible for the rift between the two of them. 

you never asked Jesse to pick a side, but it was clear-cut to him from the beginning. he’d been the one picking up the pieces after Noah shattered them enough times to know. 

“we’re not exclusive. he doesn’t owe me anything.”

“but that doesn’t make it hurt any less when he’s with someone else,” Jesse finishes.

“sometimes I thought about sleeping with someone else… to make him jealous,” you admit sheepishly. a hollow laugh escapes you. “but how can you make someone who doesn’t care, jealous?”

Jesse knows that, for the most part, Noah’s indifference is a hard-maintained act.

Noah Sebastian is a difficult man to get close to. he can have his dick inside you and still find a way to keep you at arm’s length. distance is something he demands because the thought of actually letting someone in terrifies him, and Noah Sebastian doesn’t do vulnerability.

he’s been burned one too many times for that. 

now he’s the one who does the burning. because if he ruins things first, if he keeps people craving him instead of needing them, then he never has to risk being the one left behind. even if he did care for you the way you wanted him to, Noah would rather let you think he felt nothing than admit you had the power to hurt him.

and maybe, after all the times he’d used and discarded you, only to come back and fall into your bed when you know he most likely hadn’t spent a single night since alone... maybe he didn’t deserve the grace you kept giving him.

“then don’t do it for him.” Jesse’s fingers brush your hair. “do it for you. if it’s gonna help you move on… then let someone show you how good it feels to be wanted without all the heartache.

“let it be me,” he murmurs softly. “let me show you how you’re supposed to be treated. not tonight,” Jesse breathes. not when your bed is scarcely cold and not with you in such a fragile emotional state. “let me take you out to dinner Saturday. wear that pretty sundress you wore to that barbecue Folio hosted last year. and I promise, I’ll clean up nice.”

you give him a small, tired smile at the memory. pale yellow with delicate straps and a corseted waist. the same one Noah had hitched around your hips shortly after his fingers had discovered that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“you always clean up nice, Jesse.”

Jesse must notice the flicker of nostalgia because he adds quietly, “we won’t bring him up. not once. it’ll just be us. now get some rest, I’ll be here in the morning.”

words you never hear Noah say….

your eyelids start to droop, and you nod, nuzzling your face into his chest. the rhythmic thumping of his heart against your cheek lulls you to sleep.

you never realized just how much you needed this, how much it hurt for the simple comfort of a warm body close to yours to be ripped away after being so intimate moments prior, but Jesse holds you like he knows exactly what you need.

you suppose after being the one you’ve called after countless late-night trysts, he does. 

Jesse’s taken to sleeping on your bedroom floor on nights like this, grabbing a pillow and the blanket off the back of your couch so he could be close if you needed him.

you hope he has no plans of leaving this bed tonight.

“you’re not gonna sneak out once I fall asleep, are you?” you mumble, fingers curling into his shirt. “please. I don’t want the bed to feel empty again.”

“okay,” Jesse caves almost immediately. “if you want me to stay, I will. sleep.”

you drift off with his hand stroking your hair.

when you open the door for your dinner date, Jesse is standing there with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. 

he’s always been a little old-fashioned like that. maybe it’s leftover from his Southern upbringing, but he’s always been big on gestures and fluent in thoughtfulness.

he’s wearing a dark gray button-up with a few buttons casually undone, the sleeves rolled up and exposing a bit of his tattooed forearms, complete with dark wash jeans and black boots. 

he looks damn good, the bastard.

his own eyes rake over you appreciatively, taking in the way that your yellow sundress clings to your body just right, the hem brushing just above your knees. Jesse looks long enough for you to know he’s appreciative before consciously dragging his gaze back up to meet your eyes. he’s nothing if not a gentleman.

you feel better than you did when you’d worn it at that barbecue. like a princess. 

“those for me?” you ask.

Jesse’s smile spreads as he holds out the bouquet towards you.

it’s a lovely arrangement of wildflowers—daffodils and daisies and the small cornflower blue petals of a flower you don’t recognize—arranged in a bouquet that’s as bright and cheerful as your dress.

the dress isn’t the only thing that makes you feel like a princess. so does Jesse’s treatment of you.

“thought you might like them more than roses.”

your chest tightens. you’d mentioned once, ages ago, that roses were overrated and unjustifiably expensive; not that you’d expected him to remember. he’d apparently never forgotten. “they’re beautiful, Jess. thank you.”

“don’t hold a candle to you, though.”

heat rushes to your cheeks. 

“sweet talker.”

“it’s the truth, sweetheart,” he says simply.

you busy yourself with the flowers before he can see how easily he’s gotten to you, carrying them into the kitchen and setting them in a vase, enough to keep them fresh until you can properly care for them.

you grab your bag from the hook by the door, then step into the balmy night air with Jesse at your back. 

“so,” you ask. Jesse walks ahead and opens the passenger door for you, “where are we going?”

he flashes a vague, somewhat secretive smile in response. “it’s a surprise. you’ll see.” 

he lets you get settled inside and then shuts the door, rounding the truck and getting into the driver’s seat. it isn’t until he pulls into the parking lot that you realize exactly why he’d been so secretive.

“if he wanted to, he would.” 

you marvel at the sign as you pass underneath it, the new restaurant whose reservations have been booked solid since its grand opening. 

Jesse’s hand finds the small of your back as he ushers you inside ahead of him.

“Jesse,” you say, a little incredulous. “I mentioned this place forever ago.”

he just shrugs. “I remembered.” 

it’s altogether too much for a first date, let alone dinner. tinder dates in the past had bitched about less. 

the place is oozing with class. in a dimly lit corner, someone plays the piano while your server leads the two of you to a booth near the back, partially obscured by a partition. 

Jesse lets you slide into the booth first, then slips in beside you instead of taking the seat across from you.

the two of you are close enough that your knees brush his. he grins sheepishly. “I hope this is okay.”

“I think it’s sweet,” you tell him, and he visibly relaxes, resting his arm along the back of the seat. “you know, you really didn’t have to go to all this trouble—”

“don’t even start,” Jesse warns. “I hope you’re hungry.”

you nod. “I’ve been wanting to try their—”

“—carbonara, I know,” Jesse finishes your sentence. “it’s your favorite.” at your surprised look, he again shrugs a shoulder like it’s nothing. “remembered that, too.” 

you think you catch the faint hint of a flush on his cheeks.

“you really pay attention, don’t you?”

he gives a soft hum in response. “to the things that matter.”

butterflies stir to life in your stomach as you find yourself seeing him in a new light.

“I take it you’re ready to order?” he asks. “would you like to share a bottle of wine?” 

you nod, noting how attentive he is when it comes to ordering. something about the effortless way he’s making sure you’re taken care of without ever making it feel like you can’t take care of yourself is panty-droppingly attractive. 

“red or white, sweetheart?” Jesse tilts the drink menu towards the both of you, leaning in close enough that his breath flutters against your ear.

“hm?” you blush, lost in your thoughts.

he chuckles softly, amused by your reaction, and repeats himself. “red or white, darlin’?”

his fingers brush the bare skin of your thigh ever so slightly, sending a shiver through you that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re sat by the ac vents.

“I trust your pick.”

“white then.” he places the order for a particular bottle, then turns his attention back to you. “I’m glad you agreed to this. even if it took me years to get you here,” he admits. “you’re worth every second of the wait.”

“Jesse…” you breathe.

“you don’t have to say anything.” his hand settles over top of yours. “just let yourself enjoy tonight.”

you interlace your fingers with his and squeeze his hand. “I really am glad I came.”

your server pours from the bottle of white for the both of you, and you clink your glasses together.

the wine is light, crisp, perfectly paired with the meal ahead.

“did I make the right choice?” Jesse observes you as you take your sip.

“perfect,” you nod. 

despite the introduction of such an intimate atmosphere, there never feels like there’s any pressure to be any way other than how you already are with each other. 

conversation is easy, comfortable, flowing without you having to force it. like it always has been. it’s like muscle memory, you don’t even have to think about it anymore. there’s comfort even in the silence. 

you talk like you’re sat on your bedroom floor, talking from the late hours of the night into early morning about anything and everything. 

Jesse’s an expert at getting you to come out of your shell, gentle in all the ways Noah is intense.

he makes you laugh, makes you feel seen and special, makes you forget everything outside this moment. that is, until your phone sounds.

a single text notification lights up the screen as a plate of steaming pasta is placed in front of you.

no other name but his would make your stomach drop like that and make you lose all appetite for your dinner.

Jesse sees it too. his jaw tightens, just slightly, so subtle you might’ve missed it if you weren’t looking, but he doesn’t comment. just takes a slow sip of wine, allowing you your space to do as you see fit. 

Noah wouldn’t be texting you this late unless he was trying to use you for a last-minute hook-up. it’s as if he has some sort of radar or sixth sense for when you’re spending time with someone else.

your fingers hover over the phone, the screen still glowing with Noah’s name.

Jesse doesn’t say it out loud, but you hear it anyway. 

you deserve better than someone who only wants you when he knows he can’t have you.

<Noah> Miss that mouth of yours. You home?

your stomach twists. part arousal, part shame. 

how easy it would be to slip back into that familiar sin. one text reply and he’d be at your door, his hands everywhere, his voice murmuring all the wrong things in all the right ways.

but then you’re reminded of Jesse beside you. who took you to a restaurant you’d been wanting to try because you’d mentioned it once. 

Jesse, who doesn’t so much as steal a glance at your phone screen, doesn’t ask what it says, just waits patiently for you to decide.

you take a deep breath… and silence your phone.

your shaky smile gains confidence as you grin at Jesse and take a bite of your food... and moan softly without meaning to.

“that good, huh?”

“mhm… this is amazing,” you say, licking a bit of sauce from your lip.

Jesse’s eyes darken slightly. “yeah,” he murmurs. “it is.”

you get the feeling he’s not talking about the food so much as he’s talking about you.

your cheeks redden. 

“try some.” you avert your gaze back to your plate and lift a forkful to his lips without thinking. Jesse leans in to take a bite, not breaking eye contact the entire time, which only serves to make you more flustered. 

there’s a tension between you growing taut, and there’s proof in the way your heartbeat stumbles.

you end up getting a slice of cheesecake to share because he’d seen how your eyes lingered on the dessert menu a few seconds too long, and if the way you take turns alternating forkfuls is any indication of how sickeningly coupley you are in this moment, you are bound to come down with a toothache. 

it all just feels so… domestic that your heart pangs wildly because this… this is what you deserve.

it’s something you’ve always wanted, even if you haven’t always believed you could have it. you know you can’t, not with Noah.

but with Jesse, who would kiss away your tears instead of being the one to cause them…

who’d bring you flowers just because. who’d learn your favorite song and memorize how you take your coffee. who’d send you pictures of the little things that remind him of you. the sunset. a line in a book. 

the same Jesse who’d leave you love notes to find around the house. a post-it on the bathroom mirror. a slip of paper in the bagged lunch you’d taken to work. (that he made you.)

what would life be with someone who doesn’t leave you feeling empty afterward, but instead more fulfilled? 

Jesse’s eyes are so soft, so full of hope. 

“we don’t have to rush anything,” he says quietly. 

he always was good at reading you. or maybe it’s just that no one’s ever listened closely enough for you to know what it feels like to be seen.

“I’ve waited this long. I can wait for you to be ready.” 

you don’t know what’s wrong with you; you feel as if you’re broken.

because that’s the thing. Jesse is the type of guy who should get the girl, the one you bring home to Mom. he’s everything good and gentle and kind, and here you keep pining after a man who’s made it clear in no uncertain terms that the only thing he’s capable of giving you is his… cock?

you shake your head. “we’re leaving this restaurant. you’re going to drive me home and walk me to my door, and I’m going to invite you in, and you’re going to say yes.”

if Jesse is surprised by your newfound resolve, he doesn’t show it. he regards you with open amusement, smirking. “yes, ma’am.”

by the time you’ve slipped into the jacket he’s holding open for you, he’s already tipped generously and settled the bill before you can so much as reach for your wallet.

“I told you I’d take you out to dinner. that means it’s my treat,” he says. 

and when he’s stood outside your door, he waits for you to make the first move. 

he waits until your hands find his belt loops to tug him closer, and then he comes easily (like he always would for you), his hands instinctively finding their place on your hips.

his eyes search yours, as if needing to make sure you want this before it goes any further. 

the decision is yours—he’s made that abundantly clear. he’ll respect it. unlike Dylan from the dating apps, Jesse is under no illusion that paying for dinner equates to buying access to your body.

“are you gonna kiss me now?” you ask.

“do you want me to?” 

he knows he said he’d be there if it helped you move on. knows he’d take whatever piece of you you were ready to give.

still, a part of him can’t shake the nagging fear that he’s only a placeholder. a distraction meant to dull the ache Noah left behind. that maybe you don’t want him, not really, just to fill the void of the man who hurt you.

maybe this is too fast. maybe he should slow you down. maybe he should protect his own heart better than this… but the romantic in him screams that the risk is worth it.

“I want it to mean something,” Jesse whispers. “not just… because you’re hurting.” his hands slide up your back.

“you said you’d show me how it feels…”

he swallows hard, exhaling shakily through his nose. “yeah,” he breathes. “I did.”

your fingers tighten in his shirt. “well, I want to be something to someone for a change. I want to feel something real, even if it’s just for one night.”

Jesse rests his forehead against yours, your noses brushing. “if I had it my way, it wouldn’t be just one night. not with me.”

before you can find the words to answer, he’s kissing you. tentatively at first, giving you every chance to pull away, but when you don’t—when, if anything, you press closer, seeking him out—he deepens the kiss. 

his hands slide into your hair, cradling your face as his lips move over yours like he’s waited years for this (because he has).

he kisses you like you’re something to be cherished. like you’re some sort of precious masterpiece he can’t believe he gets to touch.

he swallows every sound you make like he could bottle it up for later.

god, you’d forgotten what it feels like to be truly, fully wanted. 

you’ve never been Noah’s first choice. merely an option. 

“tell you what’s going to happen,” Jesse murmurs. “we’re going to go inside, and I’m going to lay you on your bed. I’m going to take my time with you, make you come as many times as I want until I’m satisfied, without ever using my cock. in fact, I’m not going to come tonight.”

“but—” you’re about to protest with a pout when he presses his index finger to your mouth, silencing you. 

Jesse’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles kindly. “I’m going to take care of you and not the other way around.”

his chest is against your back now as he leans in closer to brush his lips over your neck, his voice low in your ear. “then, tomorrow morning, I’m going to make you breakfast.”

at this point, you’re fumbling uselessly with your house key, shaky hands struggling to jam it into the keyhole as you mentally curse the only thing that stands between you and the night ahead. 

you eventually give up and shove the key into Jesse’s hand.

he just chuckles, clearly amused by your eagerness. after he unlocks the door (with much more ease than you I might add), he scoops you up in one smooth motion, carrying you through the threshold and kicking the door shut behind him.  

the route to your bedroom is as familiar as his own, and he’s still laughing softly as he deposits you gently on the bed, bracing his forearms beside your head. 

he takes in the sight of you beneath him like a man starved.

his hands roam your body like he’s trying to map every dip and curve, his touch reverent.

he kisses you until you’re panting for breath, his mouth continuing on to your jaw and your neck before gently sucking on your pulse point.  

“god, I need you out of this dress,” he tells you, hands sliding down to the zipper.

“I thought you liked me in this dress,” you tease.

Jesse chuckles, his lips curving into an easy half-smile.  

he draws the zipper of your dress down slowly, his fingers grazing along your skin. 

“oh I do,” he murmurs, tugging the fabric gently over your head. “but I think I’d like you even better out of it. so…”

“so…” 

“what’s it gonna be, sweetheart? my fingers?” Jesse strums his index and his middle fingers over your clit as you gasp and push into his touch. “or my mouth?” his tongue proceeds to suck your arousal clean from the pads of his fingers. 

“do I really have to choose?”

“you’re right. you’ll get both. but you get to choose which you want first. so?…”

your hip hitches around his waist in answer, your heel bearing down on his back until Jesse is eye level with your glistening pussy. 

“mouth it is.” 

brown eyes lift to meet yours as if consciously drinking in the way you come undone in the wake of his hot, open mouth working its way up your inner thigh. his kisses inch closer while all the while falling short of where you truly want them, leaving you frustrated as you let out a soft whine of protest. 

the next time, his breath fans against your soaked underwear. the way he nuzzles his cheek just shy of your quivering cunt is proof that he hears you, even if he delights in making you squirm a little, the brush of his facial hair against your most sensitive skin only serving to stoke the fire in your core.

“you didn’t say you were going to be a tease,” you huff. 

“I told you I was going to take my time.” Jesse’s eyes sparkle. “tell me his version of foreplay wasn’t just two fingers scissoring you open and a little bit of lube.”

“actually—” 

Jesse has no interest in letting you finish that thought. his tongue renders you speechless as it drags through your folds in one long, drawn out lick that has your back arching off the bed and toward his mouth. 

evidently, he’s had enough of pretending he’s not just as eager to taste you as you are for him to. 

your hand finds its way into his hair, impatiently tugging his curls like it’ll urge him on, even though you’ve come to understand that he isn’t one to be rushed. this man wants to savor you.  

still, his hum rumbles through your core like a reward, even as he shows no signs of his patience wearing thin. 

each lick is slow, painfully so. deliberate circles of his tongue over your clit before dipping lower to taste you properly. 

his arms encircle your waist, keeping your hips secure no matter how much they want to shift in search of more. 

rest assured, he will not disappoint. 

it knocks the wind out of you when his lips well and truly seal around your clit. “ohh, Jess.” your head falls back against the mattress as he alternates sucking and lapping. 

you’re already trembling beneath him, fingers tightening in his hair as pleasure builds fast and hot in your belly with each flick of his tongue. 

“when’s the last time someone made you come without asking for anything in return, huh? just the simple pleasure of making you feel good,” Jesse croons. “you know, when I think of him getting to taste you, I get so fucking jealous. he doesn’t know what he has. you’re wasted on him.”

it’s as if the thought fuels him as he doubles his efforts, surging forward kissing and licking like a man on a mission to erase every memory of Noah from your body entirely. he won’t be content until his name is the only one on the tip of your tongue. 

“shit, Jesse, I’m gonna come,” you pant out breathily. 

“give it to me, baby. go ahead and come on my tongue. I’ve earned it, haven’t I?”

your body tenses, your thighs clamping around his head as the pleasure peaks. “that’s it,” his voice muffles against your core. 

Jesse milks your orgasm for all it’s worth, making sure to help you ride it out with soft laps of his tongue and gentle suction until every last shudder fades from your limbs.

when he finally lifts his mouth, he wipes the back of his hand across his lips and smirks, proud of himself.

“if you were mine, I’d spend every day of my life trying to be worthy,” Jesse murmurs, kissing your hip, then slipping a finger inside you.

“Jesse…” your breath hitches. the intrusion comes so soon after your orgasm. you’re still so sensitive, and he knows it, which is why he starts slow with just that one finger, curling it just right. 

that’s all it takes for you to become putty in his hands. 

putty whose face Jesse watches for every reaction like he’s memorizing what makes you feel good.  

“please.” it’s not long before you’re begging for more. 

he’s quick to add a second, stretching you gently as he leans down to kiss your stomach, his lips warm against your skin.

“I’d give you anything you want.”

Jesse’s fingers make a come-hither motion. slow, deep thrusts that curl upwards toward that sweet spot inside you and make your hips rock unconsciously into his hand.  

all the while, his kisses trail higher—up your stomach, your ribs, before he’s burying his face between your breasts, your heart hammering in your chest—and capturing one of your nipples between his lips and biting softly.

you gasp, your fingers in his hair peeling back his head to look up at you. 

“what about your cock?” you manage cheekily. 

his sharp exhale turns into a groan, but he shakes his head. “nice try, but no, honey, not tonight.”

your lip juts out in a pout, but Jesse wipes the sulk right off your face when he puts his mouth back on you whilst his fingers pump in and out of your pussy. 

your face heats at the realization that you’re already wound up again, sensitive and aching. 

“tonight is about you,” Jesse reiterates. “not taking anything for myself. not asking for anything in return.”

that’s exactly what hasn’t worked in the past. tonight needs to be different. he needs to be different. this isn’t about instant gratification.

this is about showing you how you deserve to be treated. 

“Jesse,” you pant, “you’re going to make me come again…”

“good,” he says matter-of-factly. if anything, the knowledge only makes him work harder for it…

your cunt clenches around his fingers and keeps them there, spasming around the length of them buried to the knuckle. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing that blissed-out look on your face,” Jesse murmurs. “feels good, doesn’t it? letting yourself be taken care of for once?”

your moan is an affirmative as your second orgasm washes over you, hot and sweet. 

“come sit on my face,” Jesse pipes up. you haven’t even fully come down before he’s patting the bed and settling on his back beside you.

your cheeks burn. “but—” 

“I won’t be satisfied until you do,” he cuts you off. “not until you use me to make yourself feel good, so you might as well give me what I want and come sit on my face.”

you know Jesse well enough to know he means it, and anyway, it’s not like it’s not an untempting offer. 

you tentatively move to position yourself on all fours, but not before Jesse’s fingers dig into your hips, dragging you backwards on your knees until you’re straddling his shoulders. 

then Jesse pulls you down over top of him until your heat is right above his waiting mouth.

“there you go. that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

his hands squeeze the curve of your ass as he pulls you down onto him, and god, the first swipe of his tongue has your knees buckling, your hands finding his thighs as you double over.

the scratch of his facial hair is like nothing you’ve ever felt between your thighs. 

every sensation already feels like too much.

the pleasant burn of his scruff as he nuzzles you open. 

the press of his nose nudging against your clit and his tongue following in its place. parting your folds, dipping into your entrance, lapping enthusiastically at your clit…

you can’t help the way you gush, your arousal surely drenching his face as he feasts from behind. 

the new angle has you whimpering, unable to still your restless hips. Jesse flattens his tongue for you, and you ride it, chasing the wet glide of it along your clit. you don’t try to hide your moans as you edge closer and closer to your third orgasm of the night, his saliva dripping from your folds. you grow more and more uninhibited, shameless in your grinding against his mouth, and Jesse increasingly pleased when it becomes evident that you struggle to hold yourself up as you ride out the height of your orgasm against his tongue, your knees going weak. 

what a sight he makes. his scruff drenched, his eyes sparkling as he licks his lips, and you completely oblivious as you now paw at the bulge in his pants from your seat on his chest. 

“Jesse,” you whine, “what if I just sucked you off?” 

his cock twitches against your cheek where it nuzzles against him. 

Jesse chuckles, cupping your chin with his palm and turning your head to look back at him. “I meant what I said.”

“just a taste?”

“as hard as it is to say no to you, I’ve got to.” 

“not too hard, apparently,” you huff. “doesn’t it hurt?”

his hard-on strains prominently against his jeans. seeing him so affected just from giving you pleasure makes your mouth water and stirs you to hunger. 

“a cold shower will take care of it,” he tells you. “thank you for your concern.” he presses a kiss to the skin of your back, “give me five minutes and I’ll be all yours again,” then disentangles himself from you before rolling off the bed and heading for the bathroom, and he assumes that’s the end of it. 

the sound of running water follows moments later. as does a muffled curse from behind the closed door, probably because the cold water is doing its job. 

a part of you feels guilty. here he is, being all noble, and all you can think about is how badly you want him inside you.

not guilty enough, apparently. or at any rate not enough to keep from propping yourself against the doorway, fully bare as you enjoy the view before you.

Jesse’s back is mostly to you, water from the showerhead sluicing down the lines of his chest. it’s the body of a touring musician, someone who’s spent years lugging amps and guitars, with just enough muscle to show for it. a body shaped by life on the road rather than in the gym. 

there’s an irresistible softness to him that is your catnip. plushness that yields underneath your hands. 

you bite your lip, imagining what it would be like to have full rein to touch him like this. to hug your arms around his middle, to leave little love bites where only you would see. to trace the lines of his tattoos. 

he hasn’t noticed you yet, too busy tilting his head under the icy spray, doing his damndest to try and cool off.

your hands come up to his shoulders as you rub circles with your loofah over his back.

“you’re playing dirty,” he murmurs, not turning around yet. 

your hands slide down his chest, your body pressing flush against his back. your hardened nipples prod him until he can no longer ignore their presence. 

“I can’t take a shower?” you ask, faking innocence.

“is that what you’re doing?” 

Jesse’s erection stirs to life more insistent than before, and you find yourself squeezing your thighs together at the sight of it, delightfully fat with a slight curve you can almost feel hit all the right spots already. a cock made for the taking. 

you reach around him and turn the water hotter, the beginnings of steam fogging up the glass.

he finally turns to look at you, water dripping from his lashes. his eyes drop to where water beads on your own skin before snapping back up to your face with visible effort.

you play coy even as the length of him twitches, drawing attention to the prominent vein along his shaft. 

“do me?” you press the loofah into his hand. 

he stares at the loofah like it’s a loaded weapon. “minx,” he finally murmurs, not unaffectionately. “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

he lathers the loofah with your body wash before running it over your shoulders, down your arms, faltering when he comes to your breasts. 

no answer. 

he drags the loofah lower with painstaking slowness, settling just under your belly button. 

“can you get my back?” you reply instead. 

Jesse breathes a sigh of relief, only to discover the supposed act of mercy is anything but. 

your plans are far more nefarious than he could’ve suspected… because the moment you turn your back to him, you back your hips into his. 

his curved cock slots perfectly between your soaped up thighs, the loofah slipping from his hand and dropping to the floor.

it isn’t hard to imagine how good even the smallest bit of friction must feel for him. the plush of your thighs alone seems like a cruel test of his self-control after being so hard, for so long, with lord knows how much precum leaked in his boxers. 

you’re overcome by the overwhelming need to thank him for his patience.

Jesse’s breath hitches, his hips rutting against you based on pure instinct. he braces one hand on the tile in front of you, the other on your hip. “fuck.” his forehead drops to your shoulder. “you’re not making this easy.”

his hips continue to move almost imperceptibly, committing small acts of rebellion against his better judgment. 

Jesse exhales shakily in your ear. 

“why waste a perfectly hard cock?” you kiss the underside of his chin. “when there’s perfectly needy pussy that’s begging for it?”

Jesse’s eyes squeeze shut. 

for a little while, it’s bliss. 

his cock head repeatedly nudging into your clit. the weight of it against you a reminder of just how easy it would be for him to sink inside and satisfy you. 

but he stays true to his word, showing the discipline you wish he was not capable of in this moment as his hand takes over. he plays your clit like he plays his six-string, pushing you over the edge with a dexterity that comes naturally to him given his line of work. 

he supports your weight when you all but collapse, allowing you to go boneless in his arms as he holds you upright with an arm encircling your waist and his other hand curled inside your thigh. you melt against his shoulder, protesting when his cock slips free of your folds, twitching in air. 

you can’t help but feel like a dog being taken away from its favourite toy when it wasn’t done playing. “Jesse…” you whine. 

“we should slow down.” his chest is heaving. his cock is flushed and swollen, precum beading at the tip. 

“it doesn’t make you him.” 

you know it’s what he’s thinking. hell, you can practically see the gears in his head turning as you search his face, his mind running a thousand miles a minute. 

he’s harder on himself than you would ever be.

“I can’t do the whole pretending this doesn’t mean anything in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” you say.

“I know. it’s just—if I let this happen tonight,” he adds, lower, “I don’t get to pretend I’m not already in deep. and I don’t think you’re there with me right now.”

and that’s the thing about Jesse… he cares about you in ways Noah never did. enough to stop when he wants to keep going. enough to put your feelings ahead of his own.

“I want to get there,” you say quietly. “maybe I’m not where you are yet, but I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t see what’s right in front of me.”

“you say things like that, and I can’t deny you anything,” Jesse sighs. “which is exactly why I need you to go to bed,” he adds, “before I change my mind.” 

a sinking feeling takes root in your stomach when you wake to an empty bed. 

white hot panic rolls over you in waves of déjà vu. it’s all too familiar. too reminiscent of countless mornings spent alone.

did he leave?

the faint clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen says otherwise. 

you pursue the sound in your bare feet, following the hallway, and there he is. 

Jesse, in all his morning glory, naked except for a pair of boxer briefs. his hair sticks up in all directions like he’d rolled straight out of bed and into the kitchen, spatula in his hand as he flips pancakes. a pair of round glasses sits crooked on his nose, atop the ever-present lines and shadows under his eyes. 

they persist no matter how many hours he’s gotten. 

he might not be considered conventionally attractive, but you’ve always thought him handsome. here in your kitchen the morning after, he’s absolutely devastating.

he glances up and immediately brightens when he sees you. the ball of nerves that had drawn taut in your stomach unravels so quickly it’s almost as if it was never there.

“hey,” he greets, “you weren’t supposed to be up yet.”

I needed to make sure you were still here. the words stay lodged somewhere behind your ribs. “I smelled food,” you say instead. 

“you’re supposed to be in bed. you’re ruining the whole plan,” Jesse chastises playfully. “go. back to bed. I’ll bring it to you.” 

he redirects you with his hands on your shoulders, and you trot obediently back the way you came, the happiness bubbling full to overflowing with every step. 

the bed is rumpled, still warm when you slip back under the covers. for once, you don’t feel the need to bundle the sheets and purge the remnants of your night. instead you breathe in the scent of Jesse left on the pillow on his side of the bed and let it soothe you.

true to his word, he had stayed. your heart could burst.

from the kitchen, you can hear him moving. soft clinks of plates and utensils, the fridge door opening and closing,... footsteps that make their way to the bedroom.

“okay, don’t laugh.” Jesse proudly presents you with a tray that holds a glass of orange juice, pancakes with goofy little fruit faces, and a small vase with a handful of the wildflowers from your date the night prior.

“why would I? this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you say. “I want to wake up to this every Sunday.”

“that can be arranged.”

“I’m serious.”

“so am I.”

“okay,” you whisper, trying to mask the way the words make your stomach swoop like the sudden drop of a rollercoaster.

“okay.”

you eat side by side for a few moments in silence, Jesse stealing pieces of fruit from your plate. he has his own, but apparently he only deigned to give yours the special treatment. 

“hey!” you protest weakly as he snatches yet another blueberry.

“payment for my labor,” he teases.

your phone buzzes—the groupchat checking in—and when you open your messages, Noah’s text sits just below the other text thread at the top as if it’s mocking you. 

your thumb hovers over his contact before finally settling on the block button. Jesse has made it impossible to ignore what you’ve been settling for, and you owe it to yourself, and to Jesse, to stop accepting less than you deserve.

no more settling.

you don’t even realize Jesse had asked you a question. “hey,” he murmurs, attuned to you as always, “you okay?”

you look down at the phone in your hand, then at the breakfast he so kindly made you, then back at him.

“yeah,” you whisper, “I’m okay,” and you mean it. 

“where’d you go just now?”

you unlock your phone and hand it over.

it takes a moment for Jesse to register that you’ve blocked his (ex?) best friend’s number.

“you didn’t have to do that for me,” he says quietly.

“I didn’t.” you pull the blanket over your shoulders tighter around yourself. “I did it for me.”

you think about all the nights you cried yourself to sleep, only to wake up the following morning alone. all the unanswered texts. the careful pretending that you were okay with casual when every piece of evidence that he didn’t care about you like you cared about him hollowed you out a little more.

you did it for that version of yourself.

“I’m proud of you,” Jesse tells you.

if you’re being honest, so are you.

it was about time you were the one closing the door and the one walking out, not the one being walked out on. the keeper of your own peace and the champion of your heart.

you hum thoughtfully. “where do we go from here?”

“I dunno. lazy Sunday… I was thinking the couch… unless you have plans.”

you laugh and tuck yourself into Jesse’s side. 

“you are my plans.”

taglist: @dominuslunae @missduffsblog @fadingangelwisp @dragoncopper @wonh0z @lacy1986 @ami-gami @tosoundlessdarkistare @bluehairpunklol @concretejunglefm

[momoboyds]

I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT TAYLOR SWIFT OR HER WEDDING

[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: noah x reader (pirates au)

Series summary: Stuck in a life you don’t want, your only way out is a deal with a pirate, and that’s how your journey on a ship of outlaws toward a new life begins.

Tw: mentions of violence, killing, trauma, alcohol

Thank you @inthedarkofmyroom for the necklace idea. I stole it from you <3

Series masterlist

By the time you finally reached land, the sun had already been high in the sky for hours.

The island was small, quiet, and probably deserted, nothing more than a stretch of pale sand surrounded by dense trees and jagged rocks, far from trade routes and from cities. So, it was a safe place where a pirate crew could stop for a while.

The stolen ship cut through the shallow water before slowing near the shore, the anchor dropping with a heavy splash.

You stepped onto the beach beside Noah and Nick, your boots sinking slightly into warm sand.

The crew had spotted the ship long before you reached shore, and the guys were already running down toward the beach when you arrived, shouting over each other, disbelief written across almost every face.

Because none of them had expected this.

You had gone straight into the king’s territory, and somehow all three of you had come back alive.

“No fucking way—” Someone shouted.

“How the hell did you idiots survive?” Someone else added.

Questions immediately started flying from every direction as the crew crowded around you.

Someone grabbed Nick by the shoulders like they were checking he was real. Someone else was already loudly demanding details while Noah got pulled into rough handshakes and smacks across the back.

Noah laughed as he hugged Jolly back.

Then suddenly Davis appeared out of nowhere at full speed.

“And there she is!”

Before you could even react properly, he wrapped both arms around you and literally lifted you off the ground.

You let out a startled laugh immediately as your feet left the sand.

“Oh my god—”

“You’re alive!” Davis shouted dramatically like he personally couldn’t believe it. “I mean...I knew you would survive because, but still!”

You laughed harder despite yourself, grabbing onto his shoulders before he accidentally dropped you.

“You’re crushing me!”

Eventually he put you down again, still grinning. Then his eyes moved quickly over you, checking for injuries but only finding some stains of blood that were obviously not yours.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “Mostly.”

“Great.”

The crew was asking what happened, how you escaped, how you found the keys and anything they could think of.

A few others approached you too. Not just to ask what happened, but to check on you specifically.

Someone handed you a flask with a grin, telling you that after surviving that, you officially deserved the good alcohol they had been hiding from Noah.

“You look terrible,” Folio said cheerfully.

You laughed. “Thank you so much.”

“I'm glad you're back.”

“Of course I'm back. I have to keep beating you at your dice game.”

And for the first time since ending up on the Specter, now gone, something felt different. You really felt like nobody was looking at you like an outsider anymore. Not like the noble girl who accidentally ended up on a pirate ship, and almost not like someone temporary.

You had gone with them into hell and come back alive with them.

And standing there on the beach surrounded by loud voices, laughter, teasing, and relief, you realized that somewhere along the way, without even noticing it, you had become part of them too, and it was the scariest, most unexpected thing that had ever happened to you.

So your journey toward Saint Marlowe, almost like nothing had happened at all, had started again.

The questions had slowly faded over the first days at sea, and the crew had returned to their usual rhythm made of shifting sails, repairing ropes, arguing over food, laughing too loudly when someone lost at some game and pretending to throw them into the ocean. And Noah… Noah had given them just enough of the story to satisfy curiosity, carefully leaving out the parts he clearly didn’t want spoken out loud.

The stole ship had supplies, but not enough to feed everyone comfortably for long. So when a few days into the voyage another vessel appeared on the horizon, tension rippled instantly across the deck.

You were already scared there was another fight coming.

But Noah had barely even looked alarmed.

“That’s fine,” he said calmly.

You turned toward him sharply.

“What do you mean ‘fine’?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the approaching ship, a little smile on his lips.

“I know the captain.”

You looked around, and everyone seemed calm about the situation too, so you decided to believe him.

The two crew chatted like friends for a while, with no unnecessary drama and no drawn blades, but only shouted greetings.

Oliver, the captain, immediately agreed to trade goods.

Your ship received food and Noah's crew gave them some barrels of stuff he probably didn't really need, like wool and pieces of metal.

While the exchange continued between the two crews, your attention drifted for a moment across the other ship.

It was easy to miss things like that in the chaos of ropes being thrown and crates being hauled, but then you saw a woman.

She was beautiful, standing near the railing of Oliver’s ship, watching everything a calm expression. She had dark hair, cut shorter than most women you’d ever seen in your life, and she wore a long skirt that moved slightly in the wind as she shifted her weight.

She looked happy, like she was exactly where she wanted to be.

Her eyes briefly met yours across the distance, and she smiled. You hesitated a second, then returned it instinctively.

Later, when things had calmed slightly and Noah was standing nearby again, you brought it up almost absentmindedly.

“That woman on the other ship” you said. “Who was she?”

“Oliver’s wife.” He answered.

That made you pause. “…His wife?”

“She travels with them,” Noah explained. “She’s part of the crew.”

You blinked, a bit surprised. You had never even imagined that it was possible, that it was an option.

“She met him on one of the islands they stopped at,” he continued. “Then she decided to leave with him.”

You stayed quiet, listening.

“They married on his ship,” Noah added casually. “With a pirate ritual. It's not really official. But it is for us.”

Something about that settled strangely in your chest.

Your thoughts drifted without meaning to.

She was a woman, living on a pirate ship, just like you, but with one big difference. Her permanence was not temporarily, she was not there because she had nowhere else to go.

But because she had chosen it.

Chosen this life.

Chosen the man she loved.

You hadn’t really thought women could chose this life. But that was stupid, you realised.

In just a few months, you’d learned to fight, jumped from a castle window, broken someone out of a royal prison and survived things you never imagined you’d even face.

Of course other women could do this too, of course they could choose it.

You didn’t ask more questions about her, but she stayed in your mind for a while.

Soon, you found out that the new ship was full of supplies, tools, and even wardrobes with some clothing in them.

That was how you ended up in the small, quiet room you had claimed for yourself. The little wardrome inside had turned out to be full of clothes: shirts, trousers, coats, and a few dresses mixed in, all clearly taken from different places over time.

You had been sorting through them with growing determination, Noah looking at you from the door, criticizing your choices from time to time.

“This is way too big,” you said, tossing a shirt onto the growing pile on your bed.

A moment later, another piece followed.

“This one might fit… but it’s horrible.” You held up a brightly colored shirt with a grimace. “Who even wears yellow and orange together? A jester?”

Noah, leaning lazily against the doorframe, let out a short laugh, “The princess is picky.”

You didn’t even look up at first.

“No,” you corrected immediately, continuing to sift through the clothes. “I simply believe that after surviving… everything,” you gestured vaguely at the air, “I have earned the right to refuse wearing absolute garbage. I think that’s the bare minimum, actually.”

You ended up keeping only a few things in the end.

A couple of loose shirts that actually fit you properly, one pair of dark trousers comfortable enough to move in easily, and a long skirt made from lighter fabric, simple but practical, something you thought you might wear once you finally reached Saint Marlowe and stopped looking like you had survived a war.

Everything else stayed piled on the bed for Noah to deal with later.

You held up one last shirt critically before throwing it onto the reject pile too.

“No.”

Noah snorted softly.

“You’re impossible. The blue fits you and it's not ugly.”

“I have standards now,” you informed him. “Near-death experiences change people.”

That earned another quiet laugh from him.

You glanced sideways at him while folding one of the shirts you had decided to keep and you saw him looking at a weird red shirt with missing buttons.

“I swear If you give me another ugly shirt,” you warned, “I’m going to kill you.”

Noah immediately lifted both hands slightly in surrender.

“Alright,” he said tossing it back on your bed.

Then, his expression shifted like he remembered something.

“Hey... by the way... I’ve been so stupid.”

You paused, blinking at the sudden difference in tone.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He rubbed briefly at the back of his neck. “I never asked you how you were doing after... that.”

You frowned slightly.

“After what?”

His eyes met yours.

“Killing.”

Oh.

For a second, the room felt quieter again.

Noah looked genuinely frustrated with himself now.

“I should’ve asked,” he admitted. “You killed people for the first time and I completely forgot to even—” He stopped himself with a quiet exhale. “I don’t know. Check if you were okay.”

You stayed still for a moment, fingers tightening slightly around the fabric in your hands.

The truth was, you had thought about it.

The pirate on the ship. The guard in the corridor at the castle.

Sometimes the memory came back suddenly, sharp and unpleasant, you almost still could feel the adrenaline. The impact. The blood.

But mostly… Mostly you remembered being terrified for your life, and for Noah's and Nicholas'.

You lowered the shirt slowly onto the bed.

“I defended myself,” you said after a moment.

Noah stayed quiet, listening.

“It was not…” You searched for the words. “It was not easy. I don’t think it’ll ever feel normal.”

Your gaze dropped briefly.

“But if I hadn’t done it…” you said softly, “I think I would’ve died.”

Silence settled for a second. Then Noah nodded once.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Probably.”

You let out a slow breath.

“I don’t feel... great about it,” you admitted. “But I don’t regret protecting myself either.”

Something in Noah’s expression softened slightly at that.

“I'm glad you did,” he said quietly.

You didn't answer.

The room stayed quiet for another second, the sound of the sea creaking softly around the ship filling the silence instead. Then Noah spoke.

“Alright,” he said, glancing toward the pile of rejected clothes on your bed. “I’m gonna go see if anyone else wants some of these.”

He grabbed the pile into his arms, including the horrible yellow-and-orange shirt. You pointed at it immediately.

“I’d actually pay money to see Folio wearing that.”

Noah looked down at the shirt. “I’m pretty sure this thing is destined to become a cleaning rag.”

You chuckled, and watched Noah has he left the room.

A few days later, sometime in the late afternoon, Noah officially gave the stolen ship a new name.

The entire crew had gathered on deck while the sun burned gold across the ocean, the light reflecting against the waves and the dark wood beneath your feet; someone had dragged crates and barrels closer together to sit on, bottles already being passed around before the speech had even started.

Noah stood near the center of the deck, one hand holding a bottle loosely by the neck while the crew slowly quieted around him.

“Well,” he started, voice carrying easily over the sea breeze, “our old ship got destroyed.”

Someone laughed.

“Too soon,” someone else shouted.

Noah snorted softly, “Yeah, maybe.”

He looked around at all of them again.

“But,” he continued, “we’re still here.”

The mood shifted slightly quieter after that. Noah rested one hand briefly against the railing beside him.

“A ship’s just wood,” he said. “That’s all it is without the crew.”

A few people nodded quietly.

“The Specter mattered because of the idiots standing on it.” That earned another wave of laughter. “And this one’ll be the same.”

He lifted the bottle slightly.

“So,” he said, “to Specter the Second.”

The crew erupted immediately into cheers and bottles lifting into the air from every direction.

“To Specter the Second!”

Glass clinked loudly, someone nearly fell off a barrel, and someone else was already yelling a drinking song before the toast had even fully ended.

You laughed quietly to yourself, leaning back slightly where you sat beside Davis near one of the tables dragged onto the deck.

Noah finally stepped down from the center of the deck while people continued talking loudly around him, moving through the crowd until he reached your table.

He set the bottle down near you and Davis.

Davis looked at it immediately, then back at Noah.

“You’re not drinking?”

Noah’s hand rested briefly against the neck of the bottle before he shrugged, “Maybe sometimes it’s better if I don’t.”

Davis raised an eyebrow slightly but didn’t push.

Noah glanced toward you for just a second before adding more quietly, “Sometimes one drink turns into twenty.”

When you heard that, you felt strangely proud of him for it, even if you didn’t say it out loud and you just gave him a small smile.

But judging by the way Noah’s expression softened slightly in return, he understood it anyway.

Around you, the celebration slowly dissolved back into the crew’s usual chaos.

Some people had already gone back to moving crates around the deck or reorganizing supplies below. Others stayed near the tables, talking loudly over each other while bottles continued passing from hand to hand.

The ocean stretched endlessly around the ship, calm beneath the late afternoon light.

You leaned back slightly in your seat, letting yourself relax for a moment, but soon, a movement near the far side of the deck caught your attention.

Jolly, Jesse, and Michael were gathered near a stack of barrels, laughing quietly about something while Jolly sat balanced on top of one crate with an expression of deep concentration.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. He was juggling.

Three small objects spun through the air between his hands, wobbling dangerously every few seconds as he fought to keep control of them.

One looked like a carved piece of wood, another was a coin catching flashes of sunlight, and the third...

No. It couldn’t be.

It shimmered when the light hit it, reflecting soft changing colors.

You straightened immediately.

The object spun once more through the air, and this time you were almost certain.

It was the shell.

Noah's shell. Your shell.

“Hey!” you blurted out, already moving toward them quickly.

Jolly jumped violently at the sudden sound of your voice, and all three objects immediately flew out of his hands.

“Hey!” he protested as everything clattered loudly across the deck. “I was actually doing great!”

You barely heard him. You crouched immediately, grabbing the shell before it could roll farther across the wood.

The second your fingers closed around it, you knew it was the iridescent shell Noah had given you months ago.

For a second, you just stared at it in disbelief.

“How did you find this?” you asked quickly, looking up at Jolly.

He blinked at you, confused and still a little annoyed.

“Uh… on the beach.”

Your eyebrows pulled together.

“When we were recovering stuff after the Specter blew apart,” he explained. “I saw it in the sand. Thought it looked cool, so I kept it.”

You turned the shell slowly in your hands.

The colors still shifted faintly under the sunlight exactly the same way they had the first day Noah handed it to you.

“That’s impossible,” you whispered before you could stop yourself, being sure that when the ship sank, the shell must have been lost with it.

The three pirates exchanged confused looks immediately.

Michael frowned slightly. “Why?”

You hesitated.

Because it mattered way more than it should have.

Because out of everything that had been lost when the Specter was destroyed, somehow this tiny stupid shell was the most important thing you had. A memory of your journey.

And because Noah had been the one to give it to you.

You looked back down at it quickly before forcing yourself to shrug lightly.

“It’s nothing,” you said. “I just… thought I lost it.”

Jolly tilted his head slightly.

“So...you want it?”

You looked up immediately, “Can I?”

“Yeah, obviously.” He waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve got the coin anyway. The coin’s cooler.”

You laughed softly despite yourself, curling your fingers more securely around the shell.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Jolly grinned.

“No problem. But you interrupted my performance, so I'm still mad.”

You were still smiling by the time you spotted Noah again near the main mast, helping Davis tie down one of the loose ropes that kept slamming against the side of the ship every time the wind shifted.

You walked toward him almost immediately, leaving Jolly, Michael and Jesse behind, and probably still a little confused, the shell still closed tightly in your hand.

“Noah!”

He glanced over distractedly at first. “Hm?”

“Look what I found. It's crazy!”

That got his attention instantly, and you opened your hand.

The iridescent shell rested against your palm, catching the golden light of the late afternoon sun. For a second, Noah just stared at it, then he looked at you.

And the expression on his face changed so subtly you almost would have missed it if you hadn’t been watching him carefully.

Soft. Warm. Something dangerously close to fondness spreading through his eyes so openly that it made feel a weird sensation in the pit of your stomach. But a good one.

It was like seeing you happy over something small mattered more to him than it probably should have.

Davis looked between the two of you immediately.

“I thought I lost it when the Specter sank,” you admitted, still turning it gently between your fingers. “Jolly found it on the beach somehow.”

Noah’s gaze dropped back to the shell for another second before the corner of his mouth lifted faintly.

“Maybe it’s magic.”

You snorted softly.

“Or it was destiny,” he added lightly.

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed under your breath, still unable to stop smiling.

“I just don’t want to lose it again,” you admitted quietly.

Noah tilted his head slightly. “Why’s it so important?”

You immediately shrugged like the answer was obvious.

“I don’t know. I just like it.” Your fingers curled around it again instinctively. “It’s a pretty shell.”

Noah looked extremely unconvinced by that explanation. But thankfully, he didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he held his hand out toward you suddenly.

“Give it to me.”

You blinked. “What? It's my shell. You gave it to me.”

“If you leave it with me for a couple hours,” he said, “I can probably find a way to make sure you don’t lose it again.”

Suspicion crossed your face immediately.

“That sounds suspicious.”

“Relax.”

“Not when you're being suspicious.”

Noah rolled his eyes slightly. “I’m not going to destroy your precious shell, princess.”

You narrowed your eyes at him for another second. Then finally, reluctantly, you placed it into his hand.

He closed his fingers carefully around it.

“Don’t do anything terrible to it,” you warned.

A faint smile pulled at his mouth again.

“I promise.”

Late that evening, after dinner with the crew, you finally escaped the chaos of the deck and returned to your room.

The meal had been loud, messy, and full of arguments that made absolutely no sense. At one point you had physically taken a piece of bread out of Jesse’s hand after he shoved nearly half of it into his mouth at once.

“You eat like a caveman, god,” you had told him in horror.

“I am starving,” he replied immediately.

“You ate two plates already.”

“And I could eat three more.”

Somehow that had started a debate involving Davis defending “efficient eating methods” while Folio nearly choked laughing.

By the time you finally left, your face hurt from smiling too much.

Now, though, the ship had grown quieter, calmer.

You closed the door behind you and struck a match against the wall carefully before lighting the candle resting near your bed.

Warm light slowly filled the small cabin, flickering gold against the wooden walls. You sat down near the edge of the bed after a while, one knee pulled slightly toward your chest as you watched the candlelight move.

The shadows shifted constantly with the movement of the flame. One looked vaguely like a cloud drifting across the wall. Another reminded you of a ship with tall sails.

And one almost like a city skyline.

Your gaze lingered on it a little too long.

You inevitably thought about Saint Marlowe.

Because after everything that had happened, after the prison, the castle, the escape, the destruction of the Specter… you were still getting closer. Closer to a city that had nothing to do with pirates, crimes, pirates and Noah.

You were still staring absently at the shifting shadows when a knock sounded softly against your door.

You blinked, startled slightly out of your thoughts.

For a second you just sat there listening, then you stood and crossed the room.

You were dressed simply, with loose white shirt hanging off one shoulder slightly and dark trousers loose around your legs, comfortable enough to sleep in eventually.

When you opened the door, Noah was standing there.

He looked a little tired, softer somehow, slightly sleepy around the eyes. His dark hair was messy, and he wore a loose black shirt with the first few buttons undone carelessly, exposing the tattoos ok his neck and part of his chest.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Were you already asleep?”

You shook your head lightly.

“No,” you answered. “I was just… thinking.”

Noah studied you for a second from the doorway, one shoulder leaning lightly against the frame.

“What were you thinking about?”

You hesitated briefly before shaking your head.

“Nothing important.”

His expression made it very clear he did not believe you at all. But thankfully, he let it go.

“Okay,” he said simply.

For a second neither of you moved.

The candle behind you flickered softly, casting warm light across the corridor and catching in Noah’s brown eyes while the ship creaked gently beneath your feet.

Then Noah seemed to remember why he had come in the first place.

“Oh— right.”

He reached into his pocket. Your eyes dropped immediately to his hands as he pulled something out carefully.

It was the shell, but not exactly as it had been before.

A tiny hole had been made near the top, smooth and careful enough not to crack it, and threaded through it was a thin dark cord tied securely around the edges.

He turned it into a necklace.

You stared at it for a second in complete surprise. Noah lifted it slightly between two fingers.

“So you stop losing it,” he said.

The shell caught the candlelight again, shimmering softly with shifting colors as it swung gently from the cord.

You looked back up at him almost immediately.

“You did this?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed briefly at the back of his neck with his free hand, suddenly looking oddly uncertain about it now. “I figured it’d be easier to keep if you could wear it or something.”

He glanced down at the shell again.

“I tried not to ruin it. I hope I didn't.”

Something warm twisted painfully in your chest.

Because somehow the fact that he had taken the time to do this himself felt absurdly important.

You reached for it carefully, your fingers brushing briefly against his as he handed it over.

“It’s beautiful,” you said softly.

Noah’s eyes lifted back to yours.

“Really?”

“Yes.” You looked down at it again, turning the shell gently between your fingers. “I love it, actually. Thank you so much.”

For a second, Noah just watched you.

And then that softer expression appeared again, quieter this time but impossible to miss.

“I’m glad,” he said quietly. “I was hoping you would.”

You smiled before you could stop yourself.

The shell rested warm in your palm now, the cord dangling between your fingers, and suddenly it felt even more precious than before.

You looked down at the shell again, still turning it carefully between your fingers for another second before lifting the cord over your head.

The shell settled lightly against your chest as you tied it behind your neck quickly.

It rested just below your collarbone, cool against your skin at first.

You looked back up at Noah almost immediately.

“Well?” you asked. “I don’t exactly have a mirror in here, so you’ll have to tell me.”

Noah’s eyes lifted toward the shell automatically.

Then to you.

For a moment, he just looked, and his gaze lingered a second longer than necessary.

“It looks good on you,” he said quietly.

You smiled faintly, fingers brushing briefly over the shell again, “Thanks.”

A small silence settled afterward. Noah shifted slightly in the doorway like he was debating something internally for a moment.

Then finally he spoke again.

“Can I come in for a second?”

You blinked lightly.

“There’s something I wanted to say,” he explained. “And I’d rather the others didn’t overhear it.”

You hesitated only a second before stepping aside slightly.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Noah stepped into the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

The sound of the latch clicking into place suddenly made the small cabin feel even smaller.

Warmer too.

You crossed back toward the bed and sat down near the edge automatically, one leg folding slightly beneath you.

Noah, meanwhile, stayed standing for a second near the door like he suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

You looked up at him, “You can sit, you know.”

That earned the faintest flicker of amusement from him.

And as he moved toward the bed, you had the strange sudden thought that months ago, before all of this, before pirates and prison breaks and shipwrecks and Noah, you never would have imagined casually inviting a man into your room at night.

Much less onto your bed.

And yet now it felt strangely natural.

Noah sat down carefully beside you, leaving just enough space between you both to be respectful without making the distance awkward.

For a second neither of you spoke. The candle crackled softly nearby while the ship moved gently beneath you.

Then Noah finally exhaled quietly through his nose and rubbed one hand briefly across his jaw.

“When you found out the truth about me…” he started slowly.

You stayed quiet, listening immediately.

“I thought you’d treat me differently afterward.”

You frowned slightly.

“Noah—”

“I mean it,” he interrupted softly. “I expected it. I thought you would have kept your distance.”

His fingers rested loosely against his knees now, but you could still see some tension there.

“But you didn’t. You still talked to me exactly the same way.” A faint breath of disbelief almost escaped him. “You still insulted me exactly the same way, too.”

That finally made you laugh softly.

Noah smiled a little at the sound before his expression softened again.

“And I know it probably doesn’t seem important,” he admitted quietly. “But it was for me.”

You looked at him carefully, feeling a rare honesty in his voice.

“So…” He glanced away briefly before looking back again. “I just wanted to say thank you for that.”

You frowned slightly at him.

“I didn’t have a reason to treat you differently.”

Noah let out a faint breath through his nose, almost like a quiet laugh without humor in it.

“Yeah, you did.”

Your eyebrows pulled together. “Why?”

He leaned back slightly where he sat beside you, gaze drifting toward the floor again.

“Because... I'm fucked up,” he said, “And I was rejected by my own father.” He added quietly.

“But that’s not what defines you.”

He looked at you.

“You’re not what he did to you,” you said softly. “And you’re not less because of what he decided.”

Silence.

Noah held your gaze for a long second, like he didn’t quite know what to do with words like that.

Then eventually he looked away again, rubbing his thumb absently against his palm.

“When we fell onto that balcony…” he said after a moment.

“I thought about killing him. I mean really doing it,” he admitted quietly. “For a second I almost did.”

You stayed silent, letting him continue.

“He was right there.” Noah’s jaw tightened slightly again. “And after everything… after all those years…” He shook his head faintly. “I wanted to see him die.”

The candle flickered softly between you.

“But then I realized if I killed the king, every soldier in the kingdom would spend the rest of their lives hunting me down.” He gave a small humorless laugh. “Even more than they already do.”

His gaze lowered. “And it wouldn’t only affect me.” He swallowed once before continuing more quietly. “I’d be putting the crew at risk too.”

A pause.

“And you. So I stopped.”

For a second the only sound in the room was the distant ocean outside the ship. Then you spoke softly.

“I think it’s normal that you wanted to. And I think your decision to put the people you care about first says a lot about you.”

Noah looked at you immediately.

After everything his father had done, after his mother, after everything... how could he not want that?

Something in Noah’s expression shifted slightly at your words, he let out a quiet breath and shook his head faintly.

“You’re too good to live with pirates.”

A little chuckle escaped you before you could stop it.

“That’s funny,” you said lightly. “Considering I’ve committed several crimes recently.”

“That’s different.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Noah glanced at you with the faintest hint of amusement returning. “You're still a princess.”

You laughed again, quieter this time, and somehow the heaviness in the room eased just slightly.

“And you’re a prince,” you pointed out softly.

Noah let out a quiet breath through his nose.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Something like that...” A faint pause. “Not really.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Does it bother you? Being called that?”

His eyes lifted back to yours.

“No,” he said after a second. “Not if it’s you saying it.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of your mouth.

“Good to know.”

Silence settled again after that. You watched him for a moment, noticing the way his expression drifted slightly, like part of him had disappeared somewhere far away for a second, probably thinking about his past.

“Do you have any good memories from when you were little?” you asked softly.

Noah looked almost surprised by the question.

“…Some.”

You hesitated briefly before asking, “Would you want to tell me about them?”

He studied you for a second, then gave a small shrug.

“Why not.”

And somehow, that was how the night disappeared.

At some point Noah moved closer without either of you really noticing it happening, until you were both sitting with your backs against the wall beside the bed, shoulders almost touching in the dim candlelight.

And while the ship creaked softly around you and the ocean moved somewhere outside the walls, Noah talked.

He told you about sneaking out of the castle as a child, climbing over walls and disappearing into the town to meet his friends. According to Noah, his mother had never been impressed by the fact that he spent most of his childhood returning home dirty, bruised, and carrying things he definitely had not paid for.

“She used to yell at me constantly for stealing,” he admitted with the faintest grin. “Didn’t stop me.”

You laughed quietly, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Shocking.”

“I know. I was a difficult boy.”

“You still are.”

He told you about stealing pieces of expensive food and toys made of wood. Apparently he had once hidden an entire cake under his bed until Helena found it.

“She was furious,” Noah said, laughing under his breath at the memory. “Mostly because ants started invading the room.”

You laughed harder at that.

He talked about Helena too, how she used to patch up his scraped knees, because he always had been a reckless child, and secretly save him food when his mother was working too late.

And as the hours passed, you realized most of Noah’s happiest memories were small ones. Stolen food. Running through crowded streets. Laughing with people who loved him.

Simple things. Things he had almost never been allowed to keep.

But when he spoke about them now, sitting there beside you in the dim light with sleep slowly pulling at both of you, there was warmth in his voice all the same.

You weren’t really sure at what point you had fallen asleep.

You only remembered Noah’s voice growing softer and softer in the darkness, and the warmth of him sitting close beside you.

You had wanted to keep listening. Really.

But it had gotten so late, and his voice started sounding like a lullaby at some point. Your eyes had grown heavier little by little until, somewhere between one of Noah’s stories and the sound of the ocean outside, you had drifted off with your head lightly pressed against his shoulder.

You didn’t know when he had left afterward.

Only that when you woke the next morning, the candle had long since burned out, leaving a faint trail of cooled wax down the table beside the bed.

Soft morning light filtered weakly through the small window of the cabin.

And the warmth beside you was gone.

Noah taglist pt 1: @mushrumink @sullyselena @buttercupbabyyy @pathion @pipidoll @missduffsblog @vibecops @myexistencesucks @overmydeadbodysblog @margocos-blog @heyitsjay316 @sallyba3 @bartxnhood @lacy1986 @iamamatus @dream-machine-love @amoursims @suessmausnici @whimsicaldiamonds @imyourliquor-youremypoison @punkprincess1999 @bored-rato @thepeoplesblog @dxthrone @illmakeyousaywow @xmads-omensx @sikowitzbitch @tosoundlessdarkistare @sadbitchenergy @flowery-mess @anything-morethan-human @lekyswixexx @english-fucker @follow-me-down-to-wonderland

shbto tags: @novainpolaroids @enzocoquette @lifeirreverent @shobolanya @crystallizedtime @mushroommelody1 @leosunshine @takeme1st @thepurpletrain2groovycity @lookinalittleblue @thefountainn @platespaghetti @v1per1ne @chipotlebagnoah @caitlin-mnsn

[silent-stories]

Noah taglist pt 2: @concretedecisions @ichoosetenderomens @theservantbones @pacificbutbmth @theanarchymuse95 @ykaaretsfood @noahsebastiann @nogoodsailors @hed0nistt @bassvivz @ashlynnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn @hedonist-k1l @worldofashton @jesuisunchaton @bluebird19 @lowergroundfloor @cemetery-cuddles @deardelirium @ineedrelief @foliosgirl @darkparadiseg @ferduttini @themorticians-world @rainriot @dypsypinky @ami-gami @millyxroses @respectfulrebel @concreteangel92 @queen-foraday @iconic-taurus @temporalgalaxymarauder @shayseeker @lunamoonbby @sugaruapologist @supersquirrel1996 @booknerd-4ever-18 @idontwantthemoney5 @enemiestolovershoe @thepetrichor @mrslumi @itsfarbettertolearn @glasshousestragedy @icybansheesoul @sister-sebastian @icybansheesoul

[runningincircl3s]

VELVET

sugardaddy!noah x reader

part six

masterlist ☆ wc: 8.7k ☆ chapter warnings: NSFW (blowjob, soft and sleepy unprotected sex) also i never proof read my smut so that should also be a warning :/

this is just a sweet and domestic chapter <3 it might not seem like a lots happening but these last couple chapters have been setting up for what's to come mwahaha🫶

・┈・୨୧・┈・

The next morning you woke up to warmth. Not from the covers, but from the fingers slowly running through your hair. It was gentle enough that it barely disturbed your sleep, fingertips combing through the strands before settling at the back of your head.

Then came a soft kiss against your forehead.

“...Sweetheart?”

You made a sleepy noise of protest, burying your face further into the pillow that smelt so much like him. But then a kiss came again, to your cheek this time.

“Morning.”

“No…” You grumbled into the pillow.

“No?” Noah smiled to himself, “But you’ve got work today.”

“Not anymore. I quit.”

Noah let out a quiet laugh, his fingertips gently stroking over your arm this time.

“You did, did you?”

“Mhm.”

“When?”

“...Now.”

Another kiss was pressed to your temple.

“Well that’s unfortunate, baby. ‘Cause I already made you breakfast.”

You cracked an eye open.

“Is this a bribe?”

“Of course not.” He chuckled, “Just... encouragement.”

You squinted up at him, still too sleepy to properly focus. But you noticed his hair was damp as if he’d just showered, and he’d already changed into a pair of black joggers and a fitted dark grey t-shirt. He looked like he’d been awake for hours…

“When did you wake up?” You asked.

“Five thirty.”

“What?!” You suddenly opened both eyes, and Noah smirked.

“Yep. I woke up early, went out for a run, took a shower…”

“You do that for fun?”

He chuckled, nodding his head.

“Well, yeah. I do enjoy it.”

“Mm, you’re weird.” You said, smiling sleepily as you tried to hide beneath the covers again.

You had decided you were staying here all day. The bed was warm, it smelled like Noah, there was absolutely no reason to leave it… until a few moments later, when you felt him gently tug the covers back enough for your face to reappear.

“C’mon, baby. Remember what you told me yesterday?”

“...No?”

He let out a breath of laughter, before his hand returned to your hair, scratching lightly against your scalp.

“You said if you didn’t go to work it’d drive you insane.” He said, making you groan, “So unfortunately…”

“...I have to go.” You finished his sentence with the deepest sigh imaginable. Then you slowly pushed yourself up, your hair a complete mess as you rubbed your eyes. “Fine.”

He smiled, then slowly stood up from the bed.

“Want coffee?”

“Mhm.” You nodded before yawning. “Please.”

“It’s downstairs.”

“You didn’t bring it up?” You frowned, and he shook his head. “Why not?”

“If I brought it up here, you’d drink it, roll back over and go straight back to sleep.”

Well… he had a point.

You got out of bed eventually and followed him downstairs to the kitchen. You saw the plate on the kitchen counter with a couple mugs of coffee beside it, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You made me breakfast, coffee, and you’re driving me to work?”

“Yep.” He nodded.

You looked up at him, studying his face for a moment before giving him a cheeky grin.

“...I could get used to this, y’know.”

…

After getting ready and getting in the car, the drive to work felt oddly normal. It was nothing like Paris, the drives to and from the fancy hotel with shopping bags piled high. It was just a cold Monday morning, and an ordinary drive through your city while the radio quietly played, filling the silence.

You glanced over at Noah, he had one hand resting lazily on the wheel,his sunglasses hid his eyes, but you could still see how soft his face was, like this wasn’t an inconvenience to him in the slightest.

“So…” he said after a comfortable few minutes in silence, “How’re you feeling about going back to work after the weekend we've just had?”

“I’ll probably get through it.” You sighed. “It all depends on whether the customers remember a frappuccino isn’t supposed to be hot.”

Noah chuckled at that, and slowly came to a stop at a red light. Without really thinking about it, he reached across and rested his hand on your knee, his thumb softly over the fabric of your jeans before his attention returned to the lights ahead.

You looked down at his hand, then at him, and the softest, giddiest smile spread across your face. Though he didn’t notice, he was too busy looking at the mirrors before making a turn.

“So…” you asked, “What are your plans today?”

Noah let out a sigh, glancing at you for a second before answering.

“Work.” He said simply, and you nodded, not expecting him to elaborate further. “I’m gonna be in the studio for a few hours going over something with a couple of the guys, then I’ve got a meeting at 2. It should be over by the time you finish though, so I should be able to pick you up. Otherwise I’ll send a car… if that’s okay?”

You nodded your head.

“Yeah, yeah of course.”

He smiled and gave your knee a soft squeeze. After that, another comfortable silence settled between you two, and you found yourself absent mindedly fiddling with the bracelet on his wrist without even realising it. But the moment you caught yourself, you stopped. Then you turned to him again.

“…Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Do you ever stop?”

He glanced at you again, his eyebrows drawn together.

“What d’you mean?”

“You’ve been up since five thirty."

“Mhm.”

“You went for a run, showered, made me breakfast… and now you’re driving me to work.”

“Mhm.”

“You’re gonna be busy practically all day.”

“Yep.”

“…When do you actually relax?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, long enough that you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you. But then he finally smiled to himself.

“When I’m with you.”

That suddenly made your heart flutter.

“What?”

He shrugged one shoulder, as though he’d just commented on something as simple as the weather.

“You heard me.”

Before you could say anything, or try to process that, you realised where you were. Noah had pulled into the staff car park outside your work, and you felt a little disappointed knowing this would be the first time since Thursday that you two would be apart.

“Alright.” He said as he put the car into park.

You sighed, and he reached over, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’ve got this.” He smiled. “And if anyone gives you a hard time…”

“I’ll send them your way.” You smiled.

“Exactly.”

You chuckled, shaking your head softly.

“Thank you… for this.”

“For what?”

“Everything. Breakfast, the lift, letting me stay at your place… making sure I actually got out of bed.”

He smiled.

“My pleasure.”

You reached for the door handle-

“Sweetheart.” He said, and you paused and looked back to see Noah’s expression had softened again. “Have a good day.”

God, the words were so simple, but something about the way he said them made your tummy feel warm and fuzzy.

“You too.” You said as you climbed out, adjusting the strap of your new Dior bag on your shoulder.

Noah watched you walk towards the entrance for a second before rolling down his window.

“Hey.”

You turned around and he nodded towards your handbag.

“Don’t let Tom have a heart attack when he sees that.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“No promises.”

“I’ll keep my phone on.”

“Just in case?”

“Just in case.” He grinned.

Still smiling, you turned and headed inside, the familiar little bell above the cafe door chimed as you opened it, and immediately the rich strong smell of fresh coffee beans filled the air around you.

You smiled to yourself as you headed behind the counter, already reaching for your apron.

“You are late.” You looked up to see Tom leaning against the espresso machine with his arms folded rather dramatically.

You glanced at the clock.

“I am two minutes early, actually.” You pointed out.

“…Damn it.”

You grinned, and he pushed himself off the counter and wandered over, pulling you into a quick hug.

“Welcome back.”

“Missed me?”

“No.”

“You liar.”

“Fine. Maybe a little.”

You laughed, walking into the little staff room, hanging your jacket up on the hook.

“So…” Tom drew the word out far longer than necessary. “…How was Paris?”

You couldn’t help smiling.

“It was…” Your brain immediately filled with images. Noah kissing your forehead as the Eiffel Tower sparkled behind him, breakfast on the balcony, shopping, falling asleep on him every night. And the sex… oh the sex. “…Really nice.”

Tom narrowed his eyes.

“‘Really nice? That’s all I’m getting?”

“For now.” You smirked.

“Oh, hell no.” He pointed a finger at you. “You disappear for a few days with Mr Millionaire and come back saying it was ‘really nice’?”

“He’s not a millionaire.” You chuckled.

“Y/n, if he’s not a millionaire then how do you explain literally everything about him?”

“…Fair point.” You said quietly after a moment.

“I want details, by the way. Detailed details.”

“You’ll get them… just not when we’re about to open.”

“You’re so boring.” Tom groaned.

“I’ve just taken two days off and I’ve got a job I’d like to keep, thank you very much.”

Tom sighed, and you set your bag down to grab your phone out of it… and then he suddenly went completely silent. When you turned back around, slipping your phone into your pocket, he was staring at your handbag.

“…y/n?”

“…Yeah?”

“…Whose bag is that?”

You looked down innocently.

“Mine?”

“No… that is not the bag you left here with.”

“No?”

“You left with an ugly tote… the one with the hole in the bottom.”

“Wow, thanks!” You scoffed.

“You’ve come back with…” He leaned closer. “…Is that fucking Dior?”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile.

“…Maybe.”

Tom’s eyes widened.

“Is this from who I think it’s from?”

You couldn’t help the giddy smile spreading across your face.

“...Maybe?”

“Mr Millionaire? Shit, how much did he spend on you out there?”

You thought about the perfumes, the other bags, the dresses, the jewellery, the shoes.

“…I don’t actually want to add it up.”

“Oh my god.” His eyes widened, “And has he wanted sex yet? I mean, I’d give it to him even without the gifts and-”

“Tom!” You gasped, your cheeks suddenly turning red, “No, he hasn’t wanted anything… however…”

His jaw dropped.

“You did it?” He waved his hands in excitement, “You fucked Mr Millionaire?!”

“Please stop calling him that,” you laughed as you walked out towards the counter, “And… yes,” you added quietly, “We did do it. Twice, actually.”

You had never seen Tom’s eyes so wide, nor his grin. He looked like he was the one who’d been taken to Paris.

“And how was it? Was he good? Was he big? Did he-”

“I don’t know if this is something we should talk about when a customer could walk in at literally any moment.”

“I don’t care!” He waved a hand, “I need these details!!”

You chuckled, leaning against the counter.

“Fine. It was good- better than good. I don’t even have words to explain it. He knew just what to do, where to touch, what to say… except, the first time we did it, he got a little carried away.”

“How?” Tom asked, his face suddenly softening.

“He was just saying these things, but we talked about it the next day. He said he was just playing into the whole sugar daddy sugar baby thing.”

“...Saying what kinda things?” He asked cautiously.

You sighed, not wanting to think about it.

“Well… he was saying this like this is what I pay for, which made no sense to me because he said in the beginning he didn’t even want sex?”

“Mm,” Tom hummed, “But he is a man at the end of the day, so…”

“I know.” You sighed, “But… I dunno, I believe him. He isn’t like anyone else I’ve ever known, Tom. He’s so… he’s so sweet. He’s so considerate, so selfless. I know he really cares about me-”

“Wait wait wait,” Tom stopped you, “Are you two like… a thing?”

You hesitated for a moment.

“…I don’t actually know. We’re… whatever this is.” You let out a sigh, pushing yourself up from the counter.

Tom’s expression softened.

“…And how’re you feeling about that?”

You thought about it for a moment.

“…Confused.” You confessed, then a smile crept onto your face despite yourself. “…But happy. Very happy.”

Tom nodded his head.

“Yeah, I could tell from the way you were glowing as you came in. Did you stay with him last night?”

You let out a long sigh.

“Yeah… it’s a long story.”

Tom glanced at the door quickly before looking back at you.

“It’s looking like we've got a slow morning. We’ve got time.”

“I guess,” you nodded. “The ceiling kinda fell through in my apartment… so I’m staying with him until it’s fixed.”

Tom’s face scrunched in confusion, then softened.

“...What?”

But before you could explain any more, the bell chimed on the door, and Tom suddenly spun around, all bright smiles for the first customer of the day, making you chuckle.

…

Clearly, being spoiled over the weekend wasn’t for the best, since you were now struggling to function at work. Your feet ached, you were sweating, and you just wanted to sit down. You were counting down the minutes to your lunch break, and when it finally rolled around, you basically ripped off your apron.

“You good?” Tom asked as he passed you a sandwich from behind the counter, and you shook your head, making him laugh. “Go take your break.”

And so you did. You took the sandwich and headed for the little staff room at the back of the cafe, feeling relief instantly when you sat down, letting out a long sigh.

When you pulled your phone out, you noticed there was a text from your landlord. He told you the inspection had been delayed to tomorrow, and apologised for any inconvenience. You rolled your eyes, and decided enough was enough.

You opened up your browser, and searched properties to rent near me, and tapped onto the first website that came up. You scrolled through it slowly, chewing on your sandwich.

There were a few one/two bedroom houses, but they were pretty expensive, and too far from work. You couldn’t imagine yourself in a studio apartment- the place you lived in right now was already small enough...

Why was it so overwhelming?

You liked your little apartment, it wasn’t much, it was small but cozy, had questionable plumbing and the walls were paper thin, but it was your home. Now, as you were looking through photos of pristine and empty places, everything suddenly felt super stressful.

You even found yourself wondering… would Noah come with you to look at them?

The thought made you smile. You could already picture him wandering around an empty apartment, opening cupboards, checking windows, asking questions you would’ve never thought to ask.

How old are the windows? Any damp? Plumbing issues?- After what had happened to your apartment, you could imagine that would be the first thing on his mind.

Then another thought slipped into your mind. He’d probably insist on paying the rent.

You stared at the screen, thinking about how he’d offered you so much already. A trip to Paris without you spending a penny, paying for you to get your hair and nails done whenever you want, even offering you his own home…

But would you even let him pay for something like that? He’d already helped you out a while ago when you were behind on rent, and you hated that as it was.

Your eye caught another listing before your phone buzzed in your hand, it was a message notification, and your heart fluttered the moment you saw his name appear.

Noah 🤍: How’s my favourite barista doing?

You smiled so quickly your cheeks hurt.

You: Not bad. She survived the morning :)

Three little dots appeared, and after a couple seconds, his next message popped up.

Noah 🤍: Oh yeah? Anything interesting happen?

You: Not really, it’s just been really busy and I feel extra tired today :(

You: But Tom’s reaction to the new bag was hilarious though. I wish you could’ve seen his face

Noah 🤍: I can imagine

Noah 🤍: Have you eaten?

You looked down at the half finished sandwich in your lap. Of course that was his next question.

You: Yep I’m on my lunch break right now 😊

Noah 🤍: Good.

You smiled at the one word, and decided to tease him.

You: Good?

You: That’s all I get? 🙁

Noah 🤍: Fine fine.

Noah 🤍: Good girl

Your stomach fluttered, and you glanced around the empty staff room as though someone might somehow read over your shoulder.

You were beginning to like this a little too much.

Noah 🤍: That what you wanted to hear?

You: Yep thank you :)

Noah 🤍: Noted

Noah 🤍: I’ve got meetings to go to soon baby so I might be quiet for a bit. But if you need me, call.

It was silly how something as simple as that made your heart soften, like he’d answer no matter what he was doing… for you.

You: Thanks, I’ll be okay.

Noah 🤍: I know you will. Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you though

You stared at the message for a moment, smiling to yourself.

“So…”

You suddenly looked up to find Tom standing in the doorway with a coffee in his hand.

“What’s Mr Millionaire saying now? Wanna fuck in my penthouse then fly out to Italy for a week?”

You locked your phone and rolled your eyes.

“Shut up.” You groaned as you stood up, then quickly finished your sandwich before throwing the wrapper away.

Just as Tom was about to say something else, the bell above the door chimed, and he let out a sigh as he spun on his heels and walked back up to the counter.

You smirked, and picked your phone back up from the table. You unlocked it, then suddenly remembered what you were doing before Noah began to text you.

“Tom…” You called as you stepped out of the staff room and reached for your apron again, “Can I ask you something?”

“…Depends. Do I get something out of it?” He said, leaning against the counter.

Your eyebrows drew together.

“…I dunno, maybe?”

He nodded his head.

“Then go ahead.”

You took your phone back out of your pocket and scrolled to one of the apartments you’d saved.

“What do you think of this?”

Tom leaned in closer to get a better look.

It was a beautiful, modern one bedroom apartment with huge windows in the living room, a little balcony, a gorgeous kitchen…

“Uh...” He began, pulling a face.

“What?” You asked suddenly.

“This is nice…” you braced yourself for the ‘but’. “But the rent? Do you even make that in a year?”

“That’s the thing-“

“Oh no.” Tom immediately looked suspicious, but folded his arms. “Keep going. I'm listening.”

You looked back down at your phone.

“Would you say it’s a bad idea to move somewhere you couldn’t normally afford… if someone else was paying the rent?”

Tom stared at you.

“You mean Noah?”

Slowly, and almost reluctantly, you nodded your head.

“Has Noah offered to pay your rent?”

“A couple times, but he doesn’t know I’ve been looking at new places.”

Tom nodded his head, seeming almost a little confused.

“Then why are we having this conversation if you know he would?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t know… it just doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to feel like I’m using him.”

Tom snorted so loudly that a couple heads turned.

“He’s your sugar daddy!” He exclaimed, “That’s what you’re supposed to do! That’s literally what he wants you to do!!”

You pulled a face.

“Yeah… but he’s not exactly a conventional sugar daddy, is he?”

“What, you mean he’s not a lonely old creep?” Tom laughed, and you couldn't help but chuckle too.

“I mean…”

“No,” Tom continued, “He isn't. Instead you’ve got a stupidly attractive guy who looks like he was hand scuplted by god herself, so now you feel guilty.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then closed it again.

He was right.

“I knew it.”

“I don’t know how I feel, Tom.” You groaned, tipping your head back in frustration.

His grin faded a little when he noticed just how serious you were being.

“What do you mean?”

“Everything! Everything about him!” You sighed, “When we were away… it felt like we were a couple. Other than the one time during sex, he’s never made it feel like we’re just an arrangement. He calls me names like baby and sweetheart, and when we cuddle it doesn’t feel like it’s forced or fake… we've talked about it once, I asked him what this is but I didn't get a straight answer. He just basically told me he likes having me around. I just don’t know...”

Silence settled between you, and Tom looked at you for a long moment before speaking.

“…Have you told him any of that?”

You looked up immediately.

“What? No!”

“Why not?”

“Because what if I’m completely wrong? What if he just wants fun? What if that’s… just how he is?”

Tom gave you a look.

“Maybe you should do an experiment?” Tom smirked, “See how he reacts if he thinks someone else is into you. Maybe tell him a customer hit on you at work, asked for your number, asked you on a date- and see how he reacts.”

You thought about it for a moment.

That was a good idea… wasn’t it?

“But what if he doesn’t react?” You asked quietly, “We’re not exclusive, or at least he’s not said we are. For all I know, he could be with another girl right now! So what if he just says that’s nice, have fun! And then I spend the rest of my life feeling like an idiot?”

“...Then don’t do it.”

“But… you just told me I should?!” You frowned.

“I know... but really think about it. If Noah does like you like that, then intentionally making him jealous would only hurt him. And if he doesn’t react… then you’ll only end up hurting yourself.”

You sighed, turning with your back to the counter.

“You're so fucking confusing." You said under your breath, shaking your head, "So then what am I supposed to do, Tom?”

He shrugged.

“Maybe he’s wondering exactly the same thing,” he said, “What if he likes things how they are, and he wants it to stay this way, and that's why he's not said anything. Or even, what if from his point of view he’s thinking I don’t want to pressure her.”

For the first time in all the time you’ve known him… Tom actually had a point.

…

The rest of the day passed quite nicely. A few regulars came in and you had a chat, a couple older ladies were telling you how pretty you looked, before trying to set you up with their sons- Tom stepped in when he had finished laughing at your awkwardness, telling them you were already seeing somebody. You served one of your old teachers from school, who you had a laugh with when you "accidentally" spelled his name wrong on his cup, because he always spelled your name wrong at school.

Even if you weren’t completely exhausted, by the time the clock crept towards six, you were just ready to go home.

You were cleaning the espresso machine when your phone started to buzz on the counter. You ignored it at first, but then it buzzed again, and again.

“Wanna get that?” Tom asked as he carried a tray of mugs past, “It might be your landlord.”

You nodded, and stopped what you were doing. But when you read the name on the screen, your heart skipped a beat, and you tapped on the message.

Noah 🤍: Baby I’m so sorry

Your smile faded just as quickly as it appeared.

Noah 🤍: This meetings massively overrun, I’ve been trying to get out of it for the last hour.

Noah 🤍: I don’t think I’m gonna make it to you in time

Your shoulders sank just a little, because you’d spent all day looking forward to seeing him again. It felt silly since he only dropped you off this morning, yet you still spent the last hour imagining him pulling up outside, climbing out of the car with a little smile as he spotted you through the cafe window.

*buzz*

Noah 🤍: I’ve arranged for a driver to pick you up, he’ll be there in about ten minutes. There’s a spare key under the little ceramic plant pot by the front door so you can let yourself in.

Noah 🤍: I’m really sorry sweetheart.

You stared at the last message for a few seconds, you could almost hear the guilt in his voice through the text. You knew that he hated breaking promises, especially to you.

You: It’s fine :)

You: I hope your meeting goes okay

Before you could lock your phone, he had replied again.

Noah 🤍: Thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you ❤️

Your heart squeezed, because he didn’t have to say that, he hadn’t done anything wrong. You could already tell his job was pretty stressful, and after the morning he had you weren’t sure if he had a moment to rest all day.

“You alright?” Tom’s voice pulled you back, and you looked up to find him watching you from the other end of the counter.

“…Yeah. I will be.”

…

The black car pulled up to the curb outside the cafe five minutes after Tom left, and you suddenly felt like someone important. It was only a short drive back to Noah’s place, and you watched out the window the entire ride, watching the sun begin to dip below the rooftops.

You thanked the driver as you got out, after pulling into Noah’s driveway. He told you to have a lovely evening, to which you smiled and replied you too.

You walked up to the door, and spotted the plant pot, and the spare key was exactly where Noah said it would be. You smiled as you picked it up and slid it into the door, twisting it before stepping inside.

It felt strangely normal, coming home to here. Immediately you were greeted by the now familiar scent of fresh laundry, cedarwood and coffee, and you pushed the door shut behind you. You slipped your shoes off and hung your jacket on the hook beside his, you also set your handbag down on the little table in the hallway, where he had told you he’d made some space for you this morning.

You paused, and then glanced around, thinking what now?

It felt odd having an entire house- though it felt more like a mansion- to yourself. Your apartment had been so tiny that no matter where you stood, you could see almost every room. But this place… you could probably lose yourself in it.

You slowly stepped into the kitchen as you wondered what to do, and you noticed how everything was spotless. The mugs you’d both used that morning were drying beside the sink, the crumbs you left on the island (which you offered to clean, but to no surprise, he didn’t let you) had been wiped away, ans the surface was almost sparkling.

His house was just so comfortable and peaceful and just homely, the total opposite of your cluttered little apartment.

You checked your phone again, but there was still nothing new, besides a few emails. Part of you considered texting him to let you know you were home, but then you imagined him sitting in the middle of a meeting somewhere, surrounded by managers, discussing… whatever it is he discusses. He didn’t need his phone buzzing every five minutes.

Besides, you were exhausted. Your feet ached from standing all day, your hair felt like it’d been tied up too tight and you hated how your clothes felt like they’ve become a second skin. When you glanced at the clock, you realised it was only 6:30. Surely you had time to have a shower before Noah got home.

So you headed up the stairs, grabbed your towel and your toiletries bag, and made your way to his bathroom. You stopped questioning it now, you stopped feeling like you were imposing. His room just felt safe and inviting, so you organised your things on his bed before walking into the bathroom and turning the shower on.

When you stepped in, you let out a long sigh. This was just what you needed after your first day back. You washed away the smell of coffee grounds and syrup from the cafe, letting the hot water ease the ache in your back and shoulders, and you felt yourself finally relax.

Afterwards, you wrapped yourself in one of his big, soft, fluffy towels before wandering back into the bedroom. You reached for your pyjamas, then smiled to yourself… and you turned your head towards Noah’s wardrobe instead. One door had been slightly left open, and you could already see a couple of his tshirts, so you reached for one and slipped it on after drying yourself, with nothing but a soft, comfy pair of cotton underwear underneath.

The first thing you noticed was that the shirt smelled like him, and it almost fell to the middle of your thighs. You couldn’t stop smiling when you caught sight of yourself in his mirror… but then it faded when the thought came to you again, is this normal for this kind of arrangement?

You shook your head, trying to shake it off, and instead, you looked at his bed. His big, comfy, welcoming bed. With a little smile, you pulled the covers back on the side you slept on last night, and you lied down with a soft sigh. You then reached for his pillow, hugging it against your chest- it still carried traces of his aftershave, his shampoo, and just… him.

You pulled the covers over you and let your eyes fall shut for a moment, and you could tell you were about to drift off. So before you did, you reached for your phone on his bedside table.

There were still no new messages, so you typed one out instead.

You: I forgot to let you know I’m back at yours ❤️

You: I hope the meeting ends soon. And I thought I’d let you know I’m stealing your bed for a nap :)

You hesitated before adding one more message.

You: Wake me up when you get home?

You hit send on the last message before locking your phone and setting it back down on the table. You turned onto your side again, and hugged his pillow a little tighter. You told yourself you’d only let yourself nap for an hour, unless Noah comes home to wake you beforehand. Maybe you’d wake up to him kissing your forehead again, or playing with your hair, or better- maybe you’d wake up to him between your- no. No dirty thoughts while you’re alone in his bed!

Before you knew it, you’d drifted off with a little smile on your face…

Only to wake up all alone.

Your eyes were still closed as you reached across the bed, something that’s recently become an instinct, half expecting to find warm skin beneath your fingertips. But instead, your hand met cold sheets. The smile you’d fallen asleep wearing slowly faded, and you rolled onto your back, blinking the sleep from your eyes as you looked around the bedroom.

It was dark now, and the room was exactly how you left it- all the lights off, curtains slightly open, door open just a little. With a sigh, you sat yourself up and reached for your phone on the bedside table.

9:02pm

You frowned, had you really slept that long? There were still no new messages, no missed calls, nothing. He hadn’t even read the messages you sent before your nap.

Poor guy, he must still be in the meeting. You could tell how guilty he felt about not being able to pick you up from work earlier, and if he hadn’t even had thirty seconds to just read your messages you knew this was out of his hands.

After a couple minutes, you climbed out of bed and wandered down the stairs barefoot. His house was still so calm and peaceful, no music, no voices, no heavy footsteps upstairs. You decided to sit in the living room, you put the TV on, and then sank into his stupidly comfy couch- which was probably more comfortable than your bed back at home.

You put some random cooking competition show on, because there wasn’t really anything else to watch and you didn’t want to use his netflix without asking first. But you weren’t really watching it. You were too busy thinking about what Tom had said earlier...

Sure, he might’ve just been joking, but was it really a bad idea? What if you accidentally make him jealous, pretend you don’t realise what you’re doing, just to see how he’d react? Not tonight, of course. Your heart already hurt at the thought of how tired and stressed he must be.

You were lost in your thoughts for almost half an hour, you were curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, when all of a sudden headlights swept across the ceiling.

You immediately sat upright. You could hear the sound of a car engine, and your heart suddenly leapt. You reached for the remote and paused the TV. You heard the sound of the engine turning off, then a car door slamming shut. You heard keys rattling, then the front door swung open.

“Noah…?” You called out, standing up and walking into the hallway.

“Baby, I’m so sorry…” A tired voice answered, and your heart shattered.

He pushed the door shut behind him, and when he turned back around he looked utterly exhausted, and not just in a way that an early night could fix.

His hair was messy from running his hand through it, his eyes looked so tired and lifeless, yet when he met your eyes, he smiled. You could tell just by the way he was looking at you, the way his face slightly softened, that he’d been looking forward to coming home.

You crossed the hallway without a word, a frown pulling at your lips as you wrapped your arms around him. You felt his body relax, one hand settled against the back of your head while the other was gently resting on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, then he rested his cheek against the top of your head.

Then he let out the deepest sigh, one he’d clearly been holding in all day.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered into your hair, “The meeting was supposed to finish at five, it was just to discuss the tour that's coming up soon and some festivals that we’ve been offered to headline, but then they started talking about other things and it was getting longer and longer and more people were coming in…”

You looked up at him through your lashes, a smile tugging at your lips.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, “You can’t help it.”

He huffed a sigh, shaking his head.

“No, but I should’ve said I had plans or that I had to leave early, or-”

You pressed a finger to his lips, and his eyes widened a little.

“Stop stressing, Noah.” You said gently, “You look exhausted. You’ve really not stopped since this morning, have you?”

He shook his head, almost a little shyly. You gave him an almost sad smile, reaching up and smoothing his hair back where it had fallen over his eyes.

“Have you eaten?” You asked.

“...Not since breakfast. I’ve had coffee and a protein bar.”

You frowned.

“Oh, Noah…”

“It’s fine. I’ll order something in.” He said, already reaching into his pocket for his phone, but you shook your head.

“No you won’t.”

His eyebrows drew together, but you were already taking his hand, leading him into the kitchen.

“Baby, you’ve been on your feet all day. I can’t expect you to-”

“Shh.” You hushed him and pointed to the chairs pulled up to the island, “Sit.”

“You should be the one sitting.”

You folded your arms over your chest.

“I’m fine, Noah. Now c’mon.”

He tilted his head.

“You’ve already eaten dinner?”

“I shared a pizza with Tom before we closed.”

“Good.”

“So now,” you pulled one of the chairs out, “I want to make you something.”

“Baby,” his voice softened, “You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I want to. And I’m not taking no for an answer.” You smirked.

“Fine.” He said after a long pause, with a long sigh as he sat down, “If it makes you happy.”

So he sat there, watching you with the tiniest smile as you wandered around his kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers.

“You know where everything is?” He asked.

“...I’m figuring it out.” You said with a chuckle.

“What do you plan on making?” He asked, resting an elbow on the island, his chin settling into his palm as he watched you inspect the contents of his fridge.

That was a very good question.

You closed the fridge with a smile.

“It’s a surprise.” You said, and he watched you reach for a saucepan.

“You’re making pasta, aren’t you?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed!” You smiled as you reached into one of the drawers.

“I’m not disappointed.”

“Good,” you pointed a wooden spoon at him. “It’s a comfort food. I’d always make it if I had a bad day.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, “Then it sounds perfect.”

You smiled, filling the pan with water, then you stole a glance at him. Oh, he made your heart hurt. His eyes were heavy, he was more quiet than usual- it made you want to wrap him in a blanket and make him sleep for a week.

You turned the heat on before walking back over to him, and without saying anything, you rested your hands carefully on either side of his face.

He looked up at you, and gave you a sleepy smile.

“…Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You’ve gone all serious.” He said.

“Mhm. You’ve got tired eyes.”

“I know.”

Your thumbs gently brushed beneath them.

“You’ve been working too hard.” You told him, and he gave you a weak, almost apologetic smile.

“It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.”

Neither of you spoke for a little moment, he just let out another little sigh before pulling you a little closer to him.

“Baby.”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I know.” You frowned, “But I’m going to anyway.”

He let out a quiet breath through his nose.

“Yeah I had a feeling you’d say that.”

You stroked your thumb softly across his cheek.

“Can you do something for me?” You asked.

His expression immediately became attentive.

“Anything.”

“When you’ve finished eating…” You hesitated for a moment, before finishing, “…Will you stop working for tonight?”

His brows knitted together.

“I’ve still got a few emails-”

“Noah.”

He looked at you, and saw the stern look on your face, and his shoulders dropped a little.

“You said you’d do anything.” You smirked.

“I did.”

“So…?”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You make it very difficult to say no.” He said, smiling up at you, “You know I’ll always end up doing exactly what you want.”

You grinned.

“So no emails?”

He shook his head.

“No, baby. I’m all yours.”

“Good,” you smiled, “We’re going straight to bed after dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said with a nod of his head, and you burst into laughter.

“You are never calling me that again.”

He smiled, watching as you took the bag of pasta from the cupboard and carefully poured some into the pan. His smile then softened, becoming something more vulnerable.

“…Thank you.” The words were so quiet you almost didnt hear them. They weren’t playful or teasing, they were genuine and made your heart feel soft.

“Of course.” You said gently, pretending you hadn’t noticed how much it had meant for him to say that.

Because he’s spent so much of his life making sure everyone else was okay, that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to let someone take care of him.

…

Outside the big glass kitchen doors, the sky was now a beautiful deep blue. Noah finished every last bite of his pasta, and despite teasing you about how simple it had been while you were cooking, he said,

“That might’ve been the best meal I’ve had all week.” As he carried his bowl over to the sink.

“But we’ve just come home from Paris.” You chuckled.

“Mm,” he hummed, “But none of that was made by you.”

You rolled your eyes and gently nudged him with your shoulder.

“Go have a shower, get ready for bed.” You told him, making him look at you rather suspiciously.

“You’re bossing me around again?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re washing up?”

“Mhm.”

He hesitated...

“You’ve already done enough.”

“And so have you.”

For a second, he looked like he was about to argue, but instead, he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“…Thank you, baby.”

Then, with one last reluctant glance towards the sink, he disappeared upstairs. You smiled to yourself as you rolled your sleeves up and began running the water, rinsing everything off before you loaded it into the dishwasher.

You couldn’t help but notice how domestic it felt, but it felt nice. You could go as far as saying it even felt natural.

By the time you’d wiped the counters down and switched the lights off, the house had fallen completely dark and silent again. So you grabbed your phone from the living room and headed back upstairs. Noah’s bedroom door was already open, the lamp light spilling out into the hallway slightly, and as you came closer, you saw he was lying against the headboard with the TV playing quietly in the background, freshly showered, wearing nothing but a comfy pair of black shorts.

His hair was still damp, the ends flicked up just slightly, and the moment you appeared by the door, he looked up.

“I told you to go to sleep.” You said with a little smile.

“Actually, you told me to go to bed.” He teased.

You shook your head with an amused sigh before climbing into bed beside him.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Ten.” You said as you checked your phone. “So if you’re gonna be waking up at five again in the morning…”

“I know.” He said with a gentle sigh, reaching over and switching the lamp off.

“So…” You reached over and picked up the remote, lowering the volume until it was barely audible. “…Why did you put a movie on?”

Noah stared at the TV for a moment before answering.

“I know my head won’t switch off straight away, not after all the stress of today.”

You turned onto your side to face him.

“Work?” You asked, though it was obvious.

He nodded.

“The tour, the festivals, budgets, finding someone to cover sound…” He let out a quiet breath. “Every time I think I’ve finished thinking about one thing, something else pops into my head.”

“You don’t have to worry about it all tonight.”

“I know… but my brain doesn’t seem to agree.”

You studied him for a second, how even now, lying in bed, he looked so tense. Like he was expecting another phone call at any moment. Then, a small sleepy grin tugged at your lips, and he looked a little suspicious.

“What?”

“I might know a way to help you relax.” You said quietly, making his eyebrows raise in curiosity, and the tired smile that spread across his face was the first truly carefree expression you’d seen from him all evening.

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded your head.

“That’s only if you’d let me.” You said slowly, sliding your hand gently down his abs, your fingertips brushing his skin until you reached the waistband of his shorts.

You looked up at him with soft sleepy eyes in the low light of the bedroom, asking for permission, and he nodded his head.

So you palmed him over his shorts as you slowly kissed your way down his chest, then his stomach, before gently tugging his shorts down just enough to free his cock. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but you knew just what to do.

You softly wrapped your hand around him and pressed a gentle kiss to the head of his cock, making him let out a quiet breath, his hand resting gently on the back of your head as you settled between his thighs.

“Baby… you don’t have to-”

“Shh,” you whispered, licking a slow stripe up the underside of his shaft, “I know. Just let me take care of you.”

You took him into your mouth, warmth and wetness enveloping him as you sucked gently, and the sounds he made sent heat straight between your thighs. You weren’t in a rush, your movements were sleepy and lazy and ever so intimate. You hummed around him, and the vibration made him twitch in your mouth.

You could tell this was just what he needed, so you kept the pace slow, your hand stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. His breathing grew heavier, but the tension in his body was slowly melting away.

“That’s it baby,” he whispered as he tenderly stroked your hair, “Just like that. You’re making me feel so fucking good.”

You looked up at him through your lashes, and the sight of him almost made you feel dizzy. His head fell back against the pillows, his eyes half closed in pleasure and relief, and you felt a sense of pride knowing this was helping.

After a moment, he finally spoke again.

“I want you to feel good too, princess.” He said, his voice deep and raspy with sleepiness, “Come here.”

You pulled off his cock with a soft wet pop and looked up at him. He took your hand and gently guided you up his body until you were straddling his hips, his cock resting hard and heavy between your bodies.

“Touch yourself for me,” he said softly as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your wet bottom lip, “Get that pretty pussy nice and wet, baby.”

You nodded your head sleepily, then shuffled back a little so you could take him back into your mouth. At the same time, you slipped your hand between your thighs and started gently rubbing your clit in lazy circles. Noah groaned quietly when he saw what you were doing.

“That’s it… good girl,” he praised, his hand gently stroking your hair again, “Just like that, nice and slow.”

There was no rush, no urgency, just the soft wet sounds of your mouth working his cock and the quiet little hums you made as you touched yourself. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, and Noah could tell by the way you moaned around him, the vibrations making him twitch in your mouth again.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby,” he whispered, slightly breathless but his voice warm and patient, “I want you to ride me, nice and slow. Is that okay?”

You nodded your head, giving him one last kiss to his tip after pulling off his cock, then you slipped your panties off and crawled up his body again, kissing up his thighs, his hips, his tummy, his chest... he watched you with heavy, half lidded eyes, his hands gently resting on your waist as you straddled him.

You then reached down, wrapped your fingers around his thick, slick cock, and slowly guided him to your entrance. With a soft breath, you sank down on to him, taking every inch until he was buried completely inside you.

You both let out a long, shared sigh. You reached for the hem of the tshirt (his tshirt) you were wearing and pulled it over your head, letting it fall to the floor with a soft sound. You then leaned forwards, pressing your chest flush against his. Your faces were so close you could feel his warm breath on your lips, then you wrapped your arms gently around his neck and started to move- just slow rolls of your hips, grinding lazily on his cock.

He groaned softly, his arms wrapping around your back, holding you just as close.

“Fuck…” he whispered, his voice rough with pleasure, “You feel so good.”

You squeezed around him on every slow downstroke, your walls fluttering and gripping his cock tightly, wanting him to feel every second of it. The closeness of it all almost felt overwhelming, skin against skin, your breasts pressed to his chest, your faces inches apart so you could kiss him whenever you wanted.

And you did. You kissed him slowly as you continued riding him at that lazy, sleepy pace. Noah’s hands slid down to grip your ass gently, just holding you as you moved on him. His breathing was getting slower and deeper, and just like that, every thought about work had suddenly disappeared.

The only thing on his mind was you, and how good you made him feel.

“You’re so warm,” he whispered against your lips, his voice full of affection. “…Just like this, princess. Keep squeezing me like that.”

You clenched around him again as you rolled your hips in a slow circle. Noah let out a long, relieved groan, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“I can feel myself relaxing already,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re so so good for me.”

You kept riding him lazily and slow, your bodies pressed so close together that you could feel each other's heartbeat. Noah’s cock throbbed deep inside you with every roll of your hips, and the pleasure was building steadily in your core.

Noah could feel it too, the way your walls kept fluttering and squeezing tighter around him. He slid one hand between your bodies, his thumb easily finding your swollen clit. He started rubbing slow, gentle circles on it, the perfect pressure making your eyes fall shut.

“Getting close?” He whispered against your lips, “Don’t hold back. I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

His thumb kept its steady pace while you continued riding him, grinding down deeper with every movement, and it just felt perfect. The combination of every sensation- his thick cock filling you, his lips on your skin, and his thumb rubbing your clit so skillfully- quickly pushed you right to the edge.

Noah kissed you deeply, swallowing your soft little moans as your thighs started to tremble.

“That’s it, baby,” he purred sweetly, rubbing your clit a little faster. “Cum for me. Let me feel how good you feel.”

Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, and you whimpered into his mouth, your teeth catching his bottom lip as your walls squeezed his cock. Noah held you tightly against his chest, still rubbing your clit gently, kissing you softly until you started to come down.

You were still catching your breath when Noah caught you off gaurd and gently rolled you both onto your sides. He spooned you from behind, pulling your back flush against his chest, somehow without ever pulling out. One arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close, while the other hand gently stroked your thigh.

He started moving again with slow and sleepy thrusts, sliding deep into you from behind.

His lips pressed against your shoulder and the back of your neck, kissing you tenderly as he fucked you. You pushed back against him, sighing softly at how deep he felt in this position, how he was hitting the most perfect spot. Noah groaned quietly, burying his face in your neck.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” he whispered, “I’m not going to last much longer like this.”

"Then don't..." You breathed, "Cum for me... please."

His thrusts became a little deeper, a little more desperate, but still so soft and intimate. He held you tightly, one hand gently cupping your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple as he fucked you from behind, kissing your shoulder and the back of your neck the entire time.

Then, with a shaky, breathy groan, Noah buried himself as deep as he could go and he finally came. You felt as he filled you with warm, thick ropes of cum, his cock twitching inside you while he held you close.

Tonight, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he stayed buried deep, his softening cock warm and snug inside you. He wrapped both arms around you, holding you even tighter, and let out a long, contented sigh.

“That was perfect, baby. Stay like this with me,” he whispered sleepily against your neck, pressing one last soft kiss there. “I want to fall asleep inside you tonight.”

You hummed happily, completely relaxed in his arms with his softening cock nestled warmly inside you as the two of you began to drift off just like that- your warm bodies pressed close, his cum slowly leaking out around him, safe and warm in each other’s arms… with the movie long forgotten, and the TV still playing quietly in the background.

・┈・୨୧・┈・

guys you aren't ready for the next chapter 🫣🫣

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[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

Pairing: noah x reader (pirates au)

Series summary: Stuck in a life you don’t want, your only way out is a deal with a pirate, and that’s how your journey on a ship of outlaws toward a new life begins.

Tw: violence, blood, mentions of noah's past

Series mastelist

For a second, you were sure you had misunderstood. Your breath was still uneven from the run, your chest tight, your thoughts struggling to catch up with what was happening in front of you.

Son.

You blinked, your gaze snapping toward Noah instinctively. There was no reaction of surprise on his face, no confusion or denial.

The king watched the both of you with quiet amusement, like this wasn’t a confrontation, but something more personal.

He tilted his head slightly, studying Noah’s expression.

“What,” he said smoothly, that faint smirk still resting on his lips, “you don’t say hi to your father?”

Your thoughts stumbled over themselves, trying to make sense of it, trying to fit it into everything you knew about Noah, about the way he carried himself, about the way he reacted to authority, to power... to this place.

You looked at him again.

The resemblance was subtle. It would have been easy to miss. But now that it was there, and now, spoken out loud and undeniable, you couldn’t unsee it.

Noah didn’t move. His jaw tightened slightly.

“I’m not here to say hi,” he said, his voice low, “I’m here to get my friend out.”

His hand shifted slightly at his side, just enough for you to notice the tension in it.

“And I’ll do it,” he added, eyes locked onto the king’s, “the easy way or the hard way.”

The king’s expression didn’t change immediately, but then, slowly, he exhaled through his nose, almost like a quiet laugh, shaking his head just slightly.

“Oh, come now,” he said, tone light, almost indulgent. “There’s no need to turn this into something unpleasant.”

He took a slow step forward, in a controlled movement.

“If you behave,” he continued, “no one has to get hurt.”

You glanced at Noah again. He let out a short, humorless breath, like a scoff of disbelief.

“You,” he said, “talking about people getting hurt?”

The king’s eyes narrowed just slightly, though the faint smile didn’t fully disappear.

“I suggest you watch your tone,” he replied.

“And I suggest you stop pretending to be the good, innocent guy,” Noah shot back immediately.

Silence stretched for a second.

Your mind was still racing.

This is his father.

The king is his father.

Your heart was still pounding, your body tense, your eyes flicking briefly toward the doors behind you.

No guards had entered yet, and you knew the king gave them this exact order. He wanted to be there with Noah.

“And who's your friend here?” He asked after giving you a quick glance.

“You don't care. Touch her and I'll make sure you lose a hand.” Noah quickly answered.

The king sighed.

“You come back here,” he continued, “break into my castle, threaten me—”

“Your castle?” Noah cut in, a sharp edge to his voice. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“You don’t understand the position you’re in,” the king said.

Noah’s lips twitched slightly, something bitter there.

“Oh, I understand it perfectly.”

His hand moved.

Fast enough that it took you a second to register it.

The flash of metal caught the light from the windows as he pulled his knife free.

The king’s gaze dropped to it briefly, then lifted again, still calm and controlled.

Only then did you notice it, subtle and almost hidden beneath the layers of the king's clothing, the hilt of a blade resting at his side.

“Really?” he said, almost disappointed. “Is that what this comes to?”

Noah didn’t answer immediately. His grip on the knife tightened.

“For someone who talks about avoiding violence,” he said quietly, “you sure don’t mind it when it’s not directed at you.”

A beat of silence.

The king’s expression hardened just slightly.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Noah took a small step forward.

“So did you.”

He took another step.

“And you don’t get to walk away from it this time.”

Your pulse was loud in your ears.

This was spiraling too fast.

There was no way this ended cleanly.

“Noah...” you started, your voice lower than you expected, uncertain, trying to calm something that was already slipping out of control.

He didn’t even look at you. His focus was entirely locked on the man in front of him. On his father.

The king straightened slightly, his posture shifting just enough to show that he was no longer treating this like a conversation.

“Put it down,” he said.

Noah didn’t.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then, Noah stepped forward, lunged and closed the distance in a quick movement. The knife in his hand cut through the air, aimed clean and direct without hesitation.

The king reacted a fraction of a second before impact, and steel rang sharply as he drew his own blade, longer, heavier, the sound of it leaving its sheath cutting through the room as he brought it up just in time to block.

The clash echoed.

Noah didn’t stop. He twisted his wrist, redirecting, his movements fast. He struck again, lower this time, forcing the king to step back, the longer blade dragging slightly behind his movements, not slow, but not as fluid.

The difference showed immediately.

The king was trained, but Noah was hardened.

There was another strike. Metal scraped again as the king deflected it, but the angle was off. He adjusted too late, his footing shifting as he gave ground, boots sliding half a step across the polished floor.

Noah pressed forward relentlessly and he didn’t give him space to recover.

The blade in Noah’s hand moved faster than it should have, striking, withdrawing and striking again, the king’s sword was longer but you could see he was less used to this.

The king blocked again, but this time the force drove him back another step, closer to the windows.

Light spilled across them, the glass stretching high behind him.

Noah stepped in again, the king tried to counter, swinging wider this time, using the length of his blade, but Noah ducked into it, the motion sharp and instinctive, the swing passing just above his shoulder as he closed the gap completely.

Now they were nearly chest to chest.

The king’s weapon was suddenly too long. Too slow.

Noah drove forward. His shoulder collided into the king’s chest with brutal force, the impact knocking the air from him as his back slammed against the glass behind.

The window shuddered.

Then cracked.

A sharp, splintering sound tore through the room and you felt like, if for a second, the time stopped.

The glass gave way. And exploded.

A violent burst of shards shattered outward as both of them crashed through, the force of Noah’s momentum carrying them past the threshold, beyond the safety of the room, into open air.

Cold wind hit instantly.

The world dropped out from beneath them.

You saw the light catching on shattered glass, pieces spinning weightlessly for a moment before following them down.

And just like that, a moment before they were there and then they were gone. Falling.

Disappearing below the edge of the broken window in a storm of glittering shards.

For a moment, you couldn’t move.

The sound of shattering glass was still rang in your ears, your mind struggling to process what you had just seen. One second they had been there, fighting, alive, and the next they were gone, swallowed by empty air.

Your stomach dropped.

They fell.

From this height.

“Fuck.”

You stumbled forward, your boots slipping slightly against the polished floor as you rushed toward the broken window. Jagged edges of glass framed the opening now, the wind pushing through violently, tugging at your clothes.

Your hands caught the edge as you leaned out, your breath catching in your throat.

And then you saw them.

Not on the ground.

A wide stone balcony jutted out from the level beneath, partially hidden from above unless you leaned far enough. The drop had obviously been bad, too far to be safe, but not fatal.

Shards of glass were scattered everywhere across the stone. The king lay on his back, unmoving, Noah was next to him.

For a terrifying second, you thought...

Then Noah moved.

Slowly. He rolled onto his side, pushing himself up with one arm, unsteady but very much alive.

Relief hit you so fast it almost hurt.

“Oh my God—” your voice came out more shaky than you expected. “Are you okay?”

He let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though it was strained, his hand coming up to wipe at something on his face.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice rough. “Never been better.”

When his hand pulled away, you saw blood smeared across his face, a shallow but angry cut along his cheekbone where the glass must have caught him.

Your eyes flicked back toward the room behind you.

The doors were opening.

“Shit.”

You turned back, scanning quickly, your mind racing for options.

Just to the side, slightly lower than the broken window, a sloped stone awning, part of the structure below. Not wide, byt stable-looking, or at least close enough.

You had no time to think.

You pulled yourself over the edge.

For a second, your footing slipped as your boots hit the angled surface, your body pitching forward, your heart jumping into your throat, but you caught yourself, hands shooting out to steady against the rough stone.

You froze there for half a second, breath shaky.

You were still alive.

You were still okay.

You looked down again. Noah was below, standing now, his posture slightly off, like he was favoring one side. The distance between you and the balcony beneath him felt… worse from here.

Higher.

More dangerous.

“What do I do now?” you called down.

He looked up at you immediately.

“Jump.”

You stared at him.

“Are you insane?”

There was no time for this.

Behind you, you could hear the guards' voices.

“They’re not here! Find the king!”

Noah’s voice cut through everything.

“You don’t have a choice,” he said, sharper now. “If you want to get out of here, you jump.”

You looked down again.

The drop wasn’t impossible, but it wasn’t safe either. You’d never land it cleanly, you weren't even sure you would land on the balcony.

Your hands tightened slightly against the stone.

“I won’t make it.”

“You will,” he shot back immediately.

Your heart was racing too fast now, your thoughts tripping over themselves.

You were not a pirate, you were not used to this or trained for this.

“I won’t hit the balcony—”

“I know.”

That made you freeze.

“What?”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“I’ll catch you.”

You stared at him.

“That’s not...Noah, that’s not how this works, I...”

“It is right now.”

Voices behind you were getting closer.

“Window’s broken!”

“Check below!”

You could hear armor shifting, boots scraping closer to the edge.

No time.

No time to think.

No time to argue.

Noah took a step closer to the edge of the balcony, positioning himself directly beneath you, ignoring the broken glass under his boots.

“Trust me,” he said.

Just that.

Everything in you screamed that this was a terrible idea, that this could go very wrong.

But staying? That was worse.

You took a breath. Then another.

And before you could stop yourself, you jumped.

The drop hit your stomach instantly, the world lurching as gravity took hold, the distance rushing up too fast,

And then, an impact.

Not the ground.

Arms.

Noah caught you hard, the force of it knocking both of you back a step, his grip tightening instinctively as he absorbed as much of the fall as he could. His boots slid slightly against the stone, glass crunching underfoot, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale as he struggled to stay upright.

But he didn’t let go. Not even for a second.

You felt the jolt, the sudden stop, the way his arms held you firmly, steadying you as your feet found the ground a split second later.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then he let out a quiet breath.

“Told you.”

Above you, the guards reached the broken window.

“They’re below us! Move!”

The sound of boots thundered across the marble floor overhead echoed through the broken remains of the shattered window.

Your eyes dropped toward the king. He still hadn’t moved.

He lay sprawled across the stone near the balcony railing, one arm twisted awkwardly beneath him, dark fabric stained with blood where glass had torn through it. Tiny fragments still surrounded him, reflecting pale daylight like ice scattered across the floor.

Noah looked at him too, then stepped forward.

The king’s sword was lying a short distance away, thrown from his grip during the fall. Noah bent slightly and picked it up from the ground.

For a moment, you thought he was going to kill him. He stared down at his father’s unconscious body for a second, gripping the sword tightly in his hand.

Then his jaw tightened.

And instead of turning toward the king, he spun toward the balcony doors.

The sword swung violently.

With another loud crash, the glass doors exploded inward beneath the force of the strike, shards bursting across the luxurious room beyond.

“Move,” Noah ordered.

You didn’t hesitate. You climbed through the broken doorway after him as the sound of approaching guards grew louder overhead.

The room inside looked like some kind of private lounge or receiving chamber, elegant furniture shoved aside in your rush through it. Noah immediately crossed toward the opposite door, moving fast despite the fall.

The keys were still hanging from his belt, clinking with every movement. He shoved the next door open, and both of you burst back into the corridors.

“There!” Someone, somewhere, shouted.

Noah grabbed your wrist again and pulled you hard around a corner just as armored footsteps thundered somewhere behind you. You nearly slipped on the polished floor trying to keep up.

You kept going.

Another corridor.

Another staircase, this one spiraled downward.

The two of you descended rapidly, boots slamming against narrow stone steps as the castle changed around you again.

The higher floors had been filled with gold and marble and light. Down here, everything became colder, darker, and the walls narrowed.

The air smelled damp, heavy with stone and old water.

Your lungs burned from running. You knew they were searching for you above.

But they didn’t know where you were going. That was the only advantage you had.

The castle became narrower the lower you descended. He slowed slightly near the bottom, listening.

You heard a cough somewhere ahead, then chains shifting faintly.

You reached the prison level.

Iron-barred cells lined both sides of the corridor, small lanterns mounted along the walls cast weak orange light that barely reached the far ends of the hall.

Some cells were empty.

Others weren’t.

You caught glimpses as you passed, of faces watching from shadows, of hands wrapped around bars, of eyes following your movement silently.

Noah moved quickly through the corridor, scanning the cells one after another, and finally, you found him.

Nick was sitting against the back wall of a cell on the right side, one arm resting over his bent knee. He looked tired, bruised, and deeply annoyed more than anything else.

The second he noticed Noah, his eyes widened.

“...Holy shit.”

He pushed himself upright immediately, gripping the bars.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Noah didn’t even slow down.

“We came to save your ass,” he said bluntly. “Seems obvious to me.”

Despite everything, Nick let out a short laugh of disbelief.

“You are completely insane.”

“Yeah,” Noah muttered while already reaching for the keys at his belt. “Not really new information.”

The keys clinked loudly in the narrow corridor as he searched through them rapidly.

You heard voices above you.

He tried a key but it wasn't the right one.

“Can you hurry?” you whispered sharply, glancing back toward the staircase.

“I’m trying.”

Another key.

Wrong one.

Another.

Then finally... click.

The cell door swung open and Nick stepped out immediately.

Noah, now in possession of the king's sword, passed a knife to Nick, who was obviously disarmed.

“Let's go”, he said.

You turned to leave, but Noah, despite his words, stopped, and his gaze had shifted toward the other cells, toward the prisoners watching silently from behind the bars.

One older man stared at Noah without speaking, fingers still curled weakly around the bars, and another stepped closer slowly, hope flickering across his face.

Noah hesitated for just a second, then threw the keys hard through the bars of the nearest occupied cell.

The prisoner inside stared at it in shock before quickly grabbing them and chosing the first key to use to try to open the doors.

Noah stepped backward already turning away, and the three of you sprinted back toward the staircase.

Noah stayed in front, the king’s sword still in his hand, blood drying along the shallow cut across his cheek.

You could hear distant shouting. Orders echoing through corridors. The sound of footsteps moving between floors. The castle was searching for you.

As you pushed through another door and into a corridor lined with servants’ quarters, two maids carrying folded linens nearly froze at the sight of you. Their eyes widened immediately at the weapons, the blood, the speed you were moving with.

One stepped quickly aside, the other lowering her gaze as you rushed past.

Then you heard voices ahead.

“There!”

Four guards rounded the corner abruptly, weapons already drawn.

Noah reacted first.

The king’s sword crashed against a guard’s blade with enough force to ring through the corridor, Noah immediately forcing the man backward. Another guard came at him from the side at the same time, and Noah pivoted sharply, blocking the second strike almost effortlessly.

Nick collided with a third guard a second later, knocking him hard against the wall before steel flashed between them.

And then the fourth guard came straight for you.

You barely raised your weapon in time.

The impact slammed through your arms painfully as his sword struck yours, the force nearly knocking you backward. He was bigger than you, stronger too, and he immediately pressed forward aggressively.

You stumbled back a step.

The guard swung again.

You blocked, panic surging through you as metal scraped violently against metal inches from your face.

You could hear Noah fighting nearby and Ruffilo curse as blades clashed against stone walls.

The guard in front of you lunged again, trying to overpower you before you could recover.

But this time, you reacted faster. You twisted away from the next strike and drove your weapon forward hard.

The blade hit.

The guard’s movement stopped instantly, blood dripping down his chin.

His eyes widened in shock as the force of it drove him backward a step.

You didn’t freeze this time. Your heartbeat pounded violently, adrenaline drowning everything else out as you pulled the weapon free and immediately stepped back before he could grab you.

The guard collapsed heavily onto the floor.

Your breathing was rough now, your hands shaking from adrenaline more than guilt.

You turned to the others, Noah looked at you for a second as the guard he was fighting collapsed to the ground.

Then more voices echoed through the corridor nearby.

Noah looked toward the sound immediately.

“We need to go. Now.”

Ruffilo grabbed a fallen blade from the floor and the three of you ran again, your dress whipping around your legs as you moved.

At this point, your lungs burned constantly.

“Left,” Noah ordered quickly.

You turned sharply with him, boots skidding slightly against the stone floor as the three of you pushed into another corridor lined with old wooden tables and iron wall sconces.

Then more guards appeared ahead.

“Shit,” Nick muttered.

Three this time.

Noah rushed the first immediately, the king’s sword flashing in the dim corridor light as steel crashed violently together.

Nick intercepted another near the wall, blades locking with a loud metallic scrape.

The third guard came straight for you and he swung first, aiming high. You barely blocked in time, and he immediately pushed forward, trying to overpower you with strength.

You stumbled backward and the guard attacked again.

You ducked clumsily beneath the strike, panic and adrenaline crashing together inside your chest as the blade cut through the air above your head.

Too close. Way too close.

The guard grabbed at you with his free hand, trying to pin you before you could recover, but instinct kicked in fast. You twisted hard against his grip and drove your knee upward as violently as you could, as your hand came to the back on his head.

You knee connected directly with his face.

You felt the impact through your entire leg.

The guard reeled backward with a choked sound, stunned long enough for you to grab the front of his armor before he could recover balance, and then you slammed his head down hard against the stone floor, the crack echoing through the corridor.

The guard went limp instantly.

You staggered back a step yourself, breathing hard, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

You barely had time to process it before turning toward the others.

Nick was doing fine. Actually, more than fine.

He had backed his guard against the wall already, forcing the man completely defensive as their blades clashed rapidly.

Then your eyes snapped toward Noah.

He was pinned, the guard had forced him hard against the stone wall, one forearm locked across Noah’s chest while the other hand held a blade dangerously close to his throat.

You saw Noah struggling to push it back, muscles tense, the edge of the sword pressing closer inch by inch.

Everything inside you reacted instantly.

You had to think, and fast. Your eyes darted around desperately and you saw an iron candelabrum hanging from the wall nearby.

And suddenly you remembered.

You grabbed the heavy object with both hands, yanking it free from its hook with a violent metallic scrape.

The guard didn’t even notice you coming.

You swung hard.

The iron slammed directly into the side of his head with a metallic crack, and the guard immediately collapsed sideways onto the floor, completely limp.

Noah staggered forward slightly, catching himself against the wall as he sucked in a sharp breath.

For a second, he just stared at you, like he was clearly not expecting that.

You were still gripping the candelabrum tightly, breathing hard. Then you pointed it slightly toward him.

“I learned that from you,” you said between breaths.

For half a second, Noah looked genuinely caught off guard, then a short laugh escaped him despite the situation.

“Remind me to never piss you off.”

Nearby, Ruffilo finally finished his own fight, the guard falling against the wall and staying down.

“Can we continue flirting later?” he called out. “Because more guards are definitely coming.”

Almost immediately, voices echoed somewhere nearby again.

“There!”

Noah straightened quickly. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Time to go.”

And the three of you started running again.

Noah pushed open another heavy door and the three of you burst into a long corridor that smelled sharply of smoke and cooked meat.

You had been there before. You were close to the kitchens.

You opened another door and heat hit you immediately. Massive ovens burned along the walls, servants froze mid-motion at the sight of you, one woman nearly dropping an entire tray of dishes as Noah rushed past with the king’s sword still in his hand.

Nobody tried to stop you. Nobody even spoke.

You probably looked terrifying, or crazy. Or both.

Blood stained parts of your clothes, Noah’s cheek was still bleeding slightly, and Ruffilo looked like he’d crawled out of hell.

One of the cooks instinctively stepped aside as you reached the large wooden door near the far end of the kitchens.

Noah shoved it open without slowing and cold air slammed into you immediately.

You stumbled out after them into the open air behind the castle, boots hitting damp earth instead of polished stone for the first time in what felt like forever.

The woods surrounding the royal grounds stretched ahead in dark green waves beneath the darkening sky.

Branches whipped against your arms as the three of you pushed into the woods, forcing your way through undergrowth and uneven terrain. Behind you, somewhere far back near the castle, voices were still echoing faintly, but already more distant.

The deeper you got into the trees, the quieter it became.

Eventually, Noah slowed first, and finally, he stopped.

You nearly collapsed against a tree trying to catch your breath.

Your lungs burned so badly it hurt to inhale. Your legs felt weak from adrenaline and exhaustion, your hands still shaking faintly from everything that had happened.

For several seconds, nobody spoke. The only sounds were heavy breathing and distant wind moving through the trees.

Then Nick let out a breathless laugh.

“What,” he said between breaths, hands on his knees, “the fuck was that?”

You actually laughed a little too, though it came out exhausted and disbelieving.

“We almost died like…” you tried to breathe properly, “fifteen times.”

“At least,” Ruffilo agreed immediately.

Noah leaned briefly against a tree nearby.

“I think we did great.”

You stared at him.

“You got thrown through a window.”

“And survived.”

“You are literally still bleeding.”

“Minor detail.”

Nick shook his head slowly, still trying to recover his breath.

“You know,” he muttered, “when I got caught, I really thought that was it for me.”

Noah stayed quiet.

Nick looked at him then, the amusement fading slightly.

“You broke the code.”

That made Noah’s expression shift faintly.

You knew enough about it by now to understand what Nick meant. Captured people were supposed to be left behind. No unnecessary risks for one person.

Nick straightened slowly. “You shouldn’t have come back for me.”

Noah looked away for a second toward the trees.

Then shrugged once.

“Couldn’t.”

Simple as that.

But something about the way he said it made the silence afterward feel heavier.

Nick stared at him for a second before a grin slowly appeared despite everything.

“That’s actually insane.”

“Yeah,” Noah muttered. “I’ve heard.”

Nick chuckled. “Thank you so much, man.”

Then he looked toward you.

“And you,” he said, pointing slightly at you, “where the hell did that come from?”

You blinked.

“What?”

“Everything,” he repeated. “You kicked asses.”

You let out a small disbelieving laugh.

“Thanks, I guess.”

Nick nodded immediately. “Seriously. Thank you. You also saved Noah's ass back there.”

Noah rolled his eyes slightly. “I had it handled.”

“You were about to get stabbed.”

“I was figuring it out.”

“You were losing.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were against a wall, Noah.”

“I hate both of you.”

Despite everything, you laughed again, quieter this time.

For a moment, things almost felt normal. But the thought kept returning anyway.

The king was Noah’s father. Even now, after everything else, your brain still couldn’t fully process it.

You looked at Noah briefly while he wiped more dried blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.

You wanted to ask.

How?

Why?

Does the crew know?

Why is the son of a king living like this?

Noah finally pushed himself away from the tree.

“We should move.”

“Let me guess, we're stealing a ship?” You asked.

Noah started walking again through the trees.

“We’re not exactly leaving politely.”

And with guards probably searching half the kingdom for you already, the three of you disappeared deeper into the forest toward the coast.

The port had been quiet when you arrived, the sky was dark, and night had already fallen some time ago.

You saw a ship rocking gently at the edge of the docks, half-loaded, lanterns still burning low along its deck and barely any crew visible, just a few figures moving in the dark.

Noah and Nick didn’t hesitate.

There was a sudden rush forward, brief shouts cutting through the night. Nick went left, knocking one man off balance into the water with a heavy shove. And Noah was already at the ropes.

A blade flashed once and the main mooring line snapped clean.

There was another shout. Someone tried to draw a weapon, and Noah hit him before it cleared the sheath.

Then suddenly there was peace. Movement. The ship shifting as it was freed from the dock.

You stumbled up the gangplank as the ship began to drift, your feet hitting the deck just as Noah kicked the last loose rope away.

A final shove. The ship groaned, turned slightly with the tide… and then began to pull away from the port.

Behind you, distant shouts erupted from the docks, too late, too far.

You were gone. The sea swallowed everything behind you, Valemont soon disappearing into the horizon.

Cold night air and dark water were stretching endlessly in every direction now, the faint outline of the coast shrinking until it was just another shadow in the distance.

You were still standing there when it fully hit you.

You made it.

You were all alive and finally leaving.

You slowly lowered yourself onto a crate near the railing, staring out at the water.

Noah stood a few steps away for a moment longer, still watching the shore disappear, then he finally moved.

He sat down heavily on a coil of rope, one hand dragging down his face, looking more exhausted than ever.

Nick noticed immediately.

“You good?” he asked, leaning against the railing nearby.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just… a lot of things.”

His friend gave a small nod like he understood more than he said out loud.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly. “I can imagine.”

A pause.

Only the sound of waves and wood creaking filled the space between you. Then Nick pushed off the railing.

“I’ll take the helm for a while,” he said. “You two look like you’re about to collapse.”

That earned a faint, tired huff from Noah.

“Alright.”

Ruffilo turned toward the wheel without another word, leaving you and Noah in a slightly quieter pocket of the deck.

Noah stood again after a moment, and his eyes flicked toward you. He tilted his head slightly toward the stairs leading below deck in a silent gesture.

Come.

You hesitated only a second before following him.

The stairs creaked softly under your steps as you descended into the lower deck. Noah didn’t stop walking until he found something that looked like a room that could pass for quiet.

He opened the first door and you saw a narrow storage space, with empty hooks along the walls, a few coils of rope, damp wood.

“Not this,” he muttered.

Next door.

Barrels stacked tightly, the smell of tar and salt hitting you instantly. You thought it was the ship’s supply room or something like that.

“Also not this.”

He kept going.

The third door creaked louder when he pushed it open.

Inside there was a bed pushed against one wall and a low shelf. Noah stepped in, looked at it for half a second and then he just walked straight to the bed.

And dropped onto it face-up with a long, exhausted sigh.

Arms spread slightly. One leg still hanging off the edge.

Completely done.

You leaned against the doorframe, and let out a small laugh before you could stop yourself.

He didn’t open his eyes. “I'm tired. Shut up.”

But there was no heat in it, he just sounded exhausted.

You stayed there, still watching him for a moment.

He looked younger like this. Softer.

A long second passed, then his eyes opened and he turned his head slightly toward you.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For not leaving me alone in all of that.”

The words landed heavier than they should have.

You shook your head slightly.

“It's okay. I didn't want to leave you.”

You spent another moment in silence.

But your thoughts kept going back to Noah. Being the king's son.

You pushed off the doorframe a little.

“Noah—” you started.

At the exact same time he said, “I think we need to talk.”

You blinked.

“Yeah,” you said immediately. “That’s… actually what I was going to say.”

That got a faint look from him. “Of course it was.”

You stepped fully into the room now.

He sat up slightly on the bed, elbows resting on his knees, watching you properly again.

The exhaustion was still there but he looked like he’d decided not to run from this conversation anymore.

You sat on the bed next to him, then you asked it.

“Is it true?”

He already knew what you meant. Still, he didn’t answer immediately.

You swallowed. “Are you… the king’s son?”

Noah nodded once.

Having a real confirmation from him felt even crazier.

“So,” you said slowly, trying to process it out loud, “all this time… you called me princess,” you added, a faint, incredulous laugh slipping through, “when you were the actual prince?”

Noah’s mouth tilted slightly.

“It fitted you more.”

You stared at him.

“This... this is crazy,” you said softly. “How is that even possible? Why are you not... there? With them?”

Noah’s gaze dropped for a second. “Because no one would ever want a future king who is a bastard.”

“…Bastard?”

“My mother isn’t the queen.”

Silence.

And so, sitting there in the dim light of a stolen ship’s cabin, with the sea moving quietly beneath you, you listened to Noah tell you the truth.

Some parts came out bitter and angry, like he hated even saying them aloud. Others quieter, rougher, like memories he usually kept buried deep inside him.

He told you about his mother. About how she had worked in the castle years ago, even before Noah was born. About the king noticing her.

And then Noah told you what happened after.

How people started suspecting and how suddenly his mother became dangerous. Not because she had done something wrong, but because she knew the truth. Because she had a child with the king’s.

You barely breathed while he spoke.

Noah’s voice stayed mostly steady, but sometimes you caught the pauses. The moments where his jaw tightened slightly before continuing. Like he was forcing himself through parts he had spent years trying not to remember.

And then he told you about the execution.

About being a child. About watching it and not keeping his promise.

Your stomach twisted so violently you actually felt sick for a second.

“Oh my God...” you whispered.

Noah looked away, dark hair falling over his eyes.

He told you he still remembered everything about that day. The crowd. The ropes. The sound. The way nobody stopped it, because it was normal. Because they didn't know her, but she was immediately guilty to them.

You stared at him in disbelief, horrified.

“That’s...” Your voice cracked slightly. “That’s horrible.”

Noah gave a humorless shrug.

“I learned pretty quickly what I was worth to them.”

You hated how casually he said that.

He told you how he escaped afterward. How he disappeared before they could decide what to do with him too. How he ended up surviving however he could, growing up around thieves, smugglers and pirates who taught him how to survive in their world.

How he kept hating them. The king. The rich. And everything that had to do with those hateful, cruel people.

And suddenly so many things about Noah made sense, like the way he reacted to authority, and the way he hated nobles on instinct.

You sat there quietly for a long moment after he finished, trying to process all of it.

The room felt strangely smaller now.

The sea creaked softly outside the walls of the ship, while Noah sat beside you, leaning forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees.

He still looked exhausted.

Not physically this time.

You swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

Noah didn’t answer.

“I mean it,” you continued softly. “Noah... that’s terrible.”

His eyes stayed lowered for a second before he finally let out a quiet breath through his nose.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

You looked at him carefully.

“And now I understand,” you admitted.

That made him glance at you slightly, moving with his hand some hair from his face.

“Understand what?”

“Why you hate them. Why you think they deserve... to be killed.”

Silence.

“The court. The nobles that have something do to with it. Everything.”

This whole time, you knew Noah was hiding something about his past, but this was something you would have never expected.

He had been a boy forced to watch his mother die because powerful people were afraid of the truth.

A child abandoned by his own father.

A prince they never would have wanted anyway.

“Ruffilo told me once that he thought it was strange you trusted me,” you said quietly.

Noah glanced at you.

“That you kept me on the ship when I came from high society. When I was engaged to a governor. At the time, I hadn’t understood what he meant. Now I do.”

You looked at Noah carefully. “But why did you?”

He stayed silent for a second before shrugging slightly.

“You seemed different.”

“Different how?”

“You didn’t act like them.” A faint smirk appeared briefly. “And you are a little insane.”

You let out a small laugh.

Noah looked at you for another moment before adding more quietly,

“You were trying to escape your old life.” His gaze lowered slightly. “Same as I did years ago.”

Noah stayed quiet for a moment after that, his eyes fixed somewhere on the wooden floorboards beneath you.

Then you found yourself asking softly, “Do the others know?”

His gaze lifted back to yours. “Not really.”

You frowned slightly.

“Nick knows,” he explained. “And Davis. I told them a long time ago because we are very close,” Noah continued. “But that’s it. No one else knows.”

His eyes held yours for a second longer before he added quietly,

“And I’d like to keep it that way, please.”

“I know.” Your voice softened. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks,” he muttered before a moment silence.

“And... thanks for saving my life,” He added.

You looked at him.

A faint smirk pulled briefly at the corner of his mouth.

“At the beach,” he said. “And then again at the castle.” He exhaled quietly through his nose. “You’re apparently developing a habit.”

You stared at him for a second before letting out a small laugh.

“And you’re not even exactly easy to keep alive.”

That earned another quiet huff from him.

“You know, I should probably thank you too.”

Noah glanced at you.

“For what?”

“You protected me when the Specter was falling apart.”

Noah opened his mouth like he was about to dismiss it immediately, but you cut him off first.

“I mean it,” you said. “I’m pretty sure I’d be dead by now if it wasn’t for you.”

Silence settled between you again. Then Noah leaned back slightly, tired eyes still fixed on you.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, “we’ve just been saving each other a lot lately.”

You looked at him for a moment. Then you smiled a little.

“Yeah,” you admitted softly. “Maybe we have.”

After naming it, you found yourself thinking about his ship.

“Speaking of the Specter...” you said softly. “I’m sorry about your ship too.”

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “Me too. But in the end,” he continued with a small shrug, “everyone made it out alive. So I don’t really care.”

“Really?”

A faint smile appeared briefly.

“I mean, will I miss it? Obviously.” He let out a quiet breath through his nose. “That ship was home for years. But my crew is the most important thing I have.”

You looked at him quietly for a moment after that.

“That’s a nice thing to say,” you murmured.

Noah gave a small shrug like it wasn’t important, but you could tell it was.

“For what it’s worth,” you said softly, “I think you would’ve made a good king.”

Noah looked at you like you had genuinely lost your mind.

“That might be the craziest thing you’ve said so far.”

You smiled faintly. “I’m serious.”

He let out a quiet scoff, leaning back slightly against the wall behind the bed.

“What exactly gives you that idea?”

You studied him for a second before answering.

“I think you’re a good person.”

Noah’s expression shifted immediately into disbelief.

“I thought you knew me.”

“And I do.”

He looked away slightly at that, but you kept going.

“You’re angry,” you admitted. “And sometimes impulsive.” A small smile tugged at your mouth for a second. “And maybe a little violent.”

“A little?”

You ignored that.

“But underneath all of that...” Your voice softened. “You care. You have a good heart.”

Silence filled the room again.

“You went back for Nick even though your own rules said not to. You protected your crew over and over again. You protected me when you really didn’t have to.” You looked at him carefully. “You’ve had terrible things happen to you,” you continued softly. “Things that would’ve made a lot of people way more cruel.”

Your gaze lowered briefly before lifting back to his.

“But somehow you’re still... you.”

He stayed very still now.

“I think you're still a good man, Noah. And I think someone like you would understand suffering better than most kings ever could.”

Noah looked down for a second, almost uncomfortable now in a way fighting never seemed to make him.

“You would actually care about people,” you said softly.

For a moment, you heard only the ocean's sound.

“You really are insane,” he muttered.

But when he looked at you again, something in his expression had changed.

Way softer.

Like maybe no one had ever said something like that to him before.

Silence settled over the room after that and for a while you could just heard the slow creak of wood and the roll of the sea against the hull.

Noah didn’t say anything for a while. You eventually broke the quiet softly.

“I’m going to let you sleep now,” you said. “We both need it.”

A small pause.

“I’ll go find a decent room.”

Noah nodded once.

“Yeah. Sure.”

He pushed himself up almost at the same time you did, like he was going to walk you out, even though you were literally one step away from the door already.

Neither of you commented on it.

The two of you moved and you stopped at the doorway.

There was a second where neither of you moved or spoke, like neither of you was sure how to end the moment.

Then, without really thinking about it, you turned back, stepped forward and just reached for him.

It was instinct more than decision, something quiet and simple after everything that had been loud and violent and overwhelming.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on the tips of your boots.

For a second, Noah didn’t move at all.

He was completely still, almost stiff, like he didn't like it.

Then slowly, carefully, his arms came up and circled you, and he pulled you in properly.

His hand settled at your back, the other slightly higher, holding you close and sure.

You felt him exhale into your hair. Just for a moment.

Then he loosened slightly, not letting go completely right away.

When you finally stepped back, it felt a little too cold. You looked up at him.

“Goodnight, Noah,” you said softly.

He nodded once.

“Goodnight.”

You turned and walked down the corridor.

Behind you, the door stayed open for a second longer than it needed to.

And as you disappeared into the ship’s dim hallway, your heart was beating faster than before, and not from fear this time.

Noah taglist pt 1: @mushrumink @sullyselena @buttercupbabyyy @pathion @pipidoll @missduffsblog @vibecops @myexistencesucks @overmydeadbodysblog @margocos-blog @heyitsjay316 @sallyba3 @bartxnhood @lacy1986 @iamamatus @dream-machine-love @amoursims @suessmausnici @whimsicaldiamonds @imyourliquor-youremypoison @punkprincess1999 @bored-rato @thepeoplesblog @dxthrone @illmakeyousaywow @xmads-omensx @sikowitzbitch @tosoundlessdarkistare @sadbitchenergy @flowery-mess @anything-morethan-human @lekyswixexx @english-fucker @follow-me-down-to-wonderland

shbto tags: @novainpolaroids @enzocoquette @lifeirreverent @shobolanya @crystallizedtime @mushroommelody1 @leosunshine @takeme1st @thepurpletrain2groovycity @lookinalittleblue @thefountainn @platespaghetti @v1per1ne @chipotlebagnoah @caitlin-mnsn @concretedecisions

[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

Pairing: noah x reader (pirates au)

Series summary: Stuck in a life you don’t want, your only way out is a deal with a pirate, and that’s how your journey on a ship of outlaws toward a new life begins.

Tw: human trafficking, slavery, colonization and imperialism, kidnapping, racism, non-consensual dynamics/ sa, public execution, childhood trauma, death

Series mastelist

Around thirty years earlier...

It didn’t begin with open war, but with what they used to call "expansion".

The Central Lands were the most developed regions in the world, full of large cities, strong armies and organized governments. Their ports were constantly active, their ships traveling farther each year. At first, those ships were used only for trading goods.

They reached the Eastern Territories, known for their long-standing cultures, structured societies, and skilled populations. They also traveled to the Southern Territories, where the land was rich in natural resources and the populations were spread across different regions, less unified against outside forces.

In the beginning, relationships were built through exchange. Goods, spices, fabrics and metals moved between regions.

But the Central Lands had more power, more ships, more weapons, more coordination. And over time, that imbalance became impossible to ignore to them.

Trade shifted into control. Control turned into occupation.

The Central Lands began placing themselves in positions of authority within these regions. Agreements stopped being mutual. Local leaders were replaced, pressured, or forced into cooperation. Military presence increased, and resistance was met quickly and decisively.

Once control was established, the purpose changed, and they took what they needed.

From the Southern Territories, that meant labor, and large numbers of people were captured, transported across the sea, and used for work, farms, construction, mining, and anything that required physical strength and endurance. Entire communities were broken apart in the process, and who tried to resist, was killed.

From the Eastern Territories, the approach was slightly different, but still rooted in control.

People were taken there as well because they also wanted servants, attendants, workers within noble households that they didn't want to pay. Others were chosen based on appearance, education, or skills. They were brought into the Central Lands and integrated into systems where they had no real control over their own lives.

In both cases, the result was the same.

People became property.

The Central Lands built their wealth on this system. It wasn’t hidden or considered controversial within their own society. It was regulated, structured, and accepted.

Markets existed where people were sold. Laws were written to define ownership, and status determined everything: where you lived, what you could do, and whether you had any rights at all.

Over time, this way of living became normal.

Generations grew up believing that the Central Lands were meant to lead, and the other territories were meant to serve. Differences in culture and origin were used as justification. It wasn’t questioned often, because the system benefited those in power.

At the center of it all were the royal courts.

They held the most influence, the most wealth, and the most control over how this system functioned. Decisions made within those walls affected entire regions, even if the people making them never left their own cities.

Among these courts, one kingdom stood out.

It was known for its wealth, but also for how openly it participated in these practices. Ships arrived regularly at its ports carrying people taken from the Eastern and Southern Territories. Some were sent elsewhere. Some were sold. And some were brought directly to the palace, who always needed workers (slaves) there.

It was in this system that a young woman from the Eastern Territories was taken from her home and brought to the court of a king that just needed to ask what he wanted and obtained it.

Reika had been eighteen when they took her.

Her village stood near the edge of the eastern territories, not very large, not very wealthy, but stable in the way places become when people learn to live with what they have. The houses were built from wood and stone, roofs curved slightly to let rain slide off easily, narrow paths connecting one home to the next.

Life there wasn’t easy, but it was predictable. People worked, ate, slept, and repeated the same rhythm every day.

Reika had grown up in that rhythm.

She helped her mother in the mornings, carried water, prepared food, cleaned. Some days, she had the privilege to go to to the village's school and when she couldn't, she studied at home, because it was something she enjoyed. In the afternoons, she would sometimes walk beyond the edge of the village where the land opened into fields and low hills, where the air felt wider and less confined. She didn’t think much about the outside world. News of distant lands and foreign powers existed, but it always felt far away. Like something that belonged to other people.

Until it didn’t.

The first sign was the sound. And too many horses.

By the time anyone understood what was happening, it was already too late.

They came fast, organized and armed in ways no one in the village could match. Doors were broken open, people dragged outside, voices rising into something panicked and chaotic.

Reika remembered her mother grabbing her wrist.

Running, but not fast enough.

She remembered being pulled away, fingers slipping, the sound of her name shouted behind her. She remembered turning, trying to reach back, and the force that stopped her, hands gripping her arms too tightly, bruising.

After that, everything blurred together.

Rope. Dust. Crying.

They weren’t the only ones. Other villages had been taken too. By the time they were gathered together, there were dozens of them. Maybe more. Men, women, some barely older than children.

No one explained anything.

The journey was long. Days, maybe weeks. Time stopped meaning much when everything felt the same. Food was minimal, and water was rationed. Anyone who slowed too much was dragged, or worse, left behind.

Some people stopped crying after a while.

Reika didn’t remember when she stopped speaking. At some point, the words just… disappeared. There was no one to answer them anyway.

By the time they reached the capital, she barely recognized herself.

The city was overwhelming, large and loud. She saw stone buildings, wide roads and guards everywhere.

They weren’t taken through the main streets, but brought in through the back.

Like cargo.

Eventually, they were herded into a large enclosed space within the castle grounds. Not quite a room, not quite outside, just a place to hold them.

That was where they were sorted.

One by one, they were brought forward.

Inspected.

Not as people.

Reika stood in line, her hands bound in front of her, her body tense. She kept her gaze low because looking up felt dangerous.

She could hear voices ahead of her, of men discussing and deciding.

Some were taken away quickly. Others stayed longer.

When it was her turn, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her forward.

“Look up,” a voice said.

She didn’t.

The grip tightened.

“Look up.”

So slowly, she did.

And that was when she saw the king for the first time in her life.

King Reginald stood slightly apart from the others, dressed in deep colors, fabrics layered and detailed in a way that made it impossible to mistake his status. He didn’t move like the others and didn’t speak like them either.

He just watched.

His gaze settled on her, making her feel uncomfortable and then he stepped closer.

Close enough that she could see the sharpness in his expression, and also to notice he was not much older than her.

“You understand me?” he asked.

She nodded once.

That seemed to satisfy him. His gaze lingered a moment longer.

Then, simply, “This one stays.”

Just like that.

A decision made in a second that would define everything that came after.

Another voice asked something, “what about the rest?”

The king didn’t even look away from her when he answered.

“Sell them.”

She understood that they were being sent somewhere else, somewhere worse, and she didn’t know why she had been chosen.

And just like that, she found herself trapped inside a place that didn’t belong to her.

And somewhere in the castle, beyond walls she would never see again, the rest of the people she had arrived with were being taken away.

Sold. Disappearing into a system that didn’t care if they lived or died.

She never saw any of them again.

---

Reika didn’t fully speak their language.

At least, not the way they did.

She could understand most of what was said around her now, enough to follow instructions, enough to move through the castle without constantly second-guessing herself. But when it came to speaking, something always slowed in her mind before the words could come out properly.

At her home, she had studied.

Not formally like the children of wealthier families in the central regions or the richest parts of her own country, but enough to read, to write, to recognize the structure of the language used by traders and officials who occasionally passed through their land. It had been considered useful and practical, something that might help her find work, or at least avoid being completely dependent on others outside her village.

Back then, it had felt like a small advantage. Something to be proud of, even.

Now, it only meant she wasn’t completely lost.

She understood the essential things, orders, names, basic questions and warnings. Enough to survive.

The days that followed didn’t feel real at first.

Reika moved through them like someone else was living them for her. She was given a place to sleep, small, shared with other workers, nothing more than narrow beds lined against the walls and a single window that barely let in light. She was told when to wake, where to go, what to do.

The work itself wasn’t complicated, but very tiring. Cleaning floors, carrying water, washing linens, assisting in the kitchens when needed. Always moving. Always doing something. The castle never seemed to rest, and neither did the people inside it who weren’t allowed to.

At first, Reika spoke very little.

She kept her head down. Followed instructions. Avoided attention.

The other servants noticed her, of course. New faces always stood out, especially ones like hers. Some looked at her with curiosity, others with quiet pity, a few with something harder to read.

But no one approached her directly.

Not until Helena.

It happened a few days in. Or maybe more. Time still didn’t feel stable enough to measure properly.

Reika had been struggling with a bucket that was too heavy for how exhausted her arms already were. Water sloshed over the edges with every step, soaking into the fabric of her sleeves, making her grip weaker, but she didn’t stop.

Stopping wasn’t allowed unless you were told to.

But then the weight suddenly lifted.

Just slightly. Enough to take the strain off.

She blinked, turning her head.

A woman stood beside her, one hand casually gripping the handle of the bucket.

“You’ll spill half of it before you get there, like that,” she said.

Her voice wasn’t unkind. Reika stared at her for a second before quickly lowering her gaze again.

“Sorry,” she murmured, even though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for.

The woman let out a quiet breath, almost like a small laugh.

“No need to apologize, I was just like you when I started.” she said.

They walked like that for a few steps, sharing the weight.

“I’m Helena,” she added after a moment.

Reika hesitated, then, “…Reika.”

Helena nodded once.

They reached the end of the corridor, setting the bucket down where it was needed. Helena straightened, wiping her hands lightly against her apron before glancing at Reika again.

“You’re new,” she said. “That means no one’s told you anything useful yet.”

Reika stayed quiet. Helena studied her for a second longer, her expression shifting slightly, softer now.

“Alright,” she said. “Listen carefully, then.”

That was how her friendship with Helena started. She was the first kind person she met in the castle.

Soon, reika learned the rhythm of the castle the same way she had once learned the rhythm of her village. Different, harsher, brutal if you didn't follow their orders, but still a rhythm.

Wake before sunrise.

Work until your body ached.

Eat when allowed.

Sleep when you could.

Do all of this again.

There were moments, sometimes, when the past tried to surface, like memories of home, of her mother, and of the life that had been taken from her so quickly it still didn’t feel real.

Those moments were the hardest. Because there was nothing to do with them, no way to go back, no way to change anything.

At first, Reika was only called when there were specific tasks that required attention in the upper parts of the castle, like cleaning private rooms and arranging spaces before meetings.

One day, she was sent for directly.

Not through the usual chain of servants, not through Helena or the kitchen supervisors, but through guards who appeared at the door without explanation and simply said her name.

Reika had learned not to ask questions in those moments.

She would follow. Every time.

The first time she was brought to him alone, she remembered the way her hands felt too aware of themselves. The way she kept them folded in front of her, trying to make herself smaller without drawing attention to the fact that she was trying.

The king’s private chambers were different from the rest of the castle. Quieter and warmer.

The furniture was carefully chosen, the lighting softer, the space larger than necessary. He was already there when she arrived.

Standing near a tall window, his back partially turned, one hand resting against the stone frame as he looked out over the city below.

“Come in,” he said without turning.

Reika stepped inside and stopped a few steps from the door.

She waited, and he didn’t immediately speak again.

Only after a moment did he turn.

His hair was dark, carefully kept, his eyes green. And he was handsome. That was something Reika noticed even the first time she had seen him, even if she didn’t want to.

It didn’t soften anything. It didn’t change what he was. What he allowed people to do.

She quickly bowed and his gaze settled on her fully now.

“You’ve been settling in,” he said.

Reika nodded once. “Yes,” she replied.

He moved a few steps closer. “And how are you finding the castle?” he asked.

The question sounded simple. Almost polite.

Reika hesitated before answering, choosing her words carefully.

“It is… large,” she said. “And busy.”

A faint smile touched his expression at that.

“That it is,” he agreed.

Silence followed for a moment.

Not uncomfortable for him. Only for her.

He studied her the way he had the first time, openly, without hiding the fact that he was looking.

“You’ve adapted quickly,” he said after a moment.

“I am learning,” Reika replied.

“Good,” he said simply.

Then, after another pause, he added, “I like that about you.”

Reika’s fingers tightened slightly behind her back.

She didn’t respond.

Then he added, more quietly, “You’re my favorite.”

The words landed differently than anything else he had said. Reika’s breath slowed slightly, though she didn’t move.

His expression remained unchanged, as if he had simply stated a fact.

“Among all of them,” he clarified, as though it needed context. “You are the most… reliable.”

There was a brief pause.

Then, almost casually, he stepped closer again, just enough that the distance between them narrowed.

Reika resisted the instinct to step back.

She didn’t know if she was allowed to.

Or if it would matter.

“You do not cause problems,” he said. “You do not require correction. And you do not ask for more.”

His eyes stayed on hers.

“That is rare here.”

Reika swallowed once.

“I do my work,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” he replied, almost gently. “You do.”

Another pause.

Then, as if the conversation had already been decided in his mind, he turned slightly away again, looking back toward the window.

“You may go,” he said.

Reika hesitated for half a second.

Then she bowed her head slightly and stepped back.

She didn’t turn until she reached the door.

And when she finally did, she left without looking back, hearth still pounding violently in her chest.

Reika knew he looked at her in a way that was not appropriate. Not given all the circumstances. Not when he had a wife.

Reika saw the queen properly for the first time during court routines, when servants were allowed to remain at the edges of formal gatherings.

The queen had long blonde hair, with a straight posture that never seemed to change regardless of where she stood.

She dressed in very formal clothing most of the time. Long gowns made from high-quality fabric, usually in blue, red or muted tones, with structured designs that emphasized her position.

Reika had never seen her speak to the king and she wasn't sure if they really loved each other.

One night, she had been brought to his chambers again.

The request was simple, and there explanation beyond the usual.

The king wanted to see her, so she followed the guards through the corridors without asking anything. By now, that part of the routine no longer felt unfamiliar.

The king wanted to see her often, sometimes to talk, others just to look at her.

The room was dim, lit by a few lamps and the fire in the hearth. The city outside was quiet. The atmosphere inside the chamber was calm, almost private in a way that felt different from their earlier meetings.

He was not wearing formal court clothing this time. His appearance was simpler, less structured, though still clearly expensive. He was seated at first, looking over documents on a table, then looked up when she entered.

He asked her a few questions, like he sometimes did.

About work and the castle. Reika answered carefully, as she always did.

He listened without interrupting.

At some point, the conversation stopped feeling like work-related questioning.

There was a pause that lasted longer than usual.

He looked at her for a while without speaking.

Then he stood up.

Reika didn’t move back.

Not because she didn’t feel tension, but because she had learned not to react too quickly unless something demanded it.

He stepped closer.

This time, there was no question asked first.

He reached out and touched her face briefly, not forcefully, just enough to turn her slightly toward him. His hand was steady.

Her breathing stayed even, but she was aware of everything, of the distance, the silence, the fact that there were no guards, no servants, no interruptions.

He kissed her.

Reika didn’t resist.

The king was handsome. He was also a monster who let people die and starve and get taken away from their lands.

The two things coexisted. Reika didn't know how to feel. Or maybe she did but didn't want to accept it, because it would have made her feel worse about what was happening.

When he pulled back slightly, he looked at her again.

Waiting.

Reika remained still for a moment, then, without speaking, she did not step away.

That was enough for him.

He led her to the bed without saying much. Reika let herself be guided, she didn’t stop him.

And she didn’t fully understand why.

Maybe it was the way he looked at her, maybe it was the fact that, for once, she was being chosen for something other than labor or obedience. Maybe it was exhaustion. Or confusion. Or the quiet, complicated recognition that she had no real control over the direction any of this could take anyway.

The bed was softer than anything she had known since arriving there.

She kissed him back, multiple times. He whispered to her that she was beautiful, that he wished she was her queen, that he only had eyes for her.

When it was over, Reika laid there for a moment, then sat up slowly, gathering herself without rushing, without looking at him for too long. She adjusted her clothes with steady hands, even if her thoughts weren’t as steady underneath.

Then she stood.

For a second, she hesitated. Then she lowered her gaze and walked toward the door.

She didn’t look back.

And when she stepped out into the corridor again, the castle felt exactly the same as before.

Only she wasn’t.

Days passed. Then weeks.

At first, nothing felt different. The routine stayed the same, the work, the long hours, the constant movement through corridors that had already started to feel too familiar. If anything had changed, it was subtle enough that Reika ignored it.

Or tried to.

It started with small things, like a lingering tiredness that didn’t go away with sleep, moments where her stomach turned unexpectedly, forcing her to pause and steady herself before continuing, food that once felt normal suddenly became difficult to swallow.

She told herself it was nothing.

That it was exhaustion and stress. But the signs didn’t stop.

And slowly, quietly, a thought began to form, one she didn’t want to face.

Reika didn’t speak about it at first but after months, it wasn’t a possibility anymore.

She knew she was pregnant.

With his child.

With time, her body changed slowly, enough that she could still conceal it for a time. Her pregnancy was easier than she had expected, no major complications, no moments that forced attention onto her too early.

It gave her time.

Time to think. Time to adjust. Time to feel something she hadn’t expected.

Because despite everything, despite where she was, despite how this had begun… she didn’t feel only fear. Because she knew she was gonna love her child.

At some point, when her belly was starting to get hard to hide, she had to tell it to someone, and the only person she trusted with the whole story, was Helena.

“…How long?” Helena asked softly.

Reika hesitated. “…A while.”

Helena exhaled slowly, absorbing it.

But she didn’t look angry and she didn’t look shocked either. Just… concerned.

The rest of the castle remained unaware, and if someone suspected she was pregnant, they just thought she had sex with some servantant working there.

The night it happened, it was sudden. Reika had doubled over where she stood, her breath catching as her body tensed in a way she couldn’t control.

Helena understood immediately.

The hours that followed were long, messy and exhausting.

Reika had never experienced pain like that before. It came in waves, each one stronger than the last, tearing through whatever strength she thought she had.

She tried to stay quiet. Tried to keep the sounds contained the same way she always did. But this was different.

Helena stayed with her the entire time. Guiding her, steadying her, speaking when needed, even when Reika barely processed the words.

“Breathe, sweetheart.”

And finally, after what felt like hours, and probably were, it was over.

The room fell into a different kind of silence for a second before a new sound filled the space.

A small and fragile cry.

Reika was exhausted at first, but when Helena placed the child in her arms everything else faded.

Reika looked down.

At him.

He was so small and the cutest thing she had ever seen.

This was hers. Despite everything.

He was hers. And she already loved him.

Helena watched quietly for a moment, something soft in her expression. “…What will you call him?” she asked.

Reika didn’t hesitate.

Her gaze never left the child in her arms.

“Noah,” she said softly.

Helena tilted her head slightly. “Noah?”

Reika nodded faintly.

“I always liked that name.”

She adjusted her hold on him just slightly, closer now.

“Noah,” she repeated, quieter this time.

For the first time since she had been taken from her home, something felt right.

If she was sure of something, it was that she was going to love and protect that child at every cost.

---

Noah grew up inside the castle walls, though “growing up” there looked very different from what it might have been anywhere else.

Reika carried him with her whenever she could, tied close to her body when he was still small enough, his head resting against her chest as she worked. When she couldn’t, Helena would take him, balancing her tasks and finding time to take care of him. Between the two of them, they managed.

It wasn’t easy. There were days when Noah cried and neither of them could immediately go to him. Days when he had to be left in a corner of a room, wrapped in cloth, while floors were scrubbed or linens carried. But he was never neglected, never forgotten.

If anything, he was loved too much for a place like that.

Reika spoke to him in her native language when no one was around. Sometimes she would hum to him, melodies from her village, repetitive and gentle.

As a baby, he was calm more often than not. His big brown eyes watched everything, always observing.

His first steps came earlier than expected.

He had been holding onto the edge of one of the low wooden tables in the servants’ quarters, his small fingers gripping tightly as he pulled himself up. Reika had been nearby, washing something in a basin, while Helena sorted through linens.

“Look,” Helena said suddenly.

Reika turned just in time to see it.

Noah let go.

For a second, he wobbled, unsteady, his balance uncertain. Then he took a small and uneven step.

Then another.

Then he kept walking. And fell a second later.

Helena laughed softly under her breath as Reika rushed forward, kneeling beside him. “He’ll be running in a week at this rate.”

And she wasn’t wrong.

From that moment on, Noah didn’t stay still.

As he grew, the castle became his entire world.

At first it was just the servants’ quarters, the kitchens, the narrow corridors where he was allowed to wander under watch. He learned quickly where he could go and where he couldn’t, not because anyone explained it clearly, but because of how people reacted.

Some places were safe.

Others were not.

He understood that instinctively.

By the time he was three, he started to ask questions.

A lot of them.

“What is that?”

“Why?”

“Where?”

Sometimes Reika answered.

Sometimes Helena did.

Sometimes neither of them had an answer they could give him.

“Why can’t I go there?” he asked once, pointing toward a staircase that led upward, toward the more ornate parts of the castle.

Reika hesitated. “…Because that is not for us.”

Noah frowned slightly. “Why?”

Helena stepped in before Reika could struggle through an answer. “Because people up there don’t like being disturbed.”

That wasn’t the full truth. But it was enough for a child.

As he got older, the looks started.

At first, he didn’t understand them. Nobles passing through the lower corridors would glance at him, their expressions shifting the moment they noticed him standing near Reika or Helena. There was something in their eyes, something cold, something dismissive.

Disgust.

It was the same look they gave Reika.

Noah noticed it before he understood it.

One day, when he was around five, he asked about it.

“Why do they look at me like that?”

“Like what, baby?”

He tried to imitate it, scrunching his face in a way that was almost accurate. “Like they don’t like me.”

Silence followed.

Helena, who had been nearby, didn’t immediately step in this time.

Reika forced a small, careful smile. “They don’t know you.”

Noah tilted his head. “But they don’t want to.”

There wasn’t an easy answer to that.

So Reika said nothing.

By the time Noah turned six, he explored the castle despite all the warnings.

He had learned how to move quietly, how to slip through corridors without drawing attention, how to disappear when he needed to.

Helena had caught him once, coming back from a corridor he definitely wasn’t supposed to be in.

“And where have you been?” she asked, arms crossed.

Noah paused. “…Walking.”

Helena raised an eyebrow. “Walking where?”

He didn’t answer.

She sighed, rubbing her temple slightly. “You’re going to get yourself into trouble.”

He looked at her, unbothered. “I didn’t!”

“Not yet,” she corrected.

Helena was concerned because the castle was not a place where someone like Noah could move freely without consequences forever.

Still, he kept exploring.

Large halls with high ceilings. Rooms filled with things he didn’t understand. Windows that looked out over the city, showing him a world that was starting to interest him.

By the time Noah was eight, the castle was no longer enough for him.

It had become boring. Every corridor memorized. Every routine understood. Every place he was allowed to be had already been explored too many times to still feel interesting. Even the places he wasn’t supposed to go had started to lose their mystery.

So he started looking beyond it.

And he used the door in the kitchens to get out of the castle. The first time he used it, his heart had been pounding so loudly he was sure someone would hear it.

He waited until no one was looking. Slipped through the doorway, and didn’t stop walking until the castle walls were behind him.

And just like that... he was outside.

The air felt different, wider and colder.

He didn’t go far that first time. Just enough to see the streets, the movement of people who didn’t wear uniforms or fine clothes, who spoke louder, laughed more freely, argued openly.

It felt messy.

Alive.

He went back before anyone could notice he was gone.

But after that, he couldn’t stop.

It became a habit. And the town became his second world.

The streets were narrow and crowded, filled with stalls, voices, smells that changed depending on where he walked. Markets stretched across entire roads, merchants calling out to passersby, displaying fabrics, food, tools, things Noah had never seen inside the castle.

He liked the markets the most.

There was always something happening. Always something to look at.

And eventually... something to take.

The first time he stole something, it was small. Just a piece of fruit left too close to the edge of a stall, the merchant distracted, turned away for just a second too long.

Noah saw it. Hesitated. Then took it.

His heart raced the entire time he walked away, expecting someone to shout, to grab him, to stop him.

No one did.

He didn’t even eat it right away. Just held it, staring at it.

After that, it got easier.

Not reckless. Never careless.

He watched. Waited. Learned who paid attention and who didn’t.

Sometimes it was food. Sometimes small objects he didn’t really need.

Of course, he didn’t keep it from Reika for long.

He came back one day with something in his hand, trying to hide it, but she noticed immediately.

“What is that?” she asked.

Noah froze for half a second. “…Nothing.”

Reika stepped closer. “Noah.”

He hesitated, then slowly showed her.

Her expression changed instantly.

“Did you steal this?” she asked.

No answer.

“That means yes,” she said, sharper now. “Noah, you can’t do that.”

“They have a lot,” he replied quickly. “They won’t notice.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Reika said, “You don’t take things that aren’t yours.”

Noah frowned. “Why?”

“Because it’s wrong,” she said.

Noah didn’t look convinced.

He kept leaving. Kept exploring.

Noah loved Helena. To him, she felt like a second mother. He trusted her the same way he trusted Reika, and even though both of them constantly told him not to steal, he kept bringing them small things. A stone, a simple bracelet, food, anything he thought might make them smile.

And over time, he stopped being alone out there.

He met other kids. He liked them. They didn't look at him for too long trying to understand if he was white or not.

Sometimes they met in the same corner of the market, near a broken wall where no adults paid much attention. They would sit on the ground in a loose circle, pulling out worn dice, small stones, or whatever they could use to play. The rules changed depending on who suggested them, sometimes simple games of luck, sometimes bets with whatever little they had. Noah liked those moments the most. There, he wasn’t the servant’s son from the castle. He was just another kid, laughing, arguing, and playing.

One day, Noah stole something that didn’t look valuable, just… strange. Small, round, made of metal, with a tiny moving needle trapped under glass. It caught his attention, and that was enough.

He turned it in his hands for a while before bringing it to the castle.

Reika noticed it almost immediately. “Where did you get that?”

Noah hesitated. “…I found it.”

She gave him a look. Then sighed softly and took it from him, examining it more carefully.

“It’s a compass,” she said.

Noah frowned slightly. “What does it do?”

“It helps people find their way,” she explained. “People who travel. It shows direction, so they don’t get lost.”

He looked at it again, more focused now. The small needle kept moving, always settling in the same direction.

“…So you can go anywhere?” he asked.

Reika’s expression softened just a little. “If you know how to use it… yes.”

Noah stayed quiet after that, staring at the compass in his hands. He thought about it for a long time.

About places beyond the castle. Beyond the town. Places where no one shouted at his mother for doing something wrong. Places where Helena didn’t have to work until her hands hurt. Places where they could all just… exist.

In his mind, it was simple. He would take them with him. His mom, and Helena. All three of them together.

They would travel, eat food from different places, see things no one in the castle had ever seen, and no one would own them. No one would tell them what to do.

They would be free and happy.

At least… that was Noah’s dream.

Some years later, something started changing at court.

Noah didn’t notice it. Reika did. And Helena even more.

“I heard something,” she said.

“What are you talking about?” Reika asked.

“Some of the nobles were talking. Laughing, at first.” She paused. “Chatting about who actually is Noah's father. One of them joked… said maybe he’s the king’s.”

Silence.

“They laughed,” Helena added quickly. “Most of them. But not all.”

Reika looked up.

“One stayed quiet. Then she started whispering with another.”

Reika felt something cold settle in her stomach.

“Do you think…” Helena started, then stopped.

Reika already knew the question.

Do you think someone knows?

She didn’t answer.

Because she didn’t know.

And now she was scared for Noah's safety too.

Days passed by and then, one morning, it happened.

Two guards appeared at the entrance of the servants’ quarters.

“Reika.” They just said her name.

She stood.

Helena stepped slightly closer to her. “…What is it?” she asked under her breath.

Reika just shook her head, but in her heart, she already knew.

The walk through the castle felt longer than usual and then, they brought her directly to the throne room.

The doors opened and she saw that the room was already occupied as nobles stood along the sides, their attention shifting the moment she entered.

At the far end, on the throne, there was the king. Advisors stood near him and other guards were positioned along the walls.

Reika was brought forward, and then stopped.

“Leave her,” the king said.

The guards stepped back.

Reika bowed for a moment.

Silence followed.

She kept her gaze lowered, but she could feel the weight of attention pressing down from every direction.

“You’ve been stealing.”

The words cut through the room. Reika blinked, just once.

“…No, your highness.” she said quietly.

The king stood and the movement alone shifted the atmosphere.

“Do not lie,” he snapped, his voice rising. “Items have gone missing in the rooms where you work. And you expect me to believe you know nothing about it?”

Reika’s heart was beating too fast now.

This wasn’t about theft, she understood that immediately. She hadn’t taken anything that wasn't hers and she knew Noah didn't steal inside the castle.

“I have taken nothing,” she said, a little more firmly this time. “I do my work. I—”

“Enough.”

His voice echoed.

“You were given a place here,” he continued, “You were allowed to remain. To work. To live under this roof.”

Reika felt her hands trembling slightly, but she kept them still.

“And this is how you repay it?”

“I didn’t—”

“You did!”

There was a moment of silence, Reika tried again but she knew everything would have been useless.

“I have not stolen anything,” she said again, quieter now, but steady. “You know that.”

For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression. They both exactly knew what was going on.

And then it was gone.

Replaced by something colder.

“I know enough,” he said. “This kind of behavior cannot be tolerated,” he declared. “Not in this court.”

This was it.

“Effective immediately,” he continued, “she is to be executed.”

Some people behind him nodded, all agreeing.

“As an example for everyone. This afternoon.”

Reika stood there, unmoving. For a moment, everything felt distant, muted.

Then one thought broke through everything else.

Noah.

Her child.

What would happen to him? What would happen to her baby? The baby she was always going to love, no matter how it would end for her.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to look at him again, hoping to see the glimpse of a father in his eyes, or at least of a man.

But she just saw the king. Just a monster.

“Take her away,” he said.

The guards stepped forward again, grabbed her arms and dragged her away as she didn't try to resist.

That afternoon came too quickly.

Reika was sitting in a small, dim room when the door opened again.

Helena stepped in first. And Noah was right behind her. The moment he saw her, he ran.

“Mom!”

Reika smiled despite everything. She held him tightly, more tightly than she ever had before, pressing her face into his hair, breathing him in like she could memorize him.

He always smelled like outside. Like dust, like the streets, like life.

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Her throat closed. Helena stood a step away, watching them, her eyes already wet.

Reika finally pulled back just enough to look at Noah’s face. She took it in carefully. Every detail. His eyes, his cheeks, the way his hair fell.

“Hey…” she whispered softly, brushing a strand away from his forehead.

Noah frowned slightly. “Where were you?” he asked. “They didn’t let me come earlier.”

“I know.”

He looked around the room, confused. “Why are you here?”

Reika didn’t answer that. Instead, she pulled him closer again, one hand resting against the back of his head.

“I need you to listen to me, okay?”

Noah looked up at her, serious now.

“…Okay.”

Reika swallowed, holding back everything that threatened to break through. “I love you,” she said softly.

Noah blinked. “I know.”

She let out a small breath, something between a laugh and a sob.

“No,” she murmured, shaking her head slightly. “I love you so much. More than anything.”

He didn’t fully understand why she was saying it like that. He just nodded again, a little unsure.

“I love you too.”

Her eyes stung, but she didn’t let the tears fall.

Not now.

Not in front of him.

“You’re brave,” she continued quietly. “And smart. And kind.”

Noah tilted his head slightly. “Why are you saying it like that?”

Reika hesitated.

He was too young, barely twelve. Too young to understand what was about to happen.

“…Because I want you to remember it,” she said gently.

“Where are they taking you?” he asked.

Reika’s fingers tightened slightly against his sleeve.

“…You don’t need to worry about that,” she said softly.

“But—”

“Hey.” She cupped his face again, guiding his gaze back to hers. “Look at me.”

He did.

“I love you,” she repeated, “and remember this is not your fault.”

He frowned, more confused now. “What’s happening?”

Reika took a breath. This was the hardest part.

“I need you to promise me something.”

Noah blinked. “What?”

“When it will happen, don’t look.”

He stared at her.

“What?”

“You don’t look,” she repeated, softer this time. “No matter what you hear. No matter what happens.”

He shook his head slightly. “Why?”

Reika’s voice almost broke.

“Just promise me.”

He hesitated.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know you don’t.”

Her thumb brushed lightly under his eye.

“But you have to trust me. Can you do that?”

Noah looked at her. Something felt wrong.

“…Okay,” he said quietly.

Reika searched his face. “Promise.”

“…I promise.”

That was enough.

She pulled him into one last embrace, holding him as if she could somehow keep him there, frozen in that moment.

“I love you baby,” she whispered into his hair.

Then she let go.

She stood, turning to Helena. Then she stepped forward and hugged her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Helena’s arms tightened around her immediately.

“For everything.”

Helena shook her head, her voice breaking. “No—”

“You are the best friend I could have,” Reika said softly.

Helena didn’t answer, and just held her tighter.

At some point, the guards stepped forward.

It was time.

They took Reika by the arms again.

Noah didn’t stay, and decided to follow them, even if Helena tried to catch him before he ran away after them.

At first slowly, then faster, slipping through people, through corridors, then outside, where the streets were louder than usual, full of people.

He pushed through them, small enough to pass between bodies, his eyes fixed ahead.

Where were they taking her?

He could hear voices overlapped, people talking, whispering. Noah didn’t understand any of it.

He followed them until they reached a large open space.

There was a wooden platform in the center.

People were already gathered around it.

Noah slowed down.

His breathing uneven now, from the run and the fear.

They brought her up there.

Her words came back.

You don’t look.

His body stilled.

He turned his head away.

He forced himself to.

His hands clenched at his sides.

He wouldn’t look.

He promised.

Around him, the noise grew. He could hear voices and feel the movement.

Something heavy was being adjusted.

Don’t look.

Noah squeezed his eyes shut.

Don’t look.

He didn’t understand.

But he listened. Because she told him to.

His heart was beating too fast.

He pressed his lips together.

Don’t look.

Don’t look.

Don’t...

A sudden shift in the crowd.

A sound.

A sharp, collective reaction or people cheering and yelling.

Noah’s breath hitched, and before he could stop himself... he looked.

For a moment, his mind refused to understand what he was seeing.

It was as if his eyes had made a mistake, as if the image in front of him did not belong to reality but to something distant, something unreal that would disappear if he just blinked hard enough. But it didn’t. The longer he looked, the more the details forced themselves into him.

His mother’s body was hanging, suspended in a way that made no sense to him, her feet not touching the ground, her arms still, her head tilted unnaturally. The rope around her neck was tight, cutting into her skin in a way that made his stomach twist violently. There was no movement, no breath, no voice.

No “Noah, be careful.”

No “Noah, don't steal.”

No “Noah, I love you.”

No warmth.

Just stillness.

The noise of the crowd crashed back into him all at once, loud and overwhelming. Some people were cheering, others speaking loudly over each other. It didn’t match what he was seeing. It didn’t match what he was feeling. How could they be so loud when everything inside him had gone completely silent?

His chest tightened painfully, like something was pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. His lungs worked too fast, shallow and uneven, as if they didn’t know how to function anymore. His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes so suddenly he couldn’t stop them.

He turned and ran.

He didn’t think about where he was going, didn’t look at the people he pushed past, didn’t hear the protests or the annoyed voices as he slipped through the crowd again, smaller than them, faster than them, desperate to get away from the square, from the platform, from that image that had already burned itself into him.

His legs moved without stopping, carrying him through the streets, past the market, until the stone gave way to dirt and the noise of the city slowly began to fade behind him.

He didn’t stop when he reached the edge of the woods surrounding the castle.

He kept going.

Branches scratched against his arms as he pushed through them, roots catching under his feet, forcing him to stumble more than once, but he didn’t slow down. The air felt colder there but it didn't help.

Nothing helped.

The image followed him. Every time he blinked, he saw her again.

A sob broke out of him, louder this time, raw and uncontrolled, his small body finally giving in to everything it had been holding back.

He slowed, then stumbled, then stopped entirely, his legs giving out beneath him as he dropped to the ground.

The earth was uneven and cold, damp beneath his hands as he tried to steady himself, but it didn’t matter. Nothing felt real anymore except the pain in his chest and the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

His shoulders shook as he cried, the sound echoing weakly through the trees, swallowed quickly by the vastness of the forest. Time lost meaning as he stayed there, curled in on himself, trying to make sense of something that couldn’t be understood, especially not by a child.

He didn’t know how much time had passed.

The light had shifted, slowly fading through the branches above him, turning everything softer and darker at the same time.

At some point, the sound reached him.

“Noah!”

He didn’t move, he didn't have any strength for it.

“Noah!”

Branches rustled somewhere behind him, footsteps uneven, quick, pushing through the same undergrowth he had run through without thinking.

“There you are.”

Noah lifted his head slightly, his vision still blurred, his face wet and streaked with dirt. For a second, he just looked at Helena.

She rushed forward and dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands immediately reaching for his face, his shoulders, checking him like she needed to be sure he was okay.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she said, “Everywhere…”

She pulled him into her arms, and he didn’t resist.

The moment she held him, something inside him gave in again, his small body collapsing against her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hand pressing gently against the back of his head, holding him close. “I’m so, so sorry…”

Noah clutched at her clothes weakly.

“…Why?”

Helena froze.

“Why did they do that?” he asked, his voice trembling, barely holding together. “Why did they kill her?”

“Noah…” she started, but her voice caught.

She took a breath.

“You deserve to know,” she said quietly.

He looked at her, eyes red, confused, waiting.

Helena hesitated only a moment longer.

“…Your father,” she said slowly, “is the king.”

Noah blinked. The words didn’t make sense at first.

“What?” he whispered.

“The king,” she repeated softly. “He… he is your father.”

Noah stared at her, trying to understand, trying to fit that into everything he knew, everything he had just seen.

“That’s why…” Helena continued, “That’s why this happened.”

“…Why?” he asked again, but this time it sounded smaller.

Helena’s hands tightened slightly on his arms.

“Because he was afraid,” she said. “Afraid that people would find out. Afraid that your mother would tell the truth. So he got rid of her. People were starting to talk in the castle.”

The forest felt too quiet around them.

Noah looked down, his hands trembling slightly in his lap.

“The king…” he repeated faintly.

Helena watched him carefully.

“Yes.”

A long pause.

“…He’s evil,” Noah said.

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

Another silence.

Then Noah looked up again, “…Does that mean I’m like him?”

The question broke something in her. Helena’s expression softened immediately, and she reached up, cupping his face gently.

“Oh no,” she said firmly. “Noah, listen to me. You are not like him.”

Her thumb brushed away a tear from his cheek.

“You are like your mother.”

His lips trembled slightly.

“You have her heart,” Helena continued softly. “Her kindness. Her strength.”

She paused, then added, her voice gentler now, “And her eyes.”

Noah blinked, more tears slipping down his face.

“You are nothing like him,” she repeated again and again.

They stayed there for a long time, ane Noah’s uneven breathing began to calm against Helena’s shoulder. She didn’t rush him, but eventually though, she had to pull back to look at him properly when she spoke.

She told him, quietly, that he couldn’t stay. That the castle was no longer safe for him, that after what had happened, it was only a matter of time before someone started asking the wrong questions.

Noah didn’t accept it. He shook his head, tears rising again as he begged her to come with him, his voice small and desperate, asking her not to leave him alone too, not after everything.

She told him she couldn’t. That if she disappeared too, it would draw attention, make everything worse. That she had to stay, at least for now. But him… he had a chance. Out there, beyond the castle, beyond the city, he had a chance to survive.

She told him that other people would find him. That someone would take care of him. That he was stronger than he thought.

He didn’t believe it. Not really. But there was nothing else to hold onto.

So he hugged her again, and told her he loved her.

That was the last time they saw each other for years.

That night, while the castle slept and the city quieted, Noah made his way down to the port. He moved carefully, the way he always had when sneaking out, but this time there was no curiosity driving him forward, no sense of adventure. Only the need to leave.

The harbor was darker than the rest of the city, lit only by scattered lanterns and the low glow of ships anchored in the water. There were more vessels than he had ever really noticed before, their shapes rising against the night.

He didn’t know where any of them were going, but it didn’t matter.

He chose one without thinking too much about it, climbing aboard when no one was looking, his body slipping between ropes and wooden structures until he found a place to hide. There were barrels stacked close together, the scent of alcohol strong enough to sting his nose, but it gave him cover.

He curled up between them, pulling himself in as small as possible.

Exhaustion took him quickly.

When they found him the next morning, he was still asleep, tucked between the rum barrels like something forgotten.

Voices woke him.

Rough ones. Confused at first, then amused.

They decided to keep him.

And soon, Noah found out that of all the ships he could have chosen, he had climbed onto a pirate vessel.

But he was just a child and somehow, that was enough for them to let him stay.

So they kept him, and taught him how to survive in their world.

And that was how his new life began.

Noah taglist pt 1: @mushrumink @sullyselena @buttercupbabyyy @pathion @pipidoll @missduffsblog @vibecops @myexistencesucks @overmydeadbodysblog @margocos-blog @heyitsjay316 @sallyba3 @bartxnhood @lacy1986 @iamamatus @dream-machine-love @amoursims @suessmausnici @whimsicaldiamonds @imyourliquor-youremypoison @punkprincess1999 @bored-rato @thepeoplesblog @dxthrone @illmakeyousaywow @xmads-omensx @sikowitzbitch @tosoundlessdarkistare @sadbitchenergy @flowery-mess @anything-morethan-human @lekyswixexx @english-fucker @follow-me-down-to-wonderland

shbto tags: @novainpolaroids @enzocoquette @lifeirreverent @shobolanya @crystallizedtime @mushroommelody1 @leosunshine @takeme1st @thepurpletrain2groovycity @lookinalittleblue @thefountainn @platespaghetti @v1per1ne @chipotlebagnoah @caitlin-mnsn @concretedecisions

[tomhoppusdelonge]

I should probably have a good scream. I feel like I’m a little overdue a blood curdling throat ripping yell

[runningincircl3s]

VELVET

sugardaddy!noah x reader

part five

masterlist ☆ chapter warnings: none? i feel like this is just quite a short and sweet chapter, but it's setting up for what's to come 🤭

i didn't realise it had been over a month since the last chapter what the heck!! i also want to thank everyone who's sent me their ideas for this fic it's really helped me!! and i think i now know where this fic will be going, and it's certainly not going to be a short story 🫣

・┈・୨୧・┈・

“So… have you had a good time?” Noah asked as you walked hand in hand back to the hotel. You’d be leaving Paris early tomorrow morning, so you two decided to go out for one last fancy dinner, watch the tower sparkle, then make your way back to the hotel. 

“It’s been amazing,” you said, nodding your head, “Thank you, Noah. I really mean it… I’ve needed this.” 

He chuckled, looking down at the ground for a moment before glancing back at you again. 

“What have I told you about thanking me, hm?”

You felt your cheeks suddenly warm, and you gave him a little smile. 

“So…” you said, looking up at the dark night sky, “What’s happening when we get home?”

“What do you mean?” Noah asked. 

You immediately felt shy, which you felt stupid for, since you’ve spent the last four days together. 

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, followed by a shrug, “I guess I’m gonna miss you.”

Noah stopped in his tracks, giving your hand a quick squeeze as you stopped beside him. 

“Baby,” he said with a quiet chuckle, “Just because we’re home doesn't mean we can’t spend time together. You know we live twenty minutes apart, right?”

That earned a reluctant smile from you. 

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

You hesitated for a moment as you wondered that yourself.

The point was that this trip had felt like you were in your own bubble, a perfect little world where neither of you had responsibilities or stress- besides the phone calls Noah had to take every now and then. But it felt like now it was coming to an end, the bubble was inevitably going to pop, and you weren’t sure what was going to happen after it did. 

Noah’s face softened, he had learned to read you over these days, and so he knew right now that you were overthinking. 

“You think this ends when we get home?” 

You didn’t answer that, which answered for you. Noah held his arms open, an invitation for you to step into them. 

“Come here.” He said, and so you did. 

He wrapped his arms around you, the two of you standing in the middle of the street, before pulling back to look you in the eyes. 

“Listen to me.” You did. “When we get home, I’ll still call you.” You smiled, “I’ll still annoy you, I’ll still take you to dinner, I’ll still spend time with you.” 

Your chest felt a little lighter, your heart fluttering at how simply he’d said it, like he didn’t even have to think twice. Then Noah tilted his head slightly as you pulled back.

“And if I remember correctly, you’ve got about fifty shopping bags full of things you need to show off- and I plan on letting you.” 

You chuckled, before taking his hand again as you continued walking back to the hotel. 

“So, what kinda things do you want to do when we’re back home?” Noah asked, and you shrugged. 

“I don’t know. I thought you were the one who comes up with the plans.” 

“Well maybe I want you to take the lead,” he smirked, “C’mon, is there anywhere you wanna visit? Bars or restaurants you want to try? A concert you want to go to?”

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about it. Because there was something… 

“Actually…” You said, earning a grin from him. 

“What is it?”

“There’s a band I've always wanted to see, and they’re playing in our city in a few weeks.”

“Who?” He asked, and you looked up to meet his eyes. 

“Bring Me The Horizon.” 

Noah casually nodded his head, like you’d told him you wanted to go to the grocery store or something. 

“I can get us in.” 

You laughed. 

“No you can’t, all the tickets sold out in like 10 minutes. And I am not letting you give your money to scalpers for overpriced resale tickets.” 

“Oh, I won’t need to, baby.” He said smugly, making you stop in your tracks. 

“So how exactly do you plan on getting us in?” 

Noah just shrugged. 

“Oli owes me a favour.” 

“Oli… Oliver Sykes?” You scoffed, and it was clear Noah was trying not to laugh. 

“Yes.” 

You stared at him, like you were trying to figure out whether to believe him or not. 

“...You know Oli Sykes?”

Noah laughed. 

“Of course I do. My band opened for them a couple years ago. Y'know, I even sung Antivist on stage with him a few times.” 

You shook your head in disbelief. 

“How have you never told me this?”

“You never asked!” 

“Because I didn’t know I needed to ask!” You scoffed in disbelief.

Noah laughed again, and you were still staring up at him, trying to process all this information. You knew his band must’ve been doing well for him to have the money he has, but you didn’t quite realise who Noah was… 

“So you’re telling me… you’re friends with Oli?”

“We’ve worked together and we get along… I don’t know if he’d count me as a friend.” Noah chuckled, suddenly seeming a little shy.

“But you have his number right?” You asked, and Noah nodded his head. “Oh my god, text him!” 

“I can’t text him.” Noah laughed. 

“Please?”

“No.” 

“Pretty please?”

“No,” he chuckled, “He’s probably spending time with his kids or in rehearsals or something.”

You pouted. 

“Just one text? Just check in on him…?”

“I am not texting Oli at nearly midnight because the pretty girl I took to Paris told me to.” 

You let out a long sigh, shaking your head in defeat. 

“Baby,” he said, cupping your cheek in his hand, “I’ll make sure you get to see them, okay?”

“You will?” You smiled, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Of course I will.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. And the excitement on your face must’ve been obvious because when he pulled away, his smile softened. “You got something to look forward to now, huh?”

You nodded as you wrapped your arms around Noah’s neck slowly, pulling him down into a kiss. 

“You better get us a good view.” You whispered against his lips, and he smiled.

“Only the best for you, sweetheart.”

… 

The trip home was too simple, too easy, you were waiting the entire time for something bad to happen- you flight to be delayed, bags to be lost- but no. It went perfectly. 

You slept most of the flight back, your head on Noah’s shoulder, his arm around you as he read his book. You didn’t have to wait too long to collect your luggage either, and before you knew it, you were sitting in the back of a car, on your way back to your apartment. 

However, this was where it would all change. 

Noah, as usual, refused to let you carry anything. You stepped out of the car and he was already lifting suitcases and grabbing bags. He had parked his car at your place before leaving, so he took his things first, throwing them into the back, before picking your bags back up and making his way up to your apartment. 

“How are you not struggling?” You laughed as he juggled everything. 

“I don’t lift weights for nothing, y'know.” He smirked as you dug through one of your bags for your keys. 

You unlocked the door, and the moment you pushed it open… Noah frowned. You were too busy shrugging off and hanging up your jacket to notice, but the further he walked in…

“Does it usually smell damp in here?” Noah asked, his brows slightly furrowed. 

Immediately, your stomach dropped. Because now he said it, you could smell it too- a stale, damp smell lingering in the air. Like the time your washing machine broke and started leaking while you were at work. 

“No… it shouldn’t.” You said quietly, suddenly panicked. 

Carefully, Noah set your bags down by the wall. 

“Stay there a second.” He said, before walking further into your apartment. 

The living room looked fine, but as he walked into the kitchen, his heart stopped. He called your name, and you followed him down the hallway, the smell getting stronger with each step. 

“What is it?” You asked, but when you spotted him, he was staring up at the ceiling in silence. 

Your heart started racing. The ceiling was stained brown, the paint bubbling in some spots, and in the corner by the wall it was slightly sagging. There were water marks running down the wall, water soaking the counters- 

“What the fuck…” You said in disbelief, taking a step forward. 

“Careful.” Noah reached out, catching your arm. 

Then you looked down. The floor was soaked. 

This had happened here once before, but not to this extreme. Your upstairs neighbour has had quite a few plumbing problems in the time you’ve been here. Thankfully last time you caught it in time before it could get any worse, but you remembered they were currently on vacation in Spain, and you had been gone for four days. There had been nobody to catch it this time. 

“Is that your bathroom?” Noah asked, nodding towards the door. 

“Yeah.” You said as you followed him towards it… 

It was even worse than you could’ve imagined. Paint was peeling, part of the ceiling had bowed downwards, water dripping onto the closed toilet lid. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling cold and stressed and overwhelmed. This was your safe space, your little apartment, the place you’d been looking forward to returning to after your trip. But it didn’t feel like yours like this. 

“Should we check the bedroom?” Noah asked carefully. 

You didn’t want to. You wanted to leave that door shut and pretend it couldn’t possibly be any worse… but you knew it was going to be bad. So you followed him again, and slowly pushed the door open. 

“Oh...” You said quietly, your heart sinking.

This room was the worst. Part of the ceiling above one side of your bed had collapsed, plaster and insulation all over your floor and bed. The wall closest to the bathroom was soaked, wallpaper peeling away from the wall, and your bedside table was ruined. The lamp sitting on it was tilted awkwardly beneath the fallen debris. 

What the hell had happened upstairs to cause this?

You just stood there, staring at it. Trying to process it. It was like all the excitement of Paris, the shopping, the laughter, the dinners, the joy you had felt, it had all been left on the other side of the ocean. 

Noah took a careful step closer, and after a moment, you felt his hand slide into yours. Your fingers wrapped around his, and then you looked down at them… then back up at him. Your vision started to blur, not because of your home, but because everything had been so perfect… it seemed the universe always hated you having nice things. 

“We'll sort this.” Noah said, his voice calm and firm, the tone he used all weekend whenever your mind started to run away with itself.

“But-”

Noah shook his head, cutting you off. 

“Call your landlord.” He said, and you nodded your head, “I’ll get some photos of it for you.” 

You nodded your head, swallowing hard as you reached into your pocket for your phone. 

“Then you come home with me.” 

Your head shot up.

“Noah, you've just spent all weekend with me!” You laughed in disbelief. 

But his expression didn’t change. 

“And…?”

You folded your arms, staring at him. 

“I dunno. You’ve probably had enough of me.” 

Yeah, that earned you a look. One that told you he’d found what you said ridiculous. 

“So where else are you gonna stay?” He asked, folding his own arms. 

“...I’ll figure something out. I’ll stay with Tom.” 

“Yeah?”

You paused for a moment, remembering what he had told you last week. 

“...Or I would. If his sister wasn’t there.”

Noah let out a chuckle as you dropped your head into your hands. He reached out, sliding an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. 

“Grab some more clothes or whatever you need, I’ll get some photos of the damage to send to your landlord.” He pulled back to look at your face, “Then I’m taking you home. No arguments.” 

You let out a long sigh. You didn’t want him to feel obliged, like he had to take you in out of guilt or politeness. But a part of you knew it wasn’t that way. He just wanted to make sure you’re okay, to look after you and make things easier. 

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop worrying about being a burden.” He said quietly as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “I want you to come home with me.”

"Okay." You said finally, earning a smile from him.

…

You spent the next hour frantically packing and waiting for your landlord to pick up the phone. Noah took photos of everything for you- the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, the ceilings and the water damage creeping down the walls. Every time you thought he’d finished, he’d find something else that needed documenting.

Your landlord sounded horrified when he finally picked up. Apparently your upstairs neighbour had been impossible to contact for the last few days, and there had been concerns about a leak for a while now, after several complaints were made about a damp smell coming from their floor. But nobody had realised quite how bad it was. 

By the time the call ended, you were told someone would be coming out tomorrow to inspect it, insurance would be involved, and nobody could tell you how long repairs would take. Days, weeks, possibly even longer. You didn’t really hear much after that, you just knew you couldn’t stay here. So you packed some more. 

You packed things that were valuable, things that felt important. You were sure you’d be given the chance to come back and get the rest, but even Noah was telling you to take as much as you could today. He told you he had the room to store things for you if you needed. 

Though every time you added something to your bag, a voice in the back of your mind kept whispering the same thing.

You’re imposing. You’re going to outstay your welcome. You’re going to become a burden. He’s just too kind to say it to your face. 

Noah seemed to sense every single one of those thoughts without you saying a word, because when he found you standing in your bedroom staring blankly at a pile of clothes, he took the bag from your hands and started folding things himself. When you’d tried to carry your own bags back downstairs, he’d taken them too. When you’d apologised for the fifth time, he just looked at you… and that was enough to stop you mid apology. 

Now, thirty minutes later, you were pulling into Noah’s driveway. You were still blown away every time you looked at his house, it was so nice, the garden was so tidy, it was all just so perfect- and this was just the outside. 

“You okay?” Noah asked as he parked the car. 

“Mhm.” You hummed, before getting out. 

This time you insisted on helping him bring things in, since he didn’t only have your things in the car but his own too. So you grabbed his suitcase and poked your tongue out as if to say you can’t stop me and dragged it up the path. 

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with the homely scent of laundry detergent and whatever fancy air freshener he had plugged into the wall. You let out a long sigh as you set his bag down, because despite already going back to your place, you finally felt like you were at home. 

However, Noah wasn’t wasting any time. He carefully passed you, and headed up the stairs, carrying all the bags so easily. 

“Show off.” You chuckled under your breath. 

“I heard that.” He laughed from upstairs. 

A smile crept up on your face, and you followed him up the stairs… he had stopped just outside one of the rooms, set your bags down, and turned to look at you with a smile. 

“Right…” 

You immediately became suspicious.

“What?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Important question, would you rather stay in the guest room…” He gestured towards the door at the end of the hallway, “…or stay in here with me?”

The question caught you off guard, you didn't realise you were going to have to choose. You looked away for a moment, towards the bags, towards the floor- anywhere but him. Because the answer was embarrassingly obvious. 

You didn’t really want the guest room. Not after Paris. Not after falling asleep wrapped up in his arms. Not after waking up to sleepy kisses and coffee and his hand reaching for yours before either of you were fully awake.

The idea of sleeping alone suddenly felt strangely disappointing, and lonely… but at the same time, you didn’t want to feel like you were taking over his place suddenly. 

When you finally looked back at him, Noah’s expression softened, and he could tell what you were thinking through your hesitation.

“Why don’t we at least put your things in the guest room,” he said as he reached for your bags again, “So you’ve got your own space if you need it.” 

The words made your chest ache and feel soft both at the same time, god he was so considerate. He wasn’t pushing you one way or another, he was giving you the option, giving you a space that felt like yours, somewhere you could shut the door and sit by yourself and just breathe if you needed to. 

He pushed the door open and set the bags down by the bottom of the bed. 

“Feel free to unpack, take over the wardrobe and drawers, make it feel like home- you can even redecorate the place if you want.” He chuckled. 

“I’m not redecorating your guest room.” You smiled, “It’s lovely.” 

The room wasn’t huge, but it felt cozy. There was a big bed with fresh white sheets, a rather big dresser, and a window that overlooked the garden. It felt more like a hotel room than a spare bedroom- of course it did, everything Noah owned was unnecessarily nice. 

Noah brought the last of your bags up as you looked around, and despite yourself, you started feeling a little bit better. Sure, it wasn’t home, but you felt comfortable here already. 

“There,” Noah said as he set the last couple bags down, “And if you decide later that you want to crawl into bed with me… I won’t complain.” Noah smirked. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Who said I want to spend another night with you?” You teased. 

“Hey, you were the one who didn’t want to come home from Paris because you’d miss me too much.”

“I never said that!” 

“Mm, you implied it, baby.” He said, his grin only widening. 

But then, before you could continue the argument, he reached out and gently squeezed your shoulder, the teasing fading a little.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, y’know.” He said, his voice a little softer. “Go unpack, take a shower- use the one in my room if you want, it’s less claustrophobic- and just make yourself at home, okay?” 

You nodded your head. 

“And what are you doing?”

“I’ll be downstairs, either in the studio or the kitchen. Just come find me when you’re done… if you want. Or take a nap, I noticed you were yawning in the car. Do whatever you want, okay baby?” He said with a kiss to your forehead before turning around and softly shutting the door behind him, leaving you standing alone in the guest room.

For a moment, you just stood there, letting the day sink in. Only this morning you were waking up in his arms in Paris, and although you didn’t really want to come home, you didn’t consider that you may not even have your own home to come back to. 

So you unpacked a few things until you found the bag of toiletries you took to Paris, then you grabbed a clean pair of pyjamas and stepped out of the room. Then your eyes drifted down the hallway, towards his bedroom. 

He told you to use his shower, though it felt a little weird… either way, curiosity for the better of you, and you pushed the door open. 

Immediately, you noticed his room felt very Noah. Not because it was particularly extravagant, but actually the opposite. It was clean and tidy without feeling sterile, comfortable without feeling messy. There were black curtains and dark wood furniture, a large bed with navy sheets that looked almost too inviting. In the corner of the room there was a bookshelf filled with books and little figures that you guessed were from a TV show he liked. 

A guitar rested against one wall, and on his dresser there were a couple framed photographs of what you guessed were him and his friends… except when you looked closer at the picture, you realised one of the guys in it had his face, but his hair was almost at his waist. Was that Noah? 

You just took in the room around you, and suddenly you were thinking about how this was the room he’d slept in every night while you were at home. The room he’d disappeared into after stressful days. The room he’d probably spent countless hours lying awake in, overthinking the same way you did.

For some reason, that thought made your heart feel strangely warm.

Then your attention drifted toward his bathroom.

Oh wow…

The shower alone was probably bigger than your entire bathroom at home. You shook your head and laughed quietly to yourself before stepping inside. 

You shut the door behind you, and started to undress. Then you turned the water on and waited a moment for it to warm up, and when you finally stood under it, it felt incredible. 

You definitely stayed in there longer than you meant to, letting the water wash away the unexpected stress of the day. For a little while, you managed not to think about any of it, you just stood there, feeling the hot water wash over you, letting out a long sigh. 

When you finally stepped out, you felt a lot better. You dried your hair, dried yourself and pulled on your tank top and sleep shorts, then glanced at yourself in the mirror. 

You could get used to this… 

Then you took a breath, put your things back in the guest room, and headed downstairs. The house was quiet, and you weren’t sure where to find Noah… but you could hear music coming quietly from somewhere. 

You followed the sound until you reached an open door near the back of the house. This must’ve been the studio. You knocked gently, then you heard him call out, come in. 

You pushed it open, and Noah was sitting at a large desk surrounded by screens, speakers, notebooks and so much equipment that you didn’t even know what half of it was or what it did. As you shut the door behind you, he looked over at you, and a smile crept up on his lips. 

“Hi, baby.”

Fuck, the way he’s been speaking to you lately had been making you feel a little weak in the knees. 

“What are you working on?” You asked as you stepped closer to him. 

“I’ve been trying to get the pitch right on a certain part, I got an idea for it yesterday that I wanted to try, so I told myself I’d try it out as soon as I got back… but it’s still not working.”

You gave a sympathetic smile, and then you noticed his eyes slowly travelling over you, taking you in. 

“Feeling better?” He asked. 

“A little.” You nodded. 

“Good.” Then he held one arm out toward you. “Come here.”

You smiled.

“What?”

“Come here.”

You closed the space, and before you could even ask what he wanted, Noah gently caught your hand and guided you toward him. Then patted his thigh, and your cheeks suddenly warmed. 

“You have chairs.” You pointed out. 

“I know.” 

You tried not to smile, but completely failed. You didn’t even attempt to argue, because quite frankly his lap looked rather inviting. So you carefully settled onto his lap, your legs either side of him, and you felt Noah wrap an arm around your waist. You moved about slightly until you were comfortable, then buried your face in his neck, breathing him in.

Noah and you both let out a content little sound.

“There.” He said quietly, his chin resting gently on the top of your shoulder, one hand holding you tightly, the other navigating whatever project was open on his screen. 

Neither of you said much for a while, you just sat there, letting your eyes fall shut, feeling more at peace than ever before, listening to the music softly playing through the studio speakers, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your chest. After everything that had happened today, this was just what you needed.

Eventually though, Noah glanced at you.

“Comfortable?”

You nodded against his shoulder.

“Mhm.” You hummed, not even bothering to open your eyes. 

A small smile appeared on his face.

“Good.”

And as his arm tightened around your waist, you realised you hadn’t thought about your apartment in at least ten minutes. Which, considering the day you’d had, was probably Noah’s goal all along.

Every now and then, he’d reach for the mouse, or his hand would leave you so he could type something on the keyboard- but other than that, he barely moved. It felt so comfortable, so safe, so nice.

But after a while, your mouth started feeling a little dry. You remembered you’d barely drank anything all day, so you softly wriggled a little and lifted your head from his shoulder. 

“Noah?”

“Mm?”

“Can I get a drink?”

You were more than prepared to get up yourself, expecting him to point you towards the kitchen and tell you where the glasses were, maybe explain where he kept things. But instead, he lifted his brows and gently moved you from his lap to the sofa beside him. 

“‘Course, what do you want, baby?”

A smile tugged at your lips, because of course he wouldn’t let you get up to get it yourself. You were starting to learn these things about him. 

“Just water, please.” You said, looking up at him through your lashes. 

He nodded his head, then leaned down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“Good girl,” he said, casually and quietly, “Such good manners.”

The words had left his mouth so easily that for a moment you weren’t entirely sure you had heard him right… especially since Noah seemed so oblivious to what he had just done, to the effect his words had on you as he disappeared off into the kitchen. 

Meanwhile you were left there in the studio, your brain unable to function properly. It wasn’t even that nobody had ever complimented you before, that was a total lie, but this just felt different. The approval in his voice almost made your head spin, you felt all warm and fuzzy inside in a way you couldn’t quite explain. But there was one thing you knew for certain. 

You liked it. A lot. 

A few minutes later, Noah returned carrying a glass of water, and the moment he walked back into the room, he noticed the look on your face.

“You alright there?” He smirked. 

You blinked.

“Hm?”

“Exactly.” A laugh escaped him as he handed you the glass. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

You quickly took the water, ignoring his comment. 

“Thank you.”

“And there they are again.”

You looked up.

“What?”

“Your manners.” A grin spread across his face. “I like them.”

Your cheeks immediately felt warmer, and you swallowed hard before saying,

“Most people have manners.” 

“True.” He settled back into his chair. “But yours are particularly cute.”

You nearly choked on your water, and Noah’s eyes widened as he spun his chair around to face you. 

“Hey.” He immediately reached over to pat your back. “You okay?”

You nodded too quickly.

“Mhm.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” You said, popping the p, trying to act casual.

The concern slowly faded from his face, and to make things even worse, it was replaced by amusement. 

“You’re acting weird.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

You deliberately focused on taking another sip of water, and Noah just watched you for a moment… then he slowly narrowed his eyes.

“Oh…”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?”

A smirk started forming on his lips. 

“What?” You repeated, but his smile only widened.

“You’ve gone shy.” 

“I’ve not.”

“You have.”

“Noah-”

“Baby.” The grin was fully there now. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so flustered?”

You didn’t answer that, but you didn’t need to. You knew he already knew. 

“Wanna be a good girl and tell me why you’re blushing?”

“I’m-” You went to speak but immediately stumbled on your words, making you feel even more shy, and making his grin even more smug. 

Oh yeah. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. 

…

At some point later in the evening, you’d ended up back in Noah’s lap again. Neither of you said anything about it, you’d just gotten cold and didn’t want to go upstairs to grab a hoodie. 

You quickly learned that Noah liked to keep his house at a temperature that felt so low it should be a health hazard, and after shivering through half an hour on the sofa, you’d eventually climbed back onto his lap with a quiet complaint about freezing to death.

His response had been to laugh and wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer, so now you were curled up against him again while he worked, listening to the soft click of his mouse and the occasional tap of his keyboard.

It was comfortable- he was comfortable, so much that you felt yourself relax in his arms. So comfortable that a yawn escaped you… 

Followed shortly by another, which made Noah glance at you with a small smile. 

“Tired?”

You shook your head.

“Nuh-uh.”

Noah chuckled, knowing that was clearly a lie, and went back to working. But ten minutes later another yawn escaped, a longer one this time. Noah looked at you again, at some point his hand had slid up your top, and his thumb rubbed back and forth against your skin. 

“You wanna go to bed, baby?” He asked. 

The question was casual and gentle, like he was asking you whether you wanted another glass of water… but you didn’t think of it like that. Your stomach sank, because your brain always worked against you, and it was now telling you this was his way of telling you he wanted his space. You’ve been practically attached to him all evening, this was just him being polite. 

However, the logical part of you knew that was ridiculous, Noah had been nothing but kind to you all day. But it was easier to believe you’d overstayed your welcome than believe somebody genuinely wanted you around all the time…

“Yeah, probably.” You said, followed by another yawn. 

He smiled softly.

“Okay.” He said, but then returned his attention to the screen.

Which told you this wasn’t a big deal to him, he was thinking about it half as much as you were. You’d somehow convinced yourself he’d finally had enough of holding you in his lap all day like a clingy little koala, when all he was doing was waiting for whatever he was working on to save before shutting down his computer. 

But still, you carefully climbed off his lap, and you immediately felt how cold the room really was again.

“Night.” You said softly.

Noah looked up.

“Night?”

You nodded before picking up your water, leaving the room, and heading upstairs. 

You were trying not to feel disappointed, not to feel silly, because you had your own room here- a lovely, comfortable, cozy room- which if it wasn’t for him you could’ve been spending the night on Tom’s couch. 

So there was absolutely no reason for your chest to ache as you walked in, no reason for you to miss him while you brushed your teeth, no reason to stare at the empty side of the bed after climbing in. 

And yet, you did. 

With a sigh, you rolled onto your side and pulled the covers up to your chin. You’d spent pretty much every waking moment together for the last few days, of course he’d want some time to himself. 

For a while you laid there in the silence, staring at the wall, until you heard footsteps on the stairs. You couldn’t help but listen, he must’ve wandered into his room and- stop listening, you told yourself.

You buried your face into the pillow, trying not to think about any of it. Trying not to think about the way you’ve gotten so used to falling asleep with your head on his chest, his arm around you, the sound of his heart beating beneath your ear. 

It had gone quiet again for a while, you assumed he must’ve just gone to bed. You assumed he’d be asleep within ten minutes because you had both been up for quite a while now. 

But then you heard footsteps again. Then there was a gentle knock on your door. 

“Are you still awake?”

“...Maybe?”

“Can I come in.”

“Yeah.” 

The handle turned, and there stood Noah- fresh from the shower, dark hair still damp, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a black tshirt that fit like it was made just for him. For a moment, he just looked at you lying there in bed, then the corner of his mouth lifted. 

“I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.” 

Your tummy did a stupid flip at that. 

“What?”

“It’s fine if you want your own bed, baby.” He said, his voice as gentle and easy as ever, “But you do know mine’s comfier, right?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Noah nodded, “Wanna test it for yourself if you don’t believe me?”

You couldn’t help but scoff. Of course he’d find a way to make you feel better in less than thirty seconds. 

But then your smile slightly faded, and you looked down at the bed again. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, sensing the shift. 

“I thought you wanted some space. I’ve been clung to you all evening.” You admitted quietly, and for a moment Noah was silent. Until he let out a soft sigh. 

“Baby,” he said, making you look up at him again, “If I want space, I’ll tell you, okay? I promise. You don’t ever have to assume, or guess what I’m thinking.” 

It was your turn to sigh now, because the truth was, you spent so much of your life trying to anticipate what people wanted from you before they had to ask. Having to guess what people were feeling, trying to read body language and trying to sense what they were thinking through their tone of voice. 

Noah seemed to understand that without you ever having to explain it.

“Look at me.” 

You met his eyes again. 

“What did I actually say when we were in the studio?”

“You asked if I wanted to go to bed.” 

“Right. And did I say I wanted you to leave? Did I say you were being too much?”

“...No.” 

“Then don’t put words in my mouth, baby. If something is ever a problem, I will tell you.” He said with a soft smile, before holding his hand out to you. “Come on.” 

You looked at his hand, then at him. Then you sat up. 

“You really want me in your bed?”

Noah laughed.

“Sweetheart.” The way he said it made your stomach flutter. “I wouldn’t be in here trying to persuade you if I didn’t.”

You couldn’t really argue with that.

A smile tugged at your lips as you took his hand, and the moment your fingers slipped into his, he gently helped you out of bed. His thumb brushed across your knuckles once before he started leading you towards the door, then down the hallway to his bedroom. 

As he pushed the door open and led you in, you were a little taken back by how cozy it suddenly felt. The curtains were closed, the lamp by the side of his bed made the room glow golden and the smell of his shower gel lingered from the bathroom. 

Noah got into bed first, and pulled the covers back for you, patting the mattress. You chuckled and got in too, and right away you realised he’d been right. The mattress was like a cloud, and the pillows were even nicer than the ones in the hotel in Paris. It put your bed to shame, that was for sure. 

Noah opened an arm, and you rolled towards him, tucking yourself into his chest. Noah made a little pleased sound before wrapping both his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. 

“And I thought I was being the clingy one.” You teased softly, and Noah chuckled. 

“Mm, no.” He said, pressing another kiss on your forehead this time and holding you tighter. 

Then your temple, then your cheek. You tilted your head up, looking at him with sleepy eyes as you let out a little giggle. 

“Noah!” 

“What?”

“You’re proving my point.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said with a small smirk before kissing you again, before finally stopping, and just holding you there like that. “Wanna watch a movie or something? Or d’ya wanna just go to sleep? It’s been a long day.” 

You hummed in thought, just listening to the sound of his heartbeat for a moment before looking up at him again with wide, almost frightened eyes.

“Shit... I forgot I’ve got work tomorrow.” 

“Oh yeah?”

You groaned and buried your face back into his chest. 

“You know, you can always-”

“No. I’m not quitting my job, Noah. It’d drive me insane.” 

You felt his chest vibrate as he let out a quiet laugh. But then he was quiet for a moment, his fingers gently running through your hair. 

“Want me to take you?”

You looked up at him again. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I know.” 

“You’ll have to get up early.” 

“I know. And I don’t care. What time do you need to get there?”

“...Eight.” 

“And what time do you need picking up after?”

“Noah, you don’t have to-” 

“What time, baby?”

You sighed. 

“We shut at six tomorrow.” 

Noah nodded his head, then kissed your forehead again. 

“Okay.” 

“...Are you sure that’s okay.” 

Noah let out a sigh, then before you knew it, he was taking your face in both his hands. He wasn’t rough, but he was firm, making sure you couldn’t immediately look away. 

“Sweetheart…” His thumbs brushed softly across your cheeks.

“What?”

“What were we talking about five minutes ago?”

You groaned, trying to look away, but he stopped you.

“No,” he said softly, “What did I say?”

“You said if something was a problem then you’d tell me.” 

“Good girl.” He said simply, a smile tugging on his lips, completely oblivious to the way those two little words make your head spin. 

Or maybe he did realise?

He leaned forward just a little, his nose bumping yours, his lips just brushing yours without kissing you. 

“Are you done worrying for tonight?”

You smiled against his lips despite yourself, and gently nodded your head. 

“Yes sir.” You whispered teasingly. 

You felt Noah smile back, before pressing a slow kiss to your lips. Then he pulled back, and pulled the covers a little higher over the both of you before reaching over to turn the lamp off. 

You made yourself comfy on his chest, and he held you close, letting out a soft sigh of relief as his free hand rested behind his head. 

“Goodnight, Noah.” You whispered as you let your eyes finally shut. 

“Sweet dreams, princess.” 

・┈・୨୧・┈・

i desperately need you guys's opinions on something real quick, i feel like i've been soft launching a dom/sub relationship for these two and i want to know if that's something you want to see in this story or not 🤭 i'd love to write it, but it's not something you're interested in then i won't! i know the majority will say yes, but i'm literally velvet!reader i need reassurance that this is a good idea lmao 😭

taglist: @lowergroundfloor @mrslumi @mapsychoticimagination @meddleabout2 @astronoids @pipidoll @bartxnhood @dominuslunae @stardustsirenmelody @haileebluee @curse-bearing-hips @vintagemisery---blog @noahsstrawberry @shuiguans @fadingintothegrey @mushrumink @hayleylatour @death-ofpeace-ofmind @r3prise @novainpolaroids @eclipseeetop @leosunshine @miss570 @ami-gami @sleepycactus-omens @innerconnoisseurhologram @theservantbones @my-perfect-weapon @bassvivz @sullyselena @iamnotyourstoperceive @givemesomethingbeautiful @itsfarbettertolearn @enbytarin @overmydeadbodysblog @yabagoobieberg @museonfilm @wormm-mom @bridemassacre @lifeirreverent @montgomery-929496 @dead-astrid @gayfiretruck @death-core-fairy @icybansheesoul @acatatonicpeace

i also want to add that velvet is FINALLY on my taglist!! if you want to be tagged in this story, the link to it is on my pinned post <3

[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍

Pairing: noah x reader (pirates au)

Series summary: Stuck in a life you don’t want, your only way out is a deal with a pirate, and that’s how your journey on a ship of outlaws toward a new life begins.

Tw: death, grief, vomiting, discrimination, racism, mentions of slavery, public execution

Series masterlist

Noah did have a plan.

Not a good one. Not a complete one. And definitely not one he had fully shared with you, but it was something, and it was enough to move forward and to keep going instead of walking blindly into disaster.

The closer you got to the city, the more people you started to see. Workers were moving back and forth from the port, carrying crates and hauling barrels.

Noah slowed slightly, his gaze scanning the movement, measuring.

Then, without a word, he shifted direction, and you followed.

It didn’t take long to understand what he was doing. You slipped into the flow of people, falling in beside a group transporting wooden crates, your pace matching theirs, head down. Just like you were simply working, and one questioned it.

Some guards stood where the port ended and the city started.

They wore dark blue coats lined with silver threading, structured at the shoulders, their metal breastplates caught the light where the coats opened slightly at the front. Swords rested at their sides, and some carried long rifles slung across their backs.

Your gaze dropped slightly as you approached, focusing on the crate ahead of you.

Don’t draw attention.

Don’t look nervous.

Just walk.

Step by step, the distance closed.

One of the guards shifted slightly as your group passed, his eyes moving over the line of workers. For a second, you felt his gaze linger. And then he looked away.

And just like that, you were through. You didn’t let yourself react immediately, not until you had put a bit of distance between you and the gates, not until the crowd thickened slightly and the guards were behind you.

Only then did you let out a slow, controlled breath.

First step.

Done.

You glanced at Noah briefly, but he was already looking ahead.

The city opened around you as you moved further in.

Stone streets stretched ahead, lined with buildings that rose two, sometimes three stories high. Balconies overlooked the roads, some draped with fabric, others cluttered with plants or hanging laundry shifting lightly in the breeze.

People filled the space. Merchants were calling out from stalls. You could smell spices, cooked meat, something sweeter you couldn’t really name, fabric stalls displayed bright colors, jewelry caught the sunlight in glints, and crates of produce were stacked in uneven piles along the sides of the street.

You remembered walking through a market like this before, months ago, back when everything had been… different, when everything was just starting, when you had just freed Noah from prison.

You blinked, the memory slipping away as quickly as it had come.

Beside you, Noah had slowed slightly, his gaze moving across the stalls, assessing and calculating.

“I need weapons.” He whispered.

You glanced at him, “…We need weapons,” you corrected.

He nodded once, “Right.”

You didn’t have to walk far before you found what you needed.

You saw a stall tucked between two larger ones, with knives laid out in neat rows and few short swords.

Noah slowed beside you, his gaze scanning everything at once.

“We could take them,” he muttered under his breath, barely moving his lips. “Too many people around, though, and I don't wanna...”

You glanced at him, and you knew he was already calculating angles, distractions and exits.

You didn’t say anything, your hand moved to your neck.

Your chain slipped free easily, the gold warm from your skin as you pulled it off. For a second, you hesitated, then stepped forward.

“Excuse me,” you said, placing it on the wooden counter.

The vendor looked up.

He was old, with a long beard and dark eyes. His eyes dropped to the necklace. He picked it up, turning it slightly between his fingers, inspecting the weight and the craftsmanship.

“…What can we get for this?” you asked.

He hummed under his breath, still studying it. Then he gave a small nod.

“This?” he said. “Quite a bit.”

Your shoulders eased.

“You’ve got options.”

For a moment, his gaze flicked past you, toward Noah and it lingered there. Then it came back to you.

“…Everything alright?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard.

“…Yeah,” you said, a little too quickly. Then, more steady, “Yes.”

He held your gaze for a second longer, then gave a small nod.

“Pick what you need.”

You didn’t hesitate.

Between the two of you, you chose quickly a blade that fit comfortably in your hand, and one slightly longer for Noah. Nothing that would draw attention, but enough to make a difference if things went wrong, and that you could easily hide.

The vendor gathered them without comment, wrapping them in cloth before handing them over.

Then he reached beneath the counter and placed a few coins beside the empty space where your necklace had been.

“It’s worth more than that,” he said simply.

“…Thank you.”

He gave a short nod. But as you turned to leave, you caught the way his gaze shifted again, back to Noah.

There was something in it. You didn’t understand it fully, but it lingered as you stepped away, the noise of the market swallowing you both again.

A few stalls down, the crowd thickened slightly, and that was when Noah moved. It was subtle and quick.

The vendor of the next stall had his back turned, leaning slightly over a crate, adjusting something out of view, and a hat rested carelessly on a nearby stand.

Noah’s hand extended without hesitation.

And the hat was gone.

By the time the vendor turned back, it was already done.

You glanced sideways just in time to see Noah settling it onto his head, adjusting it slightly like it had always been his, keeping his head low.

You didn’t say anything and just kept walking.

A few steps later, you slowed, because a stall of clothing caught your eye.

And suddenly, you remembered you were still dressed like before, with trousers and boots and no woman was supposed to dress like that there.

“…Wait,” you muttered, stepping aside.

Noah paused but didn’t question it. You approached the stall, your gaze moving quickly over the options before settling on a plain dress, nothing elaborate and nothing that would stand out.

You paid with the remaining coins that were just enough to cover it.

Changing took only a moment, stepping behind a makeshift divider of hanging fabric, even if the vendor was a bit surprised when you asked if you could change there. And when you stepped back out, it felt… strange.

The fabric fell differently, lighter in some ways, more restrictive in others. The skirt brushed against your legs with every step, unfamiliar after months of movement without it.

You adjusted it slightly, instinctively. It felt almost weird now, but necessary.

Noah glanced at you once and just gave a short nod, like it made sense.

And then you kept moving away from the market and from the noise.

The streets slowly widened, the crowd thinning the further you got from there. The voices faded, replaced by quieter sounds.

For the first time since entering the city, there was space and your pace slowed slightly.

Ahead, the streets began to shift in structure, wider and cleaner.

You glanced at Noah. He hadn’t hesitated once since leaving the market and every turn he took was chosen without pause.

“…Have you been here before?” you asked.

He didn’t look at you, “Yeah.”

You frowned slightly, but didn’t press it.

For a few steps, you walked in silence again, then your gaze lifted slightly, settling on the brim of the hat he had stolen, the way it cast a shadow over part of his face.

“What's with the hat?” you asked. “I get keeping a low profile, but… why steal one?”

This time, he didn’t answer, his steps didn’t slow, but something in him shifted, and it was so subtle that it would be almost unnoticeable if you weren’t paying attention.

But you were.

“…Noah?”

“It helps,” he said finally.

“That’s not really an answer.”

“I know.”

You frowned, glancing at him again. “Then give me one.”

He exhaled quietly.

“…Because of what I look like.”

You blinked slightly.

Your gaze moved over him, instinctively, like you were trying to understand what he meant, but maybe you already knew. You just hadn’t… thought about it.

“I’m mixed,” he continued, his voice lower now. “You know that.”

You said nothing.

“I usually don’t stand out too much,” he added. “Not enough for it to matter or for some people to even realize it.”

Another step.

“But here… it does. They don't like foreigners here.”

He adjusted the brim of the hat with a small movement, pulling it a little lower.

“In Valemont,” he went on, quieter now, “they still trade slaves from the south and east. It’s not even hidden. It’s one of the things they’re known for... it's almost weird they weren’t doing it at the market earlier. And if you’re mixed? Sometimes that’s worse.”

“…Worse?”

“Yeah, well... races shouldn't mix. They don’t know what to do with it,” he said. “Not one thing or the other. Doesn’t fit anywhere cleanly.” His voice stayed calm, almost detached. “People don’t like what they don’t understand.”

“And people just… accept that? The whole slave trade thing?”

“People accept a lot worse if it benefits them.”

You slowed slightly without meaning to.

The idea that a beautiful place like this could look at someone and decide their worth, their fate and their freedom, based on something as simple and uncontrollable as where they came from, or who they came from, made you feel a weird, disgusting sensation at the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t just unfair, it was senseless. Cruel in a way that didn’t even try to justify itself.

You thought about the man on the street that night when you were looking for a doctor, and how many people here must be like him. The way the vendor at the market had looked at Noah made sense now. If any of it could make sense.

The more you travelled, the more you realized how little you actually knew about the world.

“…So the hat,” you said quietly.

“Keeps people from looking too closely,” he finished. “That’s all I need right now.”

For a moment, you didn’t say anything.

This reminded you how little you actually knew about him. You had been traveling together for months, fighting side by side, trusting him with your life, and yet his past was still mostly a blank space. You didn’t know where exactly he had grown up, what he had gone through, what he had seen before the sea. And now, walking through a place like this, hearing the way he spoke about it, it made you wonder how much of that past had shaped him into who he was now.

“…That’s…” you started, then stopped.

Not enough words.

Not the right ones.

You exhaled slowly instead, your gaze dropping for a second before lifting again.

“…Good call on the hat,” you said quietly.

It wasn’t much.

But it was what you had.

He glanced at you briefly.

Something unreadable flickered in his expression, something softer, maybe, or just less closed off than before.

Then it was gone.

“…Yeah,” he muttered.

And you just kept walking.

There were still people around you, though not many, most of them clearly at work or at the market. Your attention drifted as the sound of footsteps and distant voices softened into the background.

That was when you heard it.

It was faint at first, but there was something unmistakably human about it, something broken and uneven that made you instinctively pause just slightly.

You turned your head, “…Did you hear that?”

Noah didn’t slow down. He kept walking, his eyes forward, his voice steady when he answered. “Hear what?”

You hesitated, focusing more carefully now, letting the city’s ambient noise fall away in your mind as you tried to isolate it again.

There.

It came again, clearer this time, fragile and shaking, like someone trying and failing to hold themselves together.

“…Someone’s crying,” you said quietly.

“No,” Noah replied immediately, still not stopping.

But you weren’t imagining it. You were sure of it now, more certain with every second that passed, because the sound didn’t disappear even when you tried to ignore it. Instead, it seemed to pull at you, pulling you off the main street toward a narrower path between two buildings.

You slowed further, your eyes scanning the direction it was coming from.

“I’m sure,” you said, more firmly this time, already turning your body slightly as if preparing to follow it.

Noah’s voice sharpened just a little. “We don’t have time for this.”

But you were already stepping away from him.

The sound grew stronger as you moved down the side street, echoing faintly between the stone walls, and with each step it became less uncertain, until there was no doubt left in your mind about what you were hearing.

Behind you, Noah followed immediately, closer now, his presence just behind your shoulder.

“No—” he started, reaching out as if to stop you.

You moved past him before he could properly hold you back.

“I just need to see what it is. Maybe someone needs help,” you said, not slowing down anymore.

“You don’t—” he began again, but the rest of his words were cut off as you turned the corner.

And then the street opened.

The narrow passage gave way abruptly to a square, larger than the streets you had been walking through, though far emptier than you expected.

At the center of it stood a raised platform, and you stopped immediately.

There was a structure on top of it, simple but impossible to misinterpret even if you had never seen something like that, even they didn't do that in Port Everleigh.

A wooden beam stretched overhead, and beneath it, a rope hung down, taut and unmoving except for the faint sway caused by the wind.

There was a man at the end of it.

Hanging.

Your breath caught in your throat as your body went rigid, your mind refusing for a second to fully process the image in front of you. The silence around you suddenly felt louder than anything you had just come from, as if the entire city had narrowed down to this single point.

The man’s body hung limp, his weight pulling against the rope, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides. His head was tilted slightly forward, his face partially visible.

Then the sound reached you again, closer now.

You forced yourself to look down.

At the base of the platform, just off to the side, a woman was on the ground. She was collapsed in on herself, her body folded forward as her arms pressed tightly against her face, as if trying to hide from what was in front of her.

Her shoulders shook violently with each breath she tried to take, each sob coming out broken and uncontrolled.

She didn’t look up.

You couldn’t breathe properly.

Your chest felt tight, your thoughts suddenly scattered, unable to settle on anything except the image in front of you.

Behind you, Noah had gone completely still.

And that was when you understood, even without looking at him, that he knew.

He had tried to stop you because he knew what had happened, he knew it was too late to fix what was causing those cries. He didn't do it because he didn't want to help, but because he knew he couldn't.

You stood there for a moment, unable to move, while the rope creaked softly above the silent body and the woman continued to cry.

Slowly, you turned your head. Noah was beside you now.

There was tension in his jaw, and his eyes didn’t move from the platform for a long moment. Whatever expression he usually wore, wasn’t fully there.

It surprised you more than it should have, because he was pirate. A man who lived by violence. Someone who had already killed and would likely kill again without hesitation.

Then why was he bothered by this?

Something in his gaze tightened for a second, almost like he had to force himself to breathe properly again, before he finally exhaled and looked away.

“…We need to go,” he said, voice low.

You nodded without replying. Together, you turned away from the square.

The streets felt different when you stepped back into them. You walked in silence.

But after a while, something about the quiet changed, and you noticed.

Noah’s pace shifted slightly. His steps weren’t as even. His shoulders were tighter than before. His breathing had changed in a way that didn’t match the rhythm of walking anymore.

“…Noah?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

You glanced at him properly now.

His face was paler than it had been earlier, just slightly, but you noticed anyway.

“…Are you okay?” you asked.

A moment passed.

Then, quietly, “…Yeah.”

But it didn’t sound convincing. You slowed slightly to match him, studying him more carefully now. Something was off in the way he was holding himself.

“Noah,” you said again, softer this time.

He stopped walking.

Just for a second.

Then shook his head once, like he was trying to reset himself.

“…No,” he admitted under his breath.

He took a step away from the street without warning, moving toward a narrow gap between two buildings.

“Noah—”

He raised a hand slightly, not at you, but as a signal.

Not now.

You followed anyway, but kept a short distance, watching as he leaned slightly forward, one hand bracing against the wall.

For a moment, he just stood there like that.

Then his breathing changed, and it became sharper. Like something inside him had finally pushed past whatever restraint he had been holding onto.

And then he turned his head just enough that you understood immediately what was happening.

You stepped closer instinctively.

“Noah…”

He didn’t answer this time.

His shoulders tensed violently, and he bent forward further, one hand pressing harder against the stone as his body finally gave in to it.

He turned fully to the side and vomited into the corner of the alley. You froze for half a second, caught completely off guard, before moving closer without thinking.

“Hey—”

He didn’t respond, still bent over, breathing harshly between movements, his hand shaking slightly where it pressed against the wall.

You hesitated, then reached out carefully, steadying him by the shoulder just enough so he didn’t lose balance.

It was strange.

To feel him like this.

Because why was he having this reaction when he was actually a killer?

When it finally stopped, he stayed like that for a moment longer, breathing unevenly. Then he slowly straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, not looking at you immediately.

“…I’m fine,” he muttered automatically.

You gave him a look.

He exhaled through his nose, almost like he was annoyed at himself more than anything else.

“…I’m fine,” he repeated, quieter this time, though it still didn’t sound true.

A moment of silence passed.

You stayed close, not saying anything at first.

Then, softly, “…I’m sorry.”

He finally looked at you.

“For what?” he asked.

You hesitated, your gaze dropped slightly.

“For running ahead,” you said. “For not listening.”

He shook his head once, “…Don’t,” he said. “You had good intentions.”

You looked at him properly again, trying to read his expression, but it was already starting to close back off, slowly rebuilding itself piece by piece like he refused to stay in that moment any longer than necessary.

Still, there was something different now.

Something that hadn’t been there before.

You were still wondering why what just happened had happened when he spoke again.

“…Let’s keep moving.”

And this time, you followed his orders.

You kept walking for what felt like hours.

At some point, your feet started to ache, the unfamiliar pull of the dress and the long distance finally starting to bother you, but you didn’t complain. Noah didn’t slow, and you didn’t either.

Eventually, the city opened up in front of you, and you saw the castle.

It rose ahead, vast and imposing, its pale stone walls catching the light in a way that made it almost glow against the sky. Towers climbed upward at each corner, tall and watchful, their shadows stretching across the ground below. Large windows lined the upper levels, framed with intricate carvings, and banners hung between them, their fabric shifting gently in the wind. The main entrance stood at the front, wide and guarded, with soldiers posted in perfect formation.

Even from a distance, it was overwhelming.

You slowed slightly without meaning to, your eyes tracing the height of it, the structure, the sheer scale compared to everything else in the city.

Beside you, Noah didn’t stop. He veered slightly to the side, moving along the perimeter rather than toward the main entrance, his gaze already focused on something else. You followed without question, circling the outer wall with him, keeping your distance from the guards posted at the front.

The further you moved along the side, the less maintained it became. The stone was still there, but the ground shifted beneath your feet, turning uneven and dirtier. Grass and patches of wild growth crept up along the edges, and the air changed too, losing that polished feel the front of the court had.

By the time you reached the back, it felt like a completely different place.

There was a section where a fencing had partially collapsed, the wood broken and left as it was, looking like no one had bothered to fix it properly. Nearby, piles of discarded things had gathered. You saw sacks slumped against the wall, some torn open, the smell of spoiled food thick enough to make you instinctively wrinkle your nose. There were old barrels, broken crates, and other useless debris were scattered around, creating a cluttered, almost neglected space that didn’t match the grandeur of the building it belonged to.

And there, set into the wall, was a smaller wooden door.

People moved in and out of it constantly. Men and women, all dressed simply, carrying sacks, baskets, or empty containers, some heading inside, others coming out to dump waste or collect supplies from the barrels scattered nearby.

You supposed they were kitchen staff and servants.

You slowed slightly as you watched them, your gaze moving between the door and the people passing through it, understanding now.

Of course. Of all the entrances in a place like this, this was the one no one would question.

“You can still walk away.” Noah whispered, his voice low.

“No.” You shook your head immediately.

“…You should.”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t owe me this.” He said.

“I’m not here because I owe you anything. I chose to.”

“…I’m trying to keep you safe. You helped getting this far. That’s already more than I should’ve asked.”

“You didn't ask. And I barely did anything. I wanna help now.”

“You've helped more than you think.”

“Well, I wanna keep doing it, then.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking at you. There was something in his eyes that was softer than usual, but it quickly disappeared.

Then, he nodded and moved.

You stepped forward with Noah without needing to say anything else, matching the pace of the workers again, slipping into their flow just like you had done at the port. No one stopped you. No one looked twice.

Still, a thought lingered in the back of your mind as you approached the door.

How did he know about this entrance?

You glanced at him briefly, but he didn’t look at you, his attention was fixed ahead, like this was nothing new to him. Like he had done this before.

You didn’t ask. Instead, you followed him through the doorway.

The change was immediate.

Heat hit you first.

A wave of it, thick and suffocating compared to the cooler air outside, wrapping around you the moment you stepped inside. Then came the noise, voices overlapping, metal clattering, something boiling, something burning, orders being shouted across the room.

The kitchen stretched out in front of you, massive and chaotic, filled with movement. Long wooden tables were covered with ingredients, knives flashing as people worked quickly, chopping, preparing, moving from one task to the next without pause. Large stoves lined one side, flames flickering beneath heavy pots, steam rising into the already thick air. Shelves were stacked with dishes, spices, sacks of grain, everything crammed into a space that somehow still functioned despite the disorder.

It was overwhelming in a completely different way than the court outside.

And for a moment, you just stood there, taking it in, before realizing... you were inside.

It felt almost unreal. You were inside the king’s castle, dressed as servants, following a man who lived outside every law this place stood for. The absurdity of it might have struck you harder if there had been any room left in your mind for it.

The chaos of the kitchen worked in your favor.

With so many bodies moving at once, cooks shouting over one another and servants rushing past with trays and baskets, no one paid attention to two more figures slipping through the space. Noah moved first, his path cutting naturally through the confusion. You followed a few seconds behind him, keeping your pace steady, your head slightly lowered, just like you were another worker moving from one task to the next.

At the far end of the kitchen, there was a larger doorway, partially obscured by the constant movement of people passing through it. Noah slipped through it without looking back, and you did the same shortly after, timing your movement between two servants carrying a heavy pot.

The shift was immediate. The noise dropped away and thr corridor beyond was quiet and cool.

The air felt different, the walls were of polished stone, the floor beneath your feet was smooth, clean, almost reflective compared to the dirt and clutter outside.

There was no one there.

For a moment, the silence felt almost unnatural after everything you had just walked through. Noah slowed slightly, just enough to let you come up beside him. He glanced at you then, his eyes searching your face.

“…You okay?” he asked under his breath.

“…Yeah,” you said quietly.

He held your gaze for a second longer, like he was deciding whether to believe you or not, then gave a small nod and looked ahead again.

“We need to find the jailer,” he murmured.

“Do you know where he is?”

At this point, it was hard not to notice how much Noah seemed to already understand about this place so you thought that maybe, he had an answer ready. But he didn’t respond immediately.

His gaze shifted briefly down the corridor.

“He’s not always in one place,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes near the cells, sometimes not. He moves, he has different tasks.”

You nodded, accepting it for now.

You started walking again, keeping close to the walls.

As you moved deeper into the castle, the corridor began to branch into others, each one leading further into the structure.

You passed a few people along the way, some servants, by the look of them, dressed in simple clothing not unlike yours.

At one point, you passed a large wooden door set into the wall, far more elaborate than the others you had seen so far. Two guards stood on either side of it, unmoving, their posture rigid.

Your gaze lingered on it for just a second too long.

Whoever was behind that door had to be important.

You didn’t slow, didn’t turn your head, just kept walking beside Noah as if you hadn’t noticed anything at all.

He turned down another corridor shortly after, and you followed without question.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

The corridors began to blur together slightly, each one similar enough to the last that it became harder to keep track of where you were in relation to where you had started.

You glanced at Noah again. And you were starting to notice he wasn’t as certain anymore.

Before you could think more about it, movement appeared ahead.

A woman was walking toward you.

She was likely in her sixties, maybe older. Her hair was pinned back in a tight, practical bun that had long since loosened, a few strands escaping around her temples. She wore a simple grey dress under a faded apron, the fabric stained with soap marks and dirt. In her hands was a cloth and a small bucket of water.

She didn’t even notice you at first. Her eyes were down, focused on the floor. But Noah's expression shifted.

You kept walking and the woman finally looked up.

Her eyes landed on both of you, and she stopped.

For a second, nobody moved.

Then her gaze narrowed slightly, suspicious.

“Who are you?” she asked.

You felt your body tense instantly. But Noah moved faster.

Before you even registered it, he had crossed the space between them.

One hand came up, covering her mouth just enough to cut off any alarm she might raise. The cloth in her hands dropped slightly, but he steadied her wrist before it could fall.

“Helena,” he said quickly, low enough that only she could hear. “It’s me. Do you remember me?”

You froze. They knew each other.

The woman’s eyes widened slightly above his hand.

Noah held her there only a second longer before slowly, carefully, he removed his hand.

“…Noah?” she breathed.

His shoulders loosened by a fraction.

“Yes.”

That was all it took.

Her face changed completely.

The suspicion melted so fast it was like it had never been there. Her hands slowly came up, cupping his face, fingers trembling slightly as she looked at him like she was trying to confirm he was real.

“Oh my…” she whispered. “It really is you.”

She pulled him a little closer, eyes scanning him properly now.

“You’ve grown so much,” she said, almost disbelieving. “Look at you… you’re a man now. A handsome man.”

There was something warm in her voice. Emotional, almost overwhelmed. Like she hadn’t expected to ever see him ever again.

Noah didn’t pull away. He just stood there, letting it happen.

Her hands finally lowered slightly, though she still kept one resting briefly on his arm.

“It’s been so long,” she said. “So many years… I thought—” She stopped herself, shaking her head quickly. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You’re here.”

Noah nodded once.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

She just nodded, and you swore you could see tears in her eyes.

“I’m glad,” he said simply.

Her eyes flicked past him, to you.

You straightened slightly without thinking, caught off guard by the sudden attention.

Helena studied you for a moment. Then she gave you a small, gentle smile.

You hesitated for half a second… then returned it.

She seemed satisfied by that alone.

Noah shifted slightly, bringing the moment back.

“We don’t have much time,” he said. His tone changed, back to focus. “I need the jailer. I need access to the cells.”

Helena blinked, immediately pulling herself back into reality.

“The jailer?” she repeated.

“Yes. We need the keys,” Noah added. “Does Sir Aldren still have them?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “Yes, he does. He always carries them.”

Noah exhaled faintly, like that confirmed something.

“When was he last seen?”

Helena tilted her head slightly, thinking.

“Earlier today,” she said. “He was near the west wing corridors. Near the records room. He was dealing with some papers regarding the new prisoners.”

Noah nodded once, absorbing it immediately.

“Records room,” he repeated under his breath.

Helena frowned slightly now, more concerned.

“What are you doing, Noah?” she asked quietly. “Why are you here?”

“I need to get someone out.”

Her gaze softened again.

“…Be careful,” she said.

Noah gave a small nod.

“I will.”

A pause.

Helena looked between both of you once more, her expression lingering on you briefly before returning to Noah.

“Go on then,” she said. “Before someone sees you standing here.”

Noah gave her a small nod.

“Thank you,” he said.

Helena reached up once more, briefly touching his cheek again, softer this time, almost like a farewell.

“Be safe,” she whispered.

Noah turned first.

You followed immediately after giving the woman one last nod as a thank you.

Behind you, you heard Helena’s footsteps as she started waking away.

You thought there were too many pieces of Noah you didn’t have access to, too many gaps that only showed themselves in moments like that.

All your questions didn't disappear but you had to push them aside as the corridors changed again and you understood you reached the west wing.

Noah slowed just slightly, indicating a big wooden door.

“This is it,” he said.

You glanced at him. “And Aldren is inside?”

“He should be.”

You took a breath. “What exactly is the plan?”

“You go in,” he said. “Act like you’ve been sent for him. Say there’s an urgent issue. Something that requires his attention immediately.”

“And if he asks questions?”

“He will,” Noah said. “Keep it vague. He’s not expecting trouble from inside the castle. He’ll follow.”

You nodded slowly. “And then?”

Noah’s gaze flicked briefly toward the door, “Then I do the rest.”

That was the only answer you got.

You exhaled once, steadying yourself, then reached for the handle.

The door opened into a large, dim room filled with shelves and stacked ledgers.

At the center, standing behind a long desk, was a man.

He was in his fifties, maybe slightly younger, though the tired lines on his face made it hard to tell. He had dark, neatly trimmed facial hair, and wore a structured uniform coat that suggested authority.

He looked up immediately as you entered.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not one of mine.”

“No,” you said quickly. “I was sent here. There’s been an issue. They told me to fetch you personally.”

Aldren straightened a little, suspicion already forming. “What kind of issue?”

“…It’s regarding the prisoner transfers,” you said. “Something was mismatched in the records. They said it was urgent.”

That did it.

“That’s impossible,” he muttered, already stepping away from the desk. “I just finalized those logs.”

He stood up and the keys at his belt jingled as he moved.

“I don’t like interruptions when I’m working,” he added sharply, moving toward you. “This better be worth it.”

You stepped aside slightly as he passed you.

“It’s… what they told me to say,” you replied.

He scoffed. “Of course it is.”

He walked out into the corridor without waiting, already annoyed. You followed him just a few steps behind.

He opened his mouth, probably about to ask where he needed to go when it happened.

A quick movement from the side.

Noah stepped out from the shadowed edge of the hallway.

A heavy candelabrum came down in a single, controlled motion.

Aldren’s body jolted forward, the sound cut short mid-breath. His hand twitched toward his head, but he didn’t even manage to turn fully before his knees gave out.

He collapsed against the wall first, then slid down to the floor.

Unconscious.

You froze for half a second, heart jumping at the suddenness of it, but Noah was already moving.

“Perfect,” he commented quietly.

He dragged Aldren’s body into a small storage room directly beside the corridor with your help. The space barely large enough to hold cleaning supplies and spare cloths.

Noah took his keys and then closed the door.

“…You didn’t warn me about the candelabrum part.” You said.

“No time,” Noah replied.

You shot him a look, but there was no point pressing it. He was already scanning ahead again, keys in hand.

“We head down from here,” he said. “Cell access should be below the west wing storage levels.”

“And Aldren?”

“He’ll wake up eventually,” Noah said. “By then, we won’t be here.”

He walked away from the records corridor, and the place stretched longer across the polished stone floors.

You and Noah moved quickly, but not yet running.

Then Noah slowed, and you noticed it immediately.

Two guards were turning into the corridor ahead of you, walking in your direction. Their hands rested near their weapons.

Noah’s hand tightened slightly at his side.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

You didn’t wait for explanation, he turned on his heel instantly.

“This way,” he said. You followed without hesitation.

But as soon as you changed direction, another corridor opened ahead, and two more guards were already stepping into view.

Noah stopped just long enough to take it in.

“Fuck.”

Your heartbeat jumped violently.

Something was very wrong.

“Someone saw us,” you said.

Noah grabbed your wrist briefly and pulled you into motion.

“Run.”

That was all he said. And you did.

The castle stopped feeling like a structure and started feeling like a trap that had already closed around you.

Footsteps behind you multiplied.

Metal clinked.

Voices called out, echoing off stone walls, overlapping in commands.

“Stop them!”

“There!”

“Down the west corridor!”

You and Noah moved through the castle, cutting through hallways and passing through doors. Servants screamed as you passed through spaces meant for order and silence. One corridor led into a narrow passage lined with portraits, faces of nobles watching as you ran beneath them.

Noah shoved a door open, and it led into a large, open hall. Probably a ballroom.

You both stumbled into it at speed, the sudden vastness swallowing the sound of your steps for a moment. The floor beneath you was polished marble, reflecting the glow of enormous chandeliers hanging high above and gold details lined the walls. Tall arched windows flooded the space with pale daylight, making everything look almost unreal.

But there was no time to take it in.

Because behind you, the guards were still coming.

“Keep moving,” Noah said.

You crossed the ballroom diagonally, boots slipping slightly against the clean floor as you pushed forward. The scale of the room made everything feel slower, like the distance to the far side kept stretching no matter how fast you moved.

You saw a massive set of double doors at the far end.

It was the only option.

You reached it together and pushed.

The doors opened, you stepped inside, and they closed behind you.

The room beyond quiet, luxurious, with thick carpets that softened your steps instantly. Gold-lined pillars framed the space, massive windows stretched from floor to ceiling, showing the city beyond. A long table sat to one side.

And at the far end, a man stood with his back to you.

Looking out the window, toward the balcony.

He had broad shoulders, wearing expensive clothing, with dark brown hair neatly kept.

You stopped immediately. You hadn't seen his face yet, but the blue and red clothes he was wearing and his slicked-back hair made you think, from all the paintings you'd seen in your life, that you had ended up in the presence of the king.

You were absolutely fucked.

Your breath was still heavy from running and your chest rose and fell too fast.

There was nowhere else to go now. No exits you could see.

Noah stood slightly in front of you now.

And then, slowly, the man in front of you turned.

He tilted his head as his gaze slid between you and Noah, observing you for a moment. Then, a small, painfully familiar, smirk appeared on his lips.

“Long time no see, son.”

Noah taglist pt 1: @mushrumink @sullyselena @buttercupbabyyy @pathion @pipidoll @missduffsblog @vibecops @myexistencesucks @overmydeadbodysblog @margocos-blog @heyitsjay316 @sallyba3 @bartxnhood @lacy1986 @iamamatus @dream-machine-love @amoursims @suessmausnici @whimsicaldiamonds @imyourliquor-youremypoison @punkprincess1999 @bored-rato @thepeoplesblog @dxthrone @illmakeyousaywow @xmads-omensx @sikowitzbitch @tosoundlessdarkistare @sadbitchenergy @flowery-mess @anything-morethan-human @lekyswixexx @english-fucker @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @ichoosetenderomens

shbto tags: @novainpolaroids @enzocoquette @lifeirreverent @shobolanya @crystallizedtime @mushroommelody1 @leosunshine @takeme1st @thepurpletrain2groovycity @lookinalittleblue

[silent-stories]

Noah taglist pt 2: @theservantbones @pacificbutbmth @theanarchymuse95 @ykaaretsfood @noahsebastiann @nogoodsailors @hed0nistt @bassvivz @ashlynnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn @hedonist-k1l @worldofashton @jesuisunchaton @bluebird19 @lowergroundfloor @cemetery-cuddles @deardelirium @ineedrelief @foliosgirl @darkparadiseg @ferduttini @themorticians-world @rainriot @dypsypinky @ami-gami @millyxroses @respectfulrebel @concreteangel92 @queen-foraday @iconic-taurus @temporalgalaxymarauder @shayseeker @lunamoonbby @sugaruapologist @supersquirrel1996 @booknerd-4ever-18 @idontwantthemoney5 @enemiestolovershoe @thepetrichor @mrslumi @itsfarbettertolearn @glasshousestragedy @icybansheesoul @sister-sebastian @icybansheesoul

[silent-stories]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

Pairing: noah x reader (pirates au)

Series summary: Stuck in a life you don’t want, your only way out is a deal with a pirate, and that’s how your journey on a ship of outlaws toward a new life begins.

Tw: violence, death, fighting, drowning

Series masterlist

It started with the attack.

Later, when you would look back and try to understand where everything began to shift, where the first cracks in what you thought you knew about Noah had formed, your mind would always return to that day, to the moment the horizon changed and something unfamiliar appeared where there should have been nothing but open sea.

At first it looked like every other morning, the sky was clear, the wind steady enough to keep the sails full without straining them, and the Specter moved smoothly across the water.

You had been on deck, not doing much of anything, just leaning lightly against the railing and letting the sun warm your skin.

It was one of the crew who spotted it first.

“Ship!” someone called from above.

It wasn’t alarmed. At least not yet.

A few heads turned, including yours, your gaze lifting toward the horizon where a shape had started to form, small at first, just a darker line against the bright stretch of water.

Noah was already moving before anyone said anything else.

He stepped out from where he had been standing near the helm, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked out in the same direction, one hand resting on his hip.

“Can you tell who they are?” Davis called up.

The man above shifted slightly, adjusting his position for a better view.

“Not yet,” he replied. “Still too far.”

There was no immediate tension, since pirates ships crossed paths all the time, some ignored each other and some traded.

You straightened slightly, watching as the shape on the horizon grew clearer with each passing minute, the outline of masts and sails slowly taking form.

“They’re adjusting course,” someone else pointed out.

Noah didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed, calculating.

“Toward us?” Ruffilo asked.

A pause.

“…Yeah.”

That was when something shifted.

“They could just be passing,” someone offered.

“They’re not just passing,” Noah said calmly, but there was no doubt in his voice.

By now, the other ship was close enough to make out more detail, the sails darker, the movement more direct, cutting across the water in a straight line that left very little room for interpretation.

“Recognize the flag?” Davis asked.

Another pause from above.

“…No flag.”

A few quiet curses followed that, ans you glanced at Noah. His posture had changed, subtly but unmistakably.

“Alright,” he said, his voice carrying just enough to reach everyone nearby. “Stay ready, but don’t start anything.”

The crew moved, hands drifting closer to weapons, positions adjusting slightly across the deck.

The other ship kept coming.

Closer ans closer.

“Still think they’re friendly?” Folio muttered under his breath.

No one answered.

The distance between the two ships closed faster now, the sound of water shifting louder as their paths aligned, the size of the approaching vessel becoming impossible to ignore.

It was bigger, heavier and not slowing down.

“Noah—” Davis started.

“I see it.”

The first cannon fired before anyone could say anything else.

The sound split through the air, sharp and deafening, followed almost immediately by the impact.

The Specter lurched violently as the cannonball struck, wood splintering somewhere along the side with a crack that echoed through the ship.

Everything changed at once.

“Positions!” Noah snapped, his voice cutting through the noise.

Another shot followed, the force of it rattling through the deck beneath your feet.

Men were moving, shouting over each other, grabbing weapons, adjusting sails, preparing for impact and for the fight.

“They’re not slowing—!”

“I know!”

The ships collided moments later.

Wood slammed against wood with a brutal force that sent a jolt through your entire body, the sound was heavy and crushing as the two vessels scraped against each other.

The men on the other ship flooded over the side of the Specter like a wave and it was impossible to notice that they outnumbered you.

They were brutal, swinging without precision, shouting, crashing into the deck with weapons already raised.

Chaos exploded around you a moment later, steel clashed, voices rose and pounded against wood.

Someone shouted in pain.

You stepped back instinctively, your heart jumping into your throat as everything around you blurred.

Noah was already fighting. Of course he was.

You caught a glimpse of him cutting through one of them, his movements sharp and efficient, nothing wasted, his focus absolute even as everything fell apart around him and blood splashed on the deck.

“Stay back!” someone yelled near you.

Another man went down a few feet away, the sound of it sharp and loud. You were too scared to look if it was one of Noah's crew or someone else.

Noah’s voice cut through the sounds.

“Go to your cabin!”

You turned toward him.

Another man rushed him and he moved again, faster this time, his attention already pulled away.

“Stay there,” he added over his shoulder. “And don’t come out until this is over.”

And then he was gone again, swallowed back into the fight.

You knew what you were supposed to do, go below deck like the last time, stay out of the way, and be safe.

But your feet didn’t move yet.

Maybe the months at sea had gotten to your head.

Maybe you had always been stubborn, reckless, a little too quick to act before thinking things through.

Or maybe it was simply the fact that, in the middle of all that chaos, you saw one of them coming toward you.

He wasn’t far, but far enough that you hadn’t noticed him before, too focused on everything else happening at once. He turned in your direction, eyes locking onto you for a moment.

You stepped back instinctively. Once, then wice.

Your breath came a little faster now, your pulse loud in your ears as the noise around you seemed to dull for a fraction of a second.

He started walking toward you.

You moved back again, faster this time, your shoulders hitting something solid behind you before you even realized how far you had gone.

It was the crates.

Stacked unevenly against the side of the deck, where you had no more space.

Your hand brushed against the wood as you steadied yourself, your gaze flicking quickly to the side, searching, thinking...

And then you saw the sword you had been using to train, lying forgotten where it had been left after the last practice.

For a second, you hesitated, then you grabbed it.

The weight settled into your hand instantly, familiar. Your fingers tightened around the hilt, your stance shifting almost without thought, muscle memory taking over.

The man was closer now. And when he raised his weapon, you didn’t even think. You just moved.

You turned just as he reached you, your arm coming up fast in a sharp and instinctive motion. And the blade went through him.

There was resistance.

Then not.

The force of it jolted up your arm as the sword pierced through his body, the impact closer, more real than anything you had ever imagined.

Warmth followed. Blood splashed across your hand and the wood beneath your feet.

The man’s expression shifted, shock overtaking whatever intention had been there a second before. His body jerked once, then stilled, his weight faltering as the strength left him all at once.

You let go. Or maybe your grip loosened without you meaning to.

The sword slipped free as he collapsed, hitting the deck with a dull, heavy sound.

And the noise, the shouting and the chaos around you came rushing back at once.

Your breath caught sharply in your throat, your chest rising too fast now.

You stared at him for a moment, at what you had just done.

It had been self-defense, it had been necessary, he would have killed you otherwise.

Then, suddenly, you felt a gaze on you and you looked up.

Noah stood a short distance away, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his hair disheveled, strands sticking to his forehead, his shirt marked with sweat and blood that wasn’t his.

He had stopped, looking at you.

There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite place all at once.

He looked surprised, and concerned, too, maybe about your safety and what was about to happen during that fight. But something in his expression, that ghost of a smirk behind his lips, almost made you think he was proud, too.

And that was when the next cannon fired.

The sound was deafening, closer this time, the impact almost immediate as something slammed hard into the side of the Specter with a violent crack that tore through wood and structure alike.

The entire ship lurched. And not like before, but worse. Far worse.

You lost your footing for a second, your shoulder slamming against one of the crates behind you as the deck tilted beneath your feet, a sharp, unnatural angle that sent loose objects sliding violently across the wood.

Water burst through the side of the ship.

Cold, relentless seawater pouring in through shattered planks, flooding the lower parts of the deck almost instantly, rushing around boots and bodies, dragging debris with it.

Shouts turned sharper.

“We’re taking water!”

“No shit!”

“Plug it!”

“We can’t—!”

Another cannon. Another impact.

The Specter groaned.

You felt it beneath your feet, through your bones, that deep, splintering sound of something too large, too solid, beginning to give in under pressure it couldn’t withstand.

The tilt worsened.

Your balance shifted with it, your body instinctively trying to compensate as the world angled sideways, the horizon no longer where it should have been.

Men were slipping now. Falling.

Grabbing onto ropes, onto each other, onto anything that would keep them from being thrown across the deck or dragged toward the flooding side.

“Get off the deck!”

“Abandon!”

“Captain?”

You turned instinctively at the sound of the word, your eyes searching through the chaos. He was still on his feet, though barely steady now, his gaze snapping toward the damage, toward the water flooding in, calculating.

Your eyes met again for half a second.

Another crack split through the air.

Louder. And then, everything gave.

The ship shifted.

A violent, impossible motion as the balance tipped past the point of recovery, the weight of water, of damage, of impact dragging it sideways.

The world dropped out from under you.

You didn’t even have time to react properly before your feet lost the deck entirely, your body thrown violently to the side as everything started to collapse.

The ocean hit you like a wall.

A cold and brutal wall.

It knocked the breath from your lungs instantly as you plunged beneath the surface, the impact disorienting, your body dragged deeper by the force of it, by the weight of everything collapsing around you.

For a second, you didn’t know which way was up. There was only water, and pessure and darkness shifting around you.

Something brushed past you, a piece of wood, maybe a rope, and you twisted instinctively, your limbs moving on reflex, fighting your way upward.

Your lungs burned. You pushed harder.

And then you broke the surface with a sharp gasp, coughing immediately as water filled your mouth, your chest heaving as you struggled to stay afloat.

Everything around you was chaos. You saw pieces of the Specter scattered across the water, broken planks, barrels, fragments of sails drifting and sinking, men shouting, some swimming. The other ship loomed nearby, still intact.

Your heart pounded as you turned, disoriented, searching for something, and then you saw land.

Not far.

A stretch of coastline, closer than you would have expected, close enough that hope hit you almost painfully.

You could make it. You all could...

“Hey!”

You turned sharply at the voice.

Noah.

He was pushing through the water toward you, his hair plastered to his forehead, his shirt soaked and clinging to him, his breathing heavy.

Relief hit you instantly.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough, urgent as he reached you.

“Yes,” you managed, still catching your breath. “Yes, I—”

Something creaked above you. Both of you looked up at the same time.

A large piece of debris, part of a mast, maybe, or a broken section of the deck, was falling.

“Noah—”

He didn’t hesitate.

His hand grabbed your arm, hard, pulling you closer before pushing you down with him, forcing both of you under the surface just as the debris crashed into the water above.

The impact sent a shockwave through the ocean, the force of it pushing you deeper again, disorienting and violent.

You barely had time to register it before something else hit.

But not you.

Him.

You felt it more than saw it, the sudden shift in his grip, the tension in his hand faltering for just a second.

Your eyes snapped toward him underwater, your vision blurred by movement and salt.

Something had struck him.

His body jerked slightly, the strength in his hold weakening, his expression tightening just before it went unfocused.

You grabbed him immediately, your hand catching onto his shirt, pulling him closer as you kicked upward, forcing both of you back toward the surface.

You broke through again, gasping, dragging him with you.

“Noah!”

He didn’t answer.

His head tilted slightly, his body heavier now, less responsive, his weight dragging against you as you tried to keep both of you afloat.

“Hey, hey, stay with me.”

There was another crack above. You didn’t even have time to look.

More was falling down.

Your grip tightened on him, your body trying to move, to react, to do something... but there was nowhere to go.

Nowhere fast enough.

The shadow hit the water.

And everything went black.

Consciousness didn’t return all at once.

You heard a dull, distant sound first, waves, maybe, breaking against the shore in a slow rhythm. Then the feeling of something rough beneath you, grains pressing into your skin, shifting slightly every time you moved without realizing it.

It was sand.

Your lungs burned. That was the first clear thing you registered.

And then you were coughing. A sharp, violent, uncontrollable cough shook your body as water forced its way up your throat, your chest tightening painfully with each breath you tried to take, each inhale shallow and unsteady.

You rolled slightly onto your side, one hand digging into the sand as you coughed again, your vision blurred, your head spinning.

You dragged air in greedily, even though it hurt, even though your throat felt raw and your chest ached like it had been crushed.

It took a few long moments before the coughing eased, before your breathing slowed enough for you to actually think.

You stayed there for a second longer, your body heavy, your limbs slow, before pushing yourself up slightly, your arms trembling under your weight.

Everything felt… wrong and distant.

You blinked, squinting against the light as your gaze finally lifted.

All you could see was an endless stretch of sand. Golden, uneven and disturbed only by the marks left behind by the tide.

Beyond that, further inland, you saw a line of dense greenery, trees, wild and untamed, their leaves shifting slightly in the breeze.

You looked down at yourself, your clothes damp but not soaked, your skin no longer dripping with seawater.

You had been here for a while.

Slowly, you started to remember everything, the attack, the cannon fire, the ship, the water, Noah.

Noah.

You pushed yourself up fully now, ignoring the way your body protested, your muscles weak and unsteady as you rose to your feet, your gaze snapping back toward the shoreline as if he might just be there, as if you had somehow missed him.

He had reached you. You remembered that.

He had found you in the water, asked if you were okay, his voice rough, his hand steady on your arm, and he had pulled you down.

Protected you.

He could have stayed where he was. He could have focused on himself, on surviving, on getting to shore or whatever he thought the best idea was.

But he hadn’t.

He had chosen you.

And the last thing you remembered was that he wasn’t moving.

You turned, scanning the shoreline again, more frantic this time, your heart beginning to pound harder with each passing second.

There had to be others.

You started walking.

Fast at first, then faster, your steps uneven in the sand as you moved along the beach, your eyes searching desperately, your breath still unsteady but pushing through it anyway.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice hoarse.

No answer.

“Anyone?!”

You heard only the sound of the waves as an answer.

You kept going, further down the shoreline, your pace quickening despite the way your body ached, your legs threatening to give out with every step.

And then you saw a shape.

Further ahead, partially turned toward the shore, unmoving against the sand.

You didn’t even think, you just ran.

Your feet stumbled slightly as you pushed forward, your heart pounding violently in your chest, louder than the ocean, louder than your own thoughts.

You recognized him immediately.

White shirt, dark hair, disheveled, now longer than months ago, falling messily around his head.

You dropped to your knees beside Noah as soon as you reached him, the impact barely registering as your hands immediately reached for him, turning him onto his back.

“Noah...”

His face was pale. His lips slightly parted, his expression slack.

There was a faint mark along the side of his head, just near his temple, where something must have hit him, the skin darkened and bruised.

His chest wasn't moving.

“No.”

Your hands immediately moved, one pressing lightly against his shoulder, shaking him.

“Noah—hey—hey, wake up.”

Nothing.

“Come on...”

You shook him again, harder this time, panic rising quickly now.

“Noah, c'mon....”

Nothing.

Not even a flinch.

Your hands trembled as they moved, pressing against his chest, as if you could feel something there, anything.

Bit everything was too still.

Your vision blurred.

“No, no, no—”

He couldn’t be.

He couldn’t.

Not like this.

Not after everything.

Not after...

Your thoughts spiraled. You moved without thinking.

Your hands pressed against his chest.

“Come on—”

You pushed. Hard.

His body shifted slightly under the force, but nothing else happened.

“Breathe,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Please.”

You pushed again.

And again.

Your hands pressed down repeatedly.

“You don’t get to—”

Another push.

“You don’t get to die—”

Again.

“Do you hear me?!”

Again.

Your hands didn’t stop. They couldn’t.

Not when everything inside you was screaming that if you did, if you even hesitated for a second, you would lose him.

“Come on.” you choked out, your voice breaking under the strain, your arms already aching from the force of each push. “Please.”

Another press.

Another.

And then, finally, he jerked.

It was small. Barely anything. But you felt it.

Your hands froze for a split second, your heart lurching violently in your chest, and then he coughed.

A harsh, ragged sound that tore through the silence, his body convulsing slightly as water forced its way out of his lungs, his chest finally rising under your hands.

“Oh my God.” You breathed.

He coughed again, his head turning slightly to the side as he spat out water, his breathing uneven, strained, but there.

He was alive.

Relief crashed into you so hard it almost made you dizzy.

You moved immediately, your hands shifting from his chest to his shoulders, helping him turn slightly onto his side, supporting him as his body struggled to catch up, each breath rough, each cough shaking through him.

“It’s okay, hey... slow, slow.” you murmured, your voice still trembling, your hand instinctively coming up to steady him, to keep him from collapsing back into the sand.

He tried to push himself up, but his strength wasn’t there yet, his movements weak and uncoordinated.

“I’ve got you,” you said, sliding one arm behind his back, lifting him just enough to help him sit up, his weight heavier as he leaned into you without resistance.

He coughed again, water spilling from his lips and dripping down his chin, his breathing still uneven as he tried to steady it, his chest rising and falling too fast.

Your hand moved to his back, rubbing gently.

“Easy… just breathe.”

His own hand moved. Weakly at first, like he wasn’t entirely aware of it, like it was instinct more than anything else.

His fingers brushed against your side. Then slid further, around you, until his hand found the fabric of your shirt at your back, gripping it loosely, like he needed something solid to hold onto.

His arm wrapped around you in a half-formed, unsteady embrace. You didn’t even notice at first.

You were too focused on him breathing, on the fact that he was still here, still alive, still with you.

He leaned into you slightly, his forehead almost brushing your shoulder as another cough shook through him, weaker now, fading.

“It’s okay,” you repeated softly, your hand still moving along his back, slower now, calmer. “You’re okay.”

Gradually, his breathing began to even out.

The tension in his body eased little by little, the grip on your shirt loosening slightly as the immediate urgency passed, though his arm didn’t fully fall away.

He stayed close, leaning.

After a moment, his head dipped forward, his chin dropping slightly as exhaustion seemed to hit him all at once, his body finally giving in to it now that it didn’t have to fight just to breathe.

You shifted instinctively, your arms adjusting around him, pulling him just a little closer without thinking, your hand pressing lightly against his back as his forehead came to rest briefly against your chest.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t something you thought about. It just… happened.

And for a second, you held him there.

Your heart still racing, your breath still uneven, but your grip sweet, protective.

After a moment, he stirred slightly, his breath deeper now, slower, before he lifted his head again, pulling back just enough to look at you.

His eyes were open.

Still a little unfocused and tired.

“…We alive.” he rasped finally, his voice rough from the water, barely above a whisper.

You let out a breath that was almost a laugh.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “We are.”

Another pause.

His grip on your shirt loosened a little more now, though his hand didn’t fully pull away, like some part of him still needed the contact.

“…Crew?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I just woke up. I didn’t see anyone else yet.”

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping just a fraction.

His eyes lifted back to yours.

“You?” he asked instead, more quietly this time, his voice losing what little edge it had left. “You okay?”

“…Yeah. I think so.”

He studied you for a moment, like he was trying to make sure and he didn’t entirely trust the answer.

Then he nodded, once.

“…Good. Let's go find the others.”

He moved. It was slow at first, his muscles stiff and unsteady as he tried to push himself up from where he had been leaning into you.

“Alright…” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you.

You moved with him immediately, your hand coming to his arm, helping him up as he rose to his feet. He swayed slightly once he was upright, his balance not fully back yet, but he caught himself before it became anything more.

You both started waking. The beach stretched endlessly in both directions, the sand uneven beneath your boots, marked by debris dragged in by the tide. You spotted pieces of wood, broken planks, fragments of rope, parts of crates split open with their contents scattered and ruined all around you.

The remains of the Specter were all around you.

You passed by a section of railing you both recognized, half-buried in the sand, and something in Noah’s expression shifted for just a second, his gaze lingering a fraction too long before he forced himself to look away.

“…Fuck,” he muttered quietly.

You didn’t say anything. There wasn’t really anything to say. That was his home, and he had lost it.

You kept walking.

“Hey!”

The voice came from ahead, cutting through the sound of the waves.

You both turned immediately.

Two figures were moving toward you from further down the shoreline, one slightly ahead of the other.

And when you realized it was Jolly and Michael, relief hit instantly.

You quickened your pace, Noah doing the same despite the way his steps still weren’t entirely steady.

“Hey—!” you called back.

They reached you a moment later, both of them looking just as worn as you felt, clothes damp and dirty, hair disheveled, sand clinging to everything.

“You two okay?” Michael asked immediately, his gaze flicking between you and Noah.

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “Yeah. You?”

Jolly let out a short breath, running a hand through his hair. “Still breathing.”

“That’s something,” Noah said.

Michael nodded, glancing briefly behind him. “We’ve been looking around. Haven’t found everyone yet other than you.”

“Same,” you said.

There was a brief pause. Jolly’s gaze shifted toward the shoreline, toward the scattered debris, then back to Noah.

“…The Specter’s gone,” he said.

It wasn’t said lightly, and there was obviously some weight behind it.

Noah didn’t respond immediately.

His gaze followed Jolly’s for a second, landing again on the broken remains scattered across the sand, what little was left of something that had carried all of them for so long.

“…Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I figured.”

Another pause.

Jolly shifted slightly. “I thought it could...”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Noah cut in. He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over his face. “…She’s gone.”

He let out a quiet breath through his nose, his shoulders rising slightly before settling again.

“…Fuck,” he added under his breath, softer this time.

You glanced at him, but he was already looking away again, already moving past it the only way he knew how.

“We’ll deal with it later,” he said, more to all of you now. “First we find the others.”

Jolly nodded. “Yeah.”

So you moved again. The four of you walked along the shoreline, spreading out slightly, calling out names every so often.

And slowly, you started finding them. One by one.

A figure further ahead, sitting against a rock, injured but conscious. Another walking along the waterline, limping but alive. And each time, the same exchange.

“You okay?” “Yeah.” “Anyone else?” “Not yet.”

They weren’t all unharmed, some had cuts, bruises, a few deeper injuries, but they were alive.

At some point, without really noticing when it happened, the group had grown.

Five. Seven. Ten.

Familiar faces, exhausted but standing.

Until eventually, Noah slowed.

His gaze moved over the group, counting without saying it out loud.

“Nick is missing,” he said, “And Folio too.”

Before anyone could say anything else, you heard a voice.

“Hey!”

The voice came from further inland this time.

All of you turned.

Folio was running toward you.

Or… trying to. His pace was uneven, his breathing heavy, his hair a mess, his shirt partially torn and clinging to him, like he had been running for a while.

“Folio—” you started.

He reached you moments later, slowing abruptly, bending slightly forward with his hands braced on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

“Hey—hey—” Noah stepped forward immediately. “You okay?”

Folio nodded quickly, still breathing hard. “Yeah...yeah, I’m—”

He straightened, looking between all of you.

“There’s...something...” he started, his voice uneven.

Noah’s expression sharpened instantly. “What?”

Folio swallowed, running a hand through his hair again.

“I was with Nicholas,” he said. “When we got thrown off... we didn’t land here. We ended up… further down. Other side of the island.”

A few of you exchanged glances.

“There’s a port,” he continued quickly. “People, life. And guards.”

That made Noah’s posture shift completely.

“…Guards?” he repeated.

Folio nodded. “Yeah. We didn’t have weapons. We didn’t even have time to—”

“What happened?” Noah cut in, more urgently now.

Folio exhaled.

“They saw us,” he said. “We tried to keep moving, just get past them, but—” he shook his head. “They surrounded us. Asked questions. Who we were, where we came from.”

“And?” Noah pressed.

“I think they already knew who we were. They looked at us and understood we are pirates.”

“What about Nicholas?” someone asked from behind you.

“I managed to get out,” Folio said, “One of them got distracted, I ran.”

“And Nicholas?” Noah repeated.

Folio hesitated. “They took him. I'm so sorry.”

“Fuck.” Noah murmured.

“They had him on the ground,” Folio added, his gaze dropping briefly before lifting again. “He wasn’t fighting. We couldn’t. They were too many.”

Noah just stood there for a moment, thinking. His eyes moved past the shoreline, past the trees, lifting toward the higher ground further inland, and you followed his gaze.

There, beyond the stretch of green, the land rose slightly into hills. And on those hills, you could make out shapes of structures, rooftops, stone walls catching the light of the sun.

And above all of it, there was a building.

It was large, different from the rest, of pale stone, tall towers rising above everything else, unmistakable even from that distance.

Probably a court, or an important castle.

Noah went still for a second and his expression changed like he realized something.

He closed his eyes for just a second, then he exhaled quietly and opened them again.

“They were royal guards.” He said. “We’re in Erdling. And that“ he pointed to the large castle, “—is the king’s court.”

“So… they took Nicholas there?” Someone asked.

Noah nodded once. “To the dungeons,” he said. “They keep all the prisoners there.”

“What are the orders, captain?” Jolly asked.

“I’m going,” Noah said.

Jolly blinked. “Wait...what?”

“I’m going to get him,” Noah repeated, already stepping forward slightly like the decision had been made and nothing could have changed it.

Michael let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re not serious.”

Noah didn’t even look at him. “I absolutely am.”

“That’s not—” Michael ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the others. “That’s not possible.”

“You’re talking about breaking into a royal prison,” someone else added. “That’s not a raid, that’s suicide.”

Folio nodded quickly. “There were guards everywhere. And if those were just the ones at the port...”

“I know,” Noah snapped.

Silence followed.

“Noah… you know the code.” Jolly continued.

“Don’t,” Noah said quietly.

Jolly didn’t stop. “If one of us gets taken—”

“I said don’t.”

“—we leave them,” Jolly finished anyway. “That’s how it works. That’s how we survive.”

“Then I guess I’m a terrible pirate. Because I’m not leaving my brother there.”

Some of the crew shifted slightly. Others just went still.

Michael shook his head. “That doesn’t change the fact that we can’t just walk into a king’s prison and walk out.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Noah said.

Jolly frowned. “Then what are you—”

“I’m going alone.”

That made everything worse.

“Noah—” you started, but he didn’t look at you yet.

“You won’t make it,” Folio said, more quietly now.

“Maybe not.”

“You won’t,” Michael insisted. “That’s not a maybe.”

“I’m still going.”

“You’re the captain,” Jolly said, “You don’t get to just throw yourself away like that.”

Noah stepped closer.

“And you don’t get to tell me what I do. Because I'm the captain.”

For a second, it looked like neither of them would back down. Then Noah exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair, forcing himself to pull it back under control.

“Listen to me. We don’t have a ship anymore,” he said, shifting the focus. “We don’t have supplies. We’re scattered and half-dead on a beach.”

No one argued that.

“So here’s what we do.”

Now his voice was fully captain again.

“You search the wreckage. Everything that washed up. Food, weapons and anything usable.”

He looked at each of them in turn.

“You rest a bit. You recover enough to move. Then you go to the port.”

Michael frowned. “Noah—”

“And you take a ship. You think you can do that?” Noah finished.

Jolly nodded, even if there was hesitation behind it. “…Alright.”

Noah continued. “You find a map. Any map. And you head west.”

“West?” Folio repeated.

“First land you can reach,” Noah said. “Doesn’t matter where. You wait there.”

“And you’re not coming with us.”

“No.”

“And if you don’t make it?” Michael asked bluntly.

Noah didn’t hesitate.

“Then you stop waiting.”

Silence.

“If I do,” he added, “I’ll come back with him. Wait as long as you deem appropriate, if I do not return, continue your journey to Saint Marlowe.”

Jolly exhaled slowly, nodding once, even if it was reluctant. “Alright.”

Noah’s gaze moved over all of them one last time.

“And until I’m back… you’re in charge,” he said, looking at Jolly.

Jolly blinked. “Me?”

“Yes.”

Jolly nodded slowly. “…Got it.”

And just like that, everything was set. Even if no one liked it. Even if no one believed it would work.

You could almost hear all their thoughts, mirroring yours.

Because how could he possibly do it?

Break into a king’s prison?

Get Nicholas out?

Make it back alive?

You had done something similar once. But that had been different, way smaller.

This felt like walking straight into death. Noah looked at all of you one last time.

Then he gave a small nod, and then he turned and without another word, he started walking away from the shore.

For a moment, no one moved. The wind shifted softly along the shoreline, and you stood there, watching Noah’s back as he walked away without looking back even once.

Jolly was the first to break.

“…Alright,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand over his face before turning away. “You heard him. Move.”

And just like that, the crew scattered.

Some headed back toward the waterline, scanning for anything useful among the debris. Others moved inland slightly, searching for crates, supplies, anything that hadn’t been completely ruined by salt and impact.

You thought about what you had lost.

You didn't have much but the gold you kept in your jacket was gone now, (and now you only had a thin chain around your neck that you hoped would be useful), with the few clothes you had, the diary you kept and... the shell Noah had given you. It was almost weird that losing that shell made you more sad than losing the gold. It had been a stupid gift from Noah, and for some reason... it mattered more to you than it should have.

Your eyes were still fixed on him.

He was already further away now, his figure cutting a steady path across the sand toward the other side of the island.

You shook your head with a sigh. Because if Noah was stubborn... you were worse.

You moved.

“Hey...where are you going?” someone called behind you, but you didn’t answer.

Your pace quickened. “Noah!”

He didn’t stop. Of course he didn’t.

“Noah!”

That time, he slowed.

Just slightly.

You closed the distance quickly, your steps uneven but determined until you finally reached him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to stop.

He turned sharply.

“What are you doing?” he snapped immediately, “I told you to stay with—”

“You lost your mind.” The words came out before you could stop them.

He stared at you for a second, caught off guard by the interruption. “…Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you shot back, “You’re insane.”

He sighed. “Go back.”

“No.”

“I’m not arguing with you—”

“Good, because I’m not asking for your permission or anything.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at you, like he was reassessing the situation.

“…You can't come with me,” he said.

“And you can't walk into a king’s prison alone.”

“Go back,” he repeated.

“You’re going to break into a royal prison,” you said. “Alone. With no weapons, no plan, no idea what you’re walking into–”

“I have an idea.”

“You still can't do it alone. This is too dangerous.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “You think I don’t understand exactly what this is? I know it better than you. Than any of you.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because it’s him. I’m not leaving him there,” he said, quieter now. “I don’t care what the code says. I don’t care what the odds are.”

“I know,” you said.

And you did.

That was the problem.

You knew Noah was doing all of this, was planning this weird suicide mission in his head, because he had a heart, and it was telling him to try to save his friend.

You took a small step closer.

“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be going alone.”

His expression shifted again, frustration flickering back in.

“You’re not coming.”

“I am.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Why are you doing this?” he demanded, “This isn’t your fight.”

You stared at him.

“…You almost died.”

That wasn’t what he expected.

You saw it in the way he blinked, just slightly.

“You weren’t breathing. You weren’t moving. You were just—” you cut yourself off, “You almost died.”

He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t look away.

“And I... I hated the feeling. When I thought you... were dead. So I wanna help. If I can. And I know I'm not completely useless so please, Noah, let me help.”

You were rambling at this point and you weren’t even sure what you were saying was making completely sense, but you hoped Noah would understand.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything and he just stood there, looking at you, like he was trying to understand something he hadn’t expected to hear.

The wind moved between you, lifting a few strands of his hair across his forehead.

“…You’re rambling,” he said finally.

It wasn’t harsh. If anything, it sounded quieter than before.

You let out a small, frustrated breath, dragging a hand through your own hair.

“Yeah, I know,” you muttered. “I just—” you shook your head slightly. “You get what I mean.”

“I do.”

There was another short pause and you weren’t even sure what you were actually talking about.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he said. “None of this was supposed to be your problem.”

You frowned slightly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well, I am in this. I have been in this since I decided to join you,” you said. “And right now ‘this’ includes you trying to get yourself killed.”

“I’m not trying to get killed.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He shot you a look. “This isn’t like before,” he continued. “What you did for me—” he shook his head slightly, “—that was different. Smaller. This is…” he exhaled through his nose. “This is a king’s prison.”

“I know.”

“You need to understand that–”

“You need to understand that I'm going with you and nothing will change my mind.”

You weren't even entirely sure why you were doing it, when you could just be safe with the others. But you were doing it. Because for some reason, the thought of letting Noah go was unbearable.

“…If you come,” he said, his voice measured now, “you do exactly what I say.”

You straightened slightly. “That depends—”

“It’s not a negotiation.”

You held his gaze for a second, then nodded once. “…Fine.”

“If I tell you to run, you run.”

“I’m not leaving you—”

“You run,” he repeated, firmer now.

A pause. You didn’t like that. At all.

But you understood why he was saying it.

“…Fine,” you said again, quieter this time.

He watched you for a moment, like he was trying to decide if you actually meant it.

“You stay close.”

“I can do that.”

“You don’t try anything reckless.”

You raised an eyebrow slightly. “Define reckless.”

He gave you a look, “You.”

That almost made you smile. “Said the pirate.”

Another breath left him, like something in him was finally… giving in.

“…Alright,” he said.

You blinked, “What?”

He met your eyes again, “…Alright. You’re coming.”

For a second, you just stared at him. Like you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.

“Wait...really?”

“Don’t make me regret it,” he said immediately.

A small breath escaped you, with a little smile, even if nothing was actually funny at the moment.

“I won’t.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “we’ll see about that.”

But he didn’t take it back.

He turned slightly again, adjusting his direction toward the trees.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You could hear the sound of your footsteps shifting through the sand, then onto firmer ground as you reached the edge of the trees.

The shade swallowed you both almost immediately, the light dimming, the air cooler beneath the canopy.

Your thoughts refused to stay quiet.

Your words, your rambling, echoed back at you. Because you felt like you had said too much, admitted something you didn't even want to admit to yourself yet.

You wondered if he had noticed, if he had understood, if he thought anything of it at all.

You glanced at him briefly.

He was walking beside you, focused, like nothing had changed, like your words hadn’t lingered.

Maybe they hadn’t.

Or maybe he just wasn’t saying anything.

You looked away again, exhaling quietly.

The path narrowed, forcing you a little closer together. Your shoulders brushed, but neither of you moved away.

Ahead, through the thinning trees, the city began to take shape. You could see, still far away but noticeable now, pale stone and tall walls.

“…I don’t know which one of us is more insane.”

His voice broke the silence, quiet.

You glanced at him, but didn’t answer, because honestly, you had no idea what to say anymore. Everything you were feeling and doing felt insane.

So you just kept walking beside him, step by step, toward the city.

Noah taglist pt 1: @mushrumink @sullyselena @buttercupbabyyy @pathion @pipidoll @missduffsblog @vibecops @myexistencesucks @overmydeadbodysblog @margocos-blog @heyitsjay316 @sallyba3 @bartxnhood @lacy1986 @iamamatus @dream-machine-love @amoursims @suessmausnici @whimsicaldiamonds @imyourliquor-youremypoison @punkprincess1999 @bored-rato @thepeoplesblog @dxthrone @illmakeyousaywow @xmads-omensx @sikowitzbitch @tosoundlessdarkistare @sadbitchenergy @flowery-mess @anything-morethan-human @lekyswixexx @english-fucker @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @ichoosetenderomens

shbto tags: @novainpolaroids @enzocoquette @lifeirreverent @shobolanya @crystallizedtime @mushroommelody1 @leosunshine @takeme1st @thepurpletrain2groovycity @lookinalittleblue